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Subject: {ASSM} { ASSM } Abducted and Enslaved, Pt.4
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   Dear Moderator:
   Attached is Part 4 of my in-process novel "Abducted & Enslaved".  I've
put it in text format rather than in the original MSWord since the Word
version of the first three parts only caused problems.  However, I'm adding
a statement offering the original to Readers who want the Word version.
   Thanks,
   Mark
   { ASSM } {Mersereau} New Story "Abducted & Enslaved, Part 4" ( MF Mf FF
FM Ff Fm Mdom Fdom nc voy sm bd oral toys ) (4/?)
   The usual disclaimers: This is strictly adult material; all characters
are fictional.  Events in this story are unethical, immoral, and illegal.
Readers should understand that the story is strictly fiction and many of
the events and characters in it have no place in a civilized society.  No
redistribution without attribution to the above-named author.  No
commercial use whatsoever of this story.
   In its original, this document was written in MSWord format and contains
many features to facilitate reading.  These include pagenation,
italicization for emphasis and for internal dialogue, and other formatting
that provides clarity.  The version here has been reformatted (simplified)
for publication as a text version.  For those readers who would like the
original version, I would be happy to email it to them.  My offer applies
to all parts: 1, 2, 3, and 4 (the current one, below, which in this
document is a text version).  For those readers who would like all four
parts, the pagenation is continuous, from page 1
From: Mark Mersereau (m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net)
Subject: { ASSM } Abducted & Enslaved [Mersereau] MF Mf FF FM Fm Mdom
Fdom
   nc oral sm bd toys
   Chapter 16: Collars, Cuffs, and a Little Abuse
   Sheila followed the first guard, a young man who looked to be in his
early twenties with jet black hair and an hispanic face.  His dark skin
could be inherent, but it could just as well have been from exposure to the
sun.  In any case, he was polite and, unlike the other men who had been
involved in her abduction, he didn't frighten her.  They proceeded down a
path between palm trees.  Sheila was thankful for the shade that shield
them from the glare and heat of the sun.  Ed was sometimes right behind her
and sometimes one person farther back, behind Wendy.  His skin was fair,
like her own.  Like all the other male captives he had no shirt and, if the
palms hadn't been overhead, he would probably have burned.  As for herself,
in her skimpy clothing, the air in the shade felt pleasantly warm on her
bare skin.  The path underfoot ran irregularly up and down sandy hillocks.
The frequent jolts caused her breasts to bob, and the thin halter persisted
in riding up and exposing her nipples.  Initially, she gripped the thin
cloth to hold it down, but it was too awkward to walk keeping her hand up.
In any case she thought, who would notice?  With the sole exception of
Wendy, the girls behind her were all well-endowed and, each time that she
glanced back, she saw, somewhere along the line, a pair of nipples exposed
in the way hers were, by a halter that had crept too high.  She gave it up.
Through the soft slippers the sand was warm under her feet.  As she
followed the guard, she looked to each side at the exotic vegetation
bordering the narrow path.  Besides the palm trunks, there were huge shrubs
with sawtooth-like leaves that appeared as large as tennis racquets.  In
another context she would have been ravished by the beauty of blue, white,
and purple flowers whose blossoms were larger than her hand.  She guessed
they were orchids, but the others she didn't recognize: they were in all
shades of yellow and orange and were shaped like the flared end of a
trumpet.  They accounted for the many odors that she hadn't before noticed.
The invigorating breeze of the sea had decreased and the air was
motionless. It was humid and it had the scent of perfume like a boudoir. 
They finally exited the canopy of trees and stood in a clearing under the
hot sun before one end of a long shed.  The structure was squat and ugly,
of unpainted gray concrete; its roof was of some corrugated metal and was
painted white.  The entrance that they faced and the exit at its other end
were both doorless.  Over the doorway, in black letters on a white
rectangle was a crudely painted sign baldly proclaiming 'Pet Shop'.  "Come
on in," the guard told them, and they entered.  Sheila felt relief from the
shade, but she felt radiant heat from the metal roof overhead.  There was
no artificial lighting in the building.  The interior was nevertheless
illuminated adequately by open spaces at the top of each of the long walls,
the flat but sloping roof being supported by short metal posts set into the
flat tops of the two long walls.  On their right were long metal shelves,
loaded with open boxes.  The wall on the right was lined with hooks, from
which hung objects that sent shivers down her spine.  She saw chains in all
sizes, manacles and handcuffs, collars made of metal, and ones of leather
(or perhaps vinyl).  Farther along the left wall she glimpsed what looked
like whips.  They hung by loops in the ends of their handles.  Some were
perhaps as long as three feet; others had multi-stranded ends that she
supposed would spread out when in use.  Some had vicious-looking
pebble-like ends.  Others were short, no longer than a foot--rugged straps
of thick leather.  She imagined that getting hit by one of those would feel
like being struck by a heavy yardstick.  When the last of the prisoners was
in the building, the lead guard took down collars from two hooks on the
wall.  "Here," he told Sheila, handing her half of them.  He gave the rest
to Ed.  "Pass these out, one to each person.  Then get back here." When
they returned, the guard slipped a collar about Ed's neck.  He buckled it
tightly.  He encircled Sheila's neck with a smaller one, pulling two straps
through the buckles until it was snug.  He left no slack in the collar and,
whether it was made of leather or vinyl, Sheila was glad that the inside
seemed soft.  Finally, as he had done with Ed's, he fixed its metal hasp
with a small luggage lock.  "Stand there," he told her, while he removed a
large corrugated box from a high shelf.  From it he withdrew handcuffs,
some of which he handed to one of the guards who had been following them;
the other half, except for one, he set temporarily on a low shelf.  "Hold
out your hands," he told her.  He fastened the cuffs on her wrists, until
they were fairly snug, but not as tightly as he had the collar.  Sheila
supposed the metal would have become uncomfortable if he had.  "Now the
link," he said.  He removed a second box, and withdrew a narrow chain,
about six inches in length, with snap hooks on both ends.  "Head back a
bit," he told her.  Sheila complied, and he connected a hook to a collar
ring just under her chin.  With the chain dangling from her collar then, he
grasped one of her manacled wrists and raised her arms.  He snapped the
other end of the chain to the ring linking her handcuffs.  When he released
her wrists, Sheila's hands were bound just under her chin.  She felt
completely helpless like this, and would be unable to even brush down the
thin nylon of her halter if a breeze again exposed her breasts.  Sheila
looked down the line of prisoners behind her.  The male ones had already
been all manacled, with their hands behind their backs, and their wrists
pulled up by the chains so far that their hands were between their
shoulderblades.  "Is handcuffing us really necessary?" she complained to
the guard.  "You're all armed; what could we possibly do?  These chains
holding up our hands are even worse.  Suppose one of us trips and falls? 
What's their purpose?" "I'll show you," he replied, mildly.  Suddenly, he
reached up and flicked the nylon of her halter up with his thumbs.  He
grasped her bared breasts, encircling them with his large hands.  He
stroked and kneaded them for a perhaps a minute.  Aware that the other
guards were looking on, amused, Sheila felt her face redden.  His eyes
looked down, meeting hers, as he drew his fingers outward to her nipples.
He squeezed.  Too embarrassed to look up at him, she turned her head aside.
He seemed in no hurry, and he worked them, twisting and pulling them until
they were both erect.  Sheila felt that they must be hard as rocks. 
Grinning, he explained, "The chains give us these little freebies.  The
boss doesn't care." When all the females had been bound as Sheila, they
looked as though they were engaged in a common prayer.  She noticed that
the guards were not finished manacling Ed and the other five men.  Their
hands had been bound before those of the women, but now their legs were
being bound as well.  Short rods, of about twelve inches in length, were
fastened between their ankles by cuffs on the rod ends.  The guard who was
crouching before Ed, clamping the cuffs about his ankles, looked up at her.
   "Don't worry," he told her, smiling.  "You females will get spreader
bars.  But yours will be too long to let you walk while you have them on.
You'll have to wait for your training to get yours." The guards led them
out the opposite end and along a short path in the open sun.  The ground
underfoot was still mostly sand.  Glancing back, Sheila saw that the men
were forced to take quick baby steps to keep up, taking two steps for every
one that she took.  Looking ahead, she saw a large white stucco four-story
building whose entrance faced the sea.  By now, the water was fifty yards
or so down a slope to their right.  Sheila tried to memorize the building's
appearance.  She might have to describe it to Max or the police in the
future.  With its multicolored canopies, it's red tiled roof, and black
shutters, she thought that the edifice looked Mexican.  But she'd never
been to that country; so perhaps she was mistaken.  As the lead guard
approached the concrete steps to a side door, the door opened.  A tall
man--good-looking, Sheila thought--of about forty years exited the door. 
He looked athletic and muscular, and he was wearing swimming trunks, tennis
shoes, and sunglasses.  He stopped for a moment and looked at the captives.
Sheila felt herself blush.  He spent what seemed to her an inordinate time
looking her over.  Then he broke into a run.  He flew past the line of
captives and disappeared around the building they had just left.  Ed moved
closer to Sheila, and she felt his bare arm touch her shoulder.  He
whispered in her ear, "I've seen that man's face before.  A photo in a
newspaper or magazine." Sheila wanted him to elaborate, but the guard was
already urging them up the steps.  They passed through the louvered side
door into a large room.  Against a far wall Sheila observed stacks of
suitcases, all identical, which resembled the ones in which she and the
other captives had left their clothing.  In the center of the room were two
long tables that had been butted together, end to end.  Behind these two
women were seated; each wore a blue column dress and a gold-colored metal
collar.  One of them, a slightly overweight but buxom and shapely girl with
dirty blonde hair, who looked about twenty years old, stood up.  "Hi
there!" she said.  "My name is Kelly--you'll address me as Mistress Kelly.
Don't forget that.  If you do," she said, giving them a wide smile; "I'll
have the pleasure of giving you a whipping.  Welcome to Ecoliere Island. 
Please take seats." She held up a sheet of paper from a stack on the table,
"Each of you complete one of these forms." She indicated the chairs along
the tables, and the prisoners seated themselves.  As Sheila grasped her
chair and sat in it--it was of the folding metal type that accompanied card
tables--it felt cold and strange under her bare buttocks and thighs.  In
other circumstances the sensation might have been erotic.  Pencils, and
stacks of white sheets were distributed along the tables.  A stack was
directly before her, and Sheila took several from its top and handed all
but two to Anne, the brunette model, who had just seated herself beside
Sheila.  "My god!" the brunette exclaimed, looking at the stack.  "How many
women do these people intend to kidnap?" Sheila glanced at the two guards.
One was in the door through which they had entered.  The other was with his
back to an interior doorway.  Keeping her eyes on the two women, Sheila put
the two forms one on top of the other, so that it appeared she had just
one. The form was a questionnaire.  It contained sections for information
that she might have found on an employment form, including her name, home
address, age and date of birth, height and weight.  But not the subsequent
lines.  Those concerned clothing sizes, of everything, from hats to shoes,
and included brassiere details.  The next section asked intimate questions.
What girl, she wondered, would put down the truth about her masturbation
practices, much less how many sexual partners she'd had?  Sheila couldn't
imagine what the management of this place could do with her or any of the
other girls' answers to those questions.  The questions about vibrators and
vegetables made her blush.  She wondered how the others would fill in those
lines.  The dirty blonde--Kelly--apparently read her mind.  Standing up
again, she told them, "Be sure to tell the truth about your past sex life.
If you don't, especially if you pretend you're more innocent than you are,
your training is going to be more extensive than you are going to like."
Sheila finally decided to tell a mixture of truth and falsehoods. 
Masturbation, yes.  How many boys and men she'd had sex with.  Yes.  She
was married.  Yes, a lie.With trepidation, she wrote "no" to the questions
about vegetables.  She admitted using a vibrator.  She crossed out items,
then she crumpled the paper and set it aside.  She wrote on the second
form, keeping an eye on the two women dressed in blue.  While writing, she
dropped the crumpled sheet in her lap.  By the time the women collected the
forms, she had--albeit uncomfortably--hidden the crumpled sheet.  When she
and the others had passed in their forms, the guard led the group through
the interior doorway.  They found themselves in another large room, but
this one was luxuriously furnished.  The carpet beneath Sheila's feet was
thick; tasteful--and probably expensive--statuary was interspersed between
the deep armchairs and lampstands.  Music came from hidden speakers.  As
they walked in, Sheila saw a bar on her left.  On her right, across the
room, was an enormous glass window which took up much of the wall; through
it Sheila could see the ocean.  Sheila estimated that there were nine or
ten men in the room as well as three women.  Most were seated and sipping
drinks while they conversed.  Two of the women were elegantly dressed in
evening wear.  A blonde woman, perhaps in her late thirties and younger
than the others, was dressed in shorts and a halter, with sandals on her
feet.  The men were all dressed casually, some in Hawaiian style printed
shirts and white slacks, some in tee shirts and shorts.  Everyone stopped
what they were doing to look at the captives when they entered.  When the
two rear guards had entered and closed the door, the lead guard told the
group, "All of you wait here," and he disappeared through an inner doorway.
While Sheila and her companions waited, the seated spectators around them
began to discuss the physical attributes of her and the other female
prisoners, describing the prisoners as if they were inanimate items in a
department store.  None of the clients appeared concerned that the captives
heard their remarks.  A man seated close to Sheila said, "Nice tits on this
one," indicating her with a motion of his hand.  The woman seated beside
him, a fortyish brunette beside him nodded.  "Yes, she has, Dennis.  If you
buy her is that where you'll fuck her?" "I'm not much into tit-fucking,
Eileen." The woman's eyes were on Sheila, looking her up and down.  "Have
you noticed her ass?" the brunette asked.  The man nodded.  "Sure have,
Eileen.  Nice cheeks." "They're adorable," the woman said.  "If I were a
man, that's where I'd want my cock- up between those delectable buttocks."
"Well, if I'm lucky enough to get her, it's the first place I'll shove my
cock.  First her ass, then her mouth." "Not her cunt?" she asked, curious.
"Well, sure, but I have this fantasy . . .  " "Which is . . .  ?" "Sometime
I'd like to get two females , . . .  " She smiled.  "A lot of men would
like two.  But, that would be expensive, Dennis.  Very expensive.  You men
are such dreamers." "I know, but let me finish, Eileen," he protested.  "If
I ever do get two, I'll have one girl kneel between the second one's legs
and suck her cunt.  I'll fuck the kneeling one in the ass.  After I come,
I'll straddle the second one's shoulders.  She'll clean me up and make me
come again, using her mouth." "Ugh!" Eileen said.  "How disgusting.  The
ideas you men have!" Sheila felt her face grow warm, but she tried to avoid
giving any indication that she heard their words.  At that moment, the door
through which the group of prisoners had entered opened and a couple
entered.  Sheila recognized them as two from the group who had been seated
under the grove of trees when the captives had first left the ship.  The
woman was the buxom fortyish bleached blonde.  She still was still dressed
in the scarlet gown and adorned with an excess of jewelry.  Sheila thought
Crane had called her 'Rita'.  She recalled that Rita had accused her
companion of having 'a fetish for big tits'.  "Ah!" the bleached blonde
exclaimed; "They're still here, George.  Is the Boss-Man anywhere?" Her
companion looked around the room and then shook his head.  "I doubt if
we'll see him until the auction, Rita.  He has a lot to do today." "That's
wonderful, George.  I'm in luck.  Let's have a look at the males now.  Come
along." She led him by the hand, past Sheila and Wendy, to stand before Ed.
He stared back down at her, impassively.  "Well . . ." she said, looking
him up and down; "Are you ever a gorgeous piece of beef!" Rita reached up,
and she grasped his bicep and felt it.  "I assume that you're married," she
remarked.  With a motion of her hand she indicated the girls.  Which of
these whores is your wife?" "They aren't whores," Ed said, and Sheila was
certain from his reddening face that he was angry.  He said, "It's quite
possible that you are." The look on Rita's face was as false a smile as
Sheila had ever seen.  Sheila felt a dreadful fear for Ed.  "Well, you're
not a wimp yet," Rita said.  "But once you've been trained, you will be."
She reached down, and raised his leather loincloth and thrust her cupped
hand between his legs.  She grasped his testicles and closed her hand about
them.  "Now," she said in a mockingly sweet tone, "Say something more." Ed
was silent.  The ruddiness of his countenance had disappeared and his face
had become pale.  Rita looked at the girls.  "Which of you whores is his
wife?  If you don't respond in two seconds, I'll squeeze." Sheila was
terrified for Ed.  "I-I am," she said.  "Well," Rita said, looking her and
smiling.  "I suppose you don't want me to turn your hubby into a eunuch. 
Let's see how far you'll go to keep him virile." She turned to her male
companion, who was directly behind her.  "George, tell her why we stopped
here." The man, his black hair streaked with gray, looked about the woman's
age--fortyish.  Like her, he was slightly overweight.  He said to Sheila,
"Rita is set on getting a slave with a big cock.  The bigger the better."
Sheila didn't know what to reply, if anything.  His words made her think of
Jerry.  "By a big cock," he told Sheila; "she really means a big hard-on.
Crane didn't have the time this morning for that.  Now that he isn't
around, she has the opportunity to check out the men with you.  And the
boys." "Yes," Rita agreed; "What's your name, Dear?" "Sheila.  Sheila
Ericson." "Well, Sheila, your hubby has a nice cock," Rita said.  She
released his testicles and her fingers encircled his penis.  She held it
up, displaying it.  She flicked it up and down.  Ed's face had flushed
again.  "There's no need for that," he told her.  Rita sneered.  "I'll
excuse your interruption for the moment, young man.  By the time the
trainers are finished, you'll know enough not to open your mouth unless
your Mistress orders you to.  If I buy you, you'll find that your tongue
will provide me with just one service, and speaking is not it." She raised
his loin flap again.  "I need to see the size of this when it's erect. 
Tell your wife to make it hard." Sheila felt her face suddenly grow hot. 
She'd never even dated Ed!  Just the thought of doing what Rita wanted, in
front of all these people, frightened her.  She nervously swallowed, but
she tried to appear cool and confident.  Perhaps the woman simply wanted to
embarrass her.  Maybe Rita would forget the idea.  "Suppose I don't?" she
responded.  She had strived to keep her voice calm, but stumbled on the
last word.  Rita again grabbed Ed's balls.  Laughing, she exclaimed, "All
the better--I squeeze!" Ed emitted a loud, "Oooh!  Let go!" Rita retained
her grip, smiling.  "I can squeeze much harder than that," she said.  "Like
this!" Her fist closed further.  "Uuuuh!" he exclaimed.  He looked ill, and
he staggered.  With wrists and ankles bound, he was unable to keep his
balance.  He would have fallen but fortunately Wendy was in front of him.
Her hands were close enough that when he lost his balance her flattened
palms prevented him from falling.  "Please stop!" Sheila cried, terrified.
She saw no way of using her hands without kneeling so, despite her feelings
of shame, she knelt on the carpet before him.  She raised the leather with
one hand and grasped his limp organ with the other.  Her face felt hot as
she worked the soft flesh in her hands, bound together as they were by the
handcuffs.  Despite her kneading fingers, after more than a minute, Ed's
penis remained as soft as before.  George said, "Jesus, Sheila!  When are
you gonna take it in your mouth?  Some wife!" "Let her be, George," Rita
responded.  Sheila's embarrassment was relieved by the reappearance of the
guard, who was followed by four girls dressed in blue column dresses and
gold collars like the girls in the previous room had worn.  The buxom girl
Kelly, with the dirty blonde hair, showed no surprise at Sheila's position
or at what she was doing.  "I'm sorry, Mistress," she said to Rita, giving
her a peculiar and brief curtsey with slightly bent knees; "but I have to
take her with me.  Master Crane gave me orders to prepare her for the
auction." The girl grasped one of Sheila's thrust-out upper arms.  "Come
with me, Blondie," she said.  "We have to get all of you ready for this
afternoon."
   * * *
   The two of them left the room and entered a long hall.  They passed
several doorways on each side.  As they were about to pass an open doorway
on their right, a loud moan came from it.
   "Oh, hang on a sec, Sheila!" Kelly exclaimed.  "Let's have a look in
here."
   "This is the Executive Lounge," she said, tugging Sheila's arm. 
"Usually it's locked.  But us blue girls have keys.  This is where we put
trainees on days when we don't have the time to train them.  Clients pay
extra to use the room."
   Kelly gave Sheila a smile.  "But that doesn't inhibit them," she said;
"the lounge is popular!"
   Sheila guessed that room was slightly smaller than the one they'd just
left, but it still looked substantial.  It was just as thickly carpeted. 
She saw armchairs and sofas distributed about the room but, instead of lamp
tables and statuary, the main features in the room seemed to be wooden
stocks.  These were in a variety of shapes but it was evident from the
manacles dangling from them that all were likely intended to hold captives.
   At the moment, only one stock in the room was occupied.  It was across
the room from them, near the wall opposite the door she and Kelly had just
entered.  The device looked similar to pillories that Sheila recalled
seeing illustrated in a library reference book and which had been used by
settlers in early New England as a means of punishment in lieu of building
a jail.  The stock across the room held a pretty brunette of about
eighteen. She was naked.  Her neck and wrists were clamped in three holes,
located about three feet above the carpet, in the face of the rack.  They
kept her bent at the hips, with her back horizontal.  Unlike the pillories
that Sheila remembered in the photographs, this one was provided with ankle
manacles fastened to each side of its wooden base.  These kept her legs
wide apart.
   A man was behind her, gripping her hips as he fucked her.  The girl's
eyes were closed and her mouth gaped, but her moans were inaudible from
across the room; Sheila heard only her louder "uh!" each time the man's
trousered belly struck her buttocks.  The man was clothed except for his
penis.  Sheila saw it projecting from his fly each time that he drew back,
piston-like from a forward thrust.
   Each of the man's thrusts drove the girl forward so that her shoulders
struck the upright of the pillory, and her body rebounded.  Her dangling
breasts swung pendulously, following their motions.
   The man glanced across the room and noticed Sheila and Kelly, who were
standing just inside the doorway.  He smiled at them and reached forward
under the girl with both his hands.  He grasped the girl's nipples and
pinched them.  The girl opened her eyes.  She also saw Kelly and Sheila,
and she blushed.
   Sheila and Kelly had something closer to observe than the pair across
the room.  The moans that had drawn Kelly's attention were from a girl who
was standing on their right, only a few feet from the doorway.  She was
standing, legs apart, facing four seated men and was masturbating.  The
four were seated in comfortable, cushioned armchairs that had been arranged
in a semicircle from the doorway to the wall on the right.  A fifth man
stood beside her holding a whip.  He gripped the hem of her skirt with his
other hand.  He held it so high that even her navel was visible.
   Sheila could see all of the girl below her waist, from her bare buttocks
and her black muff to her genitals, held gaping open by her fingers.  Under
her blouse she was just as devoid of underclothing, since Sheila could see
the bumps and tint of her nipples through the thin material.  Her breasts
appeared to be medium-sized, taking perhaps B cups.
   The girl looked about her own age of twenty-two or so.  She was trim,
with a slender waist.  Naturally, she was pretty--all of the girls that
Sheila had seen here seemed to be.  Her hair was jet black and long. 
Perhaps, before she'd come to the island she had kept it in a ponytail. 
Now her tresses hung freely down the back of her white blouse.  The ends
lay upon the hand holding up her skirt.
   The brunette wore a collar that looked similar to Sheila's.  The collar
was light tan in color and looked like it was made of supple vinyl or
leather.  Her only manacles were about her ankles; these appeared as if
they had originally been a pair of metal handcuffs.  Now the cuffs were
attached to the two ends of a long metal rod.  Their grip held her feet
wide apart.
   The girl had her eyes closed.  Her moans were loud, and seemed
completely uninhibited.  Hers were the loud cries that had attracted Kelly
to the room.
   One of the men glanced at his watch.  "Five seconds, Janine," he said.
   The girl opened her eyes.  His words induced her to move her fingers
faster, hastily.
   "I'm close, Master!" she cried.  "Please wait . . .  "
   "Time, Janine!" the man with the watch exclaimed.  He grinned, and he
nodded to the man with the whip.
   The man holding her skirt swung his strap.  It was short and wide, and
it struck her with a loud 'smack!' The girl emitted a loud cry.  The strap
must have been heavy, for its impact made her nearly lose her balance.
   The man didn't halt after one blow.  He brought it across the girl's
buttocks repeatedly.  He struck her buttocks again and again, not rapidly
but methodically, and hard.
   The whip looked thick despite its shortness.  Sheila thought its blows
must sting severely.  Each impact produced an audible 'smack!' Each was so
forceful that it indented her buttocks and drove her hips forward. 
However, except for her first surprised exclamation, Janine didn't stop her
moans.  Instead, each blow of the strap caused her voice to momentarily
increase in loudness, as if it thrilled her.  Her eyes again closed.
   Janine was masturbating more diligently.  Her fingers rapidly flicked
her clitoris, and three fingers of her other hand stabbed up her vagina.
   The men watched intently.  The seated one, closest to the doorway,
turned to look at Sheila and Kelly.  When he observed them return his look,
he unzipped his fly.  His penis, caged by the taut tent of his trousers
swung upward like a stepped-on rake.  He encircled it in his fingers, and
began pumping it.
   The man stared at the girl beside Sheila.  He asked, "Aren't you,
uh--Kelly?  One of the trainers?"
   Kelly nodded.  "Yes, Master.  But I'm just learning.  Nina is more
experienced than I am.  The other trainers are all men."
   He waved his hand impatiently.  "Oh, I know that.  I'm interested in
you. Especially because you're inexperienced.  Crane tells me that Janine
is just beginning her training.  You can help us with her."
   "This isn't the Training Room, Master."
   "No, but she's playing with herself for us.  We want her to give herself
an orgasm.  My friend will keep whipping her until she does."
   "Why do you need me, Master?"
   "To be sure that she doesn't fake one.  Be a good girl, Kelly.  Kneel in
front of Janine.  Watch her clit for us.  Get very close."
   Kelly flushed.  "B-But, Master," she stuttered.  "Sh-She might . . .  "
She hesitated, her face red for some reason.
   Why is she so reluctant?
   All of the seated men had turned their attention to Kelly.  They were
smiling, awaiting her response.
   The man who had just spoken reached into a trouser pocket.  He drew out
a coil of black leather.  He pulled off the rubber band that encircled it
in order to uncoil it.  It was a strap, shorter but thicker than the one
that was turning Janine's rump a rosy hue.  He laid it on his lap to the
side of his protruding organ.
   Kelly's eyes widened when she saw the strap.
   "All right, Master," she finally said.  She took the few steps to the
masturbating girl and knelt on the carpet.
   Ignoring the impacts to her buttocks or, perhaps, stimulated by them,
Janine fingered herself furiously, her moans growing louder.  She stood in
a half-crouch, her eyes closed.  She didn't see Kelly.
   She began to deliberately move her hips.  She thrust forward violently
each time that the strap struck her rump.  Her right hand was cupped over
her clit, her fingers spread as she flicked it.  Her other hand was further
down, her fingers stabbing.
   The man whipping her abruptly stopped, and he looked down at Kelly. 
"Move closer!" he told her.
   "Yes, Master." Kelly said, blushing.
   She moved her knees a few inches forward on the thick carpet, until her
arms touched the brunette's legs.  The moment she did, Janine emitted a
loud cry.  Fluid spurted from her vulva.  It struck Kelly full in the face.
Kelly jerked her head back, but she was too close.  The liquid continued to
squirt from between Janine's spreading fingers, in streak after streak.  It
doused her face, and streamed down to course from her chin like a
waterfall. It ran down onto her dress and her legs, where it trickled
between her thighs and onto the carpet.
   The men watched in obvious pleasure.  The one holding the whip leaned
down.  He told her, "Open your mouth, Kelly; you know what we want.  Do
it!"
   Kelly had turned her head to the side.  Red-faced, she turned her head
back.  She parted her lips.
   The men watched avidly, smiles on their faces.
   Janine opened her eyes and looked down and blushed.  The kneeling girl
was obeying the man's directive, but awkwardly.  Each time she closed her
lips to gulp, more fluid squirted.  Sheila wanted to look away.
   The man who was masturbating, stood up.  He was still pumping his organ.
He turned to Sheila and pulled the chain that linked her handcuffs to her
collar.  She staggered and nearly fell.
   "You get down too, Blondie," he ordered.  "On your knees!" He pulled
downward, hard.
   Sheila fell to her knees.
   The moment she did, he removed his hand from the chain.  He grasped a
clump of her hair, gripping her tresses close to her scalp.  She was unable
to move her head.  A moment later his penis, held in his other hand,
spurted.
   Sheila closed her eyes, pressing her lips together.  She tried to
breathe through her nose.  She wanted to turn her head, but couldn't--the
grip holding her scalp hair hurt too much.  By the time his ejaculation
subsided, her face was coated.  The reek filled her nostrils.
   Kelly moved backward on her knees, awkwardly, her eyes closed.  She
pulled up the hem of her skirt, ignoring her nakedness under it.  She used
the dress to wipe her eyelids.  She glanced at Sheila, whose eyes were
closed, and then turned to the man who had ordered her to kneel.
   "May we go now, Master?" she asked.  "Master Crane ordered me to prepare
this blonde girl for the auction.  I'll be in big trouble if I don't."
   The man was busy wiping his penis in Sheila's hair, and he ignored her
words until he had finished.
   Finally he looked at Kelly.  "We'll use Janine for the rest of the
afternoon.  You can go."
   Chapter 17: The Senator Pays Crane a Visit
   Crane looked up from his desk.  "Sarah," he said mildly; "Please try to
keep your voice down, would you?"
   "Oh god, Master!" she exclaimed.  "Please let me use my hands!  Please."
   "Am I going to have to gag you again?"
   She quieted.
   Crane's cellphone rang.
   Perhaps Jeffrey found the source of the problem.
   He was hardly able to hear the young man's voice through the static.
   "Crane!  Can you hear me?"
   "Just barely, Jeffrey.  Did you find where the problem is?"
   "Yeah.  The storm last night.  It knocked down the tower.  The dish is
on the ground."
   "That's why I couldn't get the mainland."
   "Right.  And the Net either--if you tried to."
   "How badly is it damaged?  When can you get the phones working?"
   "No really serious damage.  Sand took most of the impact.  I'll need a
couple of males from the shop, though, to put the tower back and fix the
cables.  I think we should set the tower in concrete."
   "I'll see to it.  Where should they meet you?"
   "In the shop, Crane.  There's nothing I can do here until the dish is
back in place."
   The moment that Crane disconnected, the phone rang again.
   "Crane here."
   It was Nina.  The static was less and her voice clearer than Jeff's had
been.  "Master Crane, there's a Senator . . .  uh, Aylesworth here.  He
insists on coming up to see you."
   "It's O.K., Nina.  Send him up.  Oh, pick a couple of males from the
shop to help Jeff fix these phones.  Find someone who has done wiring and
someone who's laid concrete."
   "Jesus!  Wiring and concrete?  Those two don't exactly go together. 
Oops!  I'm sorry, Master Crane." She paused.  "I'll try to find one of
each."
   "By the way, the Senator's name is Ellsworth."
   "Oh.  Well, he has a southern accent.  That's why I got it wrong. 
Should I have a guard accompany him?"
   "No.  Just give him directions to my office.  I don't . . .  " Crane
stopped.
   The Senator is a snoop.  On his way up here, he's liable to look in
every unlocked room.
   "Change that, Nina.  Send a guard up with him."
   I wonder why Ellsworth wants to see me?  He's a chiseler.  The auction's
this afternoon.  He probably has in mind some way to cheat it.
   * * *
   "Master?" Sarah said.  "Do I have to stay like this when that Master
Ellsworth comes up?  This is awfully embarrassing, sitting on this
vibrator. He'll hear it."
   "Yes you do, Sarah.  Don't interrupt when Ellsworth is in here, either."
   "Even if your alarm goes off?"
   "Yes.  Now please be quiet."
   * * *
   There was a knock on the door.
   "Come in!"
   The door opened, and the Senator stepped in.
   He paused for a moment when he saw Sarah sitting on the wooden chair
that stood facing Crane's desk between the two leather covered chairs.  He
walked to the one on Crane's left and sat in it.
   "I'd like this to be private, Crane," he said.
   "Anything we say here will be, Ellsworth," Crane replied.  "Sarah won't
say anything about what occurs in here.  She's my personal slave."
   "Yet, someday you may allow her to leave the island, Crane.  I insist
that you send her from the room."
   Interesting.  Ellsworth has something illegal in mind.  Something he
doesn't want known in the States.
   Crane opened his left bottom drawer and retrieved his espresso tazita.
   "Sarah," he said.  "You can get up now.  Turn off the vibrator.  Take it
and this into your room.  By the time Master Ellsworth and I are done, I
expect you to have this half full.  Understand?"
   "Half full?!" Sarah gasped, her face turning red "I-I don't know if I
can do that!"
   Crane paused a moment to emphasize his words.  "Use the vibrator.  Come
as often as you want.  I want it half-full.  You'll get a whipping if you
don't."
   The two men watched the blushing girl until she left the room and closed
the door behind her.
   Ellsworth is a cool customer.  He didn't make a single comment when
Sarah got off the vibrator.
   "All right, Ellsworth.  What is it that you want to talk about?"
   "Crane, you're from Puerto Rico and as such, you're a citizen of the
United States.  I am one of your nation's lawmakers.  Kindly call me
properly--by my title of Senator.."
   Crane sat back in his chair.
   "Cut the bullshit, Ellsworth," he said.  "On this island you're just
another client.  Your importance to me is nothing more than the source of
some of my income."
   The Senator gave Crane one of his cold stares.  Crane smiled.
   I suppose the old fart intimidates people with those beady-eyes.  He's
big, but badly out of shape.  I wonder if he'll try to strong-arm me?
   "I have powerful contacts, Crane," the Senator said, grimly.  "You may
think that being out of the jurisdiction of the United States that you have
immunity.  You don't.  You're playing a risky game on this island, and I
could destroy all you've built up here over the five years that you've been
here."
   "Look Ellsworth, if you don't get down to telling me why you're here
wasting my time, I won't even bother to have my men throw you out.  I'll do
it myself."
   Ellsworth stared, his face stony.  Finally, he said, "Crane, you'll find
that I'm easy to deal with if you cooperate with me.  If you don't, I can
do more than make your operation here difficult.  Think about it."
   Crane stood up.  "I'm ready to throw your three hundred pounds of
blubber out of my office right now, Ellsworth!"
   He strode to the Senator's chair and grasped the politician's fat arm,
just above the elbow.  He squeezed.
   "Unh!" the Senator exclaimed, gasping.  Abruptly, he stood up, and he
ripped his arm away from Crane.  He was taller than Crane by two inches,
and perhaps fifty pounds heavier.
   Whew!  This whale is stronger than I thought.  I must have forgotten my
old motto--never underestimate your opponent.  Blubber or not, he's got
muscles under it all.
   "Surprised you, didn't I, Crane?" the Senator said, grinning.  "I was
star wrestler on the '61 'bama team.  You'll be sorry if you try strong arm
tactics with me."
   "You're still on my turf, Ellsworth.  Say what you came up for or I'll
get you out of here-one way or another."
   "Fair enough, Crane." The Senator re-seated himself, and Crane returned
behind his desk.
   "I came to discuss the auction," Ellsworth said.  " I want one of the
young women in your latest shipment.  I don't intend to become involved in
a bidding war with another client over her.  I think that you and I can
come to an agreement over her price and I'll guarantee that you'll get that
amount.  There's no need for clearing of a personal check with all the
risks you must have with those.  I'll pay you for her in cash."
   Is this all he was so secretive about?
   "Who's the female, Ellsworth?"
   "Her name is Sheila Ericson.  She's a blonde.  Very shapely, with . . .
"
   "I know who she is.  She's exactly the type of female that most clients
are looking for.  I can understand your not wanting to get into the
bidding, Ellsworth.  Unless you're a lot more wealthy than I think you are,
there are a half-dozen clients here who can outbid you.  Your offering me
cash is no incentive for me to bend the rules.  Most clients pay me in cash
as it is.  It leaves no paper trail."
   "I recommend that you bend your rules for me, Crane.  I'm a dangerous
man to cross.  I may be on your turf right now, but in the States and in
Washington, I have considerable influence."
   "No deal, Ellsworth.  If that's all you have to say, you can get up now,
and leave."
   The Senator looked grim.  "I'll give you some time to think it over,
Crane.  I suggest that you postpone the auction until tomorrow to consider
it.  I'm prepared to go as high as fifteen for the girl."
   Crane stood up.  "No dice.  You can leave now."
   The Senator remained seated.  "There is one more item on my agenda,
Crane.  I have a female for you.  She isn't the type that you or I would
prefer to use for a sex slave, but a number of my colleagues in Washington
consider her quite desirable.  I should think you would at least get the
minimum for her.  She is pretty, and she has a good body although she got
shortchained in the tits and ass department.  I'll throw her in with the
fifteen, in exchange for the blonde."
   "Forget about the Ericson girl, Ellsworth.  You'll have to bid for her
in the auction.  As for this other girl, it seems to me you're trying to
dump a white elephant on me.  Your assumption that some client will pay ten
grand for her sounds like a sales pitch to me.  I don't like surprises.  I
sure the fuck don't like surprises that involve extra work for me.
   "Just who is this female?  Some old girl friend you're trying to dump?
You know all about Yvonne's album--I like to have at least some photos of a
female before I'll bring her ashore.  Is she on the ship?"
   The Senator nodded.  He withdrew an envelope from a pocket of his shirt.
"I brought several photographs of her." He tossed the envelope onto Crane's
desk.
   Crane took out the photos.  There were four of them.  Polaroids, of a
brunette.  Two were of her tied across a bed.  The other two were of her
standing, full frontal nudity, legs apart, hands behind her.  Probably
handcuffed.
   She looks thirty or so.  Really sexy.  I could go for her myself.  Not
that I'll tell Ellsworth that.  He obviously likes big tits and ass, and
probably blondes, too.
   "She's too skinny," Crane said.  "And she looks older than any client
would want.  I'm not interested, Ellsworth."
   The Senator frowned.
   Got him worried.  What's he going to do with her if I won't take her?
   Ellsworth cleared his throat.  "I'm prepared to make a concession,
Crane. Put Judith up for the auction.  Reduce your minimum for her.  Surely
one of the clients will take her in preference to not having a slave. 
You'll make some money from her, perhaps even the minimum.  I'll take just
half as my fee."
   "Tell me about her," Crane said.  "Is she in your cabin on Yvonne's
ship?"
   The Senator nodded.  "Her name is Judith Sterling.  She's a lawyer. 
I've heard that you try out some of these girls yourself, Crane.  If you
do, I'll give you a pointer.  She's experienced sexually, but I'd call her
just a so-so fuck.  Have her give you head.  She's a great cock-sucker."
   "O.K., Ellsworth," Crane agreed.  "Whatever she sells for in the
auction, I'll split with you."
   Chapter 18: Crane Abuses the French Consul's Daughter, Janine
   Crane was fond of mysteries and he was in his bedoom reading, holding a
Chandler novel in one hand.  It was an hour and a half after dinner, and he
was sitting in the cushioned armchair that faced the foot of his bed. 
Beside him on the lamp table was a full goblet and a half-empty bottle of
red Bordeaux.  He sipped from the glass as he read.
   Behind him was the open door to his living room.  One of the two doors
to his right, the one to his bathroom, was also ajar.  But, the door next
to it, was closed and locked.  It had been since dinner time.  Occasionally
a prolonged moan came through the closed door, but the sounds, from
feminine vocal cords, seldom distracted him from his book.  On the odd
occasion when they did, Crane ascribed it to some amusing thought that it
evoked, such as Mike's complaints about all the batteries that Sarah was
consuming.
   I'll tell her to use corded vibrators more, despite their restricting
her to the proximity of outlets.
   Once, Crane's orders to Sarah had necessitated that she take more than
three hours of persistent vibrator use, one to her clitoris and another in
her vagina.  Now she had an impressive supply of vibrators but she no
longer required more than one.  Sarah had given up counting her orgasms,
Crane knew that.  There were too many.  When he asked, he knew that she
lied, but he didn't care, so long as she understood that he wanted her to
have a lot of them.
   Every night, Crane compelled her to devote two hours to producing cunt
juice.
   Crane's reading was interrupted by a knock on the living room door.
   Turning his head, Crane called, "It's open; come in!"
   It was Kelly.  She led in Janine by a leash.  The brunette's wrists were
manacled tightly behind her back to a taut chain to the back of her collar.
She was dressed in a first day trainee's uniform.  The hem of her white
nylon blouse ended above her navel.  She wore a pleated cotton skirt with
black and white stripes.  Her long legs were covered by black nylon
thigh-high hose.  Crane assumed that under her skirt, she was naked. 
Through her semi-transparent blouse he could see her nipples.  That at
least confirmed her lack of brassiere.  Black velvet slippers covered her
stockinged feet.
   He glanced at the clock.  Exactly nine-thirty.  "Is she all ready?" he
inquired.
   "Nina told me how you intend to use her, and I prepared her myself." She
put her hand over her mouth to cover a smile.  "Suppose I tie her face down
on the bed?  You can use her whenever you want.  You'll only need to pull
up her skirt."
   Crane pondered.
   He glanced at Kelly.  She was observing Janine's expression, a smirk on
her face.  She probably was hoping for some reaction to her words from the
brunette.  But Janine--for once--was impassive.  Perhaps the trainers had
whipped the brunette enough so she'd finally learned the value of remaining
silent.
   "No," Crane decided.  "I'll use her standing up.  Tie her facing the
foot of the bed.  Have her bent over the bar with her head and body on the
bedspread.  Not too far up on it.  I want her ass to be accessible."
   "I get turned on when I see a girl get it between the cheeks," Kelly
said.
   "You do?" Crane responded, surprised.  He shrugged.  "Well, I certainly
find female buttocks alluring."
   Kelly withdrew several sets of handcuffs from her shoulder bag and
carried them to the foot of the bed.
   "Oh, Kelly," he added; "tie her so her legs are apart.  I want to play
with her cunt while I use her ass."
   "Yes, Master.  I'll manacle her ankles to the bed legs.  That will keep
her thighs wellapart.  Come to the bed, Janine," she said.
   The brunette didn't move, and Kelly had to reach for the leash, which
was hanging from a ring in Janine's collar directly beneath her chin.  She
pulled it with a sudden, hard jerk.
   Janine stumbled and nearly fell.  The young woman gave Kelly an angry
look, but she said nothing.  She followed Kelly to the foot of the bed.
   She pretends that the whippings don't affect her, but it appears that
she's learning.  So, perhaps they do.
   Kelly knelt, and she pulled Janine's leg close to one pair of handcuffs
that she had attached to the foot of the bed on the right side.  She
clamped the open cuff about the girl's ankle.
   She moved on her knees to the left side, grasped Janine's other ankle,
and pulled.  "Lift your foot!" she ordered.
   "The bed legs are too far apart!" Janine complained.  She was obliged to
spread her legs wide apart in order to reach the other open cuff, which
Kelly then clamped about her left ankle.
   "You'll survive," Kelly said, and she stood up.
   * * *
   Five years previously, when Crane took over management of the island,
his assignment was to produce as much money as possible from the endeavor.
He had to keep meticulous records of how he spent his backers' initial
infusion of capital as well as incoming receipts from clients.  Aside from
those two provisos, Crane was allowed considerable latitude in his modus
operandi.
   Crane had not been slow in deriving fringe benefits from his assignment.
   Soon after the first shipment of females arrived, Crane put the
machinists who had constructed the Training Center, to work on modifying
his own quarters and bed.  The machinists modified his bed, providing it
with restraints of several types, including manacles that allowed him to
position a female for use in whatever manner that he fancied.
   The workmen had welded handcuffs, chains, and hooks to the sides of the
bed frame at positions halfway down its length, and at its head and foot.
After modifying his bed, the machinists positioned brackets with attached
handcuffs to the walls of his bedroom.  When their work was complete, at
least three females could be quartered simultaneously in his suite, kept
suitably manacled for his use at any hour, day or night.
   The initial shipment of females to the island amounted to six.  They
arrived one month before the arrival of the first clients.  Crane explained
to his backers that a month was necessary for training trainers as well as
for training the first slaves.  On arrival of the six girls, Crane selected
three for his own use.  These were positioned in the three wall mounts in
his apartment, their wrists and ankles gripped by manacles.  The three
remaining females were stored in basement cells for use later.
   After a week, Crane allowed the trainers to remove the first three girls
and take them down to the basement Training Center for slave training. 
They were replaced in his apartment by the remaining three; these serviced
Crane for the following week.
   The island became a year-round resort for wealthy men who sought sexual
outlet of sorts that they could not readily obtain elsewhere.  Gradually,
even a few wealthy, adventureseeking women sojourned on the island.
   Crane continued his practice of enjoying newly abducted girls.
   However, he became discriminating.  He took only females in whom he took
some interest.  That interest might be general, meaning that he found the
girl desirable.  He would use such a girl in any number of ways, depending
on his mood.  His interest in her might be specific, as it was with buxom
girls.  Such a girl he fucked exclusively between the breasts, culminating
the act by ejaculating between her widely parted lips.
   Sometimes the contours of a female's buttocks attracted his notice. 
With that type, he satisfied himself exclusively in her ass.  A girl with
attractive, chubby buttocks might spend every night tied face down on his
bed.  Such a girl was often the least fortunate, as Crane frequently fell
asleep after an orgasm, sometimes while the girl was still cushioned
beneath him, his cock stuffed in her anus.
   When Kelly had finished manacling Janine's ankles to the legs of the
bed, Janine was left standing with her bare belly against the bar at the
foot of the bed.
   Crane stood up then.  He walked to the bed.  He looked at Janine.  The
brunette returned a venomous look.
   "Aren't you ashamed to rape helpless women?" she said.
   "Not at all," Crane replied.
   Crane felt an urge to explain his motives to the young woman.  He
supposed that the fact that her face and figure appealed to his taste was
part of the reason.  In any event, he desisted: It might allow her to
resist training, at least to some extent.
   Janine, we use the stick and the carrot.  They are just as effective
here as they are in any school.  You'll be punished only when you fail to
learn.  If you act in ways we instruct you to, we'll reward you. 
Initially, you'll do our bidding to avoid the whip.  Eventually you'll do
it because it thrills you.
   "Bend over the bar," he told her.
   She did nothing.
   Crane shoved her.  He pushed between her shoulder blades and forced her
over the bar until she was face down on the coverlet.  Janine was bent at
the hips in the position Crane wanted her, with her buttocks protruding to
the rear.  Her short skirt had crept up until it covered only the very tops
of her buttocks, the slight depression just below her coccyx.  Their hills
were in full view, as were her genitals.  As a result of her wide-spread
legs, her labia gaped open.  Crane could see her pink inner lips in their
entirety, unobscured by her outer ones, with their enclosing oval of black
fur.
   Kelly re-attached the leash to a ring at the back of Janine's collar. 
She pulled the grip end toward the head of the bed and tied it firmly to a
vertical bar.  Janine would be unable to raise her shoulders, even one
inch, from the counterpane.
   When they had finished, the brunette was bent forward at the hips over
the bar, with her upper body prone on the counterpane.  Janine lay
helpless, her head on the coverlet, cheek down.  All she could do was watch
and wait.
   Crane moved the armchair until it faced the foot of the bed and Janine's
rear.  He took a key that lay beside the wine bottle.
   "Kelly," he said; holding it out; "Sarah is in the playroom.  Please ask
her to come out.  Be sure she brings the two vibrators that she's been
using."
   "Yes, Master."
   She took the key from his upturned palm.  She gave Crane a smirk, "I
could tell something good was going on in there!"
   She unlocked the closed door.  However, instead of opening it, she gave
the wood three hard knuckle-raps.
   "Yes Master?!" came Sarah's voice.  "I-I'm not ready, yet, Master. 
Please give me another fifteen min . . ."
   "Sarah, it's me!" Kelly yelled.  "Master Crane wants you out, now!"
   "He does?  Uh, wait a sec, Kelly.  I'm, uh, stark, you know.  I need to
throw on some clothes."
   "I don't think Master Crane wants you dressed, Sarah.  He has work for
you."
   "B-But . . .  does he want me like this?"
   Crane observed Kelly's smile and couldn't resist smiling himself.  He
drained the goblet.
   "Hurry up!" Kelly urged.  "Come as you are!" and she rattled the knob.
   The door opened.  Sarah was in the doorway, naked and blushing.  She
looked over at Crane.  "Do you really want me like this, Master?"
   "Yes.  Where are the vibrators?"
   "Oops!"
   She turned about, disappeared and quickly reappeared.  She trotted
through the doorway, her B cup breasts bouncing.  She was holding two
almond-colored plastic, smoothie vibrators in one hand.
   Crane said, "Kelly, you can leave.  Get back downstairs and help Nina
and the men."
   "Yes, Master." Kelly left the room.  A moment later Crane heard the door
living room door open and close.
   Sarah stopped, halfway across the room.  She gave a puzzled look at the
young woman who was bound over the bar at the foot of Crane's bed.  "I
don't recognize her, Master.  Is she a new trainee?"
   He nodded.  "Her name is Janine.  I want you to help me with her,
Sarah."
   "Yes Master." She held out her hand.  Her fingers gripped the vibrators
by their rear ends.  "These are still juicy.  Do you want her to clean
them?"
   "How about the cup?  Is it half full?"
   "Oh!  I'm sorry, Master." She looked down, blushing.
   "It--It's only about a quarter full.  I was enjoying myself, Master. 
I-I didn't realize that you wanted me to hurry.  I'll get a whip from the
top drawer.  Do you want the cat or the strap?"
   "I'm not going to whip you.  Let me give you a bit of advice.  Never
hurry when you play with yourself.  You'll be less juicy, not more."
   "But, what about her, Master, Crane?  Don't you need a whip for her?"
   "Yes.  Janine requires more coercion than I anticipated.  A few days
ago, whipping only embarrassed her.  We had to whip her roommate before she
would comply."
   "Really?" Sarah said.  She smiled.  "May I make a suggestion, Master?"
   "I'm listening."
   "I know you don't use it much, Master," she said, "but why not use your
prod on her?"
   Crane raised his eyebrows.
   I wonder if Sarah has ever felt a prod herself?  Perhaps she saw it used
when the guards told all the new girls to undress.  How many females here
would suggest that?  Maybe I'll promote her to a third female trainer.  But
let's see if she has the balls for it.
   "Where would you propose I apply it to her?" he asked.
   "Well," she said, looking down at the brunette; "You can't touch her
boobs.  Not with her face down like that.  But she's still in a good
position for it.  The breasts aren't the only places where a girl is
sensitive.  Shall I get your prod?"
   "Get my whip and prod, both.  There are two whips in my top drawer; get
me the one with a strap, not the stranded one.  I haven't used the prod in
a while, so it's probably buried on the bottom under clothing."
   Sarah had been holding the two vibrators gingerly by their bases as if
their bodies were too hot to grip.  She set them down on the lamp table
beside the wine bottle, balancing them on their flat rear ends.
   Sarah moved past the girl to the dresser at the opposite side of the
room.  She withdrew a strap from the top drawer.  She rummaged further, and
found the prod.  Its shape was phallic, but its size was perhaps half again
larger than the average man's erect organ.  Its shaft was plastic, the
color of flesh.  Its bulbous head was metallic and as reflective as a
mirror.
   Hearing Sarah close the drawer, Janine opened her eyes.  She stared,
wide-eyed, as Sarah carried the prod in one hand and the whip in the other,
to Crane.
   "I'll do the persuading," Crane said.  "You instruct her."
   "Yes Master," Sarah replied.
   Sarah grasped the two vibrators by their bases with her fingers, and she
carefully removed them from the table.  She perused each.
   "Still nice and juicy," she said.  She gave Janine a smile.
   Crane stood up.  He inserted the whip in his belt scabbard and shoved
the prod into a trouser pocket.  He went behind Janine and drew up her
skirt.  This time, instead of laying the hem over her back, he tucked it
firmly up under the back of her blouse.  It left the brunette naked from
above the waist to the tops of her black nylon thigh-highs.
   "Doesn't this look good, Janine?" he heard Sarah ask.  "I'll bet you've
sucked on lots of things that look like this.  First, put out your tongue
and clean it.  You know what's on it, don't you?  Here.  Smell."
   "Ugh!" the brunette exclaimed.  "That's disgusting!  Take it away!" She
tried to turn her head, but Sarah jerked the already taut leash upward like
a bowstring, and her attempt made her choke, and she desisted.
   Crane put his hand on her gaping labia.  Using his fingertips, he spread
the pink inner ones.  Janine exclaimed, "Oooh!  Stop that!"
   "Master, she won't lick this," Sarah said.  "You'll have to use the
whip."
   Crane shook his head.
   "I don't think that will work, Sarah.  I used it on her yesterday.  It
didn't intimidate her at all."
   "Well, Master," Sarah responded.  "Her position is perfect for your
prod."
   Crane handed it to her.  "I'll let you do it, Sarah.  Where are you
going to use it?"
   "Her clit."
   Janine gasped, and her eyes grew wide.  When she saw Sarah wielding the
prod, she abruptly exclaimed, "Oh!--don't use that thing on me!  Please! 
I'll--I'll do what you want!"
   Crane looked at Janine.  He was surprised that she knew what the prod
was.  Even if she'd seen a common cattle prod somewhere, Crane's was too
phallic in shape.  It looked far more like a dildo than a prod.  Except for
its generally rod-like form, it bore little resemblance to one.
   Someone must have used one on her.  I'll find out.
   Sarah lay the prod on the bed and again took up the vibrator.  She
gripped it with her fingernails about its base so the tip, with a dangling
droplet, was directly before Janine's mouth.  "Put out your tongue," she
said.
   Janine grimaced, and her face grew pink.  Hesitantly, she put out her
tongue.  Sarah drew the tip over it, transfering elastic fluid to her
tongue.
   "Ugh!" Janine said.
   "Open your mouth wider," Sarah ordered.
   Janine gave a pleading look, up at Crane.
   He nodded.  "Open your mouth."
   "Open up!" Sarah ordered.  "Or I'll use the prod!"
   Janine closed her eyes and parted her lips.  Sarah smiled.  She pushed
the smoothie between them.  She continued to shove, until the brunette
gagged.
   "Suck!" Sarah told her.  Janine pursed her lips about it.  Her cheeks
grew concave.
   "Good!" Sarah exclaimed.  "Keep sucking.  Show us the treat you give to
all the boys."
   Janine, flushing, opened her eyes.  She gave Crane a helpless, pleading
look.
   "Suck!" Sarah repeated.
   Tears trickled from Janine's from her eyes.  Her cheeks moved in and
out. Sarah's hand, hinged at the wrist, matched their tempo.  She moved the
smoothie forward when Janine sucked, and she withdrew it when her cheeks
puffed out.
   Crane's inserted his fingers in the brunette's vulva.  He moved his
fingers slowly and lightly, parting her labia as they went.  Janine began
to tremble.
   Her voice was garbled by the object in her mouth, but Crane was able to
understand her desperate, "Stop ub it, ub, blease!"
   Crane put his fingers to his mouth to moisten them.  He inserted his
wettened middle finger in Janine's vagina.  He used his other fingers to
spread her inner labia.  He stroked up and down between them.
   Janine pulled her mouth from the smoothie.  "Stop it, please!  Master
Crane, please don't do that!"
   Sarah brought the second smoothie to the bed.  In a sweet voice, she
said, "Open your mouth again, Janine."
   Instead, by twisting desperately, Janine succeeded in turning her head
away.  Her chin rested on the coverlet, her countenance facing the head of
the bed.
   "Sarah," Crane said, "Wipe the rest of it on her lips and face.  Then
give the vibrator to me."
   "Yes, Master," Sarah replied.  She deftly spun the instrument with her
fingers, wiping the entire surface of the vibrator across Janine's face
below her nose.  It left the brunette's lips and chin wet.
   "Ugh!" Janine complained again.  She moved her head from side to side in
attempts to wipe her face on the bed covering.  "That's disgusting!"
   "It's part of your training," Sarah said.  "You'll learn to like all
kinds of juices, Janine."
   Crane switched on the vibrator.  He inserted the tip between Janine's
inner labia, at the opening of her vagina.
   Surprised, the brunette exclaimed, "Oooh!" Her spread thighs began
trembling.
   Crane moved the vibrator forward, but slowly.  Rather than moving it
straight in, he moved it around, following a spiral path.  When it was an
inch in, and her labia were vibrating, he inserted his forefinger into her
opening.  He found her G-spot.  He replaced his finger with the head of the
vibrator.  He pressed the head down on the spot firmly, and he moved it in
a small, oval path, round and round.
   "Oooh!" Janine exclaimed again.  "Stop please, oh stop!"
   She was blushing furiously.  She avoided meeting either Crane's eyes or
Sarah's.
   She squirmed violently.  She attempted to jerk her hips to one side, and
then the other.  But her manacled ankles kept her legs and thighs so far
apart that she was virtually immobilized.  She was unable to move her
buttocks more than an inch in each direction.  Crane held the smoothie
lightly, and Janine's movements only aided him in stroking around in her
vagina.  He kept the close to her G spot, rhythmically pressing down and
releasing the force upon it.
   Janine cried, "Oh please stop, please.  Oh.  Oh!" Her eyes closed.
   Crane spread her labia with his free hand.  He explored between them
with three fingers.  His digits slithered easily along the inside of the
velvety inner lips.  She was wet.  He drew his forefinger up to the crest
of her labia.  A swelling had pushed back its hood.
   "Her clit is hard, Sarah," he said.  "Come here."
   "Yes Master," she said.  Sarah slipped from the bed and went around to
its foot.  She watched as Crane flicked Janine's clit with one hand and
moved the smoothie in and out of her vagina with the other.
   He withdrew his hands and the vibrator from Janine's genitals.
   "Get down on your knees," Crane said.  "Suck her clit.  Shove your nose
in her vagina."
   Sarah blushed.  "But . . .  " she began.  She looked confused.  Sarah
looked at Crane questioningly.
   "I'm serious, Sarah," Crane said.  "I know you've never done a female.
It's time to.  Get down on your knees.  Suck and lick her clit.  It's
erect."
   Sarah looked down at Janine's genitals.  The brunette's labia were
swollen and parted, her vulva exposed and glistening.
   She hesitated.  Crane undid his belt and unzipped his fly.  "You heard
me, Sarah.  Will I have to discipline you?"
   "Oh no, Master!" she exclaimed.  She quickly went to her knees between
Janine's widespread legs.
   Crane removed his trousers and undershorts.
   Sarah looked up at him and then at his erect organ.  Then she turned her
face back to Janine's sex organs.  She leaned forward and inserted her
tongue between Janine's labia.  She began licking.
   "Oh my god!" Janine exclaimed.
   Crane undid the cap to the tube of Vaseline.  He coated his penis its
entire length with the lubricant.
   "Janine," he asked; "Have you been fucked in the ass before?"
   "No!  Don't do that--please!" she cried, eyes wide.  She twisted her
head on the bed.  She saw him holding his erect organ and the tube.
   "Try to relax," he said.  "If you do, it won't hurt.  Did Kelly
lubricate you?"
   "Y-Yes," she mumbled.  "Oh, please.  I don't want that!  Please!"
   "Keep licking her," he told Sarah.  He bent over Sarah and grasped her
bare shoulders.  "Is her clit still hard?" he asked.
   "Mmm-hmm," she said, moving her head up and down, slightly.
   "Move further between her legs," he said.  He gently pushed her.
   Sarah moved forward, awkwardly, moving each knee in turn.  She crept
under the angle of Janine's spread thighs, working her shoulders between
them.  She was compelled to lean her head back in order to keep her mouth
in contact with the brunette's genitals.
   "I'm going to straddle your head, Sarah," Crane said, looking down.  He
could see Sarah's eyes looking up at him, past the hills of Janine's
buttocks, but from her eyes down her face was hidden under them.
   Crane grasped Sarah's head.  He pulled it up until his hands felt
Sarah's face engulfed by the wet labia.
   "You'll be a bit uncomfortable," he said.  "If it's too hard to breathe,
then don't suck as much.  But keep licking."
   Sarah mumbled something that he guessed was "Mmm-hmm," and she moved her
head in a slight nod.
   He straddled her naked back, and felt his testicles drag from her hair
onto her forehead.  He grasped Janine's bare hips below the raised skirt.
He worked his vaseline-coated shaft into the crack of her buttocks.  He
moved his hips carefully about until the head of his cock found her anus.
Gripping her, he pressed forward.  He moved his hips from side to side and
forced the head into the tight orifice.  He felt it suddenly slip forward
and get gripped by her sphincter.
   "Oooh, stop!  Stop!!  Please!" the brunette cried.
   "Relax, Janine.  It won't hurt if you relax your muscles."
   "Oooh!" she moaned.  Her body shuddered on the bed.
   Kelly did a good job lubricating her.  She's full of vaseline.  Once she
relaxes, she'll enjoy it.
   He moved forward and back slowly, to ensure that the lubricant was well
spread.  Then he increased the force of his forward pressure.  His shaft
moved deeper.  Her buttocks parted further as the shaft, thicker than the
head, penetrated further and widened her orifice.
   Crane looked down.  He tried to see Sarah's face, but his cock and balls
impeded his view.  He could see Sarah's forehead and hair.  His balls
stroked over them and fell on her eyelids.
   Crane heard wet sounds from below, and he imagined Sarah's tongue
sweeping the length of Janine's vulva.
   "Keep licking!" he ordered.  He began moving his hips forward and back.
His cock went deeper with each thrust.
   "Mmm-hmm!" Sarah mumbled.
   Her nod sent thrills up from his testicles.  Perhaps her eyebrows had
stroked them.  All Crane could be certain of was his pleasure as they
alternately fell and bobbed up from her eyelids onto her forehead.
   Crane's organ was entirely buried between Janine's chubby cheeks, his
belly flattened them.  The warmth and tightness about his cock imparted
sensations almost too thrilling to resist.  Crane regretted that he hadn't
gained some relief earlier.  It would be impossible to resist the pleasure
for long.
   He could--and should--have masturbated when Sarah first began licking
Janine's cunt.  He could have stood at the side of the bed, close to
Janine's head and masturbated to an orgasm.  Bound with her wrists to each
side, she'd have been unable to do much to avoid the spurts when he
ejaculated.  As it was, in order to enjoy her to the utmost, Crane
periodically had to stop his thrusts.
   Janine had stopped all her protests.  She was moaning, continually.
   Crane's hands gripped her hips firmly, preventing her body from moving
further over the bar.  The force of his abdomen against her buttocks
flattened them, and he was able to bury almost the entire length of his
organ in her orifice.  His balls dragged over Sarah's forehead and onto her
closed eyelids, sending thrills coursing up through his groin.
   Between his grunts, Crane heard the sloppy sounds of Sarah's licking
tongue.
   But the loudest sounds in the room were from Janine.
   "Oh god!" she suddenly exclaimed "I'm going to . . .  oh!"
   Abruptly, she cried out, "Aaaaaah!  Aaaaaaah!"
   Crane felt her spasms, which evidently affected her anus as well as her
genitals.
   Sarah suddenly cried out, "Jesus!"
   She fell backwards onto the carpet.  Crane realized, first from the
wettening of his testicles, and then from looking down, that Janine was
ejaculating.  She was squirting in a cone-shaped spray.  Most landed on
Sarah and on the carpet, but some spattered on his balls and legs.  The
spasms transmitted to his excited prick were too much to resist further,
and his own orgasm overwhelmed him.
   Crane shouted something unintelligible.  His hands gripped Janine's
hips, holding them to keep his organ buried in her.  He was vaguely
conscious that Janine was ejaculating over his legs.  But his principal
thought was of the pleasure, as his prick spurted again and again.  His
eyes closed, and Crane visualized his shaft firing long streaks of fluid
into Janine, filling her with semen.
   Chapter 19: Kelly Pretties up Sheila for the Auction
   Kelly led Sheila by the hand back into the hall.  She closed the door
behind them.
   Sheila's entire face was wet and sticky, including her forehead and
eyelids, and she was compelled to keep her eyes closed.  She had once
gotten semen in her eye and it had stung terribly.
   "I'm a mess!" she exclaimed, following Kelly blindly.
   "Well, don't you worry, Sheila," the blue girl replied.  "We're going to
wash you up now."
   After about a dozen steps, Kelly stopped her.  "Turn right," she said,
pulling her by the hand.
   They entered a room.  Sheila heard the door closed and latched.  Despite
her closed eyes she could tell that the room was brightly illuminated.
   "Wait a sec," Kelly said.  Sheila heard the sound of running water, and
a damp and warm facecloth was placed in her hands.
   Grateful, she wiped her face.
   She looked about.  They were in a large, well-illuminated bathroom.  She
saw a large bathtub, sunk in the pink, ceramic-tiled floor which was
covered in strategic places with darker pink bathrugs.  She observed an
armoire just to the right of the door they had entered; on their left stood
a vanity with two sinks, a toilet, and a bidet.  All four of the walls were
mirrored, except that over the vanity, which held a long cabinet.  "First,"
Kelly said; "Let's get that collar off."
   She withdrew a key from a pocket.  She unlocked Sheila's wrist manacles,
and then the collar clasp.
   "It's good to see a fresh face in here for a change," she said, smiling.
"What's your last name, Sheila?  Are you married?  I guess you must be,
from the ring."
   "Ericson.  I suppose it's all right for me to talk to you?"
   "In here, of course!" Kelly said, laughing.
   "Just keep your lips buttoned when the Masters are around.  I suppose
you asked that because you're scared.  I know that I was when I first got
here.  You'll get used to things, though.  Just go along with the Masters'
orders."
   She touched Sheila's neck above the collar marks, and she ran her
fingers through Sheila's hair.
   "Oh!  I adore your natural blonde hair!" she exclaimed.  "I used to
bleach mine to make it look decent, but since I got here I've given up
doing that.  I don't have the time.  I don't want to scare you, but
gorgeous females like you generate a lot of interest.  You do know about
the clients, don't you?"
   Kelly was certainly loquacious.  Sheila wondered how long it would be
before the girl's chatter began to bug her.
   "Yes.  I know a little about them.  I guess that they're the men who
will bid during this auction that that man mentioned?"
   "Yeah," Kelly confirmed.  "Those five men in that room we just left are
all clients.  I suppose that none of the five that we saw in there owns a
slave.  If they any did, he'd have brought her down to the Executive Lounge
with him.  Most clients like to watch their slave eat out another girl. 
Or, vise versa.  They prefer a girl who's fresh off a boat, like the two we
saw in the E.L.  Girls in the E.L.  are usually in training, so they're
new."
   Kelly flicked the hem of Sheila's halter.  "Want to take these things
off?"
   "Am I supposed to?"
   "You sure are!" Kelly replied, grinning.
   "I have to get you all prepared to be auctioned.  By the way, if you
have any questions, you might as well ask them now, while you have the
chance.  I'll be bathing you and doing some other stuff.  Pretty you up. 
It won't be easy for you to learn anything about this place once you're in
your cell.  And, if you make mistakes because you're ignorant, you'll get
whipped.  Or worse."
   Sheila reached back and undid the hooks.  "Did you say 'cell'?" she
asked.  She gave Kelly a frown.  "Am I going to be put in a cell?"
   "Mmm-hmm.  You'll probably have a roommate, but she won't be able to
tell you much.  Us blue girls--that's what they call us on account of these
dresses--we're the only female slaves who get around much.  Some of the
male ones go all over the island.  I get out sometimes.  I can go to the
Pet Shop alone.  That's because I'm a trainer, not just a blue girl.  I
love that, to see the beach and all, and to get some sun."
   Kelly sighed, smiling.  "Of course, the guys get out much more than I
do. They have to do manual labor outside.  Grounds work, painting, and
other things, like carpentry and maintenance.  Sometimes a hurricane comes
along and does some damage.  And a lot of shop work.  Did you look at all
the stocks in the Executive lounge?  Well, the male slaves made all of
those.  And, just wait 'til you see all the things they made in the TeeCee!
The place is loaded with things keep you in while they work over your tits
and cunt."
   Oh my god!  What can she mean by 'work over'?
   "But I get to see most of the rooms in this building," Kelly continued.
It's big, four floors plus the basement.  The basement is where the cells
and the 'Torture Chamber'are."
   "'Torture Chamber'?!" Sheila felt a surge of fear.
   Kelly laughed.  "I'm just kidding," she said.
   "The TeeCee is a room where they do funny things to you.  Not really
torture.  Unless you call a whipping 'torture'.  And the whippings during
training are only to get you to cooperate.  If you do what we want you to
do, you'll be okay.  The virgins, or nearvirgins, are usually the ones who
get whipped the most.  If you're a bit used to sex, you won't get whipped
much during training.  Just 'go with the flow'.
   "Anyhow, we call it the 'Torture Chamber'.  The name is really a joke.
Oh," she said, pausing; "I forgot what I was getting at.  I wanted to let
you know that you won't get to see much once you're in your cell, so find
out what you can before you're in it."
   Sheila wondered how much she could ask Kelly without raising in her the
suspicion that she wasn't just another aspiring model who'd been caught in
Crane's net.  She might not find out anything important if she didn't take
that risk.  But, Kelly didn't seem the suspicious type, and she loved to
talk, so she might be the best source of information, at least for now.
   "Just where is this island?" Sheila asked.  "It is an island, isn't it?"
   "Oh, yes, it's an island.  But just where it is, well . . .  everyone
wants to know that.  I'm not sure any of the clients even know.  I sure
don't.  Only two boats come here.  The big one that you and the new clients
came in on this morning, and a small one that comes here twice a week with
supplies.  That's all I know.  One of the male trainers told me that he
thinks this island is in the Antilles.  He's from Caracas, and he says that
isn't too far from the Antilles, but I was never good at geography, so I
don't know how true that might be.
   "You can probably ask the guy who buys you.  That is, if he's a
reasonable Master.  Some buyers will let you talk back to them, a little.
If a woman gets you, though, watch out!  Be more leery with them.  Most of
them are bitches.  They enjoy making you do things that humiliate you. 
Some do worse things than that.  Don't tell anybody I said that."
   For some time, in the back of her mind, Sheila had been fearful of what
would happen to her when she became some man's slave.
   She asked, "D-Do you have any tips about how to act so my Master treats
me well?"
   Kelly smiled.  "Worried, aren't you?  Well, as I said, the men are
better than the women.  Except, there are some men who aren't so nice.  I
think the best advice I can give is to keep in mind that you're going to be
a 'fuck-toy'.  By that, I don't mean to lie back and be screwed, though. 
Your master is going to want to think that you're as anxious for what he
wants as he is."
   "Wh-What might that be?"
   Kelly shrugged.  "Well, the clients here have pretty sophisticated
tastes, so I can't guess what your Master's fetishes might turn out to be.
But I'll give you a simple example.  All the clients--male ones--like
beejays.  So, whenever you think your Master is bored, or in the mood for
anything, ask if you can give him one.  Pretend you really want to, like
it's the most fun thing in the world!"
   Sheila giggled.  "But, I adore giving one.  At least to a guy I like."
   "Well, yeah.  I know what you mean.  But you get the idea."
   Sheila had her clothes off by then, and Kelly tossed them into a hamper.
   "I'm sure that we're pretty far south," the blue girl continued.  You
don't want to stay in the sun too long here.  With that skin of yours
you'll get a burn if you stay outside here for just ten minutes.  With me,
I tan easy.  I'd like to get out more.  There's a beach down close to the
dock, but with this collar, I don't suppose there's much chance I'll get to
take a swim until I leave this place."
   "When will that be?" Sheila asked, trying to sound nonchalant.  It was a
crucial question, but she didn't want to sound like an investigator.
   "When will I leave this place you mean?" Kelly asked
   Sheila nodded.
   Kelly shrugged.  "Crane decides that.  We never get prior notice that a
girl is going to leave.  We guess, though.  As long as I've been here, the
only girls who have left the island were ones who's Masters sold--or maybe
gave, I don't know--her back to Crane Crane keeps those for the use of
clients who don't have their own slaves, and the clients rent a girl by the
week or month; sometimes even just for a night.  That's when the client is
throwing a party.  He might rent several girls for the night."
   Kelly laughed.  "I tend to run on at the mouth, Sheila.  I forgot what I
was talking about.  As far as girls leaving, the only time it happens is
when Mike has his boat here.  He brings us supplies twice a week, and he
takes girls back with him.  That is, if Crane has any to send.  Where Mike
takes them, though, I have no idea."
   She grasped Sheila's hand.  "I can't waste too much time talking," she
said.  "I have to get you ready.  Come over to the toilet.  She removed
items from a cabinet and laid them out on the vanity.  She selected two.
   "Ugh!" Sheila exclaimed, staring at them.  Kelly was holding a syringe
and tubing.  "Are you going to give me an enema?"
   "Have to, kiddo.  Lemme turn on the fan; it'll be kickin' in here soon."
   She started the water running and tossed crystals into the bathtub, an
oversized ceramic pink oval sunk in the tiled floor.  By the time Sheila's
ordeal with the syringe was over, the tub was filled with foaming and
steaming water.
   "The bidet is next."
   It was opposite the toilet and Sheila had been more or less staring at
it during the previous ten minutes of having her intestines cleaned out. 
She said nothing when Kelly drew the hem of her own dress up to her
waist--displaying her nakedness beneath it- straddled the bidet, and
proceeded to demonstrate its use, despite having used one on the ship.  She
didn't feel that use of one once made her an expert and wanted to avoid any
faux pas.
   "Be sure you're thorough," Kelly said.  "Whoever buys you will probably
go down on you.  You'll be in static if you're kickin'"
   Sheila laughed at the girl's slang.  She asked, "How old are you,
Kelly?"
   "Eighteen.  Why?"
   "I haven't heard words like that since high school."
   "Oh.  I imagine that you went to college.  You talk like you went to
college, except for your funny Western accent."
   Sheila smiled.  She shook her head.  "No, it isn't Western, it's
Midwestern," she said.  "I feel like I talk like everyone, but I know I
don't.  The guys where I work . . .  I mean, where I once worked, used to
kid me about it."
   Oh god, what a flub!  I hope Kelly didn't notice.
   "I'm originally from Illinois.  I did go to college." She was so
flustered by her slip 'where I work' that she nearly added 'to Journalism
School," but caught herself at the last moment.  She didn't want anyone to
guess she was a reporter.  She had already flubbed once and was uneasy
about that slip.
   I hope Kelly doesn't mention it to any of the Masters.  But she seems a
bit flaky; maybe she didn't notice it.
   "I dropped out of high school," Kelly admitted.  "That was in Pocono. 
Pennsylvania.  I was thrilled to get a modeling job in my senior year.  It
didn't pay great, but the men's mag people all liked me 'cause I never
minded taking my clothes off for photos.  All of them had shots of me in
them, and I got to go to New York a lot.  I figured I'd make a career of
it."
   She smiled ruefully.  "But I have a sweet tooth.  I just adore banana
splits.  I started putting on the pounds.  Then my jobs got fewer.  I had
to take a job in a department store in Philadelphia--in the cosmetics
department--while I tried to get my weight back down.  I was getting there
when I answered an ad for models in one of the mags.  I got an interview
with a guy who told me his clients liked dolls who weren't all skin and
bones.  I figured I had it made and I was gonna be back into the business."
   She smiled at Sheila and shrugged.  "Instead, I got snatched and brought
here."
   The temperature of the water was just right, hot but not too hot. 
Sheila leaned back and Soaked.  She felt her tenseness slowly dissipate,
and she closed her eyes.
   "Don't take long," Kelly warned.  "The Masters, like, use any little
slipup as an excuse for a whipping.  By the way, you aren't a cherry, are
you?"
   "No," Sheila answered.  "Were you one?  I mean, when you first got
here."
   Kelly shook her head.  "It's lucky I wasn't.  All the sex that goes on
here didn't faze me nearly as much as it did the other girls who were taken
along with me.  It was really tough on some of them, especially the
training started.  That's why I asked the question about you being a
cherry. Virgins get a lot of whipping, a lot more than I ever did."
   "I never got whipped much, but that's what I hated most about getting
trained.  I guess some women go in for that sort of thing--you know, B and
D."
   Sheila must have shown her apprehension, because Kelly added, "Oh, if
you follow your Master's orders you'll do O.K.  The only really bad
whipping most Masters will give you will be for a serious infraction.  For
one of those he'll take you to the D.R."
   "The D.R.?"
   "The Discipline Room.  The bad part about it is that he'll strip you
first.  Or rather, he'll have a couple of guards do it.  You won't like
getting whipped while you're stark naked."
   Sheila grimaced.  "I hope I can avoid it.  Have you been punished that
way?"
   "Once.
   "That was before I worked for Master Crane.  I was pissed at my Master
and I talked back to him.  I wasn't getting enough sleep, and I bitched
about all the parties he threw.
   "If he had had other girls at his parties, I wouldn't have minded.  He
could have rented girls from Master Crane's supply--that's what the other
Masters do.  But he's cheap.  Every time he threw one, even if he had a
half a dozen guys come to it and maybe a couple of women, I was the only
entertainment.  I didn't mind the sex; but the parties went on so long that
I could hardly stay awake."
   Curious, Sheila asked, "What did you say to him that got him so angry?"
   "I called him a cheap prick."
   Sheila laughed.  "No wonder he whipped you!"
   "Well, he did act kind of miffed," Kelly admitted.
   "Then what happened?"
   "He called in two guards.  They took all my clothes off and tied my
hands behind my back and cuffs around my ankles.  The ankle cuffs have
rings attached to them like the ones on my collar."
   Sheila looked at the rings on Kelly's gold collar.  There were six, and
they looked identical to those that she had about her own leather collar.
They hung ornament-like around the circumference of Kelly's.  With her
forefinger Kelly flicked up the one that was under her chin.  It produced a
click when it struck the brass of her collar.
   "My Master made me walk ahead of him through this building.  It was full
of clients then like it is now, so you can imagine how I felt, naked like
that.  He made me carry his whip; so everyone knew I was going to the
DR--the Discipline Room.
   "A lot of the clients followed us.  You know, people here--and I don't
mean just clients- like to watch a girl getting whipped.  It's a pastime!"
   Skeptical, Sheila said, "I find that hard to believe."
   "But it's true," Kelly insisted.  "The DR is furnished for an audience,
including seats.  Chains and manacles hang from brackets on the walls and
the ceiling.  If you're ever taken there for disciplining, your Master can
have you mounted in whatever position that's convenient for whipping.
   "A public whipping here is an event.  When word gets around that a
girl's going to the DR, practically everybody goes.  We blue girls go. 
It's usually SRO.
   Imagining it was frightening, but Sheila was driven by curiosity.  "Was
there much of an audience when you were taken there?" she asked.
   "The crowd was huge.  My Master had them hang me upside down, with my
legs apart.  It wasn't fun.  I suppose you think the pain was the worst
part.  But the worst for me was all the people watching and yelling out
suggestions while he whipped me."
   "That's horrible!" Sheila said, shivering.  She hoped that whoever
bought her would never find an excuse to take her to the DR.
   She dried herself, and Kelly opened the armoire and withdrew a black
nylon shift, black thigh-high stockings, and black pumps.  Displaying them,
Kelly said, "If they measured you right, these should all fit."
   Sheila reached for the dress, but Kelly told her, "Don't put them on
just yet.  First comes the makeup."
   She opened drawers in the vanity.  Sheila saw that they contained an
array of jars and tubes.
   "What shade do you like?" Kelly asked, picking up a tube of lipstick.
   Sheila chose one and seated herself.  She was about to apply it when
Kelly took it from her hand.  "I nearly forgot.  I have to do your
nipples."
   It felt peculiar to sit there with Kelly holding up her breast and
working the stick around the aroela.  She felt her nipples harden and she
blushed.
   Kelly laughed.  "Don't let it bother you.  I do it to every girl."
   "Why?"
   "To make you look as valuable as possible for the auction."
   She knelt before Sheila, wielding a pair of curled nail scissors. 
"Spread your legs so I can trim your cunt hair a bit, too."
   She cupped her hand between Sheila's legs below her pudenda while she
clipped and caught the curly hairs in her palm.
   "You know," she said; looking up with a little smile; "since I've been
doing this, you're the first blonde I've met that has blonde hair here. 
All the others had muffs that were light brown or dirty blond ones.  None
are really light like yours."
   When she was done, she stood watching as Sheila applied makeup.  When
the lipstick and other items were back in the drawer, Kelly handed Sheila
the sheath.
   "The zipper's in front," Sheila said, a little surprised.
   "Of course," Kelly said.  "During the auction some guy's gonna want you
to display your wares.  Anyway, didn't you notice these blue dresses? 
They're buttoned in front to make our bodies easily accessible."
   The dress, sheer and black, looked like an undergarment.  However,
Sheila was becoming accustomed to near-nakedness, and she said nothing. 
She slipped her arms into the short sleeves and zipped it up.  She looked
at herself in the mirror.  It was obvious that she was naked under it; the
black nylon simply darkened her figure.  She slipped on the pumps and sat
on the bench before the vanity.
   When Sheila was ready, Kelly took two wrist manacles from her bag and
clipped them with snap hooks to Sheila's collar.  "I have to take you to
the auction hall with your hands cuffed.  Raise your arms."
   Kelly clamped the dangling handcuffs about Sheila's wrists and she was
soon bound as the guard had manacled her in the shed.  Her hands were so
elevated that her fingers touched her ears.  Sheila found that it was most
comfortable to cup her fingers under her hair around the back of her neck.
But the sensation of helplessness was scary.  It was impossible to reach
her breasts with her elbows, they were held so high.  If she tripped on
anything she would certainly fall and be unable to catch herself.
   "Almost ready," Kelly said.  She opened a drawer and withdrew a small
prod.  "I'm sorry about this.  I hate to use a prod on anybody, but I'd
better do it.  A Master punished me the last time I didn't.  The Masters
want every girl to be obedient during the auction.  The prod is so they
know what it will feel like if they aren't."
   She raised the prod to Sheila's left breast.  The bump in the thin nylon
indicated that her nipple was directly before it.  "I waited 'til you had
your dress on," she said.  "Maybe with your dress on it won't feel so bad.
Ready?"
   Apprehensive, Sheila nodded, and she closed her eyes.  She gritted her
teeth.  She had been determined not to make a sound, but the blow was like
a fist against her breast, and she cried out.  Tears ran down her cheeks.
It seemed like nearly a minute before she was able to stifle them.  Kelly
helped her wipe her cheeks.
   When Sheila was presentable, Kelly she led her from the room back into
the hall.  They were nearly in the middle of it.  Sheila could see
stairwells at each far end.
   "We're going to the Salon," Kelly said.  She gripped Sheila's upper arm
and led her toward the slightly closer one on their left.  They climbed
three flights and exited on the fourth floor into another hall, a duplicate
of the one they had left.  They took another walk and finally entered a
room on the right.
   In it, two blue girls were at work styling the hair of two girls. 
Sheila recognized them as college coeds who had been on the boat with her,
Robyn and her roommate friend Mia.  Kelly selected an empty styling chair
for Sheila.  She sat waiting in a chair against the wall for the blue girls
to finish.
   The blue girl who'd been working on Mia was done first.  As the
auburn-haired girl went to take a seat beside Kelly, the blue girl who had
just finished looked at Sheila.
   "Oh, wow--your hair really got messed up!" she said; "I suppose you had
to share a bunk on the boat.  But we'll fix that.  Kelly, why'd you put the
cuffs on her?"
   She sounded exasperated.  "You knew I had to do her hair.  Why didn't
you wait to put them on later?"
   Kelly shrugged.  She drew a key from a pocket and handed it to the girl.
   "Crane's been pissed at me.  He says I've been too easy on females who
are right off the boat.  He didn't like the back talk he got from two of
them during the last auction.  I'm giving the ones I handle a quick idea of
what they're in for before they go on stage."
   "Mmm-hmm," the other girl said.  "Well, don't handcuff the next one. 
Or, do like Nina did with these two.  Taking them off wastes my time."
   Sheila saw that each girl had one cuff of a pair of handcuffs locked
about her left wrist.  The other cuff dangled from the cuff that was about
her wrist.
   The blue girl hairdresser walked around Sheila.  "That smooth hair will
look good in practically any style," she said.  "I think I'll give it a
sexy sweep for the auction."
   She began trimming Sheila's bangs below her brows, and she tapered the
sides sharply.
   The girl working on Robyn's long hair said, "Almost done, Robyn!  Just
wait 'til the clients see you, you gorgeous kid!"
   A moment later, a blue girl appeared in the doorway.  She was sweating,
out of breath, and she looked harried.  It was Nina.
   She glanced about the room, catching her breath.  When she saw Kelly,
she exclaimed, "Here you are!  Kelly, we have to go downstairs immediately.
Crane just called.  He wants cock-lengths in twenty minutes!"
   "What!" the blue girl exclaimed, leaping from her chair.  "Cock-lengths?
You're kidding.  You mean, hard?'
   "Yeah, hard."
   "B-But, that's impossible!"
   "That's just what I told him.  But he insists.  He'll kill us if we
don't have them for him in . . ." Nine glanced at her watch; "nineteen
minutes!"
   * * *
   END OF PART 4 OF ABDUCTED & ENSLAVED.  TO BE CONTINUED.
   In its original, this document was written in MSWord format and contains
many features to facilitate reading.  These include pagenation,
italicization for emphasis and for internal dialogue, and other formatting
that provides clarity.  The version here has been reformatted (simplified)
for publication as a text version.  For those readers who would like the
original version, I would be happy to email it to them.  My offer applies
to all parts: 1, 2, 3, and 4 (the current one, above, which in this
document is a text version).  For those readers who would like all four
parts, the pagenation is continuous, from page 1 to page 155.
   The author would appreciate your comments, good &/or bad.  Thanks much.
   m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net
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