Chapter 6

 

They left Erica alone for the rest of the day, apart from regular attention from the doctor and the nurse and more visits by the first girl she’d met, 36, to bring her food and refreshments. Despite the nagging terror of the ritual awaiting her she ate hungrily, as if she’d not been fed for days. 36 surprised her by pressing a switch on the wall, opening a small panel to reveal a television set. She was allowed to explain the controls, giving Erica a choice of piped video programmes and films. There were no programmes broadcasting dates, times or news, reinforcing the girls’ removal from normal society. Erica half-heartedly watched a movie, but struggled to concentrate on it.

The doctor gave her a sedative injection before she was settled down for the night.

 

The next morning brought more of the same attention, and a long soak in the bath helped relieve some of her discomfort. The loudspeakers stayed silent throughout.

After she’d had breakfast a man she had not seen before came to the room. He was in his forties, she guessed, small in height yet very muscular and self-assured. His ginger hair was well-groomed and that, combined with a black suit, white shirt and blue necktie, made him look more like a respectable businessman than a cruel gaoler. He placed the small case he was carrying on the bed before flicking open the catches.

‘I’m Don,’ he started. ‘We thought it’s about time we saw you dressed. Put these on,’ he said, handing her the expected thong, bra and suspender belt, all in white.

He sat on the bed to watch as Erica fitted the suspender belt round her waist and fastened the two hooks and eyes behind her. The label was still attached by its plastic tag. She tried to break it, but could not, so he beckoned her close, the smell of his cologne drifting up to her nostrils as he pulled the thong to one side and broke the tab. He indicated she was to continue dressing, telling her to hand him the other clothes to remove the tags. She held the thong as she stepped into it, pulling it to her waist and arranging the suspenders inside the legs. As she fitted the tiny bra the man opened the pack of stockings. All the items fitted her perfectly. Whoever these people were knew all there was to know about her. Maybe they measured her when she was first kidnapped, or maybe they got her sizes from her old clothes, wherever they were now. Destroyed, probably, like the rest of her past.

He watched avidly as she rolled the stockings up her legs. She had only ever worn stockings a few times, always in an outrageous, provocative way to shock the viewer. She had never worn anything like these non-stretch nylon ones and was not at all sure how to handle the seams. Don twirled a finger, ordering her to turn her back, and fiddled until both seams were straight and the suspenders tautly fastened. He opened a shoebox and passed her the high-heeled stilettos, another new experience for her. Once she put them on he had her walk up and down while he coached her how to walk elegantly in them. Erica felt about a foot too tall.

When he was happy with her deportment he surprised her by taking a dress out of the case, telling her to put it on. She moved across to him to take the dress and was immediately impressed by the feel of it. Black velvet encrusted with gems at the neck and around a diamond-shaped vent above the bust. She unzipped it and stepped in, pulling it up over her hips and sliding her arms into the short sleeves. Don stood and zipped it up. It fitted like a second skin, hugging her figure and moulding round her breasts and bottom. The hem fell to her ankles, but a slit up the front, again lined with jewels, reached to crotch level.

‘Walk up and down,’ he told her, sitting on the bed again.

As she obeyed the slit parted, showing the whole of each leg up to the tops of her stockings, and she had little doubt it would show even more when she sat down.

‘Very elegant,’ he told her. ‘You may thank me.’

Erica turned to face him. ‘Thank you, Master,’ she said.

He laughed, shaking his head. ‘You’re new here, aren’t you? That wasn’t quite what I meant. Come here.’

Erica walked over to stand in front of him. He reached up slowly, taking his time, running his hands over her body, assessing her curves through the dress. She wanted to react, to push his hands away, to be her own self. Yet she knew it was impossible; he had the power to let her be safe or to endure terrible punishment, and she’d had enough punishment. At least his hands were gentle. He reached for the slit in the dress, exploring her, travelling upwards to the front of her thong and then down, between, making her squirm in a mixture of wanting it to stop and wanting more.

‘Stand still,’ he told her as he rose from the bed. He quickly and tidily undressed, folding his clothes over the back of the bedside chair, not casting a glance her way until he turned, naked, to face her again. She had been right about his physique; there was not an ounce of fat on him, so it was clear he kept himself fit. She could not help noticing he was half erect and was not sure whether to be insulted that he wasn’t more so after his attentions to her body. He sat on the bed again, swinging his legs up and settling back until he was leaning against the headboard.

‘Come here,’ he beckoned, patting the mattress beside him.

Once again Erica knew this was no time to fight. She fully intended to tell the courts about it all when she eventually escaped, along with all the other abuses she was keeping careful mental notes of. They would regret this, all of them, when she got to tell her story. But for now she would have to go along with everything. No point in encouraging more punishment, so she joined him on the bed, the slit in her dress opening wide as she did so.

‘Suck me fully erect,’ he told her bluntly.

Dutifully she bent over him and opened her mouth wide to take him inside, while he lifted her hair to the side so he could watch. In his semi-erect state she could take most of him into her mouth, but gradually he swelled until she had to back off, moving her head slowly up and down his shaft, feeling him spasm every now and again as she sucked extra deep.

‘Good, good,’ he encouraged.

She set about a steady, deep rhythm. She assumed he wanted to come in her mouth and decided she may as well do her utmost to get it over with as soon as possible. As her head rose and fell faster and faster the links in her collar provided the percussion, clinking each time she bobbed.

But Don had no intention of coming in her mouth. ‘Stop now,’ he told her. ‘Climb over me. Kneel.’

Erica sighed and raised herself above him, the slit opening wide enough for her to straddle his legs, showing all of her stockings and suspenders and most of the thong.

‘Pull it aside and slide down over my cock,’ he said, his voice deeper than before.

Erica reached down and pulled the thin strip of material covering her pussy to one side, then raised herself up over him, steadying his cock with her hand until she felt it at her entrance, then sinking slowly. She always enjoyed the very first moment of penetration whenever she had sex, and her body did not let her get away with it this time, making her moan out with the beautiful, searing feeling of surrender it brought. She desperately wanted to dislike it, but despite herself it felt good to be filled, partly because this felt normal. There were no bonds, no whips, no pain, no other women, just raw sex between a man and her. Granted she did not know Don, just his name, but that had happened before in her life. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was on a beach somewhere, under the warm sun, screwing with a faceless lover, with no walls to stop the daylight and the breeze and the sounds of a normal world reaching her.

She rose and pressed down slowly, feeling him slide deep within her, feeling his hands on her hips, pulling her back onto him before she went too far away. She felt him push his hips off the bed to stay within her and she felt the liquid warmth that joined them. Cutting through it all, insistently taking her created images of freedom from her, the metal collar around her throat, its weight and its annoying jangling forcing her back to her reality. She opened her eyes.

He had stopped moving, content to lie back and let her do the work, watching her rise and fall over him, a prisoner to her own lust.

‘Do you like the dress?’ he smiled up at her.

She nodded.

‘Speak.’

‘Yes, Master,’ she breathed, unable to stop her rhythmic rise and fall and the contractions of her inner muscles around his shaft.

‘It suits you,’ he continued. ‘Have you any idea how much it cost?’

‘No, Master.’

‘Just over five thousand, plus a few hundred to have it altered to fit you so perfectly.’

Five thousand pounds! She would never pay anything like that for a dress; the most she had ever paid was three hundred, and that was for her best friend’s wedding. And here she was being screwed in a five thousand pound dress! ‘What if it gets ruined?’ she had to ask. It seemed such a waste. What could be the point?

‘That’s not for you to worry about. Silence now.’

He thrust hard up inside her to emphasise his control, gripping her hips harder, forcing her up and down, faster and faster until he went suddenly rigid and erupted inside her. She wanted to remain detached and dispassionate, but feeling him ejaculate took her the last few steps over the precipice that was her own orgasm.

With it came feelings of cheapness. Erica hated herself. She needed warmth and human comfort at a time like this. She sat back on him, feeling the last of his convulsions inside her. She placed her hands palm upward on her thighs and waited.

‘Speak,’ he breathed at last.

‘May I kiss you, Master?’ She hated herself for asking, but she needed some humanity.

He smiled up at her. ‘Yes, you may.’

So she leaned forward, resting down on his chest as her lips sought his, kissing gently at first and then with more passion, using her tongue and lips and teeth, closing her eyes and trying to imagine herself free again. She was the one doing the kissing, not him. She was controlling the pace. And he, still within her, was growing again because of what she was doing, because she was turning him on. He was moving again, fully erect, thrusting into her, the wet sounds serving to amplify his lust for her. She ceased to care about the dress; let him worry about their mutual passion damaging or staining such a lovely piece of clothing.

Suddenly he moved, rolling her off him, pushing her to her hands and knees in the centre of the bed, parting her legs and kneeling between them as he rucked the dress above her waist. She rested on her elbows, waiting for him to be inside her again, impatient for her warm wet emptiness to be refilled. She felt his cock nudge against her buttocks as he gripped her, taking himself in hand to steady his aim.

His first thrust back inside her was hard and deep and was just as quickly gone. He had used it to lubricate himself. Next time his aim was higher, between the cheeks of her bottom.

‘No, please!’ she cried, suddenly realising his perverse intent.

‘Silence!’

He pushed slowly, steadily and firmly, until he was buried deep in her anus. It immediately reminded her of Emily and the dreadful implements she had used there, yet it was different, more natural, more human.

He was gentle at first, sliding nearly all the way out and then all the way back inside her again, clearly getting off on how his large erection could possibly fit inside such a slim, perfect body. It was obvious a part of him wanted to possess, to demonstrate his ownership, to have her regardless of her wishes. He thrust harder, faster, delighting in her submissive moans.

Erica hated herself. She liked it. She did not want to, but her hips had their own agenda. They thrust back at him despite her mind telling them not to. She wanted him even deeper inside her rectum. She started to have powerful imaginings of how he would be so deep inside her she could feel him in her throat, and had a sudden vision of him coming in her mouth from within and his semen dripping down her chin as it escaped her. In this crazed state, overcome by lust, she did not care where his cock was now, she wanted it all, everywhere at once, filling her with its power, drowning her with its seed.

She put her hands down on the bed, wanting to ask the question, hoping he would notice.

‘What?’ he gasped. ‘Speak.’

‘Please, Master…’ her voice jerked from his thrusts. ‘Please come in my mouth.’

‘That’s my decision, bitch,’ he growled. ‘Silence.’

Her comments made him more urgent, more desperate to abuse her, to take all of her. But she had sown the seeds of a very erotic idea. She was the rebel he had seen flogged in the restaurant, the fighter Emily had told her of, the strong one he had watched on the video monitors. And here she was a victim to her own animal lust. Maybe letting her have her own way this once would make her more compliant. Maybe he would do it.

As he imagined pulling out of her rectum and shoving his cock in her mouth he felt his climax getting close, the point where his leg muscles tensed and his temples started to pulse. He was seconds away. As he felt his come start to rise up his shaft he pulled free of her, pushing her roughly on her side. Taking a handful of hair he pulled her head down.

Erica opened her mouth wide to receive him, almost gratefully accepting him into her throat. Immediately she felt him convulse. She concentrated hard, wanting to feel the moment his come sprayed into her. The first spurt hit the back of her throat, welling there until she swallowed. She backed her head off slightly until the head of his cock rested on her tongue and she could feel how the next few sprays burst forth. There was no taste, no smell. Somewhere from above he grunted and stared down at her. She did not want to swallow, not yet. She wanted him to see what he had done. What she had done.

She waited until he finished filling her mouth and pulled out, sinking back onto the bed beside her. She quickly adopted the position again.

‘You want to say something?’ he croaked wearily.

Erica shook her head. He looked puzzled until she settled down on the bed next to him and pointed to her mouth. As he watched she opened it slowly, letting him see the sticky whiteness on her tongue. A trickle escaped, running down her chin. She raised a finger to retrieve it, feeding it back between her glazed lips, and a very erotic idea came to him. ‘Don’t swallow,’ he said. ‘Keep it there until I say. Send in 21,’ he called up to the camera.

‘21 is rather tied up at the moment,’ a female voice responded.

‘How about 29?’

‘She’ll be there. Any requests?’

‘Naked,’ he told the speaker. ‘Hands tied behind her.’ He turned to Erica. ‘Don’t swallow now. Not yet.’

His words to the camera served to remind Erica that others had almost certainly observed her actions and her capitulation. The possibility that all this could be recorded had crossed her mind before. If it ever got out it would ruin her stepfather’s political ambitions forever. But there was not much she could do about that now.

Don rose from the bed and made her stand too, just as a buzzer sounded at the door. ‘Open,’ he said.

Erica had noticed the girl who entered at the restaurant. She was the one who dropped a dish and was publicly spanked for it. Her dark hair was cut fairly short, and apart from her collar she was naked, even to the point that all her pubic area was shaved, making her look younger than she probably was.

‘Come in, 29,’ he said. The door closed behind her. ‘Turn,’ he told her.

29 slowly turned so he could see her arms and hands, securely bound together with several turns of white rope, one length holding her wrists and another above her elbows, pulling them tight together, causing her shoulders to arch and her breasts to thrust forward.

‘This is 29,’ he told Erica, somewhat unnecessarily. ‘29, you’ve already met 51.’

The two girls made eye contact but there was no verbal communication, merely a slight physical acknowledgement of one another.

‘I’ve just come in her mouth,’ he told the new girl before he spoke to Erica. ‘Show her.’

He held her elbow to pull her forward to face the newcomer. ‘Open your mouth, 51.’

The girl looked casually at Erica’s lips as she parted them, then back to her eyes.

‘Kiss her,’ he told 29. ‘Share it. And when you have I want to see. Only then may you swallow.’

The girl closed the space between them, offering her lips to Erica, her tongue immediately seeking hers with some enthusiasm.

‘Did I tell you, 51, that 29 is a lesbian?’ Don asked. ‘She really doesn’t like men very much at all.’ He laughed as he watched them.

The girl seemed to know what to do, possibly because she had done it before. After all, a girl numbered 29 had to have been here for some time. She kissed well, her lips far more gentle than a man’s as she sought out and withdrew the semen on Erica’s tongue. When she was satisfied she broke the contact, leaving Erica rather breathless.

‘Open,’ said Don.

Each girl opened her mouth to show him what remained. When he was satisfied he told them to swallow.

‘OK, 29, you can go now,’ he said dismissively.

‘Yes, Master,’ the girl said as she turned to leave.

The familiar dull whirr of the door motors signalled its opening, but this time it did not close after the girl, and Erica watched her disappearing away down the passage, passing several other girls, some men and the occasional woman before going through a door in the distance.

‘Right,’ he suddenly said to her, ‘time for a tour.’

Erica waited while he dressed, still aware of his residue in her mouth, and even more aware of the feel of 29’s lips and tongue. Once he was fully clothed again he removed a leash from the drawer and attached it to her collar, more for its symbolism than to hold her with, since he applied no other restraints. His manner was one of a complete gentleman, yet he did not stand back to allow her through the door first, rather he led her. She felt like both a cherished lady and a worthless possession.

This time they did not turn right into the restaurant, keeping straight on instead until they reached the far end. Through the glass double doors facing them she could make out the waters of a large swimming pool, on the far side of which were floor-to-ceiling windows. As the automatic doors slid open the smell of chlorine took her back to her schooldays, to the swimming lessons she used to love.

Four girls and one man were in the pool, two girls swimming for exercise and the other two involved with the man. As far as Erica could see all were naked, the girls, for the moment at least, free of their usual collars. While the man fondled the breasts of one of them the other kept coming up for air before disappearing below the surface again, presumably to fellate him.

To the right of the pool another man was sitting in a jacuzzi, being served champagne by a costumed waitress while he watched two other girls performing an energetic soixante-neuf on the tiles in front of him.

Behind that, through full-height windows, was a large gymnasium, with a few girls on various keep fit machines, each in uncharacteristic leotards and trainers. Her escort explained that this was purely to act as support, to stop pulled muscles and so on. At all other times the girls had to wear the outfits given to them or wear nothing at all. Even in the gym, should a Master want it, any of the girls would have to remove the leotard without question.

Everything about her looked so strange and artificial, yet everyone there treated it as normal. Nobody paid undue attention to the fact she was so elegantly dressed yet was being led along by a leash.

‘In any part of The Complex, if a Master or a Mistress wants you, he or she will have you. Any complaint or resistance on your part will be severely punished, either immediately or in public at some future time. You’ve already experienced public punishment and I don’t imagine you want to again, do you?’

‘No, Master.’

‘You could well find someone will want more than one of you at once, or that several Masters will want to use you at the same time. Understand?’

‘Yes, Master.’

He pulled her towards the jacuzzi, exchanging cordial pleasantries with the man there.

‘Like these two, for example,’ he continued, indicating the two girls still giving each other oral pleasure. Erica could make out the number 31 tattooed into a buttock of the top girl.

‘They’re here because this Master wants some visual amusement.’

‘What’s this one’s number?’ the second man asked, with a hint of a Scottish accent.

‘51,’ Don told him.

‘Welcome to The Complex, 51,’ he said, smiling.

Erica glanced at her escort, unsure whether this counted as permission to speak. He nodded slightly.

‘Thank you, Master,’ she said back.

‘Polite, too,’ the Scot commented.

‘She is now,’ Don said. ‘She was trouble at first, but as they always do she succumbed to the initiation.’

‘51, will you do something for me?’ the Scot asked.

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Go and push your fingers inside… what’s the top one’s number?’

‘31,’ Don told him.

‘Push your fingers in her.’

Don tugged the leash slightly in case she delayed. She squatted next to the two girls, the one underneath apparently glad of the break, resting her head on the tiles to allow Erica access to her partner. The upper girl’s labia were soaked, so two fingers of Erica’s right hand slid in easily.

‘Put your whole hand in,’ the Scot told her. ‘Fist her.’

Erica blushed. She had never performed such an act, but with the Scot’s guidance she squeezed her fingers together, making them into a tight conical shape and tucking her thumb inside them.

‘Have you ever done this before, 51?’ the Scot asked.

‘No, Master.’

‘Go steadily but firmly,’ he instructed. ‘You’ll manage.’

So Erica pushed, sliding in easily up to the knuckle as the girl tensed and moaned.

‘Push now, steady,’ the man said.

The girl helped her, pushing back against her hand until it slid fully into the tight channel.

‘Now explore her.’

To Erica it looked as though her forearm was growing out of the girl, whose pussy clamped her tight in its warm wetness. The girl moaned, her head arching back as Erica’s hand twisted inside her. She tried opening and closing her fingers slightly.

‘How does that feel, 31?’ the Scot asked, moving to get a better view.

‘Good, Master,’ the girl breathed.

‘Do you want her to make you come, 31?’

‘As you please, Master.’

‘Yes, as I please. But no, I don’t please. You can wait. Take your hand out, 51.’

The girl’s muscles seemed reluctant to release Erica, but eventually her hand slid free, slick and slippery from the girl’s juices.

‘Put your fingers in her mouth, 51.’

Erica did as instructed and waited patiently while the girl licked her own fluids from her hand.

‘Well done, 51,’ the Scot said, smiling appreciatively. ‘I’ll look forward to using you when you’re ready. You two, carry on as you were,’ he ordered as he settled back to his champagne.

Don pulled the leash again, leading her along the side of the pool to a small hallway fronted by glass doors. He did not stop, pushing the doors open to take her outside, the first genuine fresh air and daylight she had experienced since she’d been here. A grassy slope led upwards, with paved steps set into it. As they neared the top Erica got her first glimpse of how vast the grounds were. The land sloped very gradually away in front of them, to trees and shrubbery in the distance.

Over to the right stood wire netting fences enclosing five tennis courts, only two of which were being used by people in regular tennis kit, so probably not slaves. As she watched one of the girls, dressed as usual in heels, stockings, bra, thong and suspenders, came from a door near the restaurant with a tray of drinks and sandwiches, taking them to a table beside one of the courts.

‘If you want to run,’ Don interrupted Erica’s thoughts, ‘it’s that way.’ He pointed directly ahead into the distance. ‘But I warn you, there are video cameras, trip fences, a very high wall with razor-barbed wire on top, some very nasty guards and some very hungry dogs. But if you still want to try then feel free to at any time; it does amuse some of the Masters.’

‘May I ask a question?’

‘Ask away. I may even answer.’

‘Has nobody ever suspected this place exists?’

That amused him. ‘Suspected? Anyone who’s anyone knows it exists. That’s what keeps it running. No matter what happens there’s always someone who can sort it out, keep it out of the papers and so on. We can do anything we like here. Anything at all.’

To one side of The Complex was a large ornamental garden, where twenty or so of the guests sat sipping drinks, talking, reading papers or just taking the air.

Again they were being served by the scantily-uniformed girls, one of whom, for reasons not explained to Erica, was hanging by her tied arms from a stout pergola, her toes inches from the ground and her face a mixture of tension and tears. Erica assumed she had done something wrong and was being punished, or maybe they just wanted her that way for decoration. Whichever it was, nobody was even looking at her.

Quite a few watched Erica approach, though, possibly because her elegant gown stood out from what everyone else wore. One man stopped her and reached into the slit, roughly investigating her pussy with his fingers without saying a word, while Don used the opportunity to chat to two women at one of the tables, still holding her leash loosely in his hand. A few minutes later, either bored or finished, the man moved back into the building and their tour continued.

The car park at the front of The Complex looked like a luxury car show. Rolls Royces, Bentleys, Mercedes and a whole host of cars Erica could not even name shone in the sunlight. As they watched a blue Aston Martin appeared in the distance, making fast headway up the sweeping driveway before stopping at the main doors, where its occupants – a man and a striking blonde woman – got out, leaving one of the masked men to park the car. Erica’s mind was working fast. If she could get the keys of one of these, that could be a way out.

‘Don’t even think it, 51.’ Don was ahead of her thoughts. ‘The drive to and from the car park has spikes that have to be lowered to get a car in or out. The two sets of main gates – two in case anyone tried to ram them – are protected by armed guards and there’s a pit that has to be raised to get a car in or out.’

‘Just because one of us could steal a car and try to escape?’ she asked.

‘Did I say you could speak?’

‘No, Master. Sorry.’

‘In answer to your question, no, it’s not because of that. We have politicians and foreign heads of state here. If anyone should attempt an assassination, or perhaps the gutter press tried to get in…’ he left the comment incomplete.

Erica sighed and sank to her knees on the grass, her hands upwards. Don pulled her upright with the leash. ‘Speak.’

‘So people do know about this place?’

‘Don’t get your hopes up, 51. The only people who know about it will not be talking about it. If the press find it, it’ll be because they manage to follow someone.’ He held the leash in his left hand while he reached into his right pocket. ‘Enough questions now. Open your mouth.’

The ball tasted of rubber and forced her mouth wider than was comfortable. The straps behind her neck held it firmly. When he had fastened the gag in place he used a cord to tie her hands behind her for the rest of the tour.

She was shown the medical facilities, a guest room, a small cinema, a full office suite where the guests could use secretarial services, photocopiers, faxes and phones.

Don went overboard in showing her how secure everything was, especially anywhere that could be used to communicate with the outside world. It was not ever a case of hiding the facilities so much as showing her how futile any attempts to use them would be.

Erica made mental notes. They could not be faultless. There had to be a way.

The tour took in all three floors above ground and ended in the basement, which Don referred to as the dungeon. It was fitted out with some extensive, evil-looking equipment, upon which two girls were bound.

One was on some kind of rack, her hands and legs being stretched by a woman using a remote control. The second was strapped to a cross, being whipped by the silver-haired man who had been in charge of her initiation. Erica was glad she was unable to speak, lest she fall foul of some rule and end up on one of these contraptions.

Finally she was taken to the restaurant, where the gag was removed and she was untied while Don enjoyed some coffee and sandwiches, served by another girl whom she recognised from her initiation.

‘Do you remember her?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Master, from the other night.’

‘She whipped you.’

Erica stayed silent.

‘Would you like to get revenge for that?’

‘No, Master, she was only doing what she was told.’

‘You’ll whip her anyway. Come here,’ he called to the girl, ‘and bring a crop.’

The girl hurried to a cupboard, collecting a riding crop and offering it to Don.

‘Bend over that chair,’ he told her, and she obeyed immediately. ‘A question, 51?’

‘Yes, Master. Why must I hit her? I don’t blame her for what she did.’

‘You’ll do it for no other reason than I tell you to. I’m not concerned with your anger or blame. You could be desperate to whip her, but if I don’t want you to it doesn’t happen. But I do want you to, so you will do it.’

Erica stood, taken aback by his sudden anger. She mechanically raised the crop and then swept it down against the girl’s bottom, not knowing whether she was doing it too hard or too soft, nor whether the girl’s yelps and tears were real or for effect. By the time he let her rise her poor bottom was striped, blotchy and red, but strangely Erica felt no guilt at all. She had no control over events, and she knew that in the reverse situation the girl would have shown no mercy either. She was being turned into a heartless machine.

‘Did you enjoy whipping her?’ Don asked her.

‘No, Master,’ she told him honestly.

‘Did you enjoy being whipped?’ he asked the tearful girl. ‘Speak honestly.’

‘No, Master,’ she echoed Erica.

‘Good,’ he smiled. ‘If you liked it, it wouldn’t be as exciting.’

Erica stored this information, thinking about it later, after she’d been retied and led back to her room, where she sat, helpless to do anything except watch the screen on her wall, showing a camera overlooking the garden terraces she had been in earlier.

The girl was still suspended from the pergola, still being ignored by the guests. She watched as another undressed in front of two couples before she carried on serving them their refreshments.

She knelt on the floor for attention.

‘Yes, 51?’ a female voice asked.

‘Please, I need to use the toilet.’

Immediately the bathroom door clicked and swung open.

‘With my hands tied?’ she asked.

‘Wait,’ the voice told her.

A few minutes later 36, the first one she had met, arrived in her room.

‘She needs the toilet, 36. Help her.’

Erica turned her back, offering her hands to be untied.

‘Leave her tied,’ the woman’s voice said.

36 stood aside to let Erica enter the bathroom, blushing at the thought of what was to happen, sure in the knowledge this was yet another attempt to humiliate and thereby subjugate. She turned as she reached the toilet, waiting while 36 pulled up the dress and pulled down the thong before she sat down.

The girl waited, even managing a reassuring smile, perhaps aware the camera would not be watching her face. When Erica had finished the girl unrolled some toilet paper and wiped her dry.

‘Bring her off, 36,’ the woman’s voice interrupted. ‘Make her come.’

Maybe 36 had been here long enough to just accept such orders. Certainly she showed no signs of embarrassment as she pulled the thong off and pressed her fingers to Erica’s pussy, seeking out her clitoris and circling it gently, making Erica squirm from the pleasurable sensations. She knew exactly what to do to quickly make Erica gasp and moan. The fingers became more insistent, until Erica’s legs trembled and her mouth opened in a searing gasp, her hips responding, trying to make her own rhythm, trying to maintain that glorious contact.

Within moments she was there, reaching her peak, eyes closed, sighing, ‘No, no, no,’ regardless of the possible consequences of speaking.

When she recovered she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her hair a mess, her face a betrayal of the fact that once more her body had succumbed to a place her mind did not want to go. Post-orgasm, she resented the girl’s fingers still within her, wanted to shout out loud and fight.

But nobody had told 36 to stop.

Nobody had told Erica to stop.

As she stared at her reflection she saw herself jerk, she watched her eyes glaze over again as the kneeling girl’s practised fingers took her back up the slope to the inevitable conclusion, with who-knew how many unseen eyes witnessing her degradation. But this time they waited until the perfect moment, when Erica was about to crash over into orgasmic oblivion once more.

‘Stop,’ said a male voice.

36 stopped and removed her hand, but Erica could not. Jerking her hips forward, trying to reach for something that was no longer there, she orgasmed, taken there by her mind alone, dizzily sliding from the toilet to the beige carpet. She convulsed as 36 looked down at her. Erica wanted to stay there, to sleep, to close her eyes and dream she was free.

‘Leave now, 36,’ said the voice.

 

In the control room near the front door, a place none of the girls had ever seen, those who witnessed Erica’s spontaneous orgasms watched her on the big monitor, listening to her sobs, excited by the display of stockings and legs and bound hands. Don was already formulating an idea as Erica drifted off to sleep where she lay on the carpet, and by the time her breathing slowed and regulated he had started discussing the details with the others.