CHAPTER 24: The Cock-Length Solution, Part 2

The blue girl working on Sheila's hair applied mousse to the roots and blow-dried her tresses with a round brush, styling it so it curled about until the tresses brushed her chin.

She was nearly finished when the phone rang. The brunette who was working on Robyn's hair said, "Stay where you are, Cutie," and she unhooked the wall phone.

"Salon!"

There was a short pause. Then she said, "Hi, Nina! There sure are! We have two in chairs here right now. Oh, this doll I'm doing is simply adorable! You know that Sarah? the one that Crane has up in his torture chamber? well this, I don't know, seventeen year old, is like her--but she has big big tits! I mean, for her size, you know. And you should see her long black hair that I'm working . . ."

The girl on the end apparently cut her off, because she stopped speaking, looked surprised, and then replaced the phone and returned to working on Robyn's long tresses. "I'm not sure who's crazy, me or Nina," she said. "Maybe Crane."

Kelly, seated near the wall with Mia, smiled.

"What did she say, Donna?"

"Well, she sounded in a big hurry, and I guess she's coming up here to get a couple of these girls. Or maybe just one, I don't know. Anyway, she said not to let any of them leave."

"What's crazy about that?"

"Well . . . you know, I swear that she said something about getting 'cock-lengths'. That's what it sounded like to me."

Kelly laughed. "You mis-heard."

"I don't think so."

The blue girl who was finishing with Sheila's hair said, "Donna might be right, Kelly. Sometimes we talk about cock size here the way the men do about tit size. Especially the women clients."

"I never heard Nina talk about it," Kelly replied.

"Donna said Crane asked for it. Of course, he's a kidder. He could be pulling Nina's leg."

Donna said, "No. Nina was serious. Nina would know if he was kidding her. I think it has to do with the males they're auctioning tonight. Maybe he's afraid that he'll never sell them all. There are six, you know. I don't know how many women clients are here to buy them, but there can't be much more than half a dozen or so. Maybe Crane wants cock-lengths for them."

"Not for that butch with glasses," the other girl said. "Or for Lezzie."

"Her real name is Lindsey," Donna explained.

When Sheila rose from the chair, Kelly stood up as well.

"Wow, do you ever look scrumptious!" she exclaimed. She grasped Sheila's hand. "Look in the mirrors."

Sheila gazed at herself. The contours about her face emphasized the oval of her face. The irregular bangs that brushed her brows certainly looked attractive. She thought the style suited her more than the hairdo she'd had done in New York.

She glanced down at her figure in the black shift. The garment's low scoop neck displayed her cleavage as well as the dress she'd purchased in New York. The material clung to her figure like a second skin.

Lacking undergarments, her dress left little to the imagination. At least the hem, which ended just above her knees, was decently long.

"What are you thinking of?" the blue girl who had done her hair asked her. "The gown looks great on you. You have such a terrific figure."

"I was thinking that it doesn't hide much," Sheila responded.

She turned before the mirrors. Just below the deep cleavage between her breasts, their nakedness under the dress was obvious: Her nipples were blatantly outlined through the smooth nylon.

"I think you look sexy. You're the best I've ever seen! Wait 'til the bidding. They'll go crazy!"

"All this preparation was just for the auction?"

"That's right," the girl replied. "It's important to look good, even with your clothes on. If a client pays a lot for you, he'll be careful how he treats you. You'd be surprised how tight some of these millionaires can be with their money. When a client gets tired of a slave, he might just turn her over to Crane, but most try to resell them. Your Master won't want you damaged."

"I'm glad of that. I'm grateful for all the trouble you two took with me."

"You do look great, Sheila," Kelly told her. "Donna, who's escorting these two downstairs?"

The girl who had just finished styling her hair was cleaning around the salon chair with a broom. "Well, gee, Kelly, it must be Polly; she brought them up. But she didn't say for sure. Anyway, you'd better not take Blondie until Nina gets here."

Just at that moment a short and slender brunette of about Sheila's own age appeared in the doorway, sweating and looking out of breath.

"Here you are!" the girl exclaimed, panting. The girl was more petite than Kelly, with brown hair and a pert and shapely figure. She had prominent, moderate-sized breasts which, perhaps, took B cups. Unlike Kelly's figure, hers didn't look as though it had an ounce of excess weight. She looked older than Sheila and was probably in her upper-twenties.

Kelly said, "Me, Nina? I just brought Sheila up to have her hair done. I wasn't hiding."

"Oh, she's here, too. Great! Kelly, we have to go downstairs immediately. Crane wants cock-lengths on the males in today's shipment. In twenty . . . no . . . " she glanced at her watch, "seventeen minutes!"

"That's impossible! Are you sure he wasn't kidding?"

"I'm sure. Hurry, and bring your bag. Grab Sheila and let's go. You can put the cuffs back on her after we get downstairs."

As they rushed her between them down the hall, Kelly said, "Nina, I don't see how we can do this in time. Really!"

"We can try. Here's what we'll do. There's a girl that I have waiting downstairs. She's as blonde and with tits just as big as Sheila's. Holly is her name. Those two will get the guys hard. You'll measure, and I'll write. If any of them causes a hassle, I'll take care of it with my whip. Or, if necessary, with my prod."

They reached the stairwell door, Nina pushed it open, and they started down the stairs.

Nina told Sheila, "As soon as we get downstairs, you'll undress, understand?"

She drew a phallic-looking prod from a leather holder in her belt. "If you cause trouble . . . Do you know what one of these feels like?"

It looks like a vibrator, but with that metallic tip, I suppose it's a prod, like Kelly used on me in the bathroom downstairs.

"Is it a prod, Mistress Nina?"

"I gave her a jolt in the bathroom," Kelly said. "She knows what it feels like."

"You can leave on your stockings and jewelry, Sheila. Just take off the gown. Kelly, as soon as she's undressed, put her handcuffs back on her. I'll meet you after I get Holly."

"Where will we meet?"

"Outside the men's cells. If you get there before me, unlock their doors and open one of them. I'll meet you at the open door."

"Do you know which cells the men are in?"

She shook her head. "They should be around bee nine, ten, or eleven. I just hope that the cells are together."

Nina trotted down the stairs ahead of them.

When Kelly and Sheila reached the basement, Nina was running at the far end of the hall. She disappeared in a doorway.

"Undo your dress," Kelly said.

The zipper ended at the top of the slit and the dress came completely open; there was no need to step out of it. Kelly drew the sleeves down Sheila's arms and off. She folded it over her left forearm.

"Let's get your cuffs linked," Kelly said.

Sheila held her forearms up. One locked manacle of her handcuffs hung from its twin that was about her left wrist. Kelly drew a key from a pocket of her dress, opened the hanging cuff, and clamped it about Sheila's right wrist. She clipped the link between the cuffs to Sheila's collar chain, and Sheila's hands were again bound beneath her chin.

Kelly led her by a forearm past a wooden door marked in brass letters, 'Machine Shop', and gray metal doors identified in black paint with 'B1, B3, B5 and so on on their left, with even numbers following the 'B' on their right.

"I don't see any open metal doors," Kelly said. "I thought maybe Nina might have looked in the cells and found the men."

Sheila made no reply. She was gazing down the hallway. The floor carpetting and the overhead fluorescent lights were the same as the ones in the other halls she'd seen--on the Main Floor and the Third Floor--but the doorways along this hall were different. A series of gray metal doors, she guessed thirty or forty, extended down to the far end of the building where they ended at another door like that of the stairwell they had just exited. They must be to the cells that Kelly had mentioned. Interspersed along each wall were several wooden doors like the one to the Machine Shop but the gray doors were depressingly numerous and close together.

* * *

Nina hastily introduced Sheila to the other girl. Holly was younger than herself by several years; the girl looked about eighteen. Except for her collar and manacles, holding her hands up as Sheila's did hers, she was completely naked. She wasn't even wearing stockings or jewelry.

"O.K., you two. I don't care how you do it, but each of you choose one of the guys in here, and make him hard."

"Make him hard?" Holly asked, wide-eyed.

"Give him a hard-on, do you understand that, Holly?"

Holly blushed and swallowed, "Y-Yes, I guess so. B-But, how?"

"Any way that you can. The important thing is to get him hard fast. We have to get the info as soon as possible. If necessary, suck his cock."

"Oh no!" Holly exclaimed.

Nina drew her whip. She swung it across the girl's bare buttocks, smacking them hard.

"Ow!!" Holly exclaimed. She burst into tears. Sheila was surprised, as the force of the strap hardly seemed to warrant either the intensity of Holly's cry or her tears. Then she noticed how pink the girl's rump was compared to the rest of her skin.

This can't be the first time she's been whipped today; her buttocks must have been sore before Nina applied the whip. "Don't give us trouble, Holly!" Nina told her; "Make him hard however you can. If nothing else works, suck his cock. Understand?"

"Y-Yes, Mistress."

Sheila felt her face grow hot.

Oh my god! I'm going to have to do this in front of Ed! I hope the blue girls don't order me to do him. I'll die!

She could hardly think. Surely she wouldn't have to do that! Boys got hardons easily--even when she just danced with them. Doing that while Ed was watching would be too humiliating!

As soon as we go in, I'll get ahead of Holly. I'll do the boy, Bill. Holly can do Ed.

"Kelly will measure the guy, and I'll record his dimensions. Once you've gotten your man hard, go next door. That's Cell Nine. Do the same there. After that, we'll go across the hall to Cell Ten and finish. We have to do this as fast as possible. Don't dawdle for any reason. I'll use my prod on you if necessary."

Nina glanced at her watch. "Jesus, only nine minutes left. Come on!" She led the way into Cell Eleven.

Nina led them into Cell Nine.

"Stand up, both of you!" Nina ordered. She held her whip in her right hand, displaying it.

The two occupants were awake. Each was sitting up on his bunk. They were manacled as they'd been in the Pet Shop, each with his hands cuffed behind his back, the cuffs linked by a chain to his collar. Ed, on the right hand bunk, stood up, evidently unconcerned about his nakedness. Sheila was too embarrassed to meet his eyes, and after a quick glance at him, she moved to Nina;s left, closer to the blonde boy, Bill, who was still seated, and looking defiant. Holly and Kelly came in behind her.

"Up, I said!" Nina repeated, withdrawing her prod. "Do you know what this is?" she said, waving in the blond boy's face.

In a surly tone, Bill responded, "I know," and he grudgingly got to his feet.

Sheila gave a quick glance behind her. She saw Holly's naked back. Her arms were about Ed and she was pressing her body against him. Sheila saw Ed looking at her over the girl's head. Sheila blushed, and she turned back to Bill. She imitated the younger girl and put her arms about the youth. She pressed her breasts against his hairless chest, and she enclosed his neck with her fingers and drew his face to her own. She kissed him. He was trembling.

She raised her knee, and she tried to stroke between his legs, which were held apart by the spreader bar. The leather cloth covering his genitals interfered, and she abandoned the attempt.

My god; why is he shaking?--I should be the nervous one!

Sometimes when in bed touching herself, she imagined seducing a man. Visualizing his cock growing hard in her hand had been arousing, but what she was doing now just seemed embarrassing. She pressed her abdomen against his groin; there was no sign that he had an erection. He was still shaking.

Suddenly she felt three stinging blows across her buttocks. Nina brought the whip against them again, crying, "Kneel down, Sheila! Use your hands and your mouth! Hurry up!"

Sheila complied and, as soon as she felt the carpet beneath her knees, she drew up his loincloth. She propped it on her head to keep it from interfering with her access to Bill's genitals, and she had the bizarre thought that she might be impairing her styled hair. His cock looked about three inches long, a fat, soft worm. She felt a shudder of distaste.

Steeling herself, she popped it in her mouth. Trying not to gag, she worked it against the roof of her mouth, kneading it with her tongue. It began to grow. Bill's nervousness didn't stop his prick from growing in her mouth and soon it was so large that the head was all she could hold. The shaft was rigid as a piece of steel.

Kelly was right. This is foolproof.

"Good girl, Sheila!" Kelly said. She knelt beside Sheila and pushed her away.

She placed one end of the measuring tape in the youth's pubic hair and drew the other end up to the head of his erect cock. "I'll take over now; you go to Cell Eleven. Holly's there, already working on one of the guys. Go start on the other one. Nina! Length seven; half-way seven, base eight."

CHAPTER 25: Onto the Stage

When the four girls were finished in Cell Ten, and Nina and Holly had disappeared, Kelly helped Sheila get redressed and re-handcuffed. They ascended one flight and, from the Main Floor hall, they entered the first door on their left.

The room was small, and dimly lit, with only a single overhead bulb. Sheila recognized the other girls from the ship. All eleven of them were in the room, seated on wooden chairs that lined the four walls. Despite the dim light she could see that all had been dressed and made up, more or less as she had been. Each girl's wrists were, like her own, manacled to her collar. Several of them held shot glasses that were either full or partially filled with a liquid.

The guard in the room was leaning against a door that was in the wall directly opposite the door that Sheila and Kelly had just entered. Seated in a chair on Sheila's right just beside the door was another blue girl. On her lap she held a clipboard on top of a cardboard box.

"Are we late, Polly?" Kelly inquired of the girl.

The guard across the room responded. "We've been waiting for you two for half an hour!"

"Ignore him, Kelly," the seated girl said. "There's no rush."

She tipped up the bottom of her clipboard, to reveal in the box under it several shot glasses filled with liquid. She held one up. "Drink this," she told Sheila.

"What is it?" Sheila asked, uneasily. She put her nose to it. It smelled of lemon.

"You'll find out soon enough," Kelly said. "Drink it down."

Sheila hesitated.

"It's orders from Master Crane," the girl said; drink it: it's alcoholic. You'll feel a lot easier during the bidding if you're a little intoxicated. Crane doesn't like new girls to be too scared and stiff during the auction."

Anne, the wife of Jerry of the big cock, was seated across the small room opposite Sheila; she held an empty glass. She smiled at Sheila. "It's alcoholic, all right," she said. "They said it's called 'limoncello' and it's imported from Sorrento. It tastes a bit like a whiskey sour. Actually, I'd like another one."

The blue girl beside Sheila shook her head. "Crane doesn't want you drunk, just mellow."

Sheila tasted it. She'd never had a whiskey sour. She didn't know if Anne's description was accurate or not; it did taste of lemon, and it left a bitter aftertaste. She drank it down. She could feel the heat of the alcohol coursing down her throat. It warmed her stomach. During Sheila's year in New York, she'd grown accustomed to white wine with dinner, but this drink was much stronger. It immediately went to her head.

While Kelly collected empty glasses, Sheila looked around the room. Her face was growing pleasantly warm from the drink, and she felt herself relaxing. She looked at the other girls. She saw the petite coed Robyn with the long black hair and oversized--for her small frame--tits and her auburn-haired roommate, Mia. Eighteen years old, both of them, if she recalled correctly. Jane, the blonde with breasts as large as her own, was beside Mia. She was just sixteen. No, seventeen. She remembered thinking that Jane acted younger than her age. None of the male captives were in the room; the only man present was the guard who was across the room leaning against the door.

She suddenly noticed Wendy, her apartment mate, seated over against the left wall. Wendy smiled back at her. Sheila hadn't recognized her on first entering the room.

Someone had performed an amazing transformation on her friend. She looked gamin-like now, and much younger than earlier in the day. Her hair had been trimmed and swept to one side, boyishly. Her breasts looked small through a sky blue blouse, but that only added to her youngish appearance. She was twenty- eight, but--at least in the dim light of the room, she looked of high school age.

Her skirt was a black mini that nicely displayed her slender but shapely legs, and it contributed even more to her appearance of youth. In place of stockings, she wore blue bobby socks that matched the color of her blouse. Her feet were enclosed in black felt slippers.

Sheila glanced back at Anne. The two of them had conversed on the ship after Sheila's dreadful episode with the four men, and the brunette had helped her clean up. Now she was dressed in a strapless black evening gown. It displayed the cleavage between her ample breasts fully as well as Sheila's dress did her cleavage.

Like Sheila, she was in black stockings and high heeled glossy black pumps. Her dark brown hair seemed black in the dim light; it appeared different from how it had been on the ship; then her hair had been shoulder length. Now it was a mass of curls that outlined her oval countenance.

Anne's figure, despite its shapeliness didn't stand out in a group as exceptional as this one. Now, however, her face as well as her body was on display. She looked gorgeous.

The door next to Anne opened and the guard nearly fell over on his back. The blue girl who was in the doorway caught him.

It was Nina. The blue girl glanced around the room and asked, "Are you all ready?" Her small stature was belied by her authoritative voice. She sounded like she was accustomed to giving orders.

Kelly replied, "I think they are."

"I'll get them lined up," the blue girl across the room said, rising.

Clipboard in hand, she read off names. As each rose from her chair, she arranged them in a line behind Nina. Sheila was fourth, behind Anne, Wendy, and Caroline White. Kelly brought up the rear.

When they were ready, the blue girl who had arranged them said, "Follow Nina out the door. You'll be on the side of a stage. All of you except the girl in front wait there in the wing. Nina will remove the handcuffs from the girl in front.

That will be you, to start," indicating Anne. "Walk to the center of the stage; that's the area that is lit by a spotlight. Two guards as well as Crane will be beside the illuminated area. State your name clearly, so the clients can hear it. Stand in the spotlight for about a minute to give them time to look you over.

"Turn around, slowly. Let them see you from all sides. When you're facing them again, Master Crane may ask you to do more. He may ask you to raise the hem of your dress to show your legs. If a buyer wants to see more, you'll raise it higher and you'll show him everything. Don't hesitate; do whatever Crane asks you to. When he tells you you're done, turn left and walk to the side of the stage. Return through the curtain. I'll be there waiting with your handcuffs; once they're on, get back in line."

She looked at the other girls; then she said to Wendy, "You'll be next. Do the same things, going on stage and so on. Each of you do the same as this brunette."

She paused. "Do all of you understand?"

There were nods and murmurs of assent.

"After all of you are back in line," the blue girl continued; "each of you return onstage for you to be bid on and sold. You'll proceed in the same order, to the spotlight, where you'll stand during the auction.

"Crane will direct you. At some point, he may ask you to undress. Do it. After you're purchased, walk down the three steps at the front of the stage, to the aisle. I'll be waiting there to put your handcuffs back on you. After you're cuffed, take a front row seat. When you've all been sold, Nina will lead you from the auditorium."

She paused and looked up and down the line. "Do you have any questions?" she asked.

Sheila was acutely conscious of the alcohol's effects. The drink on her empty stomach made her feel silly and giggly. She had a silly desire to blurt out in response, "No airheads here!" but she suppressed the urge.

"No? Good!" the blue girl said. "To be sure you understand, I'll explain how you'll be disciplined if one of you deviates from my directions.

She gave them a smile.

"If you cause us any trouble, you'll be stripped naked. Then, on stage and in front of the audience, the guards will use their belts on you. They won't whip your face, but that's the only part of your body where they won't whip you."

The blue girl went through the door to the stage and closed it behind her.

Kelly, who was at the rear of the line of females said, sotto voce, "Cheryl exaggerates. Crane isn't that bad--he's more bark than bite."

CHAPTER 26: Sheila is Auctioned

When Kelly closed the door behind them, it was dark, and Sheila was disoriented. She was in line behind Caroline White when she felt something brush her left arm. It required a few moments for her eyes to adjust; then she realized that it had only been the heavy stage curtain. The line of girls was at one end of the stage, with the curtain on the left of the line and a wall on the right. Ahead, Sheila saw an opening in the curtain, with a dim light coming through it.

Sounds of voices came through the drapery, including an occasional laugh and cough, but they were muffled. Except for a rare loud word or two, nothing was intelligible.

Then she heard a closer voice, that of Crane. He described what was to precede the auction; to Sheila it was a repetition of what the blue girl had just told the group of captives. He ended with, "Nina! You can send out the first candidate."

The blue girl gave Anne a shove, and the brunette appeared briefly in the glare of the spotlight; a moment later she was out of view on the other side of the curtain.

Sheila heard a raised murmur of voices and a few delighted shouts from males in the audience. When the crowd quieted, Anne gave her name and stated that she was a model and married. Crane added some further remarks about her education and background. No one spoke for a few minutes; and Sheila assumed that Anne was turning on the stage, displaying her figure. Crane thanked her. A moment later she reappeared behind them at the rear of their line.

Wendy went onstage next and went through the same steps as Anne, but the crowd was more subdued. Then it was Caroline White's turn. She received more enthusiasm than Wendy--no doubt because of her shapely figure and larger breasts.

Sheila, now at the front of the line, heard Crane thank Caroline. She didn't wait for Nina to shove her into the spotlight, but she immediately walked out from between the curtains.

It took her as long to adjust to the light just as she had to the darkness, but she soon could see that the 'auditorium' was much smaller than she had anticipated. There was a dim light over the rear doors and light from the cracks between them, but except for what was illuminated by the spotlight, everything else in the room was too dimly lit to see. Crane was beside her on her right; and behind him were two guards. One she recognized was named Michael; he had been at their collaring in the shed.

The reaction from the audience to her appearance was ebullient, and it seemed at least as loud as it had been for Anne. Like the brunette, she received enthusiastic male whistles. The first row seemed to be unoccupied, but she heard women in the second row discussing her. She waited for the noise to subside.

"Hey Crane!" some man at the rear yelled. "Get more dolls like this one. Skip the skinny brunettes."

Another yelled "Jesus what a knockout! Show us your tits Blondie!"

Embarrassed and still a little nervous despite the alcohol, Sheila hoped that the man beside her would quiet them, but he waited silently with her and, without his intervention, the noise finally subsided.

Sheila swallowed, and then began, "M-My name is SheilaEricson."

She was glad she had taken that course in public speaking in her sophomore college year. Her female advisor had recommended it. The woman had said, "It doesn't matter what profession you intend to pursue, Sheila. There will always be meetings where you'll be expected to participate."

Hoping her voice didn't betray her lies, Sheila said that she had been married a year and that her husband had been with her on the boat. "We were together until today," she told them. "I worked as a waitress while I was in college, but since we married I've been a housewife and haven't worked outside of the house."

Crane's eyes on her made her realize that it was time to display herself. Her heart pounding, she did a slow pirouette before the audience.

"Thank you, Sheila," Crane said, dismissing her.

She returned through the curtain offstage, glad that was over, and she was again standing behind Caroline. The girl smiled at her. "My, did you ever get a reception! I'll bet a really rich guy gets you."

"The men out there didn't sound exactly refined."

"I know. I'm scared, but I'm glad for the drink; I feel a bit giddy from it."

"Ever since Crane talked to us on the beach, I've been panicky about some guy owning me. I'm afraid of what he'll do to me. I mean, more than the sex."

"Well, it isn't worth worrying about. It has to be better than walking the streets and picking up any old guy, like the girls do in Times Square."

"A blue girl told me something that makes me feel a little less worried. Clients try to take care of their slaves. They sell you when they get tired of you, so they have a reason to keep you in good condition."

Wendy, in front of Caroline, turned around. She reached out and hugged Sheila.

"Oh, Sheila! I don't know how much we'll see of each other after today," she said.

Sheila felt tears well in her eyes. She hugged Wendy back. "Wendy, I'm so sorry I got you into this. I wish I had never have let you come in the limosine."

The auction had begun.

Anne went out first, and there was the same commotion as before--whistles and lewd remarks from men in the audience--but this time Crane quieted the audience. The curtain muffled his words, and Sheila understood little except when Crane began calling out numbers that she presumed were bids.

The auction took about ten minutes, and Sheila heard Crane tell Anne to take a seat. The spotlight seemed to be the only illumination in the room. At least the seats for the girls had been visible. When she'd been in the spotlight, except for the front row, the entire area where the audience sat had been pitch dark.

Wendy took less time, perhaps five minutes, and Sheila heard Crane call out only three numbers.

When Caroline White exited from behind the curtains to enter the light she too was again greeted by hoots and whistles. Her auction took as long as Anne's.

Then Sheila was back onstage.

Crane told her to reprise her 'pirouette' for the audience. She complied, amidst whistles and several male shouts of "Take it off!"

Crane said, "They won't appreciate your figure as well with your clothes on. Kelly!" he called. "Come out, please."

The blue girl appeared from between the curtains. "Do you want her to undress so soon?" she asked.

"Yes," Crane said. "The clients have already had good looks at her appearance in evening dress."

"Have her leave her shoes and stockings on. She has such nice legs."

"I agree. Besides that, it will emphasize her nakedness above them."

"I bet they'll go nuts when they see her bod, Master Crane. With her fair skin, those black stockings will really make her sexy. I bet she'll get over fifty thou."

Crane smiled. "Not that much. The highest bid to date is forty. These are mostly business men, Kelly. Not many are going to pay more than forty thousand dollars to have a female for a month. Don't forget, that's in addition to their other expenses, particularly a suite."

"I think she will. I'll bet money on it. I say she'll get fifty, or more!"

"You're impertinent, but if you're serious, I'll take your bet."

"I'll put up five hundred, U.S."

Crane raised his eyebrows. "Can you afford that much, Kelly?"

"What else can I spend it on here, anyway, Master Crane? I can't play in the casino with clients."

"All right, but I hate to take your money. Now, help Sheila with her dress."

The drink helped, but in front of a crowd Sheila still felt inhibited. Her hands were trembling. The slit began about three inches above the top of her hose, and the zipper reached all the way down to it. Her heart was racing as she drew down the tab.

At least I don't have underclothing to remove. I hope this is over soon!

It came open completely, and there was no need to step out of it. Kelly drew the garment down from her shoulders and folded it over an arm. It left Sheila standing in the center of the stage with the spotlight on her. Except for her necklace, her shoes, and her black stockings, she was naked.

In the small auditorium, the cheers and hoots were deafening. Some males made obscene suggestions but, too conscious of her nakedness, Sheila's heart raced in her chest and her face felt hot, and she hardly noticed them.

A male seated close to the stage made some request of Crane; although Sheila paid no attention, she noticed when she heard the words 'tits' and 'cunt'.

"Kelly," Crane ordered, "Harden her nipples."

"Yes, Master."

Sheila's eyes followed the girl, who moved in front of her. Kelly grasped Sheila's left breast with the fingers and thumbs of both her hands and thrust her mouth upon it. She began licking the nipple voraciously, moving her head up and down. She swept her tongue around on the aroela and, using her tonguetip, she flicked the nipple like a playing child working a light switch rapidly on and off.

Initially there was laughter from the audience but, after a few moments it grew attentive and sounds subsided.

Kelly transferred her attention to Sheila's other breast. In less than a minute, both of Sheila's nipples were rock-hard.

Kelly asked, "Are they big enough, Master Crane?"

Crane encircled Sheila's waist with an arm, and he pulled her to the edge of the stage.

"Bend forward," he told her.

She complied and Crane cupped his hands under her breasts, and he pushed them outward.

"Can you see her nipples well enough, Hugo?" he asked.

"Yes," the man responded. "I suspected that they might get that big. I like them."

"Good," Crane said. He raised Sheila up.

"Turn around," he told her.

Her heart pounding, Sheila complied, showing her buttocks to the audience.

Crane said, "Spread your legs, and bend over. Support yourself with your hands on your knees."

Her face felt on fire, but she did as he ordered.

A moment later she was shocked as she felt his hands, from behind, reach between her thighs. His fingers gripped and spread her labia. Trembling, Sheila maintained the obscene posture until Crane finally withdrew his fingers.

"All right, Hugo?"

"Yes. She has a good-looking cunt. Blonde hair on her labia. Amazing."

"Thank you, Sheila," Crane said. "Kelly, help her get dressed."

Sheila turned around, and there was the blue girl holding her dress out for her.

"That man," Crane explained as she slipped into the dress, "Will probably buy you. It's good business to allow a client to see what he's getting."

As Sheila slipped her arms into the dress, Crane began the auction.

"I expect Sheila will command a premium, so I'm beginning the bidding at fifteen thousand. Those of you making that bid, and all subsequent ones, blink your penlights, just as in the previous auctions. I won't single any of you out until the number of bidders is reduced to two or three."

"Fifteen," he said, and penlights became illuminated all over the dark room. There were too many lights to count.

"Sixteen." There appeared to be the same number of lights.

"Twenty." Perhaps, now there were a few less.

"Twenty-two." Now she was sure that there were fewer; she thought less than twenty.

"Twenty-four." fewer.

When Crane reached thirty, the bidding dropped precipitously. Only four lights remained on. As he called "Thirty-six", followed by each of the remainig twenties, the four stayed on. At "forty", one of those went out, leaving three lights on. Two were in the second row, near the center, close to where, earlier, Sheila had heard several women discussing her attributes.

The bidding rose to "Fifty", at which point there were interruptions: First, the single flashlight near the rear of the room went out. Second, a woman who was evidently one of the two remaining bidders, said aloud, "I think the gentleman who is competing with me should concede defeat. I know very well who you are, Hugo, and I intend to bid as much as it will take to buy this girl."

"Just a moment, Crane," the man said.

He walked between the stage and the first row of seats, in the direction where the woman was. Passing the three girls who had been auctioned and were sitting in that row, he knelt on the first empty seat and began talking to the woman. Their voices were low, and Sheila was unable to comprehend anything that they said.

After a couple of minutes, the man said, "Crane, we've come to an agreement about Sheila. The lady will buy her for the fifty that she's just bid. She'll also pay ten for Sheila's husband."

Crane said, "I'll accept her bid for Sheila. But, as for her purchasing Sheila's husband, the lady will have to appear at tonight's auction for the males. Ten may be enough to buy her husband, but that depends on how much other clients bid for him.

"Madame, your suite number?"

"Apartment three three three."

Crane grasped Sheila's hand. He led her to the side of the stage and down three steps to the auditorium floor to where Anne, Wendy, and Caroline White were seated in the front row. Sheila took the unoccupied seat beside Caroline, the one the man who had been bidding on her had just vacated. She glanced behind it to dimly make out the face of a youngish looking woman by the dim reflected light from the stage. She supposed that was the woman who had purchased her.

CHAPTER 27: Leon & Babette Attend the Auction

As Leon and Babette entered the third floor stairwell, they met five women descending from the floor above, the fourth floor, where the most expensive suites were located.

A slender redhead, younger than the other four women, greeted them.

"Heading for the Auction, Babette?" she asked, glancing at Leon with a smile.

Leon estimated her age at about thirty-five. He wondered how a woman that young would be so wealthy that she could afford Lecoliere Island. She gave him an interested stare, but he was accustomed to that. Out of courtesy, he responded with a brief smile.

"Oh, Kimberlee!" Babette exclaimed; it's wonderful to see you again!" She put her arms out, and the two of them hugged and kissed. Leon was amused by their lip to lip contact, but it was too brief for him to infer much from the kiss.

"I was hoping so much that you'd be back this year, Kim," Babette said. "This is Leon. We met in Paris after I broke up with Paul."

The redhead coolly gave Leon her hand and he gallantly kissed it. Smoothly if mechanically, he said, "Delighted!"

She didn't appeal to his taste. Breasts insignificant, and she looked mannish. He wondered if she was lesbian; and he thought to later ask Babette if they had been lovers.

As the seven of them continued down the stairs, Babette introduced Leon to the other four women.

Rita was a bleached blonde. Leon estimated her age at about forty-five. She was wearing a copious assortment of jewelry, with at least six rings on her fingers, multiple bracelets, long earrings, and even a sort of barette-like gold crown in her hair. Her dress was scarlet, a size too small, and as tasteless as the jewelry. Although she wasn't 'fat', she had a few more pounds on her frame than would have been ideal, and the tight dress, particularly without anything beneath the garment, only emphasized the extra pounds.

Behind Rita was another blonde. When she saw Leon, she grasped Babette's arm, exclaiming, "Goodness, Babette! Where did you find such a magnificent specimen of male?"

She smiled at Leon, boldly meeting his eyes with her own.

"In Paris, Deirdre. I met him about a month after I Paul and I broke up. We met at a reception in the American Ambassador's residence."

They continued down the stairs.

"I didn't know that you and Paul had broken up," the blonde replied. "What a shame. I did like Paul."

She looked again at Leon and smiled. "But I adore your replacement."

He guessed her age at about forty. Although her voluptuous figure was slightly overdeveloped, she looked well-preserved: Perhaps, like Babette, she worked out. Her hair looked bleached, but she'd chosen a pleasing shade of dark gold.

In height, she was about five eight; her oval countenance was nearly round, with a small, turned-up nose, large eyes, and sensuous, full lips that she had tinted a deep maroon. Her breasts were as prominent as Rita's and probably took D cups. Leon liked big busts on women. When it came to fucking, he'd prefer an over-buxom woman anytime to one with small breasts.

Through her gown, there was no indication of nipples as there had been through Rita's; doubtless she wore some support beneath it. Their mobility was due to their weight.

She was dressed elegantly, in a blue gown that contrasted well with her hair. Her makeup was unobtrusive. Her jewelry comprised small gold loop earrings, a solitary sapphire gold ring, and a gold choker necklace.

A fourth woman, Esther, was a small woman, her height he guessed was about five five and looked about Babette's age, close to fifty. Her figure was as trim a figure as that of the young Kimberly. Her hair was dark brown and Leon presumed from its lack of gray that she dyed it. She was dressed informally, in a simple white blouse and black cotton skirt.

The last of the five women was Lindsey Lebeau. Babette had told him that the brunette was lesbian. Behind her back, the cattier women called her 'Lezzie'. She looked in her upper thirties, with a shapely figure, including prominent breasts. Her dark brown hair reached to her shoulders. She said little when Leon was introduced to her, appearing preoccupied.

Leon had heard her name long before he had met Babette, but he couldn't recall when or where. She was someone of importance in Paris, probably in commerce. Even in France lesbians had difficulty cracking the political scene. He decided to, one way or another, photograph her; the Director could identify her.

She isn't the only celebrity here. I heard a few women call that large white-haired American 'Senator'. It may be that like 'Colonel', the term in the States is not necessarily an official term. Still, it could be. This entire situation is amusing; Monsieur le Directeur may discover that too many important people are here for him to dare sending in gendarmes or Securit .

The six women and Leon entered the Auditorium together.

Kimberlee stopped, and she looked about the room. "We're fortunate, girls," she said; "We're the first ones here."

"Let's go down in front," Rita said. "We'll be able to see everything from there."

Blue girls were carrying in folding chairs and setting them up at the ends of rows and behind the fixed rows of seats. Leon and the women went to the front of the room where they encountered and were halted by a ribbon that cordoned off the first row of seats.

Babette told Leon, "The first row is reserved for the new slaves. They sit there after they've been auctioned."

The women entered the second row, taking center seats directly before the stage, which was only about six feet in front ofthem.

Leon waited for the women to pass him, intending to take the seat after Babette.

"You go ahead, Babette," Deirdre said and, without waiting for a response, she grasped Babette's arm and urged her into the row before her. Deirdre followed her, and she took the seat beside Babette, separating her from Leon.

"Come, Leon," she said, patting the empty seat beside her. "You sit beside me. Babette won't mind."

Babette looked annoyed. She appeared about to object, but they were interrupted by a harried-looking young man rushing down the aisle holding out a sheaf of papers. About twenty years old, he had a mop of unkempt light brown hair and thick glasses and carried a satchel over one shoulder. He stopped when he reached their row.

"Do all of you intend to bid in the auction?" he asked.

Leon shrugged. "I think so. Why?"

"Here's the menu," the young man said. He counted out sheets and handed them to Leon. "It includes tonight's as well as this afternoon's auction. Would you take one yourself and pass along the rest?"

Leon took the top sheet and handed the balance to Deirdre. The young man withdrew a handful of pocket flashlights from his satchel, handed these to Leon, and then turned and hurried back up the aisle.

Leon passed all but one of the flashlights to Deirdre. "I don't need a flashlight to read this menu," he said. He looked at the sheet. It had easily readible typescript and read:

Today's Menu

Females

DuPre, Anne. 29. Bn. LM(D). Accompanied by husband Jerry (see below). Somers, Wendy. 28. Bn. SM(A). Single. White, Caroline. 27. Bn. MM(C). Accompanied by husband Fred (see below). Ericson, Sheila. 22. Be. LM(D). Accompanied by husband Ed (see below). Cole, Mia. 18. A. MM(B). Single. College freshman. Harris, Robyn. 18. Bk. LM(C). Single. College freshman. Roommate of Cole. Lyons, Jane. 17. Be. LM(D). Single. High School Senior. Acc. by date, Bill. Rollins, Daphne. 17. Bn. MM(C). Single. H.S.Sr. Acc. by date, Ross. Johnson, Cheryl. 17. Be. MM(C). Single. H.S.Sr. Cheerleader. Dennison, Denise. 16. Bn. MM(B). Single. H.S.Jr. Cheerleader. Rivers, Patricia (Patty). 16. Bn. MM(C). Single. H.S.Jr. Caswell, Kathleen (Kathy). 15. Be. MM(B). Single. H.S.Soph. Acc. by date, Eric.

Males

Ericson, Edgar (Ed). 35. B. LP(8 , 8, 8 ) (Acc. wife Sheila). DuPre, Jerrold (Jerry). 35. Br. LP(9 , 8, 9) (Acc. wife, Anne). White, "Frederick (Fred). 32. Br. MP(7 , 7 , 8 ) (Acc. wife, Caroline). Steen, William (Bill). 19. Bl. MP(7, 7, 8) Coll.Soph. Sport Star. (Acc. date, Jane). Rivers, Ross. 16. Br. MP(7, 7, 8). H.S.Soph. (Acc. date, Daphne). St. Cyr, Eric. 16. B. MP(7 , 7, 8). H.S.Soph. (Acc. date, Kathy).

Leon recalled most of the names of the females from the album, but some were new. He wondered why the album didn't include these 'extras'. He slipped the folded sheet into a pocket. It constituted hard evidence.

"Just wait," Deirdre said. "You'll need it if you intend to bid for one of the girls."

"Mmm?" he said, looking at her quizzically, but she simply smiled.

During the subsequent twenty minutes, the room filled. Looking to the rear, Leon was unable to spot a single empty seat. A few persons, who were probably staff personnel, were standing near the back wall.

A man dressed in a white jacket and white slacks walked down the aisle past them and stepped onto the stage. He held a portable microphone, unnecessary Leon thought, with the room as small as it was.

"Most of you know me," he began. My name is Crane; I'm the manager for the Corporation's island activities. I welcome all of you, and particularly our new guests who arrived this morning. I hope you our accommodations are to your liking. "A shipment of slaves came on your cruise ship. Those of you who take part in today's auction are more fortunate than our past guests. The quality of the females that we're offering today is exceptional.

"Many of my clients like their purchases to be young. For those of you who do prefer young females, we received three today who are seventeen years old, two who are sixteen, and one who is just fifteen. Each of these possesses a figure fine enough to win a beauty contest. Even that of the fifteen year old would look well as the centerfold of Penthouse Magazine.

"Just twelve females are on the block this afternoon. Most of you here this afternoon won't, unfortunately, be successful in buying one but, nevertheless, I want to make your sojourn on the island as satisfying as possible. For the benefit of guests who are visiting Lecoliere for the first time, allow me to give you some information to facilitate that.

"Nights here are devoted to partying. You'll be invited to many soir es, and I recommend that you accept as many invitations to them as possible. The host of a typical party here features his latest purchase as the party's principal attraction. The evening will begin by a performance by his purchase; she will perform acts for your entertainment, ones to illustrate her abilities and to raise your libido. Following this and for the balance of the evening she'll be available to satisfy your personal requests.

"The other means to make your stay here satisfying is accessible through my staff. I rent a number of previously-owned slaves. You can lease one for time periods extending from one night to as long as you wish. Occasionally, a client asks me to keep his slave in storage for his exclusive use, and he rents one of our basement cells to keep her during his absence. My only use of such slaves is for kitchen and maid service."

The lights abruptly went out. Only a single light remained on, a spotlight that illuminated the center of the stage and the curtains where they came together. The rest of the room was very dark, and it was several moments before Leon was even able to distinguish the women beside him by the meager light reflected off the stage.

"My electrician Jeffrey follows orders by his watch," Crane said. "Jeff! Please turn the lights back on. I'll inform you when I want them off."

The lights came back on.

"I'm running short of time. I'll describe the ground rules for our auction.

"First, you'll have a preview of every girl before any bidding. Each one will appear here on stage and say a few words about herself. She'll subsequently return behind the curtains, and the next girl will appear and do the same. They'll appear in the order of eldest first and youngest last.

"After this preview, the first will reappear onstage, and the auction will begin. The girl will remain beside me here. All of our lights except for the spotlight which illuminates the female will remain out.

"The purpose of the room-darkening is to preserve the anonymity of my clients. Many are prominent citizens and prefer their presence here on the island, and especially their involvement in the bidding, to remain private. During the auction, all you need state is the amount of your bid. Use the flashlight that you've received to give me an idea of your location. To those of you who make the final successful bid, need not state your name. Simply tell me the number of your apartment or suite.

"The financial transactions will be conducted tomorrow or, if you prefer immediate delivery, then payment will occur tonight when your purchase is brought to you. For those of you wanting delivery tonight, please see me or one of my blue girls soon after the auction to inform us of that. Following the auction of the last girl, Jeff will re-illuminate the lights."

Crane paused. "Are there any questions?"

A male voice asked, "Will the girls be naked?"

"Briefly," Crane said, but if you're seated too far back, you can come onstage, and I'll ask the girl show you her attributes."

A male voice shouted from the darkness, "Her cunt!"

Although the words elicited a few laughs, Crane looked bored. Leon supposed that he'd probably heard such remarks many times before.

"Any other questions? No? Fine, then; we'll proceed. Kelly, send out the first girl."

CHAPTER 28: Albert & Hugo Attend the Auction

Albert entered their suite. His brother was in an armchair reading. Albert found his college work too involving, and he seldom had time for pleasure reading. But Hugo, despite all his activities, even when he'd been in graduate school, always found time to read.

"What's the book?" he asked.

Hugo held it up. "Bulgakov," his brother said. "'The Master and Marguerita'. This is my second reading of it. One of the great novels of the last century. Are you familiar with it?"

Albert shook his head. "I don't read much fiction. I haven't since high school. Do you still read a lot? I remember when I was a kid I used to see you on the front porch swing, reading."

"I didn't read as much when I owned the company, but I did read some. For relaxation, principally fiction."

"Did you go running this morning?"

Hugo nodded. "I got back just in time to beat the downpour. On my way out I passed the shipment of girls. They had just come off the ship."

Hugo closed the book and smiled. "There are some appetizing ones in this bunch. I'm very tempted to have one of them in my bed tonight. If not tonight, then as soon as her training is done."

"Well, you can afford it. I'll have to rent one like you did last year. That is, if I can afford it. How much does Crane charge? Have you seen him yet?"

Hugo shook his head. "He's been too busy. When I do see him, I'll let him know that you're just out of school. His charges vary but, if you're willing to settle for a woman past her twenties who doesn't have a body to illustrate a centerfold, you can probably afford one. Anyway, Crane is flexible. Once he knows you're my brother, he might even give you a freebie. He can probably keep you off his books.

"Tonight, I'll see if he has free time. Besides telling him about you, I'd like to pick up our boxing where we left off five years ago."

"In Puerto Rico?"

Hugo nodded. "When I was setting up the lab. He was managing a casino, and we met in the San Juan Athletic club. We're . . . At least we were fairly evenly matched. He is more a street fighter, a Dempsey type. Tough. I was first on our team in college and, when he told me he'd never had lessons, I thought he'd be easy. Even though he didn't know all the moves, he was all I could handle."

"They're setting up for the auction. I came up to let you know. One of the girls in blue told me that she expected the shipment to be ready in about an hour."

"Why don't I show you around the building?" Hugo proposed. "When we get down to the main floor we'll stick our noses in to see how close they are to starting."

He inserted a marker in the book and slipped his sandals back on. They left the room and headed down the long corridor, toward the rear stairwell.

* * *

As they exited the stairwell on the ground floor, they found their way blocked by a blue girl leading a group of girls and women, all or almost all in evening dress and wearing leather slave collars, with their hands bound in handcuffs attached by chains to their collars. A guard in a tan uniform followed the group. The blue girl led them single file through a door into a dimly lit room.

"They're gorgeous!" Albert whispered. He had counted eleven of them as they left the hall. "Are they the ones to beauctioned?"

"Probably," Hugo answered. "I recognize two that I saw this morning when they were coming from the ship. This group is better looking than the ones I saw last year, although I never saw that entire group together. These look like they've been made up. Their hair looks styled, at least on some of them. I don't know if we'll get to see them undressed. Maybe those gowns are supposed to serve the purpose instead. The girls are naked underneath those dresses."

The guard followed the girls into the room and closed the door behind him. Hugo and Albert went past the door to the double doors and pushed their way in.

A few other clients were present toward the front of the room and were already seated.

"We'd better go in," Hugo said. "I'd like seats near thefront."

"You're really going to buy a girl?" Albert asked.

"I told you that I was," Hugo told him, sounding a bit irritated. "How often are you going to ask that, Albert? If I don't get one, the only reason will be that I've been outbid."

Looking around from the rear of the room, Albert thought the 'Auditorium' name euphemistic. The room was far smaller than any assembly hall that he had ever seen, and that included ones in his elementary school, high school, and college.

"We used this room last year as a cinema," Hugo said, as they walked down the aisle. "A client that I met in here told me a little of the history of this island. He said that this room was designed for only fifty spectators. See those fixed seats? The ones in front. Just five rows, with ten seats in each."

A girl in a blue dress was directing the seating. She and two other girls were carrying in metal folding chairs and setting them up behind the fixed rows of seats.

Albert suggested aiding the girls, but Hugo smiled, restraining him.

"These are slaves, Albert," he told his brother. "Get used to treating them as slaves."

"Well, I know," Albert responded; "But these ones in the blue dresses apparently have a lot of authority. They don't act much like slaves."

"It's relative. Just wait. When you see how a few clients treat them, you'll realize how little authority they actually have. Crane may not be aware of what some of the girls have to put up with from an occasional client. If I see Crane tonight, I'll tell him. Although it could be things are different this year. Last year I saw things happen in the corridors of this building that were almost incredible. The clients won't like my squealing, but I don't care much what they think.

"One guy made a blue girl give him a bj--a thorough one--right in the hallway. After he left and the girl was zipping up her dress, she saw me. I remember her words: 'That Wally is a pig!' That was my opinion of the guy, too."

The blue girls set up three additional rows with the folding chairs. The girl directing added one chair to each end of the front fixed row; then she cordoned off the entire front row with red ribbon.

"I'm surprised," the younger man said to his brother. "I calculated eighty-two chairs. I didn't realize so many clients were staying here. Your friend Crane must make a bundle from this place."

"I suppose so," Hugo responded. "But he has plenty of overhead. I doubt if he pays the blue girls, but he has trainers, guards, and technical personnel. They have a generator, a transmitter, and a die shop here. He has to pay for supplies. Whoever snares and ships the girls has a dangerous job. I'm sure Crane has to pay the shipper a big cut.

"These chairs probably aren't all for clients. Some may be for staff and blue girls.

"Last year, besides us clients, a lot of Crane's guards and trainers attended the movies in here. As for the auctions, I didn't see any. There was one the day I arrived here, but I missed it. I left before there was another shipment."

The brothers took seats as close to the front stage as they could, in the second row, behind the cordoned one. The six middle seats were already taken by a group of women and one man, a tall and extremely handsome one of about Hugo's age who reminded Albert of the latest double oh seven star. The two brothers took seats close to the aisle. Other people began to enter, and a single male client took the last seat in the row, on the other side of the women.

Albert glanced to each side. "I guess we're lucky we arrived early," he said; "but I'm surprised to see all the women."

"So am I," his older brother said. "Last year I didn't see many female clients. Only five or six the entire time I was here."

"This one row alone has six women in it. Only two men besides us."

Albert looked at the rows behind them.

"The row behind us has all men in it and it's already full. Maybe all the women came together, and they just arrived earlier than the men."

"Well, that would be a first," his brother said.

A framed stage stood in the front of the room. To Albert it looked rather like a box. The stage was raised to match the level of one side of a rectangular hole that faced the rows of seats. It was separated from the first row by five or six feet.

"It was made by Machine Shop personnel," Hugo said. "It was supposed to be temporary but it's become a permanent fixture. The film screen is rolled into a recess in the ceiling of the box."

Half-closed curtains hung to each side of a dais that had been placed in the center of the stage. "The curtains are used for live plays," he added.

"I saw one of them. The actors were a mix of slaves and clients. It was the sort of tableau that Parisians would call 'une exhibition'."

"Pornographic," Albert remarked.

Hugo smiled. "Isn't that what you'd expect? The films last year were also porn. I think they were all made here. If you keep your eyes open in this building, you'll spot cameras, especially in the apartments and suites. The films that I saw were of real activities--mostly parties--that occurred here."

Glancing at his brother, he said, "What we do here might be videotaped."

"Uh!" his brother exclaimed, grimacing. "I don't like that. I don't have your guts, Hugo, or your experience with women. Technology Institutes don't have a lot of coeds. I had damn few dates as an undergraduate. If wasn't for my trips to the 'Combat Zone', I'd have been celibate for the last few years."

His brother smiled. "Just wait until a gorgeous slave arrives at our suite. You'll dispense with your inhibitions."

Albert looked back again. All of the fixed seats were filled by men. No, he corrected himself. Near the isle there was one woman, older, fortyish perhaps but attractive, beside an older man. Then he spotted two more women among the crowd of men.

About half of the folding chairs were filled. In those, except for three girls in blue, all the occupants were male. Two wore tan guard uniforms. The ages of the male clients ranged, he guessed, from about thirty to ones with white-hair who had to be at least in their sixties.

He looked again to the side, at the group of six women. Except for one young one, they seemed to be fortyish or fiftyish, but with women, Albert found it difficult to judge age.

They were so close to the stage that Albert feared he'd annoy those sitting around him if he spoke in a normal tone of voice, so he whispered. "That blue girl is passing out some things. Most people are taking them."

"Well, take one from her," his brother whispered back, sounding irritated.. He glanced momentarily at the girl and then back to Crane, whose information he seemed intent on hearing. Albert stood up and motioned to the girl. She held a sheet out along with what looked like a pocket flashlight over several clients. He reached over them. "Will you be bidding?" she asked, before handing over anything.

"Um, I'm not sure, but my brother will be."

"I'd better give you two of each," she said, and handed him the items.

Albert sat back down. He looked at the sheet and read, "The items will be auctioned in the order shown."

He turned the sheet over, looking for a key, but the reverse was blank.

He showed the sheet to Hugo and pointed to the "Br. LM(D)" on the line that began with "DuPre, Anne", but his brother only briefly glanced at it and shrugged, as if to say "I have no idea".

Hugo was still following Crane's preview of the auction.

"You may prefer to train slaves yourself," Crane said. "For those of you who do, my staff will deliver your purchase to your apartment tonight, bathed and completely prepared for you. Inform us in advance if you have any special wishes concerning her preparation. My staff will try to accommodate you.

"In the absence of any special requests, we give every slave enemas until she's thoroughly cleaned out. After bathing her, we fill her rectum with petroleum jelly. We omit oral and vaginal preparations unless you specifically request some. The same applies to specula. I won't explain them now. Those of you who are unfamiliar with specula can enquire about them from mystaff.

"Some of the accessories that we provide include restraints, collar, handcuffs, ankle cuffs, and snap hooks. All match the rings on the collars that the slaves here wear as well as the rings that you'll find protruding from locations in yoursuites."

"After their parade, I'll call the first one back. She'll undress and remain so for a short time to allow you to look her over. She'll dress, and the bidding on her will begin. As soon as she's sold, the next girl will come out.

"The minimum bid for each girl is ten thousand US dollars. In the auction tonight for the males it will be five thousand. I believe that each of you who plans to bid has been provided with a pocket flashlight. All you need do to place a bid is to turn it on after I've stated the value of the bid to indicate that you'll meet that figure."

Crane paused a moment, and one man raised his hand.

"Yes, George?"

"How soon can we get the slave?," a man asked. "Are you in a hurry?" Crane asked. There was a flurry of laughter. "Well, I am. I saw a girl this morning that I wanta take to my apartment, ASAP. Do you have any problem with my giving you a check right after I give the top bid for her?" "No," Crane replied. "But, in that case, I can't promise how well she'll perform for you. She might brain you with a vase or anything else that she finds in your suite." "Well, fuck, Crane!" the man said; "Just deliver her. I'll worry about that. Just send her up with her hands tied behind her back." "All right, George. She'll arrive handcuffed, with the cuffs fastened to her collar. Her guard will bring some of our training devices if you want--vibrators, a prod, and whips. Will that be satisfactory?" "Sure, fine." The man sat down. "Are there any more questions?" "Yeah!" Another man stood up. "I'm gonna want to see the girl up close before I bid on her. You know, to see her tits or whatever. Can I go up on the stage?" "Yes. I already mentioned that you could. But don't touch her. If you want to see her more intimate parts . . ." "Her cunt!" a man yelled. It elicited a few hoots. "I'll have her exhibit herself for you," Crane said. "Will that be satisfactory?" "I guess so. Sure." "Are there any more questions?" A red-haired woman, younger than any of the female clients that Albert had yet seen--he supposed that she was in her mid-thirties--stood up. She wore a tight-fitting but obviously expensive red gown, a ruby necklace, and a huge diamond on a finger of the hand that she held up. "When do we bid on the men? And, will they disrobe also?"

"I already mentioned that, Kimberlee: Their auction will take place after dinner tonight. As to their attire, all of the men will be naked. If you want a better view of any you have an interest in purchasing, I'll arrange to have the man taken down to where you're seated. You won't have to come up on the stage." He paused and looked at his watch. "I thought we'd be further along by now."

"Kimberlee, if you have no interest in this auction, you're welcome to leave. I'll post a notice about the men's auction as soon as this one is over." "Thank you, Crane," the woman said. "At least for now, I'll stay." "More questions? No? All right. Jeff, please extinguish the lights!"

All of the lights except the spotlight on the center of the stage went out.

"Guard, please have each female enter and come onto the stage in the usual order. Don't move them too quickly. Send out about one per two minutes." Guided by Crane, and with a guard beside her, each girl appeared from some hidden rear entrance. She said a few words about herself, paraded slowly across the stage, stopped a moment in the center to pirouette around, and finally disappeared behind the curtain at the right side of the stage.

CHAPTER 29: Leon & Babette Attend the Auction, Part Two

I couldn't have gotten a better seat!

Leon smiled in the dark room. It was difficult to concentrate on the auction when he considered his good fortune. Both of the men on his left had been involved in the bidding, and the younger man had actually purchased a girl. She was the least attractive of the entire twelve females that had paraded over the stage, but that was simply his taste. She wasn't ugly, far from it, but her figure was slender. Leon preferred bit tits. He guessed that hers probably took A cups or at most, B's.

The man's companion had called him Albert. Crane had called his companion by name, Hugo; so he had two first names, one of whom had actually purchased a slave and the other who had wanted to.

Before the lights had been extinguished, Leon had observed the youth of the younger man. He looked no older than the female he had bought, about twenty-five. He had assumed the man's wealth must have been inherited, he was too young to be a successful self-made business man. However, during the bidding it became apparent that the older man was doing the paying. That had seemed odd, since the older was too young to be the other's father. They might be brothers or perhaps some deal was involved.

To Leon's surprise, Lindsey had outbid everyone to buy that blonde, Sheila. Judging from the numerous penlights that were lit during the bidding, it looked like at least half the people--chiefly men, of course, but two women, including Babette--had bid on the blonde.

He presumed that some politics was involved in the final result. Hugo, who had been Lindsey's final competitor in the auction, had made some deal with her before he himself bowed out.

If I can, I'll find out what sort of deal she made with Hugo to get the blonde. The wealth of these clients must be enormous; the Director can't possibly guess what the repercussions will be if Securit conducts a raid on this island!

A petite, auburn-haired girl came into the spotlight. She was attractive enough but, after seeing that spectacular blonde Sheila naked, Leon was unimpressed by Mia.

A hand touched his right leg. It lay there on the cotton leg of his pants as if it was the armrest, without moving.

Leon was amused.

Is Deirdre bored with the auction? Or does she have more in mind?

In the dark, her actions, if any, wouldn't be seen by anyone. He was interested in seeing how much nerve she had, but he didn't intend to encourage her. He devoted his attention to Crane and the girl on the stage.

Crane was describing the auburn-haired Mia, who was eighteen and a college sophomore.

Instead of the evening gowns that most of the women had worn, she was dressed in a sky blue jumper. Leon watched as she undid her dress.

Deirdre's hand crept slowly over his pantleg toward his crotch. It stopped just short of the bump in his trouser crotch that was his flaccid penis.

It lay there for some minutes while, on the stage, Mia handed her dress to the blue girl and then turned around on the stage, displaying her nude body.

The hand, spider-like, began to creep up onto the hump in his thin summer-weight trousers. It stopped on the peak, unmoving.

He grinned. It was becoming difficult to concentrate on Mia, despite looking over her shapely body.

Deirdre's fingers kneaded the head, repeatedly squeezing and releasing it with her fingertips, and his cock grew beneath her palm.

Crane was calling out bids on Mia. Kelly was helping the girl get dressed.

"Twenty!" Crane called out.

In his pants, Leon's cock was a pole supporting Deirdre's hand.

Deirdre moved in her seat, and Leon felt what was probably her shoulder, pressing against his chest. She was leaning over his lap, and he caught the scent of her perfume, fragrant and light. Her other hand joined the first on his pants. After a few moments of groping about between his legs, she found his fly. Her fingers unzipped it, and his cock bobbed out, freed. Leon felt cool room air on its skin.

The hands stopped moving.

What a tease!

Leon's right arm lay on the armrest and the warmth and weight of her breasts were pressing on it through her gown. He was tempted to grasp them, but was more determined not to encourage her, interested in seeing how far she might proceed, and he desisted.

Crane, up on the stage, called out "Sold!"

One of Deirdre's hands, the new one, moved toward his cock. Leon felt cool fingers very lightly touch it. After pausing, they moved upward to the head, and fingertips lightly held it. They explored all of its contours. Then the hand descended. When it was halfway down the shaft, the fingers encircled it and began to pump the skin up and down.

Leon clenched his teeth. He tried to concentrate on the scene on the stage.

Crane grasped Mia's hand, and he led her down from the stage. A blue girl put handcuffs on Mia, and the girl moved along the row, passing the four women who had already been auctioned and stopped at the seat beside the blonde, Sheila. Mia sat down; she was located two seats to his right, directly in front of a woman in his row, possibly Rita.

The cool fingers pumped Leon's cock, delicately but unceasingly. Periodically, Deirdre's hand imparted a sudden and violent downward thrust to her hand, using her wrist as a hinge, and the resulting thrills rachetted his arousal higher. Her fingers were expert, and Leon doubted that he could resist having an orgasm.

Crane climbed back on stage. He called, "Robyn!"

The other hand moved. It reached into his fly and fingers--cool as the previous ones--groped about in his silk undershorts. They found his balls, enclosed them, and drew them out. Deirdre's fingers and thumb encircled the skin above them like a rope, imprisoning his balls below her fist in a sack as tight as a fully inflated balloon. One finger--perhaps her pinky--tickled the taut skin under them with a long nail.

Mia's roommate, Robyn, came out from behind the curtains. As petite as Mia, her breasts were larger and, for her size, looked weighty. When she removed her dress, her long black hair reached so far down her back that it covered the dimple above the crack of her buttocks.

Leon concentrated on the scene onstage, but it was becoming more difficult by the minute. The hands of the woman beside him were far more effective in drawing his attention than anything that occurred in the spotlight.

Merde!

Deirdre was suddenly pumping her hand as rapidly as a jackhammer. Before he knew it she'd pushed him over the edge.

Leon gritted his teeth. He felt his penis jerk and squirt and, with the light of the spotlight behind it, he saw the streak of semen arc over onto the seat before him.

Leon closed his eyes and, although it was incredibly difficult, he suppressed all reaction except an initial "Uh!" that escaped his lips.

A moment later he felt the warmth of her mouth enclosing the head of his organ. Then his arms were about her and holding her and he felt, along with the thrills of each spasm, the contractions of her tongue and throat and heard the nearly inaudible but unmistakable sounds that accompanied them.

CHAPTER 30: The Rest of the Females are Sold

From her seat in the front row, Sheila watched as Mia Cole was auctioned. Auburn-hair, and eighteen years old, she possessed a petite and shapely figure with B cup breasts. A man, anonymous because of the darkness, bought her. After the last silent bid was made, Crane called out "Sold!" and the man stated his apartment number.

Mia's roommate, Robyn, with large breasts for her equally petite figure was auctioned next. When she removed her dress, her long black hair reached so far down her back that it covered the dimple just above the crack of her buttocks. From the talk of the women behind her, Sheila gathered that the purchaser was named 'George'.

"I'm pretty certain that's George buying her," one of the women remarked. "He has such a fetish for big tits. He pointed out to me this morning which of those girls that he intended to bid on. That big-titted Anne or that blonde that you just bought were his first two choices. He said that if he couldn't get either of them then the delightful little thing with the long black hair who's displaying herself this moment was his next choice."

"Is the suite number his?" a second woman asked.

"I'm not sure, Lindsey. But, the voice sounded like his."

Jane Lyons, the seventeen year old blonde who Sheila remembered from the ship, came out on the stage. She was dressed in a scoop-necked royal blue evening gown, gold earrings, and a gold chain necklace.

Crane told her, "Undo the zipper, Jane. Kelly will take your dress."

The blonde shook her head. She mumbled something that might have been, "I-I can't," but in such a soft voice that Sheila wasn't sure.

Crane repeated his words and added, "Help her, Kelly."

"No, no!" Jane cried, loudly. "I won't!"

Kelly reached for the girl's zipper, but Jane pushed her hand aside. She exclaimed, "I can't do that in front of all these people! I won't!"

Kelly tried to reason with her, saying "The other girls all did it, Jane. You have to."

"No!"

Crane said. "Kelly, discipline her. But avoid leaving whip marks. If her Master likes them, let him be the one to make them."

"Yes, Master Crane."

Kelly said to the blond guard who stood behind the girl. She said, "Hold her Michael?"

"Sure thing, Kelly."

He reached around Jane's waist and grasped her forearms, above the wrists. He pulled them behind her and held them.

Jane struggled to pull her arms free. "Stop it!" she cried; "Let me go!"

Kelly grasped the slide tab of Jane's gown. She zipped it down until the dress was open to Jane's waist. She pulled the dress open, pushed the lapels to each side, and pulled the girl's large breasts up and out, until they jutted starkly out over the unopened lower part of her gown.

Blushing, Jane twisted her torso, trying to free herself. She cried, "Let me go!" her struggles causing her heavy breasts to swing about.

Gene removed his belt. He handed it to Kelly.

"I'm sorry, Jane, but I have to encourage you," Kelly said. Jane grew wide-eyed as Kelly drew back her arm.

"Hold her steady, Michael."

"No problem," he replied. He held girl's forearms crossed behind her back, causing her shoulders to pull back. In spite of Jane's grimace of pain, it gave the appearance that the girl was deliberately thrusting out her bared breasts. To the audience behind Sheila, who couldn't see what the guard had done, it must look as though Jane was offering them as targets.

Kelly swung the belt at Jane's breasts. The leather impacted with a sound like a hand-clap, striking fully across both nipples. The blow was hard enough to cause her breasts to bob about wildly.

"Ow!" Jane cried, and she burst into tears. "T-That hurt!"

"Tell me when you're ready to cooperate," Kelly said. "Keep holding her, Michael."

She brought it again across the blonde's breasts; this just under her nipples, on the lower halves of her large aroelas. It flung her breasts upward and again into a wild bobble.

"Ow!! Stop, please stop!!" Jane exclaimed. Between sobs, she cried, "Don't hit me again; I'll do what you want."

"O.K., Michael," Kelly said. She returned the belt.

The guard released the girl's arms, and Jane wiped her cheeks with her palms.

"Hurry up!" Kelly told her. "Next time I'll give it to you where you'll really feel it!"

With shaking hands Jane unzipped her dress and Kelly helped her out of the garment. The blonde caused no further problems, and the bidding went to forty for her. The final two competitors for Jane were a man, who sounded to Sheila like the same man who had been bidding for her--'Hugo' Crane had called him-- and a woman in the same row just behind her, but not the one who had purchased Sheila herself.

The five other girls--the seventeen year olds Daphne and Cheryl, the sixteen year olds Denise and Patty, and the fifteen year old Kathy--were purchased by men.

CHAPTER 31: Slave Sheila

Despite their beauty and their elegance in their attractive evening gowns, all twelve of the young women were now slaves. Each was now the property of some client.

Sheila and the other females, led by Nina and followed by Kelly and a guard, were marched from the Auditorium. Nina led them down the hall into the stairwell, and the group descended the stairs to the lowest level of the building.

They entered another hall. It had been warm upstairs, but in the basement it felt cold and, in their thin clothing the girls began to shiver.

They came to a series of gray metal doors, and Nina stopped them between a door marked 'B38' on their left and 'B37' on their right. Producing a key from her pocket, the blue girl opened the left-hand one and led Anne and Caroline into the cell. She remained in it for about ten minutes, and reappeared.

Sheila observed that Nina carried both of the women's dresses over her arm.

Nina unlocked B37. She told Sheila, "You go in here," and unceremoniously grasped Sheila by the rump and propelled her into the room.

"Toni is your cellmate," Nina said. "She works in the Kitchen and Dining Room. You can expect her here later, when she's finished her shift."

"I'm hungry. When will I get something to eat?"

"I have no idea." She shrugged, as if the question was of no concern to her. "Ask Toni, or her guard. Hold up your hands."

She unlocked Sheila's handcuffs and removed them from her wrists but allowed them to remain attached to her collar chain, from which they dangled.

"Take off the dress."

When Sheila was undressed except for her shoes, stockings, and collar, Nina re-manacled her wrists. She gestured toward the left-hand bunk.

"Get some rest. Tomorrow someone will be here early to take you for training."

Nina turned and left the room. Sheila heard the door slam behind her with a metallic clang.

She looked around the small room. There wasn't much to see. A single overhead light was recessed behind a grill in the ceiling. The walls were painted a dull white over concrete blocks and were featureless except for the rear wall which held a closed door and on each side of the molding, a single clothing hook.

The bunk that Nina had pointed to was a metal shelf. Hinged at the rear, it was supported in front by two metal legs. Its only covering was a bare mattress and a sheet. Sheila looked at the other bunk to see if her cellmate's was provided with a pillow and blanket but saw that it was similarly bare.

Going to the interior door, Sheila bent down and attempted to open it, but her head bumped the door and even with both hands, she was unable to grip the smooth brass knob firmly enough to turn it.

She crouched down, and in that position she succeeded in opening the door.

Inside was a small bathroom. She saw no tub, but there was a toilet and a sink, above which was a mirror. There was an overhead recessed light like that in the cell behind her but, like the one in there, she found no switch to it. She wondered if it was left on day and night. Behind a curtain there was a shower. Of the four towel bars; two were unused while the others held a large bath towel, a face cloth, and a hand towel. She found a hair brush and combs, towels, soap, and other cleaning items in a cabinet under the sink.

There were no blankets or pillows.

Sheila felt exhausted. She longed for sleep, but the room was too cold. After washing her face and hands, she removed two large bath towels from the cabinet and lay down on the bunk, covering herself with them, and curled up. Almost immediately she fell asleep.

It felt like about an hour later when she heard the sound of the entrance door being unlocked. She groggily sat up.

A petite girl of about twenty, with black bobbed hair entered. She was wearing a French Maid's costume: A black blouse and black miniskirt, both of nearly transparent nylon, a white cotton apron, black thigh high stockings, glossy black pumps with three inch heels, and a white cap. She wore no collar. A young man, a guard judging from his uniform, was following her, but he stopped in the doorway when he saw Sheila.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. "You've got a roommate!"

"Well, finally!" the girl said. She smiled at Sheila. Hi; am I glad to see you! I was getting bored to death being in this cell all by myself."

She stopped beside the opposing bunk. She removed her apron and dropped it onto her bunk. She nonchalantly began to unfasten the buttons of her blouse. "My name is Toni; what's yours?"

"My name is Sheila. I just got here this morning. I'm awfully tired. And hungry."

Toni removed her blouse, apparently unconcerned that her breasts were bare under it, and she dropped the garment on top of the apron. She faced Sheila, displaying perfectly formed B cup breasts with tan areolas that were so small, about the diameters of nickels, that they made her normal-sized nipples look large in comparison.

"I heard that there were a bunch of girl's in today's shipment," she said; "Ten or so."

"There are twelve of us. Also, six boys and men."

"No kidding! Wow, I wonder how Crane's trainers are going to handle a crowd like that!"

"We were auctioned an hour or so ago. I hardly got any sleep last night, and I was asleep when you got here."

Toni slipped her thumbs into the elastic waist of her skirt. With a wiggle, she worked it from her hips, revealing a chestnut-colored, triangular muff that looked carefully trimmed. She let the skirt slither down her slender legs onto the floor and stepped out of the resulting nylon ring.

"I heard that Crane had some good lookers in this shipment, but you're a knockout! Are the others as gorgeous as you?"

Sheila blushed. "I guess so."

Naked, Toni bent down, picked up the ring of nylon, and casually tossed it onto the blouse.

She seemed entirely unembarrassed. Sheila watched her turn and walk to the guard.

She raised her forearms, putting her hands (which she had clenched into fists), beneath her chin, her wrists together. "I'll have to pay you another time, Mike," she said. "Tomorrow?"

The young man withdrew handcuffs and a short chain from a shoulder pouch. He manacled her wrists in the same way as Sheila's.

The guard showed no intention of turning toward the door.

He raised his hands to Toni's breasts and grasped her nipples, pinching them between his forefingers and thumbs.

"I'm pretty horny, Toni," he said.

"Oh my!" Toni responded, giggling. "I guess you are."

"How about the bathroom?" he asked.

"Oh, that sounds uncomfortable, Mike. Sit on my bunk. I'll take care of you here."

"No." With a motion of his head he indicated Sheila.

"Will it embarrass you if she watches? I won't mind!"

"No. Let's go into the bathroom!"

"O.K." she replied, shrugging. "If that's what you want."

They entered the bathroom and the door closed behind them.

The bathroom door did a poor job of muffling the sounds from within. Nevertheless, Toni and the guard kept their voices low, and the words that they exchanged were too inaudible for Sheila to catch.

She heard the sound of the toilet seat slamming down. She heard some muffled sounds, perhaps from Toni. A minute or two later she heard the young man's voice come clearly through the closed door. "Yeah, Toni. That's it! Yeah!"

Soon after, he began to moan.

Sheila heard little from Toni except soft and indistinct sounds.

Sheila lay on her bunk. She tried not to make any noise herself. It embarrassed her to think of having them hear sounds from her and realize how much sound the wall transmitted.

Once Sheila heard Toni's whisper, "Is this good?" and his response, "Mmm-hmm!"

Sheila doubted that they were in the bathroom for longer than fifteen minutes, but it seemed to last forever. Finally, she heard a loud "Aaaaah!" from the guard. Subsequent ones from him diminished in intensity and finally ended the vocal sounds coming through the door.

The guard came out first, without giving Sheila a glance. He sat on Toni's bunk for a moment, then lay back on it and closed his eyes. The sound of running water and the brushing of teeth came through the closed door. After a few more minutes, Toni came out. She sat on her bunk next to the guard's feet.

There was an embarrassing silence.

In spite of the towels, Sheila felt cold, and she shivered. She was terribly hungry.

After about a minute, Toni looked over at Sheila. "How was the auction?"

"We were sold," Sheila answered, not knowing what else to say. "All twelve of us."

Toni was staring at something on Sheila's bunk. She immediately glanced at Mike, whose eyes were still closed, and then back at Sheila. She put her forefinger to her lips, and then pointed to the towels beside Sheila and motioned with her hand. Sheila interpreted the sign to mean that she wanted Sheila to get rid of the towels, and she rose and carried them into the bathroom. She hung them on a bar and returned.

I guess I'm not supposed to use them as blankets.

"All I've had to eat today," Sheila said, "was some soup around lunch time. I'm starving."

Seeming not to hear her, Toni gave a little laugh. "I wonder who bought you? I wish I'd been there. If I hadn't been working, I'd have bribed a guard to take me to see it."

"I'm awfully hungry," Sheila complained. Toni seemed uninterested in her plight, and she was beginning to feel desperate.

Toni shrugged and yawned. "Well, I know how you feel. But, you know, Crane doesn't care if we're hungry all the time. It's an incentive for us to work in the kitchen. That's about the only way you'll get enough to eat. If you don't work in the kitchen and you aren't lucky enough to be a blue girl, you'll always feel like you're starving. As far as Crane is concerned, slaves can go hungry. He thinks American girls are too fat. Crane is kind of weird. He likes them skinny."

She smiled, stood up, and ostentatiously undulated her bare hips. "He likes them like me."

Toni's figure was as slender as that of any high school girl. Had Toni's hands been free, Sheila could readily imagine the brunette running her hands sensuously down her hips, mimicking a model attired in a formal gown parading across a stage, even though Toni was completely naked.

Toni glanced down at the guard again. She leaned forward, grasped his leg, and shook it.

"What?" he said, opening his eyes.

"Escort me back up to the kitchen, Mike. I need to bring Sheila a box lunch."

"If she wants food, she can make me an offer. I don't do favors."

"Sheila just got here, Mike. She doesn't know how we do things."

"So tell her." He closed his eyes again.

Toni turned to Sheila. "When we need or want something here, Sheila, we have to pay for it."

She paused, evidently searching for an appropriate expression. "If it's from a guard or trainer we, uh, trade. Sometimes Mike takes me to the beach. I pay him the way I did in the bathroom."

I see.

Sheila glanced at the young man and saw that he was watching her.

"You won't get me any food unless I give you something in return?"

"That's right," he replied, giving her a little smile. "You can owe me. I'll come back this time tomorrow for the payment."

Bastard.

"I'll do without the food."

He looked surprised, and his lips tightened. "Suit yourself, Cunt."

He got up, not looking at her. "I guess I'll go, Toni." He turned toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The door reverberated behind him. Sheila heard the lock and then his receding footsteps.

Sheila's stomach felt emptier than ever and actually hurt. She began shivering again and she felt tears well in her eyes. She didn't want Toni to see them, and she lay back on the bunk, turning her face toward the wall.

I guess I made a mistake. I should have agreed to do what he wanted.

"That's too bad," Toni said. "Mike can be rotten sometimes. You're too attractive. I guess he really wants to fuck you."

Sheila felt tired but, as cold and hungry as she felt, she doubted that she could sleep. She sat up again, her back against the cold wall. She didn't bother to keep the towel up. Why cover her breasts when Toni didn't cover hers?

"Will I get anything to eat in the morning?"

"Sure. A slave brings pastries and fruit at six. We do our own baking here. You'll get just one pastry, but you can have as much fruit as you want."

"A slave comes down to the cells alone?"

"Oh no!" Toni said with a laugh. "A guard comes down to unlock our cells each morning. She comes with him. The only slaves who go around without a guard are the ones with gold collars."

"Blue girls?" Sheila asked. "Don't they have to be accompanied?"

Toni shook her head. "Crane trusts them to do everything. He even promoted two blue girls to be trainers."

"Crane said that some of us could apply for a position as a blue girl. Uh, do you think I could?"

Toni raised her eyebrows. "You mean that you're interested? I never heard of an untrained girl getting promoted to a blue girl."

"Does Crane have a rule against it?"

Toni shrugged. "I don't know. Not that I heard. If you're serious, I don't suppose it would hurt to apply. But, a blue girl's hours are pretty long. Besides that, don't show sympathy for us regular slaves. Crane will make you discipline a girl, and you'd better do it with enthusiasm."

"I won't like that. But, if I have to, I suppose I can do it."

"Crane will first fuck you, or do some weird stuff with you. Of course, he does that to most of the new girls anyway."

"Weird stuff?!" Sheila responded. "What do you mean?"

Toni shrugged. "Sarah--she's his personal slave now, but she was my old roommate--told me about some things that he did to her when she first got here. Jeff, our electrician, makes electrical things, and Crane made Sarah use them on herself, I suppose to test them. She told me that sometimes he made her keep them clamped on and in her for hours and he only let her take them off to use the bathroom."

"That does seem weird. Were they painful?"

"I didn't get that idea. 'Embarrassing' is more the word."

* * *

The next morning, lying beneath two large towels, Sheila was again awakened by the grating of a key in the lock. She sat up, and held one of the towels around her as the door opened. Two men entered. Actually, she realized, the one in the rear was a youth who looked no older than seventeen or eighteen.

She heard the younger one say in a loud whisper, "Woo! She's gorgeous!"

The boy was big, with brown hair that he wore rather long. He was carrying a small package that didn't appear heavy, but he held it with two hands. His physique reminded her of Bill, Jane's boyfriend. He looked like a linebacker.

The man looked about thirty years of age and was slender and wiry, with well-combed blond hair that had streaks of brown running through it.

"She's pretty enough," the man agreed. "She's new. She came yesterday, on the ship with you. Of course, you wouldn't have seen her. I went to the auction; I saw her there."

Toni opened her eyes. "Morning, Duke," she said, yawning. She curled her naked body into a tighter ball and re-closed her eyes.

"Hi, Toni," the man replied, glancing at her. He looked back at Sheila. After staring at her for a few moments, he said, "Stand up."

She complied, holding the towel awkwardly with her manacled hands before her like a curtain.

He grabbed the towel and jerked it away. He tossed it onto the floor.

"You're to respond with 'Yes, Master' whenever I give you an order," he said. "Don't forget."

"Yes, Master," she replied.

She felt terribly embarrassed, standing before the two men naked. Even on the stage the previous day she hadn't felt so exposed. Perhaps their proximity was the reason. If the man took one step closer, his shirt would touch her breasts.

Duke grasped Sheila's upper arm, just below the handcuff. He pulled her, almost dragged her, toward the rear wall, until she was under one of the two clothing hooks that projected from the wall on each side of the bathroom door.

"The hook is too high," he remarked. He unfastened the snaphook that held her handcuffs to her collar.

"Raise your arms higher," he told her.

"Yes, Master." She held her arms up as high as she could, but her wrists were still below the hook.

He grasped one of her wrists and pulled it until her arm was straight up.

She understood that he wanted the links that held her handcuffs together onto the hook, and she raised herself on her tiptoes, enabling him to pull them onto it. When she came back down on the flat of her feet, her wrists were held so far above her head that her arms were held rigidly vertical by the now-hooked handcuffs.

"You're not to use the towels as blankets," Duke told her. "Every night, you'll sleep naked. No towels. Nothing. Understand?"

"Yes, Master," Sheila said. "I'm sorry. But, it was so cold in here, that . . . "

Suddenly she felt the sharp sting of a blow upon her buttocks..

"Oh!" she exclaimed, jumping. Although her buttocks stung, the blow surprised her more than it hurt.

She turned her head. Duke was wielding a wooden-handled whip that it consisted of a flat brown strap, probably of leather. It was stiff and glossy, about the length of a twelve inch ruler, but thicker and heavier.

"You don't speak until you're spoken to," he said. His tone was mild, which surprised her.

I suppose he disciplines girls often, and whipping me is just routine.

"Count each blow aloud now, and thank me for it."

He held the whip up to her face. "First, kiss it," he ordered. "It will be one of your many lovers during your training."

Sheila put her lips to it and kissed it.

"Ready?"

"Yes Master."

The first blow was hard; it sounded like the clap from a pair of male hands. Sheila had anticipated it, though and, despite its sting, she didn't cry out.

"Count!" Duke ordered.

"One," Sheila said. She felt foolish.

The next blow stung much more. The report was like that of a firecracker going off. It stung terribly. Sheila realized that his first blow had been restrained.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. She began twisting on her tiptoes, unconsciously trying to evade the subsequent blows. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Say it loudly, and thank me!"

"T-Two!" Sheila cried. "Thank you, Master!"

To her relief, the third blow was softer. It was little more than a tap. Nevertheless, her cheeks were beginning to feel sore, and despite the softened blow, their soreness made the blow still hurt.

"Three! Thank you, Master!

"Four! Thank you, Master! Was it harder? She couldn't tell. Whether it was or not, stung more than the preceding one.

"Ow! Five! Thank you, Master! That was definitely harder. She was angry with herself that she had cried out and that tears were running down her cheeks.

"Ow! Six! Thank you, Master!

Oh, god! I can't tell anymore how hard he's hitting me! They all hurt, terribly!

"Ow! Seven! Thank you, Master!

"Ow! Eight! T-Thank you, Master!"

She was fearful of forgetting the count. The pain made it difficult to keep track.

The heat and sting of her buttocks was rising.

Oh, god! how long is he going to keep whipping me?

The next three blows were hard and vicious. They seemed harder than that terrible second one, but perhaps it only seemed so because of her sore buttocks.

"Ow!!" she cried. "N-Nine! Th-Thank you, Master!

"Ow!! Ten! Thank you, Master!

"Ow!! Eleven! Thank you, Master!"

Six blows whose impact was milder followed. Despite their lightness, they hurt as much as the heavy ones had. Sheila was humiliated that she continued to cry out despite trying not to. Her outcries bothered her more even more than the pain.

Loudly, probably to be heard over the sounds of the blows, Toni exclaimed, "Duke! don't you think her cheeks are pink enough?"

"Yes," Duke replied. But, the next three blows were hard. Each felt like a hundred wasps stinging her buttocks, but Sheila, gritted her teeth; she was determined not to cry.

"Ugh! Eighteen! Thank you, Master!"

"Ugh! Nineteen! Thank you, Master!"

Tears ran down her cheeks. The twentieth blow was the hardest of all. Even though Sheila managed not to cry, the blow drove her hips against the wall.

"Ugh!! T-Twenty!" she stuttered. "Th-Thank you, M-Master!"

Duke held the strap before her face. Sheila, seeing it, gasped with relief. She drew in a deep breath, and then exhaled. Her cheeks were wet with tears, put her lips to it and kissed it.

"Thank you, Master," she said, not knowing why she uttered the words. She could hardly believe it, but she realized that her clitoris was hard.

Duke smiled. He slipped the whip back in his belt.

"You'll be sore for the rest of the day," Duke said. He gripped her forearm and pulled Sheila onto her tiptoes again. He removed the link between Sheila's handcuffs from the hook.

"Are you taking Sheila for a whole day of training?" Toni asked.

"It might be just half a day, Toni," Duke responded. "Crane got a shit-load of females in yesterday. It's going to be tough, we're so short-handed."

"Well, would you tell Mike that I'm, uh, alone here, Duke?"

Sheila saw him give her a grin.

"I will if I see him, Toni. I think you're out of luck, though. I don't think he'll have any more free time than me."

"Well," the brunette suggested, "Why don't you put some of the girls in the E.L.? Clients enjoy playing with untrained girls."

"You're no help, Toni. We planned on that before the ship ever got here. Crane told us we were going to have a bunch this time. On top of the dozen females, he got three odd ones that Mike brought on his launch. We need more help."

"How about girls in his own suite? Didn't he pick any to play with himself?"

Duke laughed. "When hasn't he? I'm bringing him two this morning. With those plus Sarah, he'll be more worn out than we will."

"I'll bet that both girls are skinny."

"They're kinda small-titted, if that's what you mean. One seems pretty old for the Academy; she must be over thirty.

"Anyway," he said; "I can't waste time here, bull-shitting."

He took the package from Jimmie and tossed it onto Sheila's bunk. "Your outfit, a standard one. The bathroom is just down the hall. You're going to take a bath before your training. Do you want to go there bare-ass or in your training clothes? It ain't much of a walk to the bathroom."

Sheila said, "I-I'll put the clothes on."

"Hurry up then." He withdrew a key from a pocket, and he undid her handcuffs. "No dawdling."

Sheila undid the package on her lap, bending forward to pull open the wrapping. Inside was a white nylon blouse that was cut off above the navel, with front snap closures, a black and white pleated cotton miniskirt, and elastic-topped black thigh high stockings. A plastic bag held a pair of black slippers.

Standing naked, Sheila was acutely aware of Duke gazing at her body as she raised a knee to step into it the skirt.

"Doesn't she have a great body, Duke?" Toni said. Sheila had the feeling that Toni was intentionally adding to her embarrassment.

"Yeah, Toni. You should have been at the auction yesterday. The clients went bananas bidding on her."

"Any idea who bought her?"

"Sure, and so does everybody else. The bidding went on so long that the buzz went through the place that it was a woman who kept raising the ante. Then, near the end, she had some sort of argument with the guy she was bidding against. By then, everybody knew it was Lezzie LeBeau."

"Really!" Toni's eyes widened. "Wow!" she exclaimed; "I really wouldn't want to . . . "

She cut herself off in mid-sentence. Sheila wondered why, and her speculations made her uneasy.

Despite the near-transparency of the thin blouse, Sheila was relieved when she finally had both her skirt and blouse on.

Toni looked up at Sheila from her bunk.

"Well, Duke," she said with a smirk, her eyes on Sheila's face, "Before you turn her over to Lindsey, I bet you'll have fun with her!"

He smiled and nodded. He glanced at Sheila, who felt her face grow warm.

"I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

Without bothering to re-attach her loose cuff, Duke and Jimmie led Sheila down the hallway. They entered a bathroom that, as far as Sheila could tell, was identical to the one Nina had taken her to the day before; the only difference was the color of the towels on the bars. Yesterday the towels had been a pink that matched the décor. These were black.

"Take off your skirt," Duke told her. Sheila saw him withdrawing tubing from a cabinet.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "Not another enema! Please!"

Duke gave her a wry smile. "Hold her Jimmie."

The young man was strong, and Sheila didn't attempt to struggle as he grabbed her arms and held them before her.

"Make her bend over," Duke said.

Jimmie gripped her forearms and pulled them downward. He pulled until her shoulders were lower than her hips. Sheila felt the miniskirt skirt rise up her buttocks. She was aware of how much she was exposing her privates to Duke's view, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

A moment later she felt fingertips rudely grip her exposed labia. The outer ones were pulled away from the inner ones. "Please!" she protested, trembling. "Don't do that"please!"

He withdrew his fingers. "Hold her steady, Jimmie."

"I am, Duke."

Suddenly, Sheila's buttocks were again stung by the fierce blow of a strap that sounded loud in the tiled room.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. The blow on her already sore buttocks hurt even more than the last few blows had in her cell.

"Why did you do that?"

"You don't object to anything," Duke told her. "If a Master wants to play with your cunt, you don't object, get it? And, when he's done, you'll say, "Thank you, Master. Understand? Count, now, and thank me!"

"Yes, Master."

The subsequent blows hurt even more. By the tenth which was (thankfully) the last, tears were seeping from her closed eyelids.

"O.K. Jimmie; let her up."

Sheila straightened up, wondering how long it would be before she would be able to sit down without pain.

CHAPTER 32: Lindsey Visits Babette & Leon

Babette was showering before she and Leon dressed for dinner.

Leon removed her bottle of Armagnac and a snifter from the liquor cabinet. He was in a foul mood, and he felt the need to relax. He filled the goblet, placed the bottle on the lamp table beside the sofa, and sat down. He took a large swallow.

Not bad.

He examined the label on the bottle and smiled wryly. Fin Class, from Condom. Peculiar and amusing name for a city. He replaced the bottle on the table, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

Babette's dropping out of the bidding for the blonde had disappointed him.

He'd gotten a brief look at the blonde's body, but her exhibition hadn't been nearly long enough.

Despite applying all his charm to persuade Babette to buy her, he'd been unsuccessful.

He had no compunctions about physically abusing a woman to obtain something from her although he preferred humiliation. For Babette, neither method seemed appropriate. He wondered if his abuse of the perfumer's daughter long ago was the reason for his lack of compunctions with women. Compelling the girl to use the wine bottle had led to many pleasant daydreams over the years. Anyway, abuse worked for him; he had only contempt for men who pampered their mistresses.

Babette should have competed longer in the bidding for Sheila. On the other hand, if she had raised the ante, I have the feeling that the lesbian Lindsey would have increased the stakes anyway. Perhaps she'd have continued bidding up indefinitely. She seemed determined to get the blonde, no matter how high the bidding got.

It was seldom difficult for Leon to obtain a woman. He felt at ease seducing one; it amused him to apply his charms, time after time, using the same routine. Typically, a woman who received his attentions, even a beautiful one, felt flattered. He knew that his looks and flippant 'take it or leave it' attitude, were turn-ons for her. He wasn't accustomed to having his lust thwarted.

He had expected Babette to succeed in bidding for Sheila, and the setback rankled. He wondered if there was some other way through which he could obtain the blonde, at least for a long enough time to thoroughly enjoy her.

Annoyed about the blonde, he found it difficult to concentrate on finding the Millet girl. He'd not even glimpsed her since his arrival. Of course, it was possible that all the furor created by the Americans about her disappearance could have induced Hawk Nose to dispose of her, doubtless in the ocean. If she were still alive, perhaps Crane had her in one of his basement cells; if so, he'd have to go down there and investigate.

He smiled to himself and sipped the Armagnac. Fine brandy.

A search of the cells might be a bonanza in itself. If he began his search of the cells in the middle of the night, there would be time for some pleasant moments with the females who were stored there. Moreover, in his search for Janine, he might discover Sheila. She ought to be in a cell for the duration of her training period, unless the lesbian had ordered her to be delivered untrained.

Besides the Millet girl, he needed to determine the island's location. The only one who would know it for certain would be Hawk-Nose. Anyone else might be misinformed.

I'll find a time when Crane is gone from his office. An auction would be ideal, but god knows when the next one will be. I'll have to persuade a blue girl to describe his schedule.

Finally, if possible, he needed to discover who Crane's mainland associates were. The Director would require a bone to throw to the New York authorities in the form of the names of the men who carried out the abductions and delivered the girls to Yvonne's ship.

Leon placed the empty snifter on the lamp table beside the bottle. Babette's purse lay on the cocktail table.

He went through it and quickly found Babette's key to the E.L. He slipped the key in a pocket. He'd visit the room before she awoke, early tomorrow. If there were captive women in the E.L., he'd photograph them. If a blue girl happened to be in the room, the fact that he had a key should dispel any suspicions that she might have. No one but he and Babette could be aware that Babette was paying all the bills and that the keys were hers.

He returned to the sofa. He filled the snifter with more brandy. He thought again of the blonde's body. Recalling her stripping on the stage, he soon had an erection.

Babette exited from the bathroom. Leon observed her through the open doorway to the bedroom. She was rubbing her arms with a large black towel as she walked toward the bed, her ample breasts bobbing rhythmically.

He watched her sit on its edge, reach beside her for a stocking, and bend down, drawing it up her thigh. He watched her repeat the process with the other stocking. Except for her black nylons, she was naked. Leon stood up, pulling the cloth of his pants outward, to accommodate the pole, and he limped into the bedroom, retaining his nearly full glass in his hand.

Babette looked up. She noticed the bulge, and she flushed.

"Again, Leon? You want that every time I come from the shower!"

"Are you tired of pleasing me?" he asked, coolly. He looked down. Her breasts were firm and inviting.

"You know I'm not. But you don't make love to me any more like you did in Paris. All I do now is suck your cock!"

He looked down at her. Her black stockings, up to her thighs, served to emphasize how naked she was above them.

Leon unzipped his fly. His freed penis sprung out, directly before her face. The swollen head bobbed slightly, following the rhythm of his pulse.

Babette sighed.

She reached up with her long fingers and grasped the shaft below its head. She reached out with her other hand and groped in his trousers with two fingers. She hooked his testicles and drew them out.

Babette parted her lips. She leaned forward and lowered her head. Leon felt her mouth descend over his penis, sliding in on the warm cushion of her tongue.

She looked up and their eyes met. Leon smiled.

"You may object, but you enjoy sucking my cock," he said. "By the time I come, you're cunt will be dripping wet."

Babette's face flushed. She lowered her gaze, drew back slightly. Leon felt her tongue working on the head of his penis. She began to suck.

Leon raised the snifter. He sipped from it, savoring the flavor. It was excellent Armagnac.

Leon covered Babette's head with his free hand. He gazed down on her naked back, the ridges of her spine. He imagined that it was Sheila who was rocking forward and back and her full lips that ringed his shaft.

Leon watched her crimson-nailed fingers stab the skin of his testicles.

Although their skin was wrinkled and erect, somehow she managed to twist them and, when she had them tight, she drew them toward her. They resembled two huge pink marbles before her lips. She thrust out her tongue and began licking them; she seemed intent on covering all of their exposed surfaces.

Babette was adept, and Leon soon closed his eyes.

He thought of Sheila's naked form on the stage. She had obeyed Crane's command to bend forward toward the audience. Crane had raised her breasts to display them.

Leon felt Babette's arms encircle his hips and her hands grip his buttocks through his trousers. They pulled him forward, and he felt the head of his prick force into a tight cavity as warm as her vagina, but more snug. Electric thrills surged up from his loins.

Sometimes she could suppress her gag reflex and take the entire length of his shaft in her mouth until the head of his penis was buried in her throat. Then, her subsequent gagging induced such exquisite sensations that, no matter how much Leon tried to restrain himself, wanting to prolong them, they always brought on his orgasm.

He felt her head draw slowly back and he watched her tightly encircling crimson lips withdraw up his shaft until only the fat head was still within. Then she suddenly thrust forward and took the entire length back in. He couldn't see her face, pressed as it was into the cloth of his trousers, firmly in his groin.

"Aaah!" Leon exclaimed, clutching her head.

But Babette drew back again until again only the head was engulfed. He watched her fingers encircle the shaft. She began to pump, jerking her hand forward and back, rapidly and unceasingly.

His felt his penis suddenly grow rigid. Then it jerked, and Leon looked down. Babette's eyes were closed and she had her lips pursed around the tip of the pink-violet head. She gulped. It jerked again, and she gulped again.

Following the last spasm, Babette opened her mouth and freed the head but continued to grip the shaft in her hand. Holding it, she pulled the skin slowly toward her face, milking it. As each drop oozed out, she licked it off. Finally, she swabbed the entire head with slow, circular sweeps of her tongue. When she released it, except for the gloss of saliva, it was clean.

Leon raised his glass for a last drink. He looked at it, surprised. He'd been sipping it throughout Babette's blow-job, and it was empty.

"Stand up," he ordered. He backed away until he was a foot farther from her, giving her room to slip from the edge of the bed.

She gave him a questioning smile, but she stood up. She was so close to him that her breasts indented against his chest.

Leon lowered his hand and, placing his palm on her pubis, he inserted two fingers between her labia.

"You're wet," he said. Your clitoris feels like a rock."

He wiggled it. Babette moaned, and her eyes closed. He stroked and continued to lightly wiggle it, and her cries grew louder.

He pushed her back and she fell across the bed, leaving her stockinged legs over its edge. Pulling her legs apart, he knelt on the carpet between them, and he inserted his tongue into the folds of her swollen labia. He began to laugh.

"What are you laughing at, you brute!?"

"You're a sea of juice. There's more than enough for me. You'll drink some of this."

He sucked noisily for a few seconds, and then stood up. He leaned over her, and put his lips to hers. The moment that she parted her lips, he squirted fluid into her mouth.

"That's better," he said, and he knelt again. He inserted three fingers into her dripping vagina and began thrusting. Continuing with his fingers, he put his lips to her swollen clitoris and began to lick.

* * *

Babette's orgasm had barely subsided. Leon stood up, holding his right hand out horizontally.

Babette opened her eyes. "Aren't you going to continue?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"What are you doing?"

"First clean my fingers," he said, reaching out. Droplets dangled from his curled down digits. They dripped viscously onto her face.

"Leon, you're so dirty!" she exclaimed, reddening.

"Clean them," he repeated.

"Oh, you . . . Well all right."

She drew his hand down and parted her lips. She sucked each digit until it was clean.

"There, you brute!"she said, emitting a giggle; "Now, start licking!".

* * *

They heard the buzzer, but Leon ignored it.

It sounded again.

Babette sighed. "I suppose we should answer it."

He ignored her.

The buzzer sounded again. "Please, Leon," she said, raising her head. "Please answer it."

Leon sighed, and he stood up. His genitals protruded, dangling, from his pants. Babette sat up, looked at them and giggled. She slipped from the bed and knelt on the carpet before him. She grasped his penis and kissed it. Then she carefully replaced his balls and his semi-hard penis in his trousers. Finally, she zipped up his fly.

"There," she said. "I'll get dressed. You answer the door."

Leon went through the bedroom doorway. He closed the door behind him, traversed the living room, and opened the hall door.

"Hello, Leon," Lindsey said. "Is Babette in?"

He looked at her. Smooth, well-coiffed brown hair, large breasts, a nice figure. A pity she was a lesbian.

"Yes, Lindsey. She's dressing for dinner. Come in. Would you like a drink? I was just having some brandy," he said, displaying his empty glass. Lindsey seated herself on the sofa. She looked nervous.

Evidently this isn't a social call.

"Yes, I would. Do you have any white wine? I usually have some before dinner."

"Babette has the same preference. I'll get some for each of you."

Leon obtained goblets from the kitchen and removed a bottle from the refrigerator. He peeled off the foil and worked in the corkscrew.

Interesting that they have the same habit. Babette's a bi. I wonder if they were lovers last summer?

As he brought in the two glasses, he explained, "She's switched from Chardonnay to dry Riesling. The American whites have gotten too sweet for her."

Lindsey didn't reply; she seemed preoccupied. "Leon, would you mind if I spoke to Babette in private? I have something personal to discuss with her."

"Of course not. I'll tell her."

He went into the bedroom. Babette was dressed but without her jewelry. She was seated at the vanity, applying lipstick.

"I heard Lindsey," she said. "Would you tell her I'll be out in a few minutes? Perhaps she'd like to have dinner with us. I don't think she brought a friend along like she did last year."

"I'll tell her. She wants to speak to you about some private matter, and she wants to be alone with you."

He yawned. "I feel rather drowsy. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a nap before dressing for dinner. While you're talking with her, just be sure the door is closed, so I can sleep."

She smiled. "You men are all the same. As soon as you have an orgasm, you want to doze off."

* * *

After serving the wine, Leon retired into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

The lens was over a sconce opposite the bed and close to the doorway above the light switch. Leon yawned again in view of the camera, and drew down the bed coverings. He patted his pillow and removed his bathrobe. He walked toward the light switch, tossed the robe over the sconce, and folded enough of the hanging cloth over it to thoroughly block the lens.

He immediately went to his briefcase and found the Sonbel, a device for detecting conversations from a distance or through resonant surfaces like a wall. Its 'objective', an optical term that its manufacturer used for its sound-gathering feature was metallic and in the form of a bell of about four inches in diameter. He walked to the light switch and flicked it, extinguishing the overhead light.

He felt his way to the wall separating the bedroom from the living room, inserted the wired plugs into his ears, and pressed the bell against the wall.

" . . . mind if we move to the kitchen, Babette?" he heard.

"Why, Lindsey? It's more comfortable here on the sofa. Leon won't disturb us; he's taking a nap."

There was a long pause. Perhaps each was sipping her wine.

"I'm in serious trouble, Babette. I couldn't think of anyone but you to contact. You've handled criminal cases. Sometimes you have, anyway. You may have some advice as to what I should do."

"Are you involved in something criminal, Lindsey?"

Babette emitted a sound like a short laugh, or perhaps it was a gasp.

"Lindsey, darling," she added; "this entire resort that Crane manages is a criminal undertaking! What in the world are you talking about?"

"Are . . . Are you sure that Leon can't hear us, Babette? Can we go in the kitchen, please?"

"Why should Leon have any interest your problems?"

"Well . . . I don't know! Do you trust him? I mean, completely?"

There was another pause. "No. I don't suppose that I do, Lindsey, dear. There's a lot about Leon that I don't know. All right, let's go in the kitchen."

He heard sounds of them moving.

Shit. Hmm. I'll try the bathroom wall. The plumbing for it must be near to that for the kitchen.

CHAPTER 33: Judith Visits the Training Center

Judith was awakened by someone shaking her shoulder. She turned on the bunk, annoyed that she'd been awakened. About to complain, she recalled where she was, and she looked up.

She saw woman looking down at her.

"Hi!" the woman said; "I'm Donna, Donna Gromelski. Is your name Judith? Master Crane told me you were in Cell Eight. You could really use a shampoo and styling. I don't have time to do it this evening, but maybe I can do it tomorrow. I'll comb it out for you while we're putting on your makeup. When you're dressed, we'll go to the bathroom down the hall for that. Crane wants you to join him for dinner tonight."

"Hey, Donna!" Judith heard another woman's voice. "Forget the gab. Get her ready!"

Judith sat up, bleary-eyed. She laid aside the four towels.

The talkative woman was a chubby brunette with bobbed hair and a round face, about thirty. She was pretty and her figure, with a few less pounds on it, would be voluptuous.

"I'm Judith Sterling. I came here with Senator Ellsworth. Can you tell me why I've been put in this little room? I'm supposed to be in a suite with him."

Donna didn't reply, and Judith looked at the other woman.

Now that she was awake, she recognized the girl. It was Sarah, one of the girls who had brought her from Crane's office. The woman who had awakened her was dressed in a blue button-down column dress like the one that had been worn by that other girl, Nina. Both Donna and Sarah wore tan leather collars similar to the one about her own throat.

Sarah smiled, and she said, "If you're going to dine with Master Crane, I need to take off those things."

While Sarah unlocked and removed her collar and handcuffs, Donna brought a garment from one of the clothing hooks.

It was a royal blue halter dress with spangles. It seems that they expected her to wear it without a brassiere. When it was on her, the vee neckline hem was well above the swellings of her breasts, but the material was very sheer, apparently of silk or nylon and it outlined the contours of her nipples and even showed their tint through it.

"I knew it would fit you," Sarah said. "We went through your clothes to get your size."

"Where did you find them?" Judith asked. "Are they in my room--the room in our suite? Everything is confusing here! No one has explained a thing to me. I'm supposed to be in a suite that I'm sharing with my--my employer. He's a senator in the States. I'm his attorney."

Judith felt her face grow warm. Perhaps she'd revealed more than she should have. The Senator had warned her not to disclose their relationship outside of Washington.

Donna raised her eyebrows. Judith saw her glance at Sarah. But the younger girl just shrugged and replied, "You'll be dining with Master Crane; you had better address your questions to him."

Sarah reached into a satchel that lay on the opposite bunk. She withdrew a pair of stockings and pumps that were wrapped in plastic bags. Judith recognized the shoes as her own.

* * *

The two women escorted Judith down the hallway to an elevator. They rode it up to the second floor and exited into a hall similar to the one they had left, walked a dozen steps; and then entered through double doorway marked 'Dining Hall' in gold lettering.

The room was filled with tables that seat four, with cloth napkins and silverware already set at each table. A heavy black carpet containing gold threads that produced attractive spiral patterns covered the room from wall to wall. High above, chandeliers illuminated the room with a soft light from small bulbs. The ceiling seemed very high. Judith guessed that its height was that of two floors: the second, on which they had entered, and the third, above them.

Judith noticed the wall murals. Three of the four walls were covered with paintings. All three were parts of a single outdoor scene that reminded Judith of paintings by Maxfield Parrish. These murals had the Greek temples and the bucolic scenery as well as the beautiful women. There the similarities ended, for all the women were nude and, along with a few men, most were engaged in erotic activities that overlooked nothing. During her subsequent dinner with Crane, Judith observed every coupling that she could imagine, including homoerotic and multi-partner ones.

Crane's table was located at the opposite end of the room, the wall which consisted entirely of windows. Judith observed the ocean through it, even before they were halfway to his table. The sun was low over the water, and the view was magnificent.

There he is. I'll ask him where the Senator is; and why he had me put in that dungeon.

Those girls must have done it on his orders. And, why did they leave me naked? Perhaps they knew I'd be getting this gown. I suppose that Crane wanted to return those clothes that I borrowed from Yvonne on the ship. I'm really curious about this place.

Crane turned to look at her, and Judith's heart began to race. The man's masculinity was sort of overwhelming. He was dressed in loose dark slacks and a white knit short-sleeved shirt. His biceps looked like steel. He resembled some athlete, a boxer or tennis pro and, when he rose from his chair as she approached, he looked very smooth on his feet.

His face was rugged rather than classic. His look began to embarrass her, and she looked about the room. The waitresses, all wearing black and white French maid uniforms, were extraordinarily attractive. How did Crane manage to get such gorgeous young women to work on such an isolated island, away from cities and from young men? Most of the men she passed seated at the tables were considerably older than Judith, and the waitresses were much younger than she.

Crane was holding out a chair out for her. Her seat was parallel to the windows, opposite his. "I thought you'd want to see the sunset," he said, waving a hand at the windows. Judith noticed a pair of women's sunglasses on the table beside her tableware and a similar pair beside his.

She smiled, raising them. "I don't need these. The sun is so red."

"You will, in about half an hour," he said.

He handed her a stapled sheaf of three typewritten sheets of paper. "Tonight's menu. It's a bit primitive; we print the menus daily. On an island, it's necessary to dispense with some of the niceties. By the way, you look beautiful."

She blushed. "Thank you. My hair is something of a mess."

"It's to be expected, considering how you spent last night. Actually, it doesn't look bad. When my salon staff is less busy, I'll have them do your hair for you. We're rather crowded at the moment; we've had quite an influx of young women."

She looked for her escorts. But Donna and Sarah had disappeared.

One of the girls dressed in a French maid's uniform approached. She wore a black blouse and skirt, a miniscule white apron and with a white cap perched on her blonde head. As the girl leaned forward, Judith could see through the sheer black material of her blouse. Although her nipples were covered at the moment by the apron, she obviously lacked a bra. Her breasts were full and prominent.

The girl poured them each a goblet of red wine and placed the bottle on the table. With a smile, she told Judith, "I'll give you time to make your selections, Mistress, and I'll be right back." She left.

Mistress?

"Will you tell me now just what this place is?" Judith asked, indicating the room and building with a motion of her head. "It's more than just a resort hotel."

She wanted to say, 'Mister Crane, I know it's a sex club. A friend of mine belongs to one in San Francisco. Am I right?' but suppose she were wrong? She'd be mortified. She postponed her query.

Crane shrugged. "After we dine, I'll show you the most important room in the Academy. I'll explain your situation then."

He told her a little about the climate in their location. There were occasional hurricanes, but the buildings were located high enough to preclude flooding.

* * *

Crane looked up. "Our waitress is back. She'll take our orders."

"I don't see any prices on the menus."

"They're prix fixe," he said. "All dinners are the same price. But, in any case, since I'm the manager, I won't be charged for our meal. Don't skimp."

She ordered lobster. Crane ordered a vegetarian dinner. Although they had consumed less than half of the bottle, Crane said to the girl, "Another bottle of wine, please."

"Yes, Master Crane," she responded.

Judith raised her eyebrows. Master? Shades of the Gemini Club! Maybe that is what this place is! Well, he said he'd explain after dinner; I guess I'll wait.

"How is the lobster?" he asked, as soon as she had finished cracking and consuming a claw.

"It's delicious," she said. "You must have a fine chef!"

"Yes. He's good. One of our French clients recommended him. He's expensive, but the fringe benefits that I offered him he found irresistible."

"Where is the Senator?" she asked. Has he been looking for me?"

"Before I answer your questions, I want to know more about you. Tell me about yourself."

Christ, it's hard to get information from him. If he's the manager of this place, he has no boss. Why is he so close-mouthed? Does he think I'm from some law enforcement agency?

"If I do," she replied, annoyed; "will you tell me about you, and about this 'Academy' as you call it?"

"I told you that I would after . . . "

Suddenly they heard murmurs from other tables, all around them. Everyone seemed to be looking at Judith. She became self-conscious, wondering what was wrong with her appearance.

Crane glanced at his wristwatch. "Put on the sunglasses," he said.

She glanced out the window. A crescent had been cut from the sun's disk.

"It's an eclipse!" she exclaimed, thrilled.

She wiped her hands and put on the glasses.

"It's an annular one," he said.

She frowned. "A what?"

"You're an attorney. You must have taken Latin;."

"Well," she said; "I think annular refers to a ring."

"That's correct. Wait and watch."

It took several minutes, but finally the sun disappeared. In its place was a black disk surrounded by a ring of fire.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. Besides the thrill of the view, she felt turned on by this strange man.

"We're fortunate that it's over the water. The moon is between us and the sun, and it's at apogee, its farthest distance from us. Its apparent size is too small to cover the entire solar disk."

"Thank you, Professor," she said, smiling. "Where did you go to college?"

"I didn't. I read a lot."

* * *

She had finished her lobster and the waitress removed their plates; at the same time she left a finger bowl and a card containing a listing of desserts. Judith glanced at the latter.

"What are you having?"

"Just coffee, but I recommend the crepes suzette."

After the waitress took their orders, Judith said, "You don't seem the type to read. At least not until you spouted off about the eclipse. One of those girls that I went downstairs with told me that you're always busy. When do you find the time to read?"

He shrugged. "I don't require much sleep. But, I was asking about you. You're an attorney. Where did you go to college?"

"Berkeley," she replied. "I grew up in Montana, in a town called Kalispell. You've probably never heard of it. In high school I thought it was the pits. When I got to college, I met my best friend. We used to go to San Francisco a lot. We loved the city."

"Are your parents still in Montana?"

"Mom and Dad still live in Kalispell. I visit them every summer when the Senate shuts down."

He nodded. "I recall that you came on the ship with the Senator."

She blushed, catching his allusion to how he had found her, bound on the floor of the cabin, naked.

"I'm Senator Ellsworth's attorney," she explained, hoping to get off the subject. "He vacationed here last year. Perhaps you've met him."

"I know who he is," Crane responded. "He's a very large prick."

Judith laughed.

"You're not alone in that opinion. Some of his acquaintances in Washington think the same thing. The Senator can be abrasive, but he's very influential in Washington, and also in our state. I'm a resident there. I've been asked to fill a Congressional vacancy left by a Representative who's retiring."

"Since you're not wearing a ring, I presume that you're unmarried. Are you the Senator's mistress?"

Judith blushed again. She was especially upset by his inference being so close to the mark. She felt humiliated that he assumed she belonged to a man over sixty.

"That's a sexist term, Mister Crane," she replied. "And, it's obsolete. I don't sleep around. Even if I did, it's no concern of yours! If I travel with Senator Ellsworth, it's part of my job. What else I do is none of your business."

"On the contrary," he said, coolly. "If you 'sleep around' as you put it, it could change my plans for you."

"Your plans for me!" she exclaimed, surprised. "Do you imagine that you're talking to some school child?!"

His smile irritated her even more.

"You're a well-educated young woman. Surely you can guess the position you're in here."

What is he talking about?

"It's about time, Mister Crane, that you should answer some of my questions! Where is Senator Ellsworth? Why did those two girls put me in that cell instead of an apartment? Do you know that they left me in there, naked? Just what is this place?!"

He shrugged. "Please call me Crane for the time being, Judith. Evidently you don't believe your own eyes. Think about the Senator's recent actions toward you. You must recall how Sarah and Kelly were dressed. And think about the accommodations they put you in."

His words were chilling. Judith didn't want to think of the implications.

She looked about the room. It had become crowded. Although there were a number of other women in the room, dining as she was, many more of the clientele were male. Of the few women she saw, she saw only one looked as young as she. The only beautiful girls in the room were the waitresses, the girls who were dressed in French Maid's attire.

None of the men looked as young as she, either. But then she noticed two men at a table also adjacent to the windows, and she corrected herself. One of them appeared to be in his twenties. Still, he was by far the youngest man. Many, perhaps a third of the men, looked as old as the Senator.

Bill never said that the men at the Gemini Club were particularly old. But here it's different. To travel and stay out here for at least a week when the cruise ship returns must take a lot of money. Maybe that's why there are so many old men here. How can Crane pay women"especially ones as attractive as these--enough to work out here on this remote island?

As she glanced around the room, she counted five waitresses. Each one of them was beautiful enough to be a model.

She saw Crane smile, and she wondered if he read her mind.

"When we've finished dining," he told her; "I'll take you downstairs to the T.C. When you see it, you'll understand the purpose of the Academy."

Judith had crepes suzette for dessert; Crane had coffee. "You should be fat," he said, evidently amused by her appetite.

Judith saw his gaze lower; he was staring at her breasts.

She felt a shiver go down her spine. She was conscious of how bare they were under the gown. She'd not had access to a mirror except for the ill-lighted one in the bathroom off the small room, and she wondered how much he could see. Compared to the breasts of the waitresses, though, hers were small. She didn't know why, but suddenly their size bothered her.

Wanting to divert his thoughts, she replied, "I don't usually eat so much, but the food here is so good!"

Crane nodded. "My clients are wealthy; they expect the food to be what they're accustomed to."

* * *

They exited the elevator onto the lowest floor. Judith didn't recognize it at first, as they turned left and passed wooden double doors marked 'Power Plant' in bright brass lettering. After this, she saw the line of gray metal doors on both sides of the hallway. She guessed that one of them must be the door to the cell in which she'd spent most of the day.

As they arrived about halfway down the hall, Judith heard strange, high pitched muted sounds from somewhere ahead. Accompanying the sounds were louder ones that sounded a little like firecrackers exploding, although these were also muted, sounding as though they were coming through some closed door ahead of them.

Following the last gray door on the right, they reached another set of double wooden doors. Above, marked in bright brass paint on a glass transom, were the words 'Training Center'.

The odd sounds were coming from within. Crane, grabbing her arm, led her through the doors. The room was nearly as large as the Main Lounge--the largest room in the building that she had yet seen.

"Look around," Crane said mildly; "and tell me what you conclude about what you see."

As they stood in the doorway, Judith felt his grip on her arm, but she was so shocked by the scene that she would have halted on her own had he released her.

Wooden racks, stocks, and pillories packed the room from wall to wall. Each one of them held a young, beautiful, and naked girl, fastened to the device by manacles clamped about her wrists and ankles.

"Well?" he asked, meeting her eyes. "What do you think is the purpose of this room?"

Judith flushed. Her heart pounded. She felt so appalled, that she had stopped looking around the room after its first impact on her.

"I-I hardly know what to think," she said.

Despite her embarrassment, Judith forced herself to look around. Close to each wooden device and facing it were arranged a semicircle of armchairs, most of which were occupied by more than a dozen spectators who were enjoying the exhibition. Among the audience she saw three women.

As she stood with Crane in the doorway, there was one such group seated directly before them. It consisted of three men and one woman. Two of the men appeared to be in their fifties and one even older, with white hair and a paunch. The woman was of indeterminate age, but Judith guessed that she might be in her fifties. Her hair, perhaps dyed, was red and her figure was shapely if slightly overweight.

The girl who they were watching was a pretty blonde, about seventeen or eighteen years old. She was bent over a large sawhorse-shaped wooden rack, her belly upon its ridge with her hands and feet on the carpet, her wrists clamped in handcuffs bolted to its front legs and her ankles clamped in ones at its rear ones. Her body formed an inverted 'V', with her buttocks the apex.

A man stood behind her whipping her with a leather belt. The girl was crying, but a ball-gag was stuffed in her mouth, held by wide straps around her cheeks and the back of her head, muting her cries. Her sobs were the sounds Judith had heard through the closed doors when she and Crane had approached the room from the hall.

The man must have been beating the girl for some time before they entered, as the girl's buttocks were already marred by pink welts. The man brought the belt down methodically, starting from just below her coccyx and working down to the crease between her buttocks and thighs, and covering every inch between.

"What's her problem, Duke?" Crane asked, leading Judith into the room.

"The usual one we have with high school kids," Duke responded with a shrug. He pointed toward their right.

Judith recognized one of the blue girls, Nina. Wielding a glossy black leather strap, Nina stood before a lineup of four naked men, each of whom had his handcuffed wrists held over his head by a chain linking the handcuffs to a hook in the ceiling. Each male's legs were held wide apart by a bar with manacles at each end that gripped his ankles. Two of the males looked to be in their mid-thirties, while the two others appeared much younger, of high school age.

One of the men suddenly shouted at Nina, "You bitch! Why don't you stop them!?"

Judith watched, wondering how the girl would respond.

The blue girl looked up at him and smiled. Then she reached between the man's legs. She grasped his penis, which Judith thought was the largest she had ever seen, and twisted.

"Ow! Let go, you bitch, let go!" the man cried.

"That's not a proper response," Nina said, and she turned her wrist further. The man emitted another "Ow!!"

"Apologize properly," Nina said in a cool voice.

The man groaned. Finally, capitulating, he said, "I'm sorry, Mistress! Please, let go!"

"Your wife isn't the only one who needs training," the blue girl replied. "So do you."

Holding his penis up against his navel, Nina reached out with the strap until its end was just under the man's dangling testicles. She flicked her wrist, and the strap struck them. It flung them outward, causing them to swing up and carom off the hand that gripped his penis.

"Ow!!" he exclaimed, grimacing and shuddering.

"Apologize," Nina said. She held the strap out again.

"I'm sorry, Mistress!" the man cried, gasping. "No more--please!"

Nina asked, sweetly; "Will you be quiet now?"

He seemed unable to respond, for several seconds. Finally, he replied, "Y-Yes, Mistress."

"See how well your wife is learning. She'll certainly please her Master!"

An angry expression crossed his countenance, but he responded, "Yes, Mistress."

Crane said to Duke, "Explain to Judith why the men are here in the T.C. along with the females."

"We have so many females to train," Duke said. "that we're using the males to help."

He glanced at Crane, who nodded, and he told Judith, "We only use them on inexperienced girls, ones around high school age. In this shipment we got four mature females, wives and an unmarried woman of about thirty or so. Since those four are sexually experienced, we didn't need to whip them a lot."

"When will they be ready?" Crane asked.

"I think that we can deliver them in just a few days, Boss."

"What about the younger ones? How long will they take? No more than three days, I hope."

"I hope so, too, Boss. But we never had so many before. It complicates our job. It isn't just the number of them. The five high school kids egg each other on, and it's tough to keep them obedient. They're gonna need a lot more conditioning.

"What about the two college girls?" Crane asked. "How are they coming along?"

Duke pointed for Judith's benefit toward the girls being instructed by the buxom blonde.

"Not too bad, Crane. Kelly's doing a good job on them. I think by tomorrow evening they'll be ready."

"Having so many females to train presents problems," Crane told Judith. "Duke and Kelly feel that they're overworked, and I'll have to do something about that."

Crane shrugged and gave her a smile. "Personally, though, I can't complain. Twelve females brought me a financial bonanza. Besides that, they'll continue to provide me with entertainment until delivery."

Judith felt nervous about asking, but her attorney's training got the better of her. "Just what is it that you mean by 'entertainment', Mister Crane?"

Crane smiled. "Just call me Crane, Judith. I'm sure you know the type of entertainment that I mean. The type that we're training them to provide for my clients."

He turned back to Duke.

"What about the blonde on the rack?" Crane asked. "What's her problem?"

Duke shrugged. "She won't take a cock in her mouth. She keeps her teeth closed."

"What about the other high school girls? Are they more pliable?"

"Well," Duke replied; "We've gotten Cheryl's friend Denise, and the Rivers girl, Patty, to give head. Unfortunately, as soon as a client comes down to watch, they get inhibited. None of them is anywhere close to being able to satisfy a client."

"They'll get accustomed to spectators if we can rent them for a few parties," Crane said. "What about the youngest female, the fifteen year old? I've forgotten her name."

"Kathleen, Boss. The girls call her Kathy. When she first got here, Nina had to give her a good whipping to get her to do anything. But, it turned out that she wasn't as much trouble as we expected. She really turned around when she saw all the married women giving beejays. I suppose she decided that giving head was better than a whipping."

He looked toward the four males and smiled. "Kathy is still at it," he exclaimed. "Maybe she's starting to enjoy it. Would you like to watch, Mistress Judith?"

"She'll watch," Crane responded for her, and he took her arm.

Duke led the way. They had to pass by the two girls who were being supervised by the buxom blue girl.

Duke stopped them.

"Boss," Duke said, "Maybe Mistress Judith would be interested in these two, before we watch Kathy."

Crane nodded. "Yes. Take a look at them, Judith."

Judith looked at the two girls, her heart pounding. She could feel herself blushing.

My god! What is this place that the Senator brought me to?

Robyn was naked and collarless.

Her legs were held apart by a long bar, her ankles gripped by fetters at its ends. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her back and a taut chain from the ceiling was attached to the link between the cuffs, compelling the girl to bend forward at the hips. It forced her to lean so far that her shoulders were as low as her knees and kept her handcuffed wrists above her bare buttocks. Her long black hair hung down over her head, with its last few inches lying on the carpet.

It seemed that her head was virtually the only part of her body that she could move without discomfort.

Mia, who was standing before her, wore a collar, and around her waist and groin were straps of a harness from which a dildo projected. It duplicated a man's genitals perfectly and appeared to be made of rubber since, when Mia stepped forward or back, the shaft flexed slightly and swung the pendulous oversized balls that dangled below it.

"Tell her!" Kelly ordered. She brought the whip across Mia's bare buttocks with a vicious blow that made the girl emit a loud "Ow!" and left a pink stripe across them.

Judith thought that Kelly was speaking an order to Mia, but the black-haired girl replied.

She craned her neck to look up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Mia!" she cried out; "I have to say what she . . . "

Kelly swung the whip and struck Mia's buttocks again. Like a long black snake, it encircled her hips and left a second stripe parallel to the first. Kelly again drew her arm back. This time she enhanced its blow just before striking with a flick of her wrist. Its end struck Mia's buttocks with a loud, firecracker-like report and knocked the girl off-balance.

Judith expected to see her fall onto the carpet on her face.

Instead, Kelly thrust out her hand and caught the chain at the back of Mia's collar. She jerked Mia back up by it.

"Please, Mistress," Robyn cried. "Stop whipping her! I-I'll say what you want."

"Say it!" Kelly ordered impatiently. She swung the whip in an upward-angled arc, that impacted Mia's striped buttocks from below, causing the girl to emit a loud 'ow!'

"I'll say it, Mistress!" Robyn cried. "Please stop!"

Kelly halted her swing, but she kept her arm ready.

"Say it, slut!"

Robyn raised her head. Blushing, she stuttered, "M-Master, l-let me s-suck . . . your cock. C-Come in my mouth, Master, p-please!"

"That's better," Kelly said. Each morning, when your Master appears, that's how you'll greet him. Understand?"

"Y-Yes, Mistress," Robyn replied.

Kelly said to Mia; "Do it!"

"Y-Yes, Mistress," Mia replied.

She moved closer to Robyn and, even after she bumped her friend's forehead with the outthrust dildo, she continued to move forward. The rubber phallus went under Robyn's face and lay pressed up against her cheek.

"What do you say?" Kelly asked sweetly, raising the whip.

Mia drew in a deep breath. Blushing, she said, "H-Here's your b-breakfast, Slut."

Robyn opened her mouth, wide. She took the dildo between her lips and began moving her head up and down upon it.

Kelly looked satisfied.

The trio who had come up behind her watched. Robyn licked the balls, nibbled the head, and performed other oral operations on the rubber organs. Periodically, when Kelly motioned with the whip, Mia told her friend, "You like this, don't you, you slut!"

If wasn't at the moment in her mouth, Robyn replied with a "Yes, Master," or if it was, with a nod. Saliva trickled from her mouth. Unable to wipe her face, she occasionally shook her head, flinging droplets from her chin and lower lip.

Kelly noticed Judith and the two men.

"Good evening Master," she said.

"Good evening, Kelly. This is Judith."

Kelly turned, to face Judith. "Good evening, Mistress," she said, and she curtsied.

"Good evening," Judith responded. Kelly's subservience alleviated her embarrassment to some extent; the girl seemed totally unaware of Judith's discomfort at watching the scene, as if women frequently appeared in the T.C. to observe.

"Robyn," Kelly ordered, "Greet Mistress Judith."

The brunette awkwardly raised her head as much as was possible in her bent over position. "H-Hello, Mistress Judith," she said.

Duke explained, "You see, Mistress, with just six males to work with, we have to limit our use of them."

"Duke," Crane interrupted, "I told you to involve the clients!" Judith thought he sounded annoyed. "I have no objection to you using these girls to train each other, but it ties up Kelly in supervising. Use the clients!

"Most of them," Crane continued; "would jump at a chance to train new girls. Look at the audience we get in here! Clients constantly offer suggestions. If you use clients to help, we could train several more females without hiring more staff. If you asked them, I think even some of the women clients would enjoy the chance to train a young girl."

Duke protested. "But, we are using clients, Boss."

He pointed across the room, where Judith observed a beautiful woman who was fastened in a device that looked a bit like a pillory that she had seen in Colonial Williamsburg, except that this one was more ornate and of highly finished wood. The woman's head protruded from the center and her hands from the side ones of the three holes in the front clamp. Two manacles at its base gripped her ankles and held her legs widely spread apart.

Two men were using her as she bent over, helpless in the device.

"That's Anne DuPré."

He paused, evidently expecting her to recognize the name.

"I guess you don't know the big swimsuit models. Take a good look at her face. If your husband gets a men's magazine, you'll find her in one of the centerfolds for this year. She's been in all the men's magazines."

He pointed across the room to the row of naked, manacled men.

"See the guy with brown hair, near the wall? That's Jerry. He's Anne DuPré's husband. Look at the size of his cock. There's no way that any female could suck on that monster!

"He spent most of today watching the new females practice giving beejays on the other guys. On top of that," Duke said, laughing; "for the last hour he's had to watch two clients give it to his wife. Look at the job the guy in front is doing on her!"

Anne's dark brown, nearly black hair had probably been well-coiffured on entering the T.C., but the actions of the man standing in front of her had disheveled her hair. Now it was impossible to tell. Her face was beautiful, and her figure voluptuous, with its narrow waist, large breasts, and curvaceous hips and buttocks.

The man standing in front of her was athletic-looking, and about thirty-five years of age. Judith presumed that he was one of the clients that Crane had mentioned wanting to aid in 'training'. Well-dressed, he was attired in a pale gray business suit that looked tailored to fit his trim frame.

In his right hand he gripped a fistful of her hair like a thick rope, holding her head up by it. His penis, protruding from his fly, was stuffed in her mouth. His left hand held the back of her head while he drove his organ forward and back. He shoved it in so deeply that, at the end of each thrust, as his abdomen struck her face and covered it with the cloth of his trousers, she gagged.

The man behind her was younger, perhaps twenty-five or so. He was slim. Wearing glasses, he looked scholarly, and was dressed informally in jeans and a tee shirt. Judith thought his fine features bore some resemblance to those of the older man.

He half-crouched behind the brunette, his arms wrapped around her waist. His hands reached below her navel, upon her muff. Judith was too far from him to see his hands well, but she could see that his fingers were moving; she couldn't see his fingertips and she supposed they were between her labia, fingering her.

Judith could see the shaft of his organ, which like his partner's, protruded from his open fly, as he moved it slowly forward, causing it to disappear and then back, causing it to reappear. He moved his hips in a slow, corkscrew-like motion, his eyes closed and his expression one of extreme pleasure as he enjoyed her between the buttocks.

Anne's back, as she bent forward from the hips, was horizontal. Her pendulous breasts, pointing down toward the floor, swung forward and back when the exertions of the two men were in phase, as one thrust and the other withdrew. When the two men thrust simultaneously, they jiggled violently.

The younger man saw Judith looking at him, and he looked away, apparently embarrassed.

The older man noticed his reaction and glanced in Judith's direction. She heard him laugh. He said, "You don't mind the audience, do you, Albert? You shouldn't. It's nothing new to the clients; they've seen it all."

The older man, who was holding Anne's head, looked down at the brunette and moved her head slightly, to keep it in a position that suited the angle of his thrust. After a few moments he looked back at Judith and smiled at her. Judith felt her face grow warm.

"I'm not sure about her."

"Who?" the younger one replied.

"That pretty client who just came in with Crane," the man said.

To Judith's further embarrassment, he called out to her, "I saw you on the ship, Miss. I didn't see you here last year. Is this your first vacation here?"

Judith didn't know what to reply. Her face hot, she gave the man a slight nod. To hide her embarrassment, she pretended an interest in what Duke and Crane were saying.

Nevertheless, she heard the younger man say, "I don't like all the people watching."

Surprised, considering what he was doing, Judith looked back.

His companion said, "You will, once you're here a few days."

He pulled his organ, glistening with saliva, from Anne's mouth. The brunette gasped, and she drew in several deep breaths. Hugo, holding the rope of Anne's hair, forced her head up.

"Ow!" the woman cried, "Please, that hurts!"

Gripping her hair in his fist, he slapped her face, hard, leaving a red mark on her cheek. "Only speak when your Master gives you permission," he said. "Understand?"

"Y-Yes, Master," Anne responded.

He grinned, still holding her head up so high that it appeared to be a very uncomfortable position. Judith could see the length of Anne's throat, from her chin to where it went through the hole in the pillory.

"Look at Anne DuPre, world-famous model!" he said. "I'm fucking her in the mouth and Albert's fucking her in the ass. Getting to watch her is her husband and all the girls and women who she met on the cruise ship."

Continuing to hold her by the hair, he caressed her bruised cheek with the palm that had slapped it. He asked, "But you don't mind, do you? Not as long as I let you enjoy my prick. You adore sucking it, don't you?"

She shook her head. Barely able to speak, she choked out, "N-No."

He slapped her other cheek, using the back of his hand. She now had red marks on both cheeks.

He spoke in what Judith thought was a surprisingly mild tone after the hard slaps.

"'Yes' is your only response to a Master. And always thank him after he punishes you."

He released her hair, and with relief, she lowered her head, turning it from side to side.

However, Hugo reached with both hands under the wooden clamp, groping. Although it was impossible for Judith to see exactly what he was doing, she assumed that he had grasped her breasts.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. "Please"that hurts!"

"Well?" he asked.

"Ow!!" she repeated, her face distorted in pain. "I-I don't know what you w-want me to say," she stuttered.

Judith saw his arms move.

"Ow!! Please!" she exclaimed; "Please stop twisting!"

"What did I just tell you?" he asked.

"I-I . . . to thank you?"

"Yes."

"Ow!! Ow!!" she cried; "Th-Thank you, Master. Thank you!"

"You're welcome, slave," he said. "Open your mouth again. This time you'll do the work. I'll just stand while you suck my penis. I intend to come in your mouth. Would you like that?"

"Uh . . . Uh," she stuttered, her face red again. "Y-Yes, Master."

"Good." He rested his hands on the wood clamp and moved his hips forward until the head of his penis touched her lips. "Suck," he said, "and take your supper."

Blushing, Anne parted her lips. She began to suck it, working it with her lips and tongue. After about a minute, she began to move her head up and down, sliding her lips along the length of the again glistening shaft.

Kelly said, "Even if she can't do it for her husband, she knows what she's doing."

Duke said, "Well, Jesus, Kelly--she should! She must be at least thirty. She probably fucked a dozen guys before she got married. She pretends she doesn't like it, but I bet she loves sucking cock. She probably hasn't since she got married."

Kelly turned to Judith. "Those two men are brothers. I remember the older one from last year. He's a friend of Crane. His younger brother is here for the first time this year; I think he just graduated from college. He's kind of cute. Actually, they both are."

Duke told Crane, "When they came down this afternoon, I asked them if they would help us train a female. Since there were two of them, I figured they could work on a more experienced female. I was afraid that Albert wouldn't help us out. He didn't want to fuck her in the ass; at least he said he didn't. I explained how we train the older women, and told him that, if he wanted to help, it had to be either her mouth or her ass."

Crane replied, "If he was so against it, why didn't you let him use her mouth?"

Kelly interjected. "He wanted to use her mouth, but so did his older brother."

Duke nodded. "That's right, Crane. Hugo had a real hard-on for her mouth. The kid didn't have much choice. It was her ass or nothing."

Crane shrugged. "You did the right thing. Hugo pays their bill. Whatever Hugo wants to do while he's here, let him do."

Kelly told Judith, "We don't waste time making a married woman do vanilla stuff, not unless it's a double, like Anne's doing."

"Or a triple," Duke amended.

Crane looked about the room.

"Where are the other six females?" he asked. His tone sounded critical. "And, where are the other males? I don't want the females stored in cells. We have clients who will pay to use them. At the very least put the females in the Executive Lounge. Better yet, rent them."

"Jesus, Boss, we're doing the best we can with the people we have. When those brothers are done with Mrs. DuPre, I'll put her in the E.L. That will make room in here for another female."

Crane again looked around the room. "I don't see the two big-titted young blondes," he said; "Holly and . . . " He paused. "I've forgotten the other one's name, the younger one."

"Lyons, Boss. Jane Lyons. Rita and George rented them both. Rita wanted Sheila Ericson, but I told her you gave orders not to rent her. She really caused a fuss."

Kelly exclaimed, "Rita's a bitch. I hate her!"

"Shut up, Kelly!" Crane said. "She's a client. I don't want you or any other slaves talking in that manner about a Mistress. Anyway, I know about Rita's propensities. She bought two males, Sheila's husband and Bill Derrick. Rita never buys females. I'm not sure what she's up to, renting the girl friend of one of the males and trying to rent the wife of the other one that she bought. Duke, I hope you warned her to be easy on the females. She doesn't own them."

"Oh, I told her all right, Boss. But, you know Rita, she doesn't take to orders from others. I told her, but she wouldn't promise anything."

"How long did Rita and George rent them for?"

"Two days, Boss."

"She must want them for the party tonight, expecting it to last into tomorrow morning. She sent me an invitation."

"What about George, her boyfriend?" Crane asked. "As I recall, he bought some big-titted girl. Is the girl up there, too?"

Kelly responded, "He bought Robyn, Master Crane. I told Rita that she was down here being trained. Rita didn't care about Robyn. For some reason she only wanted the females who came with the two guys she bought, Bill Derrick and Ed Ericson.

"Knowing Rita, I'll bet that she thought it would be a blast to let her party guests have their fun with the two girls while Jane's boy friend and Sheila's husband have to watch. That's probably why she was so pissed when Duke wouldn't rent Sheila to her."

"I'm not interested in your theories, Kelly," Crane replied.

"Master Crane," Kelly retorted; "When we bring Jane and Holly back from the party tomorrow, you'll be lucky if all they have are sore asses and swollen tits."

CHAPTER 34: The Senator Abuses Lindsey

Ellsworth enjoyed a light breakfast in the Coffee Shop. He preferred it to the Restaurant since there were always a few of the attractive blue girls in the Coffee Shop. At this hour the Restaurant would be sparsely occupied; not only that, but the occupants would probably be solely male. Here, besides the blue girls, he sometimes found a female slave in the room, an incidental bonus for him if her trainer stopped for a cup of coffee on his way to the T.C.

The slave's escort usually sat at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee, while the slave was obliged to kneel beside him on the floor like a pet dog, the loop of her leash clipped to his belt. The Senator was delighted whenever he found a slave there and, if a seat close to her happened to be vacant, he took it. If not, he usually chose a booth, from where he could look over her figure. Despite his dislike of Crane, Ellsworth conceded that the manager of this resort did keep the desires of his guests in mind. The attire of his captives was always transparent and thin enough to reward Ellsworth's effort to rise as early as the trainers and break his fast in the Coffee Shop.

This morning he found the buxom blonde girl Kelly seated at the counter, and he took a stool beside her. Ellsworth liked her figure, even though a number of the male clients considered her somewhat overweight. The column dress that she wore regrettably smoothed out the contours of her tits and ass somewhat, but the bumps of her tits, at least, were visible through it. Besides, they were ample enough for him enjoy viewing them anyway. As for what he couldn't see, he knew the video tape of her escapade with Lindsey virtually by heart. She had big tits; he would bet that they were D cup. The weight she had put on since recording the tape certainly wouldn't have reduced their dimensions.

Kelly's face was rounded, and he thought she looked a bit naïve with her turned-up nose and pink cheeks. Her shoulder length hair was a dirty blond. Ellsworth didn't like it much. Certainly nowhere near as much as he did the dark gold and long tresses of her hair as it had been when the tape had been recorded. That had been nearly two years ago, before she'd obtained a position as a blue girl. He supposed that dyeing it now would have added more hours to her already long days.

She had finished her second cup of coffee, and she put down her cup, slid from the stool, and headed toward the doorway. The Senator followed the undulations of her hips until she exited.

Before my stay here ends, I'll find a way to fuck her.

The Senator finished his fourth chocolate donut, washed it down with the last of his coffee, and stood up. He had orders for the female cosmetics executive. He supposed she would still be in bed; female clients usually slept late. He'd enjoy awakening her. There was no advantage in courtesy, no more than there had been toward Judith during his last day on the ship. He thought then of his former aide. Crane hadn't included her in the auction for some reason.

Crane evidently intends to cheat me. We agreed to split the amount she's sold for. Maybe she won't sell for his ten grand floor bid, but she could. If I grill him, he'll invent reasons that it's necessary to put off her auction until I have to return to Washington. That won't do.

In any case he wanted to find out where Judith was. If she were already in a cell, it would be amusing to visit her. Presumably, like the other females stored in those basement cells, her hands would be manacled and she would be naked. He could do whatever he liked with her and, if Crane hadn't yet informed her that she'd been sold into slavery, she would be especially unprepared for the abuse that he had in mind for her.

The Senator hummed as he rode the elevator up to the third floor.

The view through the clear glass this morning was magnificent. He could see fringes of the jungle to the north and the south. The dark blue of the sea was decorated with sparkling flashes from the sun behind him. It reflected off the waves.

Although Ellsworth disliked Crane, he admitted that the man had taste. Taste in women, of course; that was his forte. But also in the other luxuries that made Ellsworth's vacations on the island so satisfying. This view was evidence of that.

Then there were the ingenious racks that he had glimpsed yesterday, downstairs in the Machine Shop. The designs showed considerable foresight, and he'd seen ones that hadn't existed last year. In some, a girl could be mounted in a way that gripped only her wrists and ankles and which provided her abuser with access to every sensitive part of her anatomy. He tried to imagine all of the ways in a girl could be sexually manipulated when mounted in them. It made his head swim.

The elevator stopped at 3. He exited and headed down the hallway, eager to see the lesbian.

He hoped Madame LeBeau would be asleep; it would be a pleasure to jar her awake with his knock.

Threatening to send the tape of her to the media and her rivals in Paris had compelled her to successfully bid for Crane's most expensive slave, Sheila Ericson. She was a young housewife, and her husband had been taken by Crane's men also. He smiled. He could hardly wait to begin working on her. He'd like to find out who had purchased her husband. A party featuring the two of them should draw a record number of guests.

He chuckled aloud. All he'd paid for the tape was a paltry one hundred dollars. Although the amount was negligible; it was a matter of principle to recoup from Madame LeBeau the money he had spent for the tape.

His success with the cosmetics executive was an incentive to apply the same tactic to acquire power over other female clients. For that, cooperation by the young guard Miguel would be necessary, but the boy had already displayed some turpitude. It would be easy to push him deeper in the mire. He could afford to offer him far more than the paltry one hundred that he'd given for Lindsey's tape. After all, it would be the LeBeau woman's money.

As for Lindsey, he supposed that she would eventually run dry of her savings, but that needn't be a serious concern. If he were adroit enough, by then he would have other sources of funds. As for the fate of the lesbian, she could still be of use by servicing him with her body.

His phone call to her last night indicated that she was still going to be obstinate. He would deal with that this morning.

There were practical matters to consider.

I'll direct her to rent a couple of racks, one for her and one for the blonde.

He'd overheard Rita talking with one of the other female clients about Crane's own slaves. Evidently the man kept three females in his suite. He kept all three of them mounted; so they were available for his use at any time, day or night. Unlike the rented slaves that clients used at parties, which were used principally to entertain guests, Crane's slaves were for his personal use. He never put on parties.

Listening to the two women, Ellsworth found the idea highly attractive. Much as he disliked Crane, Ellsworth had to admit that it was another indication of the man's taste. Perhaps he'd have Lindsey order a third rack so that, when his plans ripened, he would have a ready location for a third female. At present, he couldn't judge as to whether it would be another slave, which the cosmetics executive would purchase for him or, perhaps another female client. He'd decide that later.

He walked briskly down the corridor. He'd mount Madame LeBeau on an 'A' frame in Lindsey's bedroom. She would have to watch him amuse himself with the blonde in her own bed. He'd have Sheila to ride him astride, taking his cock up her ass.

He reached apartment 333, and he knocked. There was no response. He knocked again, more loudly.

"Oui. Ou est la?" Her sleepy voice elicited a smile from the Senator.

"Senator Prescott Ellsworth!"

He imagined her dismay at hearing his voice. After the auction and her purchase of the blonde, the Senator had allowed her to stew for several days. Perhaps her hopes had been raised when he didn't return to her apartment on the day following his abuse of her. She may have hoped that her purchase of Sheila would complete her obligation to him.

His telephone call to her early last night must have dashed those hopes.

Lindsey opened the door, but no further than the width of her head. Her height was a foot less than his, and her brown hair was level with his chest. She was compelled to look up to meet his eyes.

"Senator, she said, coldly, "we have nothing to discuss. You'll have the blonde as soon as Crane's staff have trained her. They'll deliver her here, and I'll turn her over to you. You took advantage of me when you were here last time, but it won't happen again. Kindly leave. I am not going to allow you into my apartment again."

She wore a satin bathrobe, the same one that she had worn the first time he'd visited her, but this time she had drawn the slide fastener all the way up to her collar. It completely concealed those ample breasts.

Ellsworth pushed with the flat of his large hand. Lindsey's strength was insufficient to even slow him, and he easily forced the door open. The moment that he entered, he encircled her waist with an arm.

"Senator, release me!" Lindsey exclaimed, pushing him with her hand. "I want you out, right now!"

Instead, Ellsworth pulled her against him. He felt the warmth of her body through their clothing. His cock began to harden.

"I had to see you again, my Dear," he said, looking down at her; "all of you. Why are you wearing that robe? Surely you recall how annoyed I was when you wore a bathing suit to the beach?"

She reddened. Despite her controlled words, her tone was angry. "Senator, release me immediately!"

She struggled to pull from his grip. She was unable to move his arm away, even slightly.

She looked up again and said, "If you don't leave now, Senator, I'm going to Crane. He isn't one whit concerned about your so-called 'influence'. If I have to resort to that, you'll regret it!"

Grinning down at her, he replied, "Lindsey, you haven't dreamed of all that you're going to do for me. What you provided me with last time was only a sample."

He pulled her closer, until her left breast squashed against his shirt. Holding her, he reached for the other swelling. Its crest was crowned by a quarter inch bump in the satin. He grasped it between his thumb and forefinger.

She's naked under this!

The Senator grasped the tab of her zipper and drew it down as far as the bump. When her garment gaped open, he inserted his fat hand into it. He grasped her bare breast and pulled it out until it protruded, overhanging the closed portion of the zipper.

Her breast was weighty, even for his large hand, and his fingers couldn't entirely enclose it. He grasped the nipple between his forefinger and thumb. He treated it like a miniature rolling pin, his kneading fingers working it one way, then the other.

"Stop it Senator," she cried, reddening and trying to pull from him. "Let me go!"

She grabbed his fingers with her much smaller hands. She attempted to pry them from her nipple. Ellsworth stopped moving his fingers. He squeezed it..

"Ow! Damn you--let go!"

"Lindsey, you disappoint me. You promised to cooperate. However, I came prepared for your defaulting on our agreement. I have an option that will interest you. Once you hear it, you'll adhere to your promise."

His arm was still about her waist, and the sole results of her unsuccessful struggles to pull free was to cause the fastener to slide down, undo her sash, and for her garment to come open. Ellsworth ignored her long crimson nails, which she was digging into his hand. He grasped the entire body of her breast with his other four fingers, and he squeezed.

"Ow!!" she exclaimed. "Stop, stop it!--you bastard! Ow!! All right! Please, I'll cooperate!"

Pleased by her reaction, Ellsworth continued to squeeze.

"Please! Please!" she cried, both of her hands prying at his squeezing fingers; "I'll do whatever you want! Please stop!"

Finally, he released it.

"You're insincere, Lindsey. You're agreeing only in order to get me to leave your apartment. It won't work. I'm invoking my option."

"What?" she said, gasping. She pulled a lapel of her robe over her breast. The zipper had come completely undone and she hastily pulled the sash together in a slapdash fashion, leaving it still unknotted.

"Option? What option? What are you talking about?"

Ellsworth grinned. "Last night, I told you to come up to my suite for your second cocksucking lesson, but you never appeared. I suspected that you would defect, Madame. Today I came prepared."

"I never promised to do that, you know very well that I didn't, Senator! There's no way that I'd do such a thing. What you made me do last time was unbelievably disgusting. After you left, I felt ill just from thinking about it."

She shuddered, disturbed by the recollection.

"When you phoned last evening, I couldn't believe what you were saying-- ordering me to come upstairs and-and spend the night doing that! I knew very well that you called me solely because you're a sadist. That was typical of you. Well, you succeeded in ruining my evening; I couldn't sleep all last night. Don't pretend that you were serious."

.

Ellsworth shrugged. "I was. However, I knew you would be recalcitrant, and this morning I came expecting you to default on our agreement."

"Senator, I bid on that blonde girl, and I obtained her for you. She's now being trained. As soon as she's delivered to me, I'll turn her over to you. I've held up my end of our agreement. Now, you give me all of the tapes."

"If you recall," Ellsworth countered; "all that I agreed to was not to send copies of your cunt-licking video to your friends and co-executives in Paris."

Lindsey flushed. "There's no need for you to be crude!"

His voice dripping with sarcasm, he said, "I'm sorry if I've shocked your refined sensibilities, Madame. Through inquiries, I've learned that, virtually every night, you have a different one of Crane's pretty slaves between your legs, with her tongue in your cunt. Now you claim that hearing the word shocks you!"

Obviously wanting to end the topic, she repeated, "I expect you to give me all the copies of the tape!"

"I thought it likely that you'd recant on our deal," Ellsworth said. "I came prepared for that eventuality. You'll be interested in learning that I made more copies of it; twelve, to be exact. I intend to market those copies to my male acquaintances here. I'm sure, Madame, that after those other male clients here have seen your activities on it, they'll have the same reaction as I had"they'll be eager to see more of you.

She stared up at him, looking stunned.

Her voice quavering, she said, "You promised that-that you'd give me the tapes if I bought the blonde for you. If you don't give them to me, then I won't turn her over to you."

He grinned. "Then I'll sell all of my copies here first. I'll send more to Paris after I return to Washington. You'll be completely ruined, disgraced."

Ellsworth faked a yawn. "Well, I hope you have enough saved to live on for the rest of your life, Madame. It will be a long while to be unemployed.

"There's no point in continuing this discussion," he said. He turned and grasped the doorknob. "John and Henry are leaving soon on Yvonne's ship. Since there isn't much time, I'll take them their copies now."

He opened the door. Lindsey, who was re-doing the sash of her robe, suddenly realized that he was leaving.

"No!" she exclaimed. She thrust out a hand and grasped his wrist.

Her robe came open, but she ignored or didn't notice it, and Ellsworth was provided with a full frontal view of her naked figure. He licked his lips and stared at her bare breasts. His penis, which had already grown hard, now felt like a rod of steel.

She looked up at him, her face distorted with anger. "This is more blackmail, you bastard!"

He didn't respond, staring at them and then down at her shaved pubis. Lindsey, puzzled by his lack of response, finally noticed why he'd become silent. She pulled her robe closed.

"Please be reasonable, Senator--you want to sell them to those men for the money. Well, let me buy them from you, all of . . . "

She suddenly stopped, frowning. "Why am I bothering to beg you? I'm being foolish. Blackmailers never relinquish their leverage over their victims, do they, Senator? You'll never sell me all of them. I was allowing my emotions to cloud my sense. I don't suppose that you intend to ruin me. You want me to keep paying, indefinitely. Well, tell me, how much do you want right now?"

He shrugged. "Actually, I'm not that much concerned about the money. You're correct in assuming that, whenever I want it, I'll contact you and you'll provide me with it. I agreed not to send the tape to Paris. As for the copies, your money won't buy them."

"B-But," she protested; "I thought that Sheila was your fee for not sending them to Paris."

He didn't respond, but turned toward the door.

Lindsey again grasped his arm. "I see that you want more than money," she said. In a tone dripping sarcasm, she continued, "if money won't buy those tapes from you, Senator, what will? Just what do I have to do to keep you from giving them to your male friends here?"

He shrugged. "One thing, Madame. But, you're not capable of it."

He looked down at her, confidently awaiting her reply.

"You underestimate me, Senator. Do you imagine that I've become vice president in our firm through being a nice young woman? I've gotten where I am through hard efforts. Few women would have done all that I have. I've done unpleasant things; more, perhaps, than you can imagine. Whatever this 'thing' is that I need to do, I'm quite certain that I'm capable of it."

"Indeed?" he said, mockingly. "Perhaps you think you are, but I doubt that you'll do what I want for the tapes."

"Tell me what your price is, Senator. I'm capable of paying it."

He kept his countenance impassive. Eventually he would gloat at her humiliation; but that would come later. First she had to understand what he wanted.

Ellsworth shook his head. "You don't have the guts, Madame."

"I just told you that I did!" she said, exasperated. "What is it that you want for the tapes? I know what a bastard you are, Senator, it won't be cheap; I know that!"

"Be my slave," he responded, coolly.

She was silent, but to Ellsworth's surprise, she didn't look shocked.

She nodded. "I thought it would be something like that, you prick."

"Well?"

"If that's what it will take, of course."

He raised his eyebrows. "You agree? You know, Madame . . . a slave does whatever her Master orders her to. That means everything!"

"I know. But I expect you to never sell those tapes. Any of them. If you do, you've lost the money I can provide, as well as"as, whatever satisfaction you'll get by my acting as your slave."

You'll say and do whatever I tell you to?"

"Within reason," she said. "Don't forget, Senator, this is a deal, not a one-way affair."

"I'll destroy all of the tapes except the original," he said. "I won't take the risk of having you renege."

"All right," she responded. "But there's one thing more. Promise that you won't do again what you did that first day."

"What do you mean?"

"Sucking your cock."

Ellsworth laughed, scornfully. "That was nothing! If you won't suck my cock, forget our deal. I'm going to distribute the tapes, right now." He reached again for the door.

"I see," she said, reddening; "You're a real bastard!"

He shouted, "What did you expect I'd want a slave to do, you fucking cunt!"

She flushed. "There's no need for gutter language, Senator. I understand that-that men expect to-to have that. I know that women do it. What bothered me . . . wasn't exactly that. It-It was uh, that you, ejaculated. That disgusted me, terribly. After you left, I got so nauseated, that I vomited."

He shrugged. "Your hang-ups don't concern me. You do whatever I order you to, or the deal is off."

She slowly took in a deep breath, in and out. "All right. I'm prepared to give you oral sex. But at least promise that you won't come in my mouth."

"Listen, you cunt!" Ellsworth exclaimed, angrily. His booming voice caused her to jump; "A slave does everything her Master tells her to, understand? You're going to do everything!"

She trembled. His harsh tone, honed on the pulpit of the Senate, made her face grow pale.

He enunciated his words clearly and slowly, talking as if she were a young child who would fail to understand them if he spoke too quickly. "You'll do whatever I tell you to do, you Cunt! Even if you detest it, you'll do it! Understand?"

Lindsey swallowed, her face pale. Her voice hardly more than a whisper, she replied, "Y-Yes. I-I understand, Senator. A-All right."

"You'll do anything and everything!"

She took a deep breath in, and then exhaled. "Yes."

"I'll come in your mouth, and you'll say, 'Oh, Master, it's so good!'"

She closed her eyes and she shuddered.

"I said that I'd do everything, Senator. Please!"

"Master. From now on, you'll address me as Master. Repeat it, Slut! Master!"

Her face grew red again, and her lips quivered. Did he see tears welling in the executive's eye? Incredible! He gloated, licking his lips. His cock was rigid in his trousers.

"P-Please don't call me, th-that. I-I'll do everything you tell me to, M-Master. ."

"I'll call you whatever I want to call you, Slut! Repeat what you've agreed to."

Looking down, she avoided his eyes. She said, "I-I'll do whatever you tell me to . . . Master."

"I'll hold up my end of our bargain," he said; "but as I said, I'll keep the original. If it proves necessary, I can have more copies made from it."

"I won't back out."

"Master," he repeated. "Remember that I'm your Master. Next time you forget, I'll whip you."

He smiled down at her. He modulated his tone and spoke his words easily and clearly. "Lindsey, make a mental note of what I tell you now. I foresee deriving considerable pleasure in the process of whipping you. I expect to whip you frequently. Moreover, I intend to indulge myself during my very next visit, tomorrow. To prepare for it, as soon as I leave today, you'll have a blue girl bring you a variety of whips. You'll provide me with a selection to try on you."

She gasped, and she failed to reply for several long seconds.

Ellsworth asked, "Well? Do you have some objection, slut?"

Lindsey looked down, not meeting his eyes. "N-No, Master. I'll obtain them for you."

"Take off the robe," he ordered.

"I . . ." she hesitated, but only for a second; then she replied, "Yes, Master."

She undid the sash and slipped the garment from her shoulders. She laid it over the arm of the sofa. Then she stood before him, blushing.

Ellsworth gazed at her body. Firm, large breasts. Her waist wasn't particularly slim, but it was appropriate considering her large breasts and flared hips. He liked that shaved pubis. Her labia were prominent. He wondered how she had made them hairless. Wax? It must have hurt like the devil!

"Spread your legs," he told her.

"Y-Yes, Master," she responded.

She moved her feet farther apart. Her labia became even more evident.

"Spread your cunt lips."

Lindsey flushed deeper. "Y-Yes, Master."

She placed her hands on her pubis, her fingers curled downward. Ellsworth watched as she inserted the fingertips of both hands between her labia.

Ellsworth reached down. He slipped his forefinger between the spread lips. She was dry. He disliked touching a cunt unless it was swollen and juicy.

Not that the Senator was an eater of bearded clams. He despised those wimpish males who were. But, the Senator sometimes mused that, if he was attracted to a woman enough, and for some reason it was the only way for her to get in the state he wanted her in, he might consider the act. It was just a fantasy. He doubted that it would ever come to that.

"Christ!" he exclaimed, frustrated, "You have no clitoris!"

She flushed. "Yes I do. I'm not aroused, Senator."

He slapped her face, hard. Obviously, it stung, and Lindsey put her hand to her cheek, wide-eyed. "Wh-Why did you do that?"

"Master, you slut, Master!" He slipped his belt from its loops and held it by the buckle. He suddenly swung his arm horizontally, whipping the belt in a vicious arc that struck both of her breasts in quick succession across the nipples.

"Ow!!" she exclaimed, clutching her breasts in both hands. "I'm sorry, Master! I forgot, Master!"

"It seems to be the code here for slaves to thank their Masters for being punished, Lindsey. You know that, don't you?"

"I know, Master. Thank you, Master."

"The next time you forget, I'll use a real whip on you. Right now, I want to feel your clit. If you aren't hot, then get yourself hot. Finger-fuck yourself!"

"All right, Master."

Ellsworth watched her move her fingers about in her vulva, touching herself lightly, probing.

After about a minute, she looked up at him. "It's . . . It's hopeless. I can't get excited."

"Master!" he said, again raising the belt.

"Master," she repeated, shivering. He wondered if it was a consequence of her nakedness or her fear. He hoped the latter.

"Get your vibrators; I presume that you have a few."

She blushed again. "But, I don't know if I . . . "

"Get them!" he ordered.

His eyes followed her as she ran naked into her bedroom, her tits bouncing.

Ellsworth unzipped his fly. His cock sprang out, rigid as a tent-pole. He grasped it and began pumping it. His eyes remained on the naked woman.

He watched her open her walk-in closet. She reached up to a shelf, and she withdrew a large man-sized rectangular briefcase and she placed it on her bed. Opening it, she took out two items. Leaving the case open, she hurried back into the living room.

Ellsworth's eyes followed her mobile breasts as she trotted back. She ignored his exposed organ and moving hand. She said, "I have to plug in the extension cord."

She held an instrument with a bulbous head and a handle that was about the length of her forearm.

"Don't you have a battery vibrator?"

"My, uh, Magic Wand is more reliable," she said; "Master."

He shrugged. "Then use it."

She gripped its handle close to its bulbous head and lowered it until the head was in front of her pubis. She switched it on, and it began to buzz.

The Senator watched. "Spread your legs more," he said. "I can't see."

Lindsey blushed, but she spread her legs. She pressed the vibrating head against her projecting labia; and then, by twisting it one way and then the other, she worked it slowly between them.

After about a minute, her breathing deepened, and she closed her eyes. She parted her lips and began moving the vibrator from side to side. Suddenly a moan escaped her lips. She opened her eyes, observed his grin, and she blushed.

Ellsworth continued pumping his organ while he looked over her body, from her tits down to her labia, which were now swollen, up to her parted lips and to her glazed eyes.

Lindsey opened her mouth wide, and she took in a deep breath. She emitted a soft, moan, like the mew from a kitten.

She grimaced, and she held her breath and closed her eyes. Finally, she exhaled.

Ellsworth reached out with his left hand. Lindsey withdrew her hands and the Magic Wand. Her pudenda felt warm and swollen to his fingers. When he pressed them, his digits suddenly slipped between them.

"You're wet," he said.

He determined the dimensions and shape of her clit with the ends of his fingers. Lindsey emitted another soft moan. She again closed her eyes.

As his fingers groped, her body began to shake.

Her protuberance didn't feel as firm as Judith's. Perhaps it would harden further were she more aroused. As for size, it felt substantial; it was certainly larger than Judith's, perhaps twice the size of the attorney's.

I wonder if all the sucking that this gets is what caused it to get this big?

He thought about all the sucking that his male organ had received. Since his youth, so many girls and women had sucked on it that the Senator couldn't possibly guess their number. Despite them, his cock had not increased in size by even one millimeter. He doubted that a clitoris would be different.

He had been intrigued for years by the variety in the clitorises that he'd fingered. As to whether Lindsey's would get firmer if she were aroused more, that was at least a question to which he could determine the answer. As soon as he got Sheila, he'd have her suck Lindsey's clit. That would make it hard.

No, on second thought, I'll make them sixty-nine each other. That should really make it hard. Two cunts sucking each other's cunts!

Ellsworth was pleased by the idea. Although imagining himself sucking a cunt made him slightly nauseous, compelling two attractive females to do it to each other would be a good turn-on. Once he had them both trained to perform, he imagined how he would enjoy them:

Except for their collars and handcuffs, each female is naked, and they kneel side by side on Lindsey's carpet, awaiting his orders.

"Sheila," he says; "get on Lindsey's bed."

Because her wrists are handcuffed behind her, the blonde is clumsy. She has difficulty keeping her balance as she clambers onto the edge of Lindsey's bed, one knee at a time. The moment that her knees are firmly on it, Ellsworth shoves her. Unable to keep her balance, Sheila falls forward, and her face and shoulders bury themselves in the bedclothes, leaving her rump in the air, the highest point of her body. Her legs (below the knees) and her bare ass project over the edge of the bed.

"Slut," Ellsworth says to Lindsey, "kneel here."

He points to the space between Sheila's projecting legs, below her upraised rump.

The cosmetics executive obeys, and he further tells her, "Stick your face in her cunt."

He stands behind her and grasps her head. Holding it, he shoves her face into Sheila's vulva. He works it until her nose is in the blonde's vagina and her mouth is close to Sheila's clit.

Still holding her head, he tells her, "Make her come." He pushes and moves her head until, when he briefly pulls her head back, he confirms that her face is thoroughly wet.

Lindsey sucks on Sheila's clit while Ellsworth, still gripping her head, moves forward. He straddles her head and plants his feet on each side of her. Gripping the base of his penis, he slips the head between Sheila's buttocks. He's filled Sheila's anus and rectum liberally with petroleum jelly and has spread more between her buttocks. He maneuvers his organ from side to side, simultaneously pushing. He ignores Sheila's cries of distress. The head forces open the tight ring of her anus. It abruptly goes in, and the ring grabs its neck. He leans forward and grips her shoulders with both of his hands to keep her from sliding forward. He pushes again and again, thrusting his hips. His cock inches into her rectum. With each thrust, the blonde emits more 'Oh!'s.

Except for her cries, which Ellsworth savors, the blonde seems fearful of making any further verbal protest. The Senator is nothing if not a psychologist, and instilling the fear of protesting while he enjoys a female enhances his gratification.

Finally, the entire length of his cock is stuffed between her buttocks. By now the lubricant has spread, and thrusting is easier. He moves faster, his belly beating her buttocks while his hands grip her shoulders The sensations from his balls are exquisite as each thrust and withdrawal drags and bounces them through Lindsey's fine hair.

* * *

Having Lindsey available would provide him with some diversions on those days or nights when he was bored. That could be true even were he to simply relax with a novel. He imagined an evening of that sort:

He has descended from his lofty suite to the female executive's apartment and has seated himself in her favorite armchair. His slave stands before him, her legs apart. She is dressed in a babydoll nylon nightie without panties, nothing more. As is usual when he visits her, he orders her to masturbate, but forbids her to come and, if by chance she has an orgasm, it justifies a whipping. He waits patiently as she fingers herself and, when he's satisfied that she's sufficiently aroused, he manacles her hands behind her back, clamping each wrist to her other arm above the elbow. Not only does this have the advantage of causing her considerable discomfort, but it causes her to thrust out her chest and full breasts quite seductively.

The Senator picks up and opens the novel that he's brought, and he begins reading. Prior to turning each page, the Senator fingers her wet cunt.

"P-Please, Master," Lindsey says, "Would you undo my hands?"

Ellsworth looks up. "Why do you need your hands, Cunt?"

The executive blushes. A fleeting look of anger cross her countenance, and the Senator hopes to hear her respond with a retort. He is eager to beat her tits again. Whipping them is a source of pleasure to him, but he limits himself in that indulgence. He prefers to resort to it only when her lapses justify discipline. Had she experienced an orgasm, that would be ample justification but, each time that her arousal becomes intense enough to induce moans, she abruptly ceases moving her fingers..

From time to time, Ellsworth whips her for the sheer pleasure that he derives from it. However, whipping her without cause offends his sense of propriety and inhibits him. On those occasions, he limits himself to whipping her buttocks. To compensate him for sparing her breasts however, he feels free to apply the whip for as long as he pleases.

Her screams are music to his ears. Often, while he applies the leather to her naked body, he masturbates with his free hand.

"B-Because I'm aroused, Master. M-May I have an orgasm?"

He looks up at her, a haughty expression on his face. "You're lesbian, Madame. How can you be aroused by a man's hand?"

She blushes. "As-In the same way that I'd be aroused by a vibrator, Sen"Master."

He glances through the kitchen doorway. By craning his head, he is just able to see her wall clock. "We're having visitors soon. One of them can take care of you."

"Visitors!" She looks shocked. "B-But, then . . . may I get dressed? Please, Master?"

Ellsworth shakes his head. "Certainly not, Cunt. You're perfectly dressed for the company as you are."

"B-But . . . Who are they?"

"Tsk-tsk," Ellsworth says, pretending that he's disappointed by her lapse. He stands up. "You forgot to address me properly."

She gasps, and her face reddens. He expects (or rather, he hopes) that she will protest, in order to justify his extending the duration of the discipline that she's exposed herself to by her lapse.

But stuttering, she begs, "P-Please, punish me, Master. Whip me, p-please!"

He withdraws his belt from his trousers. "Spread your legs," he orders.

She obeys, and he inserts his forefinger between her labia and wiggles her clit. It feels hard.

Is she still this aroused? Or does the anticipation of a whipping now turn her on?!

He explores her vulva, following the interior of her labia with his forefinger. It makes an oval circuit, and when he withdraws it, it drips viscous fluid.

With his other hand, he grasps the hem of her nightie and raises it. "Hold this up," he orders. He shoves the hem of her garment between her teeth.

He looks at her bare breasts. They are firm and large, even accounting for her frame, which is substantial. He must certainly fuck her between them soon; their size begs for it. He observes that her nipples are already hard and are easy targets. It seems that the fluid on them isn't necessary.

Nevertheless, Ellsworth doesn't waste it. He reaches up. He kneads and pulls on her nipples, and he flicks them. He transfers as much of the viscous fluid onto them as they will retain. When he is done, her nipples and areolas have become as wet as his fingers, and they are equally fragrant. Surprisingly, her nipples actually do feel harder.

Careful to avoid the hem between her teeth and where it hangs over her chin, he wipes his fingers on her face.

"Kneel," he tells her.

Awkwardly but carefully (since her hands are behind her back, with her wrists manacled to her elbows), Lindsey kneels on the carpet. She looks up at him and exclaims, her voice garbled because of the nylon between her teeth, "Preeze, Mstr! Nt too hrd. Preeze!"

Ellsworth is practiced at whipping tits. He flicks the tongue of the belt in a quick, horizontal blow. With a light 'splat!' sound, it strikes only her left nipple and raised areola. It doesn't touch the larger hill of her breast.

"Mff!" Lindsey exclaims, gritting her teeth.

He utilizes a backhand for the next blow, aimed directly at the side of her right breast. At the last moment he augments its force with a wrist flick. The blow strikes with a loud sound resembling that of a handclap. It drives her breast violently sideways, into the other breast.

Lindsey emits a loud "Mmmmff!" Her breast jiggles for several seconds before coming to rest.

There is a loud rap on the door.

"Madame LeBeau," the Senator says, indicating with an upturned cupped hand for her to rise to her feet, "Go to the door. Invite your guests in."

He's acutely disappointed that his pleasure has been interrupted. He determines that, in compensation, the entertainment that he will offer to the four couples whom he's invited will be as humiliating for the cosmetics executive as possible.

Women have an acute sense of what shames another woman. The female of each couple will decide the services that Lindsey will provide to her and her escort.

Lindsey struggles to her feet, the hem still between her teeth. She hesitates, looking questioningly at him.

He waves his hand imperiously, "Oh, let the hem down. It's impolite to speak with your mouth full."

.

She opens her teeth, allowing the hem to fall, and it slithers down. Although it the gown now covers her, it conceals nothing. Even though it shadows them a little, he can even see her bare labia through the garment.

Lindsey draws in a deep nervous breath; then she exhales.

"But . . . " she says, hesitating, looking down.

She blushes. Ellsworth supposes that her nakedness is inhibiting her. Her hardened and projecting nipples are plainly visible through the nylon.

However, Ellsworth's look seems to intimidate her. After a glance at him, she replies, "All right, Master."

Just as she reaches the door there is another impatient knock. Lindsey, unable to do anything with her hands, calls, "The door is unlocked. Please come in!"

The door opens and . . .

CHAPTER 35: Rita Abuses Bill (Part 1)

This must be a nightmare. I can't believe this is happening to me. Poor Jane. If they're doing things like this to me, what can they be doing to her?

There was no clock in the room, so he didn't know what time it was, but he'd awakened, and heard some stir through the wall behind him; he knew that the adjoining room was the bedroom of Rita and George. He, like Ed, was growing accustomed to fitfully sleeping while standing"or rather, while hanging, for each of them eventually and invariably slumped, allowing the chain to partially support them. At least the collars were wide enough not to choke.

Every morning it was the same for him. Both his wrists and Ed Ericson's were kept handcuffed behind their backs, as high as their shoulder blades by chains to their collars. Each one's legs were held separated by a spreader bar, convenient for the Fiend, when she decided that the wearer of the bar required discipline. Bill shuddered mentally when he recalled some of those punishments. Before arriving up here, he'd have never imagined that a woman could do the things that Rita had done to him to force his obedience. Eventually he realized that she had no compunctions at all.

On entering their room, which was nominally a Workout Room, George took them first into the bathroom to use the toilet. Then he shaved them. He watched, while they performed their other ablutions on each other. Each awkwardly washed the other by holding a sponge between his teeth.

Then, George re-chained Ed in the position where he was now, standing in the Workout Room, held to one small area by a chain that connected one of the links in his handcuffs to a ceiling hook. Bill was beside him, in his 'place' as well, but he wouldn't be for long.

The door opened, and George entered. George, pot-bellied, and with smooth brown hair that revealed only a few gray strands, was about forty-five. Neither Bill nor Ed knew to whether George and Rita were married, but what was evident to them both was that Rita was in charge. She treated George as her gofer.

Bill knew what was coming.

At least George closes the Workout Room door. If I thought that he'd see what they do to me in here, I'd jump through that window first. That woman is a monster! Ed calls her 'The Bitch', but she's been easy on him: he doesn't know her.

'Fiend' was the term that Bill used to himself. For some reason he, rather than Ed, had borne the brunt of her sadism. When Ed spoke without permission, even when he swore at her, she merely threatened him, saying, "Your turn will come."

* * *

George, gripping him by the upper arm, led him into the living room area. The room, like the few others in the suite that Bill had seen, was rich, with its deep gold carpeting and its lavish furnishings, including its padded arm chairs, cocktail and lamp tables, and two sofas. It was large and luxuriously furnished. The far wall was virtually all glass, through which Bill could see the canopy of trees that topped the jungle which they had passed through after leaving the ship.

The paintings were obscene, and Bill avoided looking at them.

When they were in the center of the room, Bill lay prone on the carpet on his back. The position hurt his arms, but he hardly noticed the physical discomfort, so concerned that he was about what was to follow.

George crossed the room to the armchair in which he usually sat. Bill paid no attention to him, knowing that George's actions would repeat those of the previous days. He would have undone the sash of his bathrobe, opened it wide, and seated himself. Then, aroused by his anticipation of what the Fiend termed, 'this morning's festivities', he would grasp his already erect penis, and begin to lightly pump it. It was incomprehensible to Bill, that what filled him with revulsion could be arousing to his two captors.

These people are incredibly perverted!

Rita's toy mallet was undoubtedly lying beside George on one of the chair's padded arms, but Rita wouldn't need it this morning. She had applied it enough during Bill's first days of 'training'. He knew the consequences of disobedience and she would have no cause to use it today.

He was already in position when Rita exited the bedroom. Although sometimes she wore a skirt (without panties under it), she liked to display her big tits, so she never wore anything above her waist. This morning she was entirely naked, and her brown bush was so full that it covered her genitals almost like a bikini. Although overweight, the woman didn't have a bad body, but the erotic thoughts that Bill might have developed on first seeing her naked were moribund, dispelled by his knowledge of what was in store for him.

Ed, kept in the 'Workout Room' ever since Rita had bought the two of them, was frequently discomfited by spontaneous erections. It was understandable. With their hands bound by cuffs behind their shoulder blades, it was impossible for either of them to jerk off. Each of them had gone for more than a week without being able to manually touch his genitals.

If the Fiend ever works on you Ed, like she has on me, your problem will disappear pretty fucking fast!

At the thought, a brief smile crossed his countenance.

Rita stood over him, straddling his waist and looking down at him. She noticed his smile and, probably thinking that it was the sight of her naked bod that made him smile, she smiled in response.

"You'll be pleased, Billy," she told him; "to hear that I've been holding myself for you. I didn't use the bathroom even once last night."

He shuddered. Nevertheless, he forced himself to smile up at her. "That's great, Mistress. I-I'm really r-ready."

She half leaned over him, dangling her breasts over his eyes. Then she knelt, straddling his waist. She reached back with a hand, and Bill felt her fingers grasp his penis. She pouted. "You don't act like it, Billy. Are you fibbing?"

His heart began to pound.

Oh god! If she guesses that I'm lying, she'll use the mallet; but if I tell her the truth, that will make her mad, and she'll use it then, too.

"No, I swear, Mistress. Uh it's uh, my nuts. You know; they're kind of sore; just a little."

"They still hurt? I haven't used the mallet for days, Billy. You've been so good!"

"I-I know. I don't know why they are, Mistress Rita."

"Well," she said, smiling down at him; "you'll get hard when I give you your treat."

He tried to say 'Yeah'. Revulsion, however, constricted his throat, and all that he managed was an undecipherable gagging sound and a nod.

She moved forward on her knees and squatted over his head. A moment later her pudenda pressed down upon his face, and the velvety texture of her inner labia touched his tongue as they protruded between his parted lips into his mouth. It felt as though all of Rita's weight was upon his face. A moment later a flood of urine rushed into his mouth.

His mouth was suddenly full. Bill gulped as fast as he could. One week ago, the first time she had done it, he had been unprepared. The shock had paralyzed him, and he had been unable to swallow. His mouth overfilled, and fluid ran over his face and into her carpet.

For that, she whipped him. She used her cat-o-nine-tails while he was naked on his knees trying to lick clean her damp carpet without the support of his hands, bound as they were behind his back. He fell numerous times, face down, onto the carpet. Her blows fell frighteningly low down on his buttocks, accidentally he initially supposed. Not that he cared that they painfully scored his thighs. Sometimes, one of the low swings of the lash went between his thighs, with one of its metal-tipped strands impacting one of the sensitive objects there. Whenever it did, Rita exhuberantly laughed.

He gulped, trying not to gag. He prayed that the flood would soon end.

"Ah!" she finally exclaimed, and the heavy weight on his face subsided slightly. "What delicious relief!" Her body moved forward and back as she wiped herself over his face.

He was able to breathe again, but his mouth tasted of salt, and his nostrils were wet and reeked.

She raised herself further, and her pudenda were above his face. Now he could see her looking down at him from between her projecting breasts. She reached down, and he again felt her fingers run through his blonde hair.

"Do a good job, Billy," she ordered. Bill licked her vulva, cleaning her.

Suddenly she exclaimed, "Ah! Keep licking--right there!"

His heart sank, but he obeyed. He felt her clitoris grow. He was afraid of what would come next. It had happened the previous day.

"Billy, I-I want to come in your mouth again," she said, smiling down at him, her face outlined between those pendulous knockers. Would you like that?"

'Coming' she called it. More pissing was what he called it. Yesterday it hadn't tasted like urine; so he didn't know what it was, but he still dreaded it. Anyway, what did it matter? He had to do what she wanted, or she'd use the mallet.

He forced a smile, even though her cunt was over his mouth, and she couldn't possibly see it. "Oh, yes, Mistress!" he exclaimed.

* * *

Rita was lying back in the deep recliner, her legs spread, with her thighs on the two arms of the chair and her calves and bare feet dangling over the sides.

Bill was kneeling precariously on the projecting foot of the recliner, balancing himself on his knees. His head was between her thighs, and he moved his tongue from side to side, very lightly as she ordered him to, over the swollen ridge, forcing himself not to retch. She wanted to 'come in his mouth' again.

Yesterday when he'd followed her directions, he had no idea what she was talking about, but he had lowered his head like she told him to. He had only to move his head down a couple of inches, but, without the use of his hands to support himself, it had been a fiasco.

Her piss, or whatever it was, squirted in his face. Hardly half went in his mouth. He swallowed as much of it as he could, but she had been angered anyway. She had whipped him for allowing some to get on the recliner. This time she punished him using George's belt, wielding it while he licked the chair.

Fearful that she would use the whip below his buttocks again, Bill cleaned the chair as much as he could by working while kneeling on the carpet. Kneeling on the chair would make it too easy for her to 'miss' his buttocks and impact below them. His tactic failed to frustrate her. Giggling while Bill cleaned the cushion, his belly propped against it for support, she bent over behind him, her arm held straight out. Instead of swinging the strap in a horizontal arc, she flicked it vertically. When Bill realized her intention, he began jerking his hips from side to side to evade it, eliciting more giggles from the woman. She soon abandoned the use of her wrist to flick it, however, which produced a light tap against his buttock.

She began using her entire forearm, inducing the flick by suddenly flexing her arm at the elbow. Using it, when the belt struck the underside of a buttock it produced with a satisfyingly loud 'crack!' that stung, and drew an 'Ow!' from Bill. Eventually, by chance his side to side dodges failed in their intent, and the belt tongue flew up between his legs. It struck the delicate objects between them like a paddle whacking a table tennis ball. Bill's excruciated cry elicited ebullient laughter from Rita.

* * *

After a week, his tongue was all that she wanted from him, except that she also enjoyed watching him do 'that other thing', for George.

She liked to fuck George while Bill was nearby with his handcuffs linked to a ceiling hook. She hadn't used the mallet in a week, and Bill's forced abstention from all sexual outlet was now causing him the same distress that Ed was experiencing. Recently, while riding George on a chair, Rita observed that his penis was erect. "Look, George!" she exclaimed, pointing, and the two had laughed, enjoying his embarrassed arousal.

* * *

Despite his continued licking of her clit, Rita finally said, "I guess you're not going to make me come, Billy. You've turned out to be something of a disappointment to me."

Grabbing a handful of his hair, she raised his head from between her legs. Cupping her palm against his forehead, she pushed him from her, causing him to fall awkwardly backward off of the foot support and onto the carpet. The fall twisted his arms painfully, and it was nearly a minute before he was able to turn over and bring himself to his knees.

Christ. When I get loose, I'll kill that woman!

Rita got off of the chair. "Billy," she said; "go take care of George now. I enjoy seeing you suck his cock. Maybe that will turn me on more."

Bill looked at the man. George's bathrobe lay wide open, his erect penis in his hand. He was stroking it lightly but as soon as he saw Bill look at him, he grinned and began to rapidly pump it.

A spasm of revulsion run through Bill. Nevertheless, he couldn't take another of Rita's 'Indoor Croquet' games. He forced a smile.

"Yes, Mistress Rita."

* * *

On the first morning of Bill's 'training', George rose before Rita. After seeing to the two males' morning ablutions, he stored Ed in the Workout Room; then he led Bill, who was naked and with his wrists handcuffed behind his back, into the living room of the suite.

A peculiar wooden structure stood in the center of the room. It was in the shape of a large "Y" on its back, its leg and two arms parallel to and raised about two feet above the floor. It was supported by four thick supporting legs, one under the ends of each arm and the leg of the wye, and one under their nexus.

"Warm enough for you?" George asked.

"Yeah. But I still don't like to be led around naked like this," the young man said. "What's going on? I thought that, after that auction, I was going to work for you and your wife."

"'Work' isn't the word," George said, grinning. He led Bill to the center of the large room. When they reached an area under a large ceiling hook, George told him, "Stand here."

On the carpet just beside Bill was a foot stool on which a length of chain lay and a long bar to which manacles had been attached.

George attached a cliphook"the termination of one end of the chain--to the link between Bill's handcuffs. Then, as the man stood on the stool, Bill felt the chain pull his handcuffs upward until his wrists were between his shoulder blades. He watched as George slipped a link of the chain over a hook in the ceiling.

Finally, down from the stool, George fastened a spreader bar between the boy's ankles.

Once Bill was bound in position, George produced a long length of heavy white cord from his pocket. He knelt before the youth and grasped his testicles.

"Jesus!" Bill exclaimed; "What are you doing?!"

George only looked up and him and grinned.

"You'll see. When Rita starts instructing you; you'll know exactly why I'm doing this."

George wound the cord meticulously and closely, wrapping all of the skin above them so that, when he had finished, the windings looked like a tube, below which Bill's balls dangled. "O.K., Rita!" he called toward the closed door to their bedroom. "He's ready!"

George's work completed, he sat in his armchair.

On that first day, Rita appeared fully clothed except that Bill noticed that she wore no bra under her blouse. She gave him a brief smile, while he stood before her, nervous and embarrassed by both his nakedness and her examination of him. After looking him over and feeling his muscles, she said, "You're as nice a specimen as I've seen."

Then she grasped his penis and looked at it, embarrassing him further.

"For your size, I hoped this would be more substantial," she said, and then she released it. She then stooped before him and inspected the winding. Bill saw her grip the cord and hold it horizontally so that his balls were before her eyes. They were so tightly enclosed in the skin that he thought that, except for their pink hue, they resembled ball-bearings. The tube of cord stretched the skin above them so much that, when Rita opened her hand, letting the 'ball bearings' slide from her fingers and swing back between his legs, they came to rest in a position much lower than normal. He couldn't see them well, but he guessed they hung more than two inches lower than his penis.

The first few training days were ones that he tried to forget. The acts she ordered him to perform were so obscene that at first he couldn't believe she meant them.

These people are total perverts!

It required days before he comprehended how true that was. He didn't grasp the sadism of the woman. He thought he could refuse to respond to her commands, thinking that he could resist any means that Rita might use to coerce him. Her first few orders he ignored. He refused to do everything she told him to. He paid for his innocence.

His refusals didn't anger her, they stimulated her. Bill soon learned that each of his refusals provided her with the excuse for a 'game'.

Her game she termed 'Indoor Croquet'.

Although George was mildly amused by her game, the Fiend thought it was hilarious. If Bill cried out after a hard blow, she laughed. "I adore hearing him beg me to stop, George!" she exclaimed. "I fear that, when he becomes a slave and does all that I tell him to, I'll be disappointed."

George smiled. He unzipped his fly and exposed his penis. "I hope you're still gonna make him suck on this. I need to come."

"Of course, George!" she exclaimed. "The parties that you men put on are so limiting. They feature just Crane's female slaves. Of course, you men put them on only to satisfy the interests of you men. I intend to put on a party to entertain women. When Crane's female clients see Bill service you, and then does the other males who attend, it will create a sensation."

He shrugged. "You women are a mystery. I wouldn't think seeing the kid suck me off would interest women."

"You'd be surprised what interests us, George. When I have the man trained, my soireés will be even more popular. I'll make Ed's beautiful cock available to all of my friends. But the real attraction"it will be my tour de force--will be having Ed and Bill sixty-nine each other. Then my parties will be all the rage! Every woman client vacationing here will want an invitation."

CHAPTER 36: Sheila Applies for Blue Girl Status

"Why are you doing this to me?" Wendy cried.

Instead of replying, Crane fingered one of her erect nipples, flicking it up and down.

Eventually, he responded, "Isn't this rather late in the game to ask me that? How long have you been here?"

Crane paused for a moment. So many females had passed through his bedroom that, at times, trying to recall the history of one was difficult.

"A week," she said.

"Nearly," he agreed. "Why are you suddenly curious now, six days later?"

Wendy was manacled to the wall in his bedroom, occupying one of the three positions available there to maintain females for his use, whether day or night. Except for the harness, she was naked. Her wrists were gripped in handcuffs several feet to each side of her, near the ceiling and her ankles by cuffs near the floor, keeping all four of her limbs spread wide apart.

A fat smoothie vibrator, set at its highest setting, was stuffed up her rectum, kept in by a strap of the harness which had been drawn tightly between her buttocks, between her inner labia, and back up to the belt that was around her waist.

On previous days Wendy had a second vibrator in her vagina as well as a butterfly vibe over her clit, but at the moment the harness held only the one. Crane was holding the front strap a few inches away from and to one side of her labia. He held a coil vibrator in his other hand and was applying it to her swollen clitoris. Occasionally, he inserted it into her vagina, but when he did, he worked it about lightly in the vestibule, to avoid causing her to ejaculate.

He spread her outer labia with two fingers. Now, with more room provided for the vibrating head, he drew it lightly up the right side of Wendy's clit.

The brunette moaned, and she closed her eyes. Crane drew the vibrator slowly upward, over the ridge, and down the other side.

"Aaah! Aaaah! Aaaaah!" Wendy cried, shaking in her bonds. Crane grasped her throbbing clit, holding it between his finger and thumb in order to feel its pulsations. He gripped it until the spasms subsided.

Wendy gasped several times, drawing in deeper and deeper breaths until, finally, she relaxed in her bonds. "Whew!" she said. "God, I must have come a hundred times this week! Why are you doing this to me?"

"Why? Don't you like it?"

"That isn't the point. I just asked you why."

"Well," he said; "It's rather a long story. When I was younger, I worked on a ranch in Nevada. I was a general handyman. Guard, bouncer."

"Bouncer? At a ranch?"

He smiled. "Some 'ranches' there are just fancy whore houses. Anyway, one of the girls told me that she could have an orgasm by being touched almost anywhere on her body. She had developed the ability when she was in business for herself, in L.A. She claimed she didn't provide any of the usual sex. She and the customer would just masturbate, sometimes just themselves and sometimes each other. She came dozens of times every day and, after three years of that, almost any touch could give her an orgasm. I want to see if we can do the same with you."

"Jesus!" Wendy exclaimed. You are weird!"

Crane emitted a moan of pleasure, and Wendy glanced down at Sarah.

She was a brunette, as slender as Wendy, but much younger, just eighteen. She was naked on the carpet before him, holding the head of his penis in her mouth. She was holding his testicles lightly in her other hand and was tickling them with her nails.

Wendy blushed and looked back up. She said, "When those blue girls brought me up here," she said; "I was scared of you. I was sure that you were some kind of awful pervert who might do god knows what to me! After this week, I concluded that you're not. You're just an ordinary pervert, like other guys."

"I'm disappointed," he said, smiling. "I thought I was unique."

He extended his arm over Sarah's head, and he inserted his forefinger up into Wendy's vagina. It reappeared, dripping, and he inserted it in his mouth and sucked it clean.

"God! you're dirty!" Wendy exclaimed, grimacing. She turned her head to the side.

Crane felt Sarah's stroking tongue leading him inexorably toward an orgasm. Over the several months that Sarah had been his slave, the girl had developed from an awkward and sexually ignorant high school senior who had only fucked one boy to an expert at sucking his cock.

This morning it seemed that Sarah was determined to tease him. She hadn't pumped his cock with her hand once. Instead, for the entire half hour, she had used only her tongue and her lips. By now she probably had a good idea of how great an urge he had to grip her by her hoop earrings and fuck her mouth, shoving his cock down her throat.

Doubtless that was what she wanted him to do. She probably was thinking about his instructing her about the benefit of pumping the skin of his shaft and wanted to show how she didn't need to. She could dispense with using her hands by now, Crane knew, and even of bobbing her head. He was restraining himself as much as he could, but every minute made it more difficult. She'd soon send him over the brink.

The buzzer sounded.

"Ignore it," Crane told her. "Don't get up. Kelly is going to bring the blonde in here."

* * *

Sheila and Kelly exited the elevator on the fourth floor.

Sheila felt nervous. She even felt a little frightened. She had no idea whether Ed had been able to do anything about their situation. During that 'cock-length' session in his cell, there had been no opportunity to say anything to him; moreover, from the way he and his cellmate had been bound, she doubted that he could do even as much as she. At least at times (like now) her hands were of some use even though they were manacled up close to her throat.

In any case, working as a 'blue girl' might be the only means by which they might be rescued. The luggage she had seen in the Reception Room certainly resembled theirs and, if she were working for Crane, she could look for her shoes in which the transmitter and receiver were hidden. On the other hand, could she persuade Crane that she was serious about wanting to work as a 'blue girl'? If he thought that she was lying, that she had a secret reason for wanting the job, what would he do? And, even worse, if she were caught with the transmitter, what would happen to her then?

"I don't think Crane is going to be pleased," Kelly said as they proceeded down the hallway.

"Why, Kelly?" she asked. "You mean, because I haven't been trained yet? I've seen you train the other girls. Besides, I've received some training from Duke and from Nina."

"Oh, no," Kelly responded. "I don't know what he'll think about your lack of training. What I meant was"he won't want to return Lezzie LeBeau's money. He got a lot for you.

"As far as your working for him, Crane needs more help. It's good that you're older than these high school girls. They're too flaky to work as blue girls. You have brains, I can tell that. You might work out pretty good. Just so you don't act wimpy."

They reached Crane's door, and Kelly opened it.

"He's expecting us," she explained, and she peered in. It was a large office and, opposite the doorway was a vast series of windows that overlooked the sea. Near the left hand wall was some wooden structure that Sheila supposed was a pillory. On the right she saw three chairs that faced the front of a large desk. Behind the desk were two closed doors.

"Crane and Sarah must be in his bedroom. He has a new girl in there, too. I don't know who she is, but Crane's had her in there for the last week."

They walked across the room, past the three chairs and Crane's desk. Kelly opened the bedroom door.

Oh my god! it's Wendy!

Although Sheila had seen many abuses of girls over the past two weeks, Sheila was still shocked by the sight. Wendy was bound naked to Crane's bedroom wall by four manacles, two about her wrists near the ceiling and two about her ankles near the floor. The manacles were located far enough from each other to keep the young woman's limbs spread wide apart.

Crane was standing before her, a vibrator in his hand and was applying it to Wendy's genitals. Another naked girl, a slender brunette of about eighteen, was kneeling before Crane between Wendy's spread legs. She was holding the base of Crane's erect penis, which protruded from his open fly, and was avidly sucking on its head.

Kelly whispered. "He must have heard the buzzer. We'd better not interrupt; let's wait; otherwise he'll get pissed."

They had to wait about a minute. Crane's expression became a grimace. He emitted a yell, "Aaaaah!" He closed his eyes. The kneeling girl closed hers also, and Sheila presumed, from the motions of the girl's head, that she was drinking.

* * *

Kelly, Crane, and Sheila were seated in Crane's office in the three chairs in front of his desk.

"Your application for work as a blue girl sounds to me like a ruse to avoid being trained," Crane said.

Sheila felt nervous, but she supposed that every girl who applied for a blue girl position felt that way.

Trying to sound confident, she replied, "I'm not afraid of going through what the other women and girls are going through. I already received some training from Nina and Duke."

"Mostly just instructions," Kelly said. "She hasn't learned much about what clients want from a slave."

"Just why do you think I should hire you?" Crane asked.

"I know that you're short of people. Nina said as much. I've seen some of what your blue girls do. I can handle all of it."

"We're short of trainers, not blue girls."

"I know, but both Nina and Kelly seem to be working as both. I've heard them complain about their long hours. I could relieve them of some of their blue girl work."

Crane nodded, conceding the point.

"I wonder about your obedience and about how far you're prepared to go in obeying my orders and the orders of clients."

Sheila flushed. "I wasn't at all reluctant when I was on that stage and you asked me to display myself."

He shrugged. "Neither were the other females, except for Jane, the young blonde. That proves very little. I expect you to do whatever I ask of you."

"I intend to. I've already experienced some . . . uh, rather unpleasant things."

"Such as what?"

Her face hot, Sheila described her experiences in the shed with Ken and Al, her rape by them and the two ship's officers, and her abuse by the Senator (although she avoided mentioning his name, fearful that he might be a friend of Crane's) on the ship.

"It seems you were forced in those situations," Crane contended. "Although you describe them coolly enough."

Crane paused for a few moments, looking thoughtful.

"Suppose I, or a client, asks you to whip another girl. Would you do it?"

Sheila forced a smile, hoping she looked sincere. Without hesitating, she replied, "Certainly."

He looked skeptical. "Would you enjoy giving a girl a whipping?"

Sheila paused, not wanting to immediately blurt out what she had pre-decided before she had even entered the elevator prior to this interview. She nodded. "I think so."

He raised his eyebrows. "Either you're a good actress or you're what I'm looking for in a trainer. I don't expect blue girls to do much whipping, but they have to give one from time to time."

Crane stood up. "I've received an invitation to a party. I don't often attend them, but since you're here, I think I will. I intend both of you to come along. I'll decide on your application after I see how you act at the party."

"Who's giving it, Master?" Kelly asked.

"George and Rita."

CHAPTER 37: Sheila's Blue Girl Interview, Continued

Crane was seated behind his desk, and the two girls were in the armchairs that faced it. He leaned back in his swivel chair and rested his bare feet on his desk. His sandals, Sheila noticed, were on the carpet under his desk.

"I no longer own you," he told Sheila, "and my decision about hiring you depends on whether your current owner will sell you back to me."

Sheila wondered if Lindsey would agree to that. She remembered that Kelly had been owned before applying for a blue girl position. Sheila decided that, later, she would ask Kelly if her owner had objected when Kelly applied for her blue girl job.

"Oh," Sheila said. "I-I thought that, since you're the manager, that it was your decision."

Crane raised his eyebrows.

"You forgot to address me properly, Sheila," Crane said. His mild tone didn't delude Sheila; she felt certain that he meant what he said. "You're a slave, and you'll remain one, whether Lindsey owns you or I do. The next time you forget, I'll have you whipped."

"I-I'm sorry, Master," Sheila said, frightened.

"Who bought her, Master?" Kelly asked. "Wasn't it Lindsey?"

Crane nodded.

"I'll offer Lindsey her money back, but I think it likely that she'll reject my offer. During the auction, she seemed determined to buy Sheila. Whenever another client made a bid, I saw Lindsey's light come on, and she made a counter bid. I never had a client want a slave that much.

"During the auction, I was surprised that she bid so high," he said. "Lindsey is certainly aware that any slave, even one with a body as desirable as Sheila's, becomes available once her owner has left the island. When the bidding reached the stratosphere, Lindsey could have easily let Hugo have her. She knows that Hugo doesn't stay here long, and Lindsey could have rented Sheila as soon as he left the island. The cost to her would have been much less than she paid during the auction."

"W-What will happen to me, if she won't take your money back . . . Master?" Sheila asked. She hadn't expected this.

Crane shrugged. "You'll be her slave for the length of her stay here. Last season Lindsey vacationed here for about two months. Of course, it's possible that she will want me to keep you on ice. If she does, I'll keep you in a cell and not use you as a rental. I'll still use you as a menial, in the kitchen and for cleaning bathrooms and so on. I'll probably fuck you myself, but I'll guarantee to Lindsey that no client will. If she wants to pay for my putting you on ice, that's her choice. Not too many clients pay to keep a female on ice; they usually want a fresh slave on their next sojourn here.

"Frankly, I have no special desire to hire you. The amount that Lindsey paid me for you was the most I've ever gotten for a female slave. Fifty thousand is a lot, and I'd like to keep it. I'm only proceeding with this interview because of the promise I made to all of you raw trainees when you arrived. I need more blue girls to work for me, but not at the high price that I'll have to pay for you."

Sheila absorbed his statement with unease. If Crane turned down her application to work for him, how would she ever obtain her shoes that contained the transmitter? She might be kept as a sex slave for years. Over that time her owners would compel her to do things that she probably couldn't imagine! She had already heard conversations of some of his clients. She recalled that couple who had discussed her buttocks on the day she arrived. The intentions of both the man and the woman, if they obtained her in the forthcoming auction, had shocked her.

Gaining access to the transmitter was the only way that she, Ed, and Wendy could possibly escape from this awful place. Ed was down in that basement cell with Bill, both of them handcuffed. There was no way that Ed could help. As for Wendy, she was mounted on Crane's wall, naked. There would be no help from her.

Sheila saw no other way for them to escape the island. Her becoming a blue girl and obtaining the transmitter was their only chance!

Whatever Crane tells me to do, I'll do!

One of the three doors in the wall behind Crane opened, and a willowy brunette with stylish gold-rimmed glasses and wearing a blue girl dress, entered. She carried a large tray which was loaded up. To avoid an accident with it, the girl carried it slowly, watching its contents carefully without glancing up.

On it, Sheila could see a coffee urn, two pitchers, a jar that Sheila assumed contained sugar, four sets of cups and saucers, and a stack of small trays. She also saw four small glass containers that resembled shot glasses but were much smaller, perhaps half-size.

"Your coffee, Master," the girl said, continuing to look down. She held the tray up and curtseyed.

Then the girl noticed Sheila and Kelly. A strange expression, perhaps of unease, crossed the girl's countenance. Sheila had never met the girl before; so, the girl's reaction seemed odd.

Crane lowered his feet, and the girl deposited the tray on the desk.

Sheila thought the girl attractive, but she wasn't the voluptuous type that seemed typical of Crane's female slaves, with their curvaceous figures and large breasts. Her figure was slender and svelte. Sheila could have mistaken her for a sixteen year old high school girl, were it not for her womanly breasts and shapely legs. Her moderately-sized breasts seemed that of a woman of at least eighteen; the same seemed the case for her long and shapely legs. Sheila estimated the girl's age at about two years less than her own twenty-two years.

Crane glanced up. "Thank you, Sarah."

"Is that all?"

"Certainly not! I expect the usual extras. Besides that, you forgot to address me properly!"

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Master. B-But, you're busy," she asked, nervously glancing in the direction of Sheila and Kelly.

"You'll deliver the extras," Crane said, not bothering to look up at her.

The girl appeared discomfited, and Sheila thought she was blushing.

"W-Well, uh . . . d-do you want the 'double-u' or the 'ess'?"

"You forgot my title again, slave!" he shouted. This time he looked up at her, obviously angry.

Sheila was startled by the harshness of his voice. Her heart began beating rapidly. Sheila wondered if she'd made a sensible decision in wanting to work for him.

I have no choice, I must.

"I-I'm sorry, Master. I-I'll bring the strap."

"I want the cat," he countered; "You've become careless."

Sheila was perplexed. Now, despite his words, which were uttered in a firm tone, he no longer seemed angry. Still, his previous outburst still had her heart racing, and she felt afraid of him. His personality was impossible to read!

"Th-The cat?" the brunette said, wide-eyed.

"You heard me!"

Crane placed a coffee cup under the spigot of the urn and delivered a stream of black coffee into it. He closed the spigot and looked up at her.

In a mild tone he said, "As for your question, Sarah; which do we have more of--the 'double-u' or the 'ess'?"

"The 'double-u', Master. I've worked on Wendy for ten hours."

"Good. Bring all of it. Now, bring me the cat. Afterwards, if you're a good slave and perform well, I'll allow you to spend the afternoon producing the 'ess'."

The girl appeared relieved. She smiled. "Oh, thank you, Master! I'll be good, I promise!"

She curtsied and left the room.

Crane stood up. "Coffee, Kelly?" he asked. He slid another cup beneath the urn's spigot.

"Yes, Master. Cream and two sugars."

Crane prepared the coffee and carried it to Kelly on one of the small trays. Kelly placed it on her lap. "Thank you, Master."

"Coffee, Sheila?" Crane asked, looking down at her.

Sheila was glad that Kelly had obtained some first. "Yes, please. One sugar, but no cream."

Suddenly Sheila realized her omission, and a surge of fear went through her. She blurted out, "Master."

Crane smiled. He returned to his desk and filled another cup.

Sheila regretted not having requested cream. She'd been starving since her arrival on the island. Cream would have given her a few more calories.

However, she was afraid of Crane's reaction if she expressed her change of mind. She preferred to remain hungry than face his anger.

When Crane brought her tray, she noticed that, in addition to the anticipated coffee with its cup and saucer, a linen napkin, and a spoon on the tray, the latter held one of the miniature 'shot glasses'.

Kelly's tray had the same objects, including the shot glass.

Whatever the latter's purpose, Sheila decided that she'd observe how Kelly used hers. If Kelly ignored it, she could ask Kelly later about it.

Crane had returned to his chair but, instead of pouring his own coffee, he did something odd.

He pushed his swivel chair back on its casters, moved it to the side of his desk on which the coffee tray lay; then he swiveled the chair ninety degrees, placing him beside the tray. His position now gave Sheila and Kelly a view of him in profile instead of face-on.

Sheila was inattentive, worried about what would happen to her if the Lindsey woman kept her. Her imagination filled with nightmarish scenes of her serving as the lesbian's sex slave.

When Sarah returned, she held a stranded short whip in one hand and a small bottle in the other. Preoccupied, Sheila barely glanced at her.

When she eventually looked up, she saw Sarah standing before Crane, offering him the two objects.

Crane ignored her. "Sheila and Kelly," he said, stirring with the spoon and swiveling his chair to look across at them; "Which of you wants to discipline Sarah?"

Sheila certainly didn't want to use the whip. She didn't respond. She was astonished to hear Kelly say, "Sheila needs the experience, Master."

Crane shrugged. He accepted the whip from Sarah and held it out by its spaghetti-like strands in Sheila's direction, handle toward her.

Damn Kelly! Why did she say that?!

She had little choice, and she forced a smile to hide her nervousness. She put her tray down on the carpet, rose from her chair, and reached over the desk for the whip.

Its handle was of some dark wood and was contoured with depressions for fingers. As she flexed it, it seemed to fit her hand well. Its strands were probably leather. They were roughly the thickness of cooked spaghetti and seemed just as supple. The ends of the ten or twelve strands (she didn't count them) were small metal balls--pellets, really--about the size of those used for an air rifle.

Holding it by its contoured handle, Sheila felt diffident. She wasn't sure what to do, and she turned to the blue girl beside her. "W-Would you instruct me, Kelly?"

Kelly laughed. "What's your problem, Kiddo?" she asked.

"You've seen us blue girls use whips. Just do like me and Nina. Whatever you do, don't be easy on her!"

Sheila still lacked any confidence that she could discipline the girl. If she were ten years older than Sarah, the girl would probably respect her because of the age difference. But she doubted that she was more than two or three years older than the brunette.

Sheila herself had never disobeyed a guard or trainer; in fact, she had never even considered disobedience. But, would Sarah feel the same as she?

To add to her nervousness, she felt foolish.

I'm a little older than she is. Maybe I can intimidate her.

She raised the whip. In a tone that she hoped sounded authoritative, she said, "Put the bottle down, Sarah. Come here!"

The girl lowered her eyes. To Sheila's relief, she replied, "Yes, Mistress," and approached.

In the same tone, Sheila told her, "Bend over the desk!"

To her gratification Sarah obeyed. She rested her cheek upon her hands, which were palms down on the glossy varnished top of Crane's desk.

Sheila reached down behind the girl and grasped the hem of the blue girl's dress. She pulled it to the girl's waist and held it bunched in her hand. She reached over the desktop and grabbed one of the girl's wrists. She pulled Sarah's arm back and then enclosed Sarah's fingers about the material.

"Hold it there," she ordered.

Sarah was naked from her waist to her slippers. Her buttocks, creamy-white and chubby, were ideally positioned for the whip.

Sheila raised the cat and drew it back. The metal pellets at the ends of the strands stroked over her shoulder near her neck and tickled.

"This is for not addressing Master Crane properly, Sarah," she said.

She swung the leather and metal, and they struck the girl's chubby cheeks hard, indenting them. The report it made wasn't loud, but it was a funny sound, something like 'whik! whik! whik!' but nearly simultaneously, a bit like the sound of kissing by a dozen couples at one time.

"Ow!" Sarah cried.

Six or seven tiny pink dots appeared in the skin of her buttocks. Two raised pink lines extended across both cheeks-welts.

"Count!" Sheila ordered.

"One! Thank you, Mistress!"

Sheila struck her buttocks, again and again.

A few moments ago, Sheila had dreaded applying the whip.

Now, to her surprise, she didn't feel at bad using it. Her conscience didn't bother her at all.

She could hardly admit it to herself, but . . . each time that her arm felt the whip strike . . . and each time she heard the sound of its impact into Sarah's flesh . . . and each time she heard the girl scream, she felt a thrill!

When Sarah cried, "Ow!", "Five!" and, "Thank you Mistress!" Kelly suddenly grasped Sheila's arm and stopped her.

"What's the matter?" Sheila asked, surprised. "Why did you stop me?"

"You'll have to start over," Kelly said.

Sheila stared at the blue girl, in disbelief. She felt that she was doing well.

She even felt pride in how accurately she had swung the whip. The pink dots and lines were exclusively on Sarah's buttocks, without a single mark on her back or thighs.

Rather than expecting criticism, she had expected Kelly to be pleased with her. She had even hoped for some praise from Crane.

Can she be jealous that I learned so quickly?

"Why, Kelly?" she asked, trying to hide her disappointment.

"I'll show you, Kiddo."

Sheila watched.

Kelly took the cat from her and she moved until she stood beside Sarah, who was still bent over. Aiming carefully, the blue girl brought it across the girl's buttocks, hard.

Sarah shrieked.

Sheila was shocked. Kelly's blow had struck much lower than any of her blows had! Not only had the pellets struck Sarah's buttocks, they had also impacted her thighs. Because of the girl's position, leaning upon the desktop, her pudenda were exposed. They protruded prominently from between her thighs. Several of the weighty pellets had struck directly upon them.

Kelly waited calmly, arms akimbo, for the girl's sobs to subside. Then she leaned down, until her head was upon the desktop, her face before Sarah's. Smiling, she asked, "Well?"

Sarah wiped tears from a cheek. She choked out, "Th-Thank you, Mistress!

Kelly stood up. She asked Sheila, "Didn't you wonder why Crane asked for the cat?"

"I didn't know that a cat was special," Sheila responded.

"Listen, Kiddo, if Crane just wants a slave's ass spanked, he wants a strap," Kelly told her.

"If he thinks she deserves a really sore ass, he'll ask you for a riding whip. When we go to the shed to get your supplies, I'll show you one. They're made of birch, and they're real flexible. No matter how hard you swing one, it won't break. And, wow, Kiddo, do they ever sting!"

Kelly grinned. "If you whip a slave with one of those, she won't sit down for a week!"

"But, Master Crane asked for the cat," Sheila said.

"Hold your horses--I was getting to that. If a Master tells you to use a cat, you'll know that he's really pissed. You better use it like I just did."

"Ten strokes there?!" Sheila exclaimed. "I couldn't stand getting hit there even once!"

Kelly shrugged. "Well, maybe don't give her ten in a row there," she conceded.

"The idea is to make sure she doesn't make the same mistake again. She'll remember what it feels like to get whipped on her chicken wings."

She returned the whip to Sheila. "I'd say, give it to her like that, maybe every third swing, Kidd. She'll remember that."

"A-All right," Sheila said.

If I want this blue girl job, I don't dare allow my conscience to bother me.

She raised the cat again. She aimed and struck the first blow at the center of the girl's creamy buttocks, as before.

She aimed the second blow much lower.

Only about half of the pellets struck the the girl's buttocks. The rest impacted her pudenda, including the delicate inner ones.

The girl shrieked.

Sheila alternated her blows. Every second one struck low on Sarah's buttocks, and many pellets impacted across the girl's thighs. Invariably, some pellets struck her pudenda.

Sheila whipped the girl again and again, and every blow struck where she aimed it. With each impact, Sheila felt the same electric thrill, and the girl's screams only enhanced the pleasure.

My god, I must be dripping wet!

Sheila raised her arm for the tenth swing, aiming the whip at the most sensitive part of Sarah's body. Then she swung the cat, hard. Nearly all of the pellets went where she'd aimed. When they struck the sound reminded Sheila of the sound emitted when the neighbor's preschool daughter made mud pies, slapping them extra hard to flatten them: it was a peculiar, low-pitched 'splat!'

The girl shrieked.

It was many seconds before Sarah's screams subsided into soft sobs. She choked out, "T-Ten, Mistress. Th-Thank you!"

Sheila said, "Sarah, from now on, you'll address Master Crane properly, won't you?"

Between sobs, Sarah choked out, "Y-Yes, Mistress."

Sheila could feel her heart pounding. She felt as though she'd had several cocktails. She slid the whip across Crane's desk.

Sarah, still over the desk, reached back with a hand. She gingerly probed herself, but instantly jerked back her hand, as if she'd touched something scalding hot.

Her buttocks were lined with pink horizontal welts. More were across her upper thighs. Interspersed between the lines were red dots. If the welts had been parallel, her buttocks would have resembled a musical score.

Sarah remained there for some time, occasionally uttering a residual sob. Her hand still gripped the bunched up hem of her dress.

"Pull your dress down!" Sheila said. "You look like a slut."

Sheila felt herself blush.

Why did I say such a thing?!

It was an awful thing to say! She immediately felt ashamed.

She glanced at Crane. Neither he nor Kelly gave any indication that they disapproved.

Sarah replied, "Yes, Mistress."

She grasped the hem of her dress and pulled it outward so it cleared her buttocks. and then, still holding it out, she slowly straightened up, grimacing. She wiped her eyes.

Crane was staring at Sheila. His gaze was so intense that, had her face not already been hot, she would have blushed. Her heart was racing.

Crane suddenly smiled. "That was well done, Sheila," he said. "Very well done."

"Thank you, Master."

She felt intoxicated. She was acutely conscious of Crane's eyes on her. The man seemed very masculine. He was very much in control of things, no matter how embarrassing they were to those around him. He was even kind of attractive, although in a rough way.

Had Sheila been home, she would have run to her bedroom and devoted the balance of the morning to playing with herself.

Oh God-do I feel wet!

When she returned to her chair, she pressed her legs together before sitting down. She hoped the back of her dress didn't become damp and prayed that none of the others in the room could detect the scent.

* * *

Crane raised the small bottle. The stopper was glass and the flask looked like it was intended to hold perfume. Its capacity, she guessed, was about two ounces. At present, it was full of colorless fluid, and Crane was holding it up to his eye. He shook it, and the fluid, which looked more viscous than water, formed a myriad of small bubbles that persisted.

"The 'double-u'," Crane said. He handed the bottle to Sarah. "Distribute it," he said.

"Yes, Master."

Sarah filled Crane's glass first. She walked around the desk and filled Kelly's glass. She filled Sheila's next and finally, she returned to Crane's desk. She took the last glass and poured the balance of what remained in the flask into it. She put the now empty flask on the tray.

"To more of the same!" Crane exclaimed, raising his glass.

The three young women raised their glasses and echoed his words.

The scent wafted from Sheila's glass, and she carefully sniffed it. Its powerful odor was unmistakable. It was so strong!

She raised it to her lips, and the odor filled her nostrils. Nausea gripped her. She feared that the moment she swallowed any, she'd vomit.

Where did Crane get so much of it? It must be from a dozen girls!

She gagged, and lowered the glass.

Suddenly Sheila realized that everyone was watching her. She blushed.

Crane raised his glass again. This time he put it to his lips. He sipped, and he closed his eyes.

"Nectar!" he exclaimed. He closed his eyes. He appeared to be savoring it in his mouth. After some seconds, he swallowed.

That was the cue for the others.

Sarah sipped hers and her only response was a smile. She seemed to enjoy it as much as Crane.

But Kelly downed all of hers in a single gulp, and she immediately followed it with several gulps of coffee, all that evidently remained in her cup.

Sheila tried to follow Kelly's example. She put the glass to her mouth and took in half of its contents. But, when she tried to swallow, her throat closed down and she couldn't. The liquid filled her mouth, lubricating it and (especially) her tongue. Its flavor was negligible, but the texture lingered in her mouth like a coating of oil. The odor reeked in her nostrils, and she gagged again. She finally managed to down what filled her mouth and, as she swallowed, she forced herself not to grimace.

If only I had more coffee to wash it down with!

Sheila steeled herself and raised the half-full glass to her lips again. She drained the balance.

"Wendy is proving bountiful," Crane said to Sarah.

"She's tired, Master," Sarah said. "I woke her up when I took off the cup."

"She was asleep on the wall? She's adapting quickly."

"Master?" Sarah said.

Crane was opening the spigot over his cup.

"What?"

The brunette looked anxious.

"D-Do you still want the other extra, Master? While these slaves are here?"

"You asked me that before!" he exclaimed, glaring at her.

"Sarah," he added, stirring with the spoon; "You know very well that I often work through my coffee breaks. I'll often have staff or slaves in here with me. I certainly am not going to change my habits to suit a slave!"

"Y-Yes, Master."

Crane added sugar and cream to his cup. "Would either of you like more coffee?" he asked, glancing at Sheila and Kelly; "This urn retains the heat quite well."

Each of them assented, and Crane carried the tray around the desk to them. He held it while each of the girls poured her own. This time, Sheila added cream to her cup. She sipped the hot beverage, and soon, when she explored the interior of her mouth with her tongue, the slippery coating was gone and only the odor lingered, still filling her nostrils.

When Crane was again seated, he told Sheila, "I have the impression that you think blue girls are exempt from the usual tasks of sex slaves. They aren't and, if I hire you, you won't be."

Sarah was standing beside Crane's chair. To Sheila's astonishment, as Crane spoke, the girl undid the buttons of her dress. She withdrew her arms from the sleeves and began to roll the garment down. When it reached her breasts, she pulled it out to clear them and then continued rolling it down until, when her navel was exposed, she stopped. The garment encircled her hips like a thick blue sash, just above her pubis. She was naked from the top of her head to below her navel. Her breasts were of moderate size and Sheila guessed they took B-cups. They looked firm, and were certainly well-shaped.

Ignoring Sarah, Crane swallowed some coffee.

"I'll see Lindsey later today," he told Sheila. "To be frank, it would please me if she keeps you. She'll have you for about two months, which is the usual length of time that Lindsey stays here each spring. Even if she uses you for the balance of her time here, I'll have you when she leaves."

Crane smiled.

"I foresee charging more for you than for any of my current rentals. You'll be the Academy's premium sex slave."

The prospect frightened Sheila. Her worry made her pay little attention to what Sarah was about. The prospect of all the lesbian things with Lindsey was scary enough. What would her life be like if she became the featured attraction here?!

"But," she said; "Even if Mistress Lindsey keeps me for the two months, couldn't you hire me as a blue girl after she leaves?"

Sarah, bare to the waist, moved around the desk until she was before Crane. She knelt between his legs and unzipped his fly. She inserted a hand into his trousers and drew out his penis.

It was soft. She was holding it under the head, between her forefinger and thumb. To Sheila, it resembled the fat worm that the girls in elementary school used to say a boy's weenie looked like.

Crane said, "For the moment, I'll assume that Lindsey will sell you back to me."

Sheila was too embarrassed by Sarah's actions to follow all that he was saying. The brunette had grasped Crane's knees and was now pushing his legs farther apart. While still holding his knees, the girl lowered her head, and she sucked the flaccid organ between her lips like a huge strand of cooked spaghetti.

Sarah began moving her jaws in a strange, side-to-side way. Sheila guessed that the girl was bouncing the pink head upon her tongue.

Crane ignored Sarah, but his penis soon hardened. It lengthened also, and Sarah raised her head to accommodate it. It was so thick that it stuffed her mouth and caused her lips, which were stretched around it, to look like a red rubber band.

"One thing you should expect," Crane said, "is a test. I intend to be certain that you'll carry out all of my orders, not just easy ones. Assuming that you pass, you'll work as a blue girl for one week. Nina and Kelly will supervise you. If your work is satisfactory, I'll add you to my payroll. Your salary will be five hundred per week. Any questions?"

Crane was waiting for her to reply, but Sheila found it difficult to think.

Sarah bobbed up and down. Each time she raised her shoulders, virtually all of Crane's organ appeared, even its dark pink head. Each time she lowered them, her torso above the waist descended until her face was hidden by a leg of Crane's pants. All that Sheila could see was the back of her head and her brown hair.

Sheila was too nervous to think clearly, but silence became too embarrassing. To break the silence, she said, "W-Will you tell me more about this test?"

Crane shrugged. He was still holding the coffee cup. He stroked Sarah's head with his free hand.

"There's no need to tell you the details," he responded. "You'll learn those soon enough during the test."

"W-When will it be?"

"Address me as 'Master'!" he replied sharply.

Sheila's heart skipped a beat.

"Yes, Master, I'm sorry!" Sheila said.

Her voice was drowned out by a loud moan from Crane.

He closed his eyes and stretched back in the chair. He thrust his legs out rigidly on both sides of the girl.

Sarah raised her head from his penis. The entire rigid shaft was visible, from its base, visible along with some pubic hair in his open fly, to the bulbous pink head, which glistened from a coating of saliva.

Sarah supported herself by gripping Crane's knee with her left hand. She grasped the wet shaft with her right one and began to pump and soon her breasts were bouncing, swinging in time with her hand.

"Uh!" Crane exclaimed. "Stop!"

He thrust out an arm and pushed the girl. Sarah fell away from him and fell hard onto the carpet on her side.

With his penis protruding from his pants, Crane stood up and took three steps toward Sheila and stopped, his member bobbing before her face. He grasped it in one hand and began to pump the skin rapidly.

"Open your mouth," he told her.

Sheila felt her face grow hot. Her heart pounding, she parted her lips.

"Wider!"

She complied, closing her eyes, and thought of the hygienist who cleaned her teeth. Sheila could never keep her mouth open this wide for very long. The hygienist never complained when Sheila's jaws tired, but if they began to close now, she feared what Crane would do.

"Come here, Kelly!" he ordered.

Sheila opened her eyes. The blue girl was girl standing beside Crane.

"Yes, Master?" Kelly said.

Crane released his grip on his penis. He took Kelly's hand and enclosed his shaft with her fingers.

"Jerk me off," he said, and he withdrew his hand.

"Yes, Master."

Kelly began to pump it, but her position made it awkward. She knelt down on the carpet, wrapped an arm about Crane's trousered leg, and grasped his cock with her free hand.

* * *

Sheila watched Kelly's pumping hand. The pink head of Crane's penis was directly before her eyes, protruding from the blue girl's moving fist. It was so close that Sheila saw a droplet ooze from the slit and dangle from the tip.

"Keep your mouth open!" Crane said.

She wanted to reply, but her open mouth made it impossible. Moving her head as little as possible, she nodded.

Her eyes met Crane's, and she felt herself redden. She broke the eye contact.

Her jaw muscles were tired, and it was a strain keeping her mouth open.

Crane emitted an "Aaaah!"

The slit spurted. Cream struck her upper lip. Kelly's hand lowered the head, and the slit spurted again. A streak of cream disappeared in Sheila's mouth, and she tasted the pungent flavor.

It fired again, and again. Soon, her tongue was inundated with the fluid, and it overflowed her lower lip, ran down her chin, and oozed onto her lap.

"Good job," Crane said.

He turned away from her.

"Kelly," he said; "Clean it!"

"Yes, Master."

Kelly adjusted her grip about it, she pointed the head toward her own face. She milked it and licked the oozing droplets from the slit. She pursed her lips around the slit, and pumped the skin back and forth several times. She withdrew them with a sound like that of a cork from a wine bottle.

Kelly gripped the head of his now flaccid penis with two fingers and her thumb and shoved the organ back into his pants. She then zipped up the fly.

* * *

Crane said, "I'll see Lindsey this afternoon, Sheila. If she's willing to sell you back to me, I'll test you tomorrow morning.

"There's another task that I may assign to you that I haven't mentioned.

Clients sometimes ask to rent one of my blue girls, especially if she happens to be as attractive as you. If any client is interested in you and he makes me a suitable offer, I'll lease you to him."

"You'll rent me?"

That was an unpleasant surprise.

"Weren't you listening?"

Her voice quavered. "B-But, Master Crane, I thought that you only lease girls whose Masters have left the island, the girls that you keep downstairs in cells."

"I rent those females for however long that clients want them for. I'll lease a blue girl for only one day. Ask Kelly about it."

Sheila glanced at Kelly, who grimaced. She said, "He rented me to Lezzie!"

"You don't have to give me the details," Sheila said.

"Do you object to being leased out?" Crane asked.

Sheila knew that if she responded with a 'yes', it would give Crane an excuse to terminate her application.

She responded, "No, Master."

"As a blue girl, you'll do whatever I order you to," he said. "If I lease you out, you'll satisfy all of the wishes of any client that I rent you to. You'll do anything for him! Understand?"

Sheila had difficulty keeping her voice steady. "Y-Yes, Master."

"Your lack of training is a problem, but you're married and I presume that you're sexually experienced. Did you swing with your husband?"

"Swing?"

Sheila had heard the term, but she didn't know exactly what it meant. She'd once overheard a conversation in which the term was used. It had been at the Zine between two women, and one had mentioned trying it with her boyfriend.

Their subsequent outburst of giggles and surreptitious guilty glances around the room caused Sheila to conclude that swinging was something dirty. She imagined some sexual acrobatics, perhaps in a tree.

Crane evidently surmised her ignorance.

"Did you attend parties where you screwed another man while your husband fucked his wife?"

"Oh," Sheila replied, reddening. "N-No."

"That's a pity. If you had, you'd make a more satisfactory rental. At least you're a college graduate. Coeds have fewer hang-ups than slaves who only graduate from high school."

CHAPTER 38: Leon & Deirdre

Babette awoke. She peered at the illuminated digits next to the bed. It wasn't even six o'clock. The agonizing ache of her jaws of the previous evening had metamorphosed into a headache. She rose quietly without turning on the light and went into the kitchen for aspirin. When she returned she realized that Leon wasn't in their bed. She searched in all four rooms, but he wasn't in their suite.

Where can he have gone at this hour?

In Paris, Leon had filched money from her purse. The bag still lay on the kitchen counter where she had left it previous evening. She looked through it. All of her ready cash seemed to be in it. The rest was secured in Crane's safe.

My key to the E.L. is gone!

Leon had taken it.

He was downstairs, probably in the E.L. enjoying one of Crane's young sluts. Babette felt humiliated. He was still punishing her for not outbidding Lindsey at the auction. It was now a week since she had any pleasurable sex with Leon. Now he was going elsewhere for it, and there was little she could do about it--Leon had a terrible temper!

On the other hand, Leon might not be with one of Crane's young rental females. His liaison might be with a female client.

During the auction, something went on between him and Deirdre. I'm certain of it.

The thought frightened her. She could be losing him already. All because she hadn't been willing to keep bidding for that blonde. She could have easily matched Lindsey's last bid, but had not been willing to spend the money. Alternatively, she could have conferred with Lindsey. She and Lindsey were friendly enough, and the two of them might have come to an arrangement to share Sheila.

Surely Leon wouldn't have objected to that! Then, she and Leon could have used the girl virtually whenever they wanted. Perhaps between the three of them they would have worn the blonde out, but a good whipping by Leon would revive her. If not, she could be readily replaced. Crane had plenty for rent.

Babette knew Leon's tastes. She had learned them before they'd left Paris. In the past he had had liaisons with bisexual women and had even enjoyed watching two of them together. Once, during a menage a trois, he had even screwed a lesbian.

If I'd bought Sheila, it would have spiced our relationship. We'd use her just like I used slaves in the past.

Why did I allow Lindsey to get her? I was cheap!

Now Leon was downstairs, enjoying one of those young sluts. Or, perhaps he was with Deirdre. Because she hadn't outbid Lindsey.

During the entire past week, Leon wanted only one thing of her. Late each evening he took a shower. After it, dressed only in his robe, he seated himself in their large living room armchair and enjoyed a novel while Babette had to service him on her knees.

He read for never less than an hour. Twice, he had continued reading for more than two!

Now Babette's jaws ached all day. She dreaded the evenings. Her sore knees didn't bother her quite as much as her jaws, but even they never had the time to recover.

The second . . . or, was it was the third evening? . . . her jaws and knees had hurt so much that-desperate--she made him come quickly.

It infuriated Leon. He slapped her face; then while she was still on her knees, he bound her hands behind her back. Then he tore open her blouse, pulled her brassiere down, and used his belt on her.

Then, while her hands were still bound behind her, she had to service him for another hour, but she was unable to make him ejaculate.

After he closed the book, he grasped a rope of her hair and used it as a lever, working her head up and down. Then he gripped the back of her head in his hand and pushed, forcing the huge head of his penis into her throat. He ignored all her tears and gagging. He didn't push her off until he had satisfied himself.

Babette was unable to relax. When the clock read seven-thirty, she swallowed two sleeping pills from the bathroom cabinet and washed them down with a glass of milk.

Then she returned to bed.

* * *

It was nearly five-thirty as Leon trotted down the stairs.

He was surprised to encounter Deirdre, entering from the stairwell door, on the third floor landing.

"Leon!" the bleached blonde exclaimed, stopping him with a hand. She looked delighted, and she put her arms about him.

"Well!" Leon said, smiling down at her; "Deirdre, are you ever an early bird!"

"I never sleep well when I visit the Academy," she said. "I'm a city girl, Leon. It's too quiet here. I'm going to the Coffee Shop. Come along and keep me company."

Deirdre was dressed in a white, short-sleeved nylon blouse and a checked, black and crimson skirt. Leon thought it looked like wool, in spite of the torrid climate. The blouse was translucent. Leon could see both the bumps of her nipples and their tint. Her breasts looked firm enough without a brassiere.

Before he could respond, she asked, "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Leon grinned and encircled her in his arms. As he put his lips to hers, he felt Deirdre's tongue. It wormed between his lips and pressed against his teeth. He opened his mouth, and her tongue immediately slipped in. Her hands gripped the back of his head.

Her large breasts squashed against his chest and felt cool through the cotton of his shirt.

Leon lowered his hands and pulled her blouse from the elastic of her skirt and slipped his hands up under it. He cupped her breasts. They felt weighty and too large for him to completely enclose in his hands. His fingers touched her nipples. They were hard. He grasped them between his thumbs and forefingers and began to knead them.

Deirdre cried, "Nnuh!" and the sound seemed to transmit internally from his mouth as much as through the air to his ears.

He squeezed her nipples, hard.

Deirdre moaned again, and she closed her eyes. His penis was hard, pressed against her abdomen through their clothing.

He withdrew his hands and grasped the front of her blouse. He inserted his fingers between two buttons and, levering with his muscular arms, he jerked it open. It ripped, and buttons ricocheted from the cinderblock walls. A sleeve slithered down Deirdre's arm and dangled from her wrist. Her blouse hung open and her bare breasts, firm as a high school girl's, jutted out at him.

He grabbed her nipples and pulled. Her breasts elongated and became shaped like huge pears. Deirdre moaned again, louder.

Leon felt her hands upon his erection, through his trousers. He heard the quick sharp 'zip' of the fly fastener; then he felt the breeze of the stairwell on his naked cock. It tickled like a camel's-hair brush across the head.

She grasped the hem of her skirt and jerked it to her waist. She was naked under it.

He released her nipples and lowered his hands. He placed them, palms down, on the skin around her navel. His forefingers searched lower, and found the crevices between her belly and her thighs. She shuddered and gasped.

He stepped back for a moment and looked down. She had a neatly-trimmed blond muff, with darker roots and below, long and shapely legs, and bare feet in sandals. Her protruding toes were topped with crimson toenails.

He reached up and grasped her nipples.

Deirdre backed toward the wall, unconcerned that her breasts had elongated into cones as she pulled against Leon's grip. Leon followed her, his penis bobbing with each step. Deirdre leaned back until her shoulders, one of them bare, were against the unpainted cinder block wall.

She grasped his erect cock and pulled him by it until it was between her legs. She spread her legs further apart and pointed it upward in her groin.

"Fuck me, you hunk!" she exclaimed.

Her voice echoed in the stairwell, and they laughed.

Warmth and tightness gripped his penis. He released her nipples, and her breasts bounced back to their natural shape.

Leon slipped his arms about her and grasped her buttocks between his fingers and thumbs. He thrust his belly and hips forward, and his abdomen struck Deirdre's naked belly.

His cock was snug in her vagina.

Jesus, she's hot!

"What are you laughing at?" she said.

Her hands were about the back of his neck, and she began to thrust her hips forward and back. Her belly beat his with machine gun rapidity.

"I wasn't laughing."

He tried to match her rhythm, but his thrusts and hers were uncoordinated and, despite Leon's grip on her tensed buttocks, his cock escaped. It bobbed in the air between them, wet and glistening.

"Now you're laughing!" she exclaimed.

* * *

They continued down the stairs. "You did a job on my shirt!" she said, looking down.

"I'll buy you another," he said.

As they descended, Leon was unable to resist glancing at her breasts. They bounced seductively each time she made a step and he felt his penis again growing hard.

"Don't bother," she said. "That fuck was worth ten blouses!"

Leon was annoyed whenever a woman uttered four letter words. The sole time that he didn't mind was when she uttered them in the heat of sex.

"Are you going to the Coffee Shop?" she asked.

"The E.L." he responded. "I've never seen it."

"It's too early, Leon. You won't find a single slave in the lounge at this hour."

"I'll look anyway. Go change that blouse."

Even if she's right, I'll take some photos of the room and its racks.

She smiled. "Come upstairs with me while I change. Then the two of us can visit it together. In a half hour or so there ought to be at least a couple of slaves mounted in there."

In a bantering tone, he asked, "What's your interest in the E.L.? Are you a closet lesbian, Deirdre?"

"No, but if you and Babette stay here long enough, you'll understand why women visit the room."

Leon knew very well why female clients visited the E.L. All of the women clients visited it and, according to Babette, their motive was simple. They enjoyed watching male clients, many of whom were old and ugly, abuse pretty young women. It was entertaining!

Using a whip or a prod, a woman could compel the girl to do something lesbian. Even straight women sometimes liked to humiliate a pretty girl in that way.

"You can't imagine how pleasant it is to have another female for a slave," Deirdre said.

"What about male slaves?"

"Crane doesn't put male slaves in the E.L., Leon. But, any of his female clients enjoys a male in her bedroom from time to time."

"Have you ever bought a slave?"

"I've shared ones, with a friend. Do you remember Esther? She was with us when we met on the stairs on the day of the last auction."

Leon knitted his brows. "I think so. Is she a small brunette, fifty-ish?"

Deirdre nodded. "About five feet five, moderately pretty, with brown hair. She's been coming to the Academy since Crane's second year. I came with her on my first visit here, the year before last. We shared an apartment. I would have preferred a male, but Esther wanted to rent one of the girls that Crane keeps here for lease. I went along, since she knew the Academy, and I didn't."

"What did you make the girl do?"

Deirdre laughed, but her face was pink. "There's no way that I'll tell you that!"

Leon smiled. "I didn't think anything would embarrass you."

"I see no reason to tell you about it, Leon. I never even told Esther what we did. I never asked her what she did with Patty, either."

"Did you use a whip on her?"

"Of course. Sometimes, even a whip wouldn't persuade her. I don't know if Babette told you this, but Crane loans any client who rents a female, a set of 'tools'. They're more effective even than a whip. Jeff makes the tools in the Machine Shop. Each of the tools fits on a place on the female body. Some are mechanical and do things like squeeze. Others are electrical. They plug into a wall outlet."

"If this Patty was one of Crane's rentals," Leon said; "I wouldn't think you would have to do much persuading. She must have been accustomed to doing what her previous Masters and Mistresses ordered her to."

"Not Patty," Deirdre said. "Only one man owned her before Esther and I rented her. It wasn't hard for me to make her do things for me when we were alone together but, when Esther and I threw a party, she was difficult. She hated it when we had women guests."

* * *

They reached the Main Floor, and Leon said, "Well, I'm going to the E.L. now. I'll meet you there later."

"Leon, why don't you come upstairs with me, first? You're wasting your time going to the E.L. this early."

"I'm sure. Go change your blouse."

She pouted, but Leon was adamant.

"Well, all right," Deirdre finally said. "I'll meet you there."

Leon waited until she had started back up the stairs. Then he pushed open the door into the Main Hall.

"I'll meet you!" Leon heard her call. He didn't respond.

Leon was glad that she hadn't come with him. Even if no slaves were in the E.L., he'd still have the opportunity to look over the equipment and furnishings and he could take a few photos of the room and the racks.

* * *

Leon stepped into the E.L. and closed the door behind him. His slippers sank into the thick maroon carpet that covered the room from wall to wall. The E.L. was large, and he guessed that it was twice the size of the Main Lounge, the largest room he had thus far seen in the Academy. There were no windows. The room resembled the Main Lounge in its liberal supply of comfortable armchairs but, the chief difference between this room and the Main Lounge, aside from its size, was its furniture.

There were no lamp stands, statuary, wall paintings, or cocktail tables. In their place were racks and pillories. It differed from the Training Center with all of its racks, by this room's many comfortable armchairs.

A line of hooks was mounted on the wall behind him. Each hook held some device by a leather loop in its handle. Judging from the wires and plugs attached to some of them, a few were electrical.

He looked around the room. All of the chairs, racks, and pillories were empty.

Deirdre was right; it's too early in the day for any slaves to be here.

He stood with his back to the entrance and took three shots of the room. One was of the ceiling, and included its hanging chains and manacles. The other two photos were of each sidewall and included the hooks and devices which hung from each as well as a number of racks.

Leon heard the snap of a key in the door behind him, and he hastily returned the camera to his pocket.

He expected to see a blue girl, but it was Deirdre. She'd arrived sooner than he'd anticipated. She had replaced the torn blouse with a similarly-tailored sky blue one, and she had replaced her woolen skirt with a midnight blue cotton miniskirt that displayed her long legs well.

Damn! I was hoping blue girls would bring in a trainee before Deirdre changed her clothes.

"I told you it would be empty," Deirdre said, smirking. "You should have come upstairs with me. Have you just been standing here? Why didn't you sit down?"

"I looked around a bit."

They heard whimpering from across the room.

Deirdre's eyes widened.

"It sounds like there's a slave over there, near the far right corner."

They wended their way toward the sounds, passing several armchairs and an 'Ex' that was similar to the one near the doorway in the T.C.. The room differed from the T.C. in another way that he hadn't noticed. Each rack was located in an open area under an overhead spotlight with four or five armchairs arranged in a semicircle facing it.

"Look!" Deirdre exclaimed, pointing; "Over there!"

Leon saw a brunette across the room, near the back wall beyond another rack. She lay on her back upon some low device and wore a trainee's uniform.

"She must have been here all night, Leon!" Deirdre said. "I'll bet she's a mess by now!" She grabbed his arm. "Let's go see!"

"It isn't that early, Deirdre. Blue girls are out of bed long before you lazy clients get up. They probably brought her just before I got here. If we hadn't talked so much on the stairs, I'd have met them in here."

Deirdre snorted. "Leon, you don't know what you're talking about!

"If they brought her in this morning, they'd have brought her roommate too. They always bring them two at a time. That girl was probably here yesterday, along with her roommate. Whatever their reason, when they took her roommate back to her cell, the blue girls left her here."

"Why? What's the point of leaving her?"

Deirdre shrugged. "You don't think that Crane always gets obedient girls, do you? Sometimes he gets a strong-willed bitch. Sure, maybe her trainer can make her kneel and suck his cock, but Crane's male trainers are young thugs. They use whips and prods.

"The clients here are cultured men and women that sit around and watch. A young bitch isn't likely to do what some gray-haired old client tells her to do!"

"So? What are you getting at?" Leon said. "What does that have to do with the brunette over there?"

"Yesterday, she was probably disobedient. That's why the blue girls left her here. When they came here last night to take the slaves back to their cells, some client complained about her-said she was uncooperative. So they left her here."

"As punishment?" Leon looked skeptical. "What's so unpleasant about a night in a rack? It's just a little uncomfortable."

Deirdre gave him a patronizing smile. "Think about it, Leon," she replied; "Last night, she was the only slave here. All the rest were back in their cells for the night."

"So?"

"You know our habits, Leon. Clients sleep late. We're night owls, here."

"That's because parties are at night," he said.

"What do you think a single man does here on a night when there's no party, Leon?"

"Single? I'm single."

"What I mean Leon," she said; "is, a man who arrives here at the Academy without a female companion. One who hasn't rented or bought a female slave."

He shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Leon, when you get horny, you fuck Babette. What can a male client do here at night if he has no partner or slave?"

"Jerk off," Leon replied.

Deirdre grimaced. "Perhaps. But, on non-party nights, most single men come down here to the E.L. It may be more expensive than masturbating, but clients have money. In any case, the E.L. is cheaper than renting or buy a female from Crane."

"I see. If they're fortunate, a slave girl will be down here."

She nodded. "Sometimes we female clients come down here at night, just to see the action. It isn't as intimate as a party, but it can be interesting. Sometimes we even participate."

Leon smiled. "How?"

"There will be a girl on the 'propeller'. Then we do more than just watch the male clients! We can join in."

"The propeller?" Leon asked, puzzled by the name.

"It's over that way. The girl might be on it."

She led the way between the racks.

"You haven't explained why leaving a trainee here overnight is punishment," Leon said.

"When there's no party, a 'single' male client comes down here and if he finds a girl in a rack here, he fucks her. So what? Where's her punishment?"

"You haven't guessed, have you?" Deirdre responded.

"If there's no party," she said; "or if the parties are only by invitation, Leon, you'll find a gang of horny guys down here! Can you imagine what it's like for a girl to get gang-banged for a whole night? She won't be just screwed, either. Crane's clients are weird!"

Leon counted eight racks as they wended their way between pillories and armchairs. No two of the racks in the room were the same, although he'd seen duplicates of some in the T.C. After the Ex, they encountered a pillory and then a strange looking device with two pillars and a crossbar. The structure resembled an enormous 'H'.

Leon ducked his head to avoid manacles hanging from the ceiling. Deirdre ignored them as their height was above her head.

They reached an open area, which was partially surrounded by padded armchairs. Four chains and handcuffs dangled over the clearing, and Leon again ducked his head. At the same time, they both stepped over four manacles that protruded up from the carpet. Leon wondered why four handcuffs above and below; all of the previous ones had all been pairs.

Maybe two slaves are mounted here.

He wondered if the slaves faced each other.

Illumination came from recessed spotlights that cast wide beams of light down between each pair of ceiling chains.

"Oh!" Deirdre said, suddenly stopping. "The girl is on the propeller!"

Leon could tell that the girl was prone on her back, but the rack she lay on was too low for him to see its shape.

"Just wait," she replied, smiling.

Leon wondered what there was about the rack that could be amusing.

* * *

Leon recognized the girl on the rack. She was the one in the photograph that the Director had shown him. It was the French console's daughter, Janine.

Her figure wasn't typical of Crane's female captives, with their voluptuous centerfold model figures. Nevertheless, she was attractive. She was slender. Her blouse was partly open and one breast was exposed. It was well-formed but small for Leon's taste-far from the size of Sheila's or Deirdre's. Besides that, ther girl's prone position diminished its apparent size even more.

"I see why you call it the 'propeller'," Leon said, grinning.

It had evidently been constructed from three flat-topped benches. One end of each bench had been cut off to form an obtuse wedge, and the three cut ends had been butted together to make a rack resembling a three-bladed propeller.

Deirdre looked up at him. She said, "You can't imagine how the clients used her, Leon!"

"Oh, no? It seems obvious," Leon responded.

"Oh, you think it is, do you?" Deirdre said, in a smug tone. "What's so obvious?"

Deirdre seemed confident that he would be wrong. Leon tried to imagine what could be incorrect about his guess.

Janine's upper torso, from her head to her waist, lay on one leather-padded arm of the device. Her arms were held down and were vertical from her shoulders to her elbow joints. Leon was unable to see her forearms, which were horizontally under the bench. He presumed that handcuffs beneath it kept her wrists together. Her hips were scantily covered by a miniskirt and were supported by the propeller's center. Her bare legs were held apart, and each one lay stretched out along the top of an arm, with her ankles held tightly down by straps.

Janine's hair was a tangled mass, but although it was matted and discolored by what Leon presumed was semen, he could see traces of its original ebony gloss. Her exposed left breast protruded from her white blouse, which had lost three upper buttons. Her striped skirt was wrinkled and was twisted far to one side and its hem pulled up so it scarcely covered her pubic region. Her feet were bare.

He spotted her black slippers on the carpet a few feet away. They lay on their sides, looking as though some client had tossed them there.

Janine looked fatigued, but fearful, and her eyes were open. She was unable to move her head, and she had to follow the movements of Deirdre and Leon with her eyes.

"What's your name?" Leon asked.

"J-Janine . . . M-Master."

Leon considered the implications. When (or, if) he succeeded in getting her off of the island, the less she knew about him, the better. As for his actions, he could justify egregious ones on the basis of retaining his cover.

Deirdre was leaning over the girl. In a tone so saccharine that it was obviously hypocritical, she asked, "Why did they leave you here, Dear? What was it that they wanted you to do?"

Janine reddened. "You people disgust me!" she said.

Her English seemed excellent, with hardly a trace of an accent. He would have to hear more, but he guessed it was as good as his own.

Deirdre smiled. "You weren't cooperative with Crane's clients yesterday, were you, Dear?"

Janine didn't respond. She closed her eyes.

"Aren't her titties nice, Leon?"

Dierdre leaned over the girl. She stretched, until her head was above Janine's exposed breast, and she extended her tongue. She flicked the brownish-pink nipple, up and down. It swelled, and soon it was erect.

"Stop that!" Janine said, flushing and re-opening her eyes.

Deirdre pursed her lips and began to suck. As she did, she unbuttoned the two remaining buttons of Janine's blouse and drew it open, exposing the other breast.

"Stop that!"

Leon's penis hardened.

Then he noticed Janine's ears and the fine jeweler's chains that went through their lobes. It had been easy to overlook them since her hair nearly covered them.

When Janine was abducted, she had probably been wearing earrings. Now however, two fine jeweler's chains extended up from screws in the bench. They went through her pierced earlobes and back, so taut that they stretched her earlobes downward. The stretching probably hurt, and the chains certainly kept her head immobilized, facing upward toward the ceiling and the glare of the spotlight.

Deirdre pulled her lips from the teat, leaving it wet. She grasped both of Janine's nipples in her fingers and began to squeeze and pull them.

"Stop it!" Janine exclaimed. "Leave me alone! You perverts disgust me!"

Deirdre's only response was to squeeze harder.

"Ow!!" Janine cried. "Stop it!"

Deirdre smiled, and she clenched her fists, tightening her grip.

"Ow!! Let go! Ow!!"

Ignoring the girl, Deirdre said, "You can't guess how the propeller is used, Leon, can you!"

Her emphasis implied that it was more a statement than a question.

Leon shrugged. "I suppose a man fucks her standing up."

He demonstrated, moving between the two arms upon which Janine's legs lay. He lifted the hem of her skirt and drew it up over her navel. Her pubis was hairless.

"Crane's people gave her a waxing!" he said.

"That isn't all," Deirdre said. Deirdre was still gripping the girl's teats, and she pointed with a nod of her head. Do you see the welts?"

Leon didn't see any welts and anyway, he was more interested in her vulva. The girl's pink inner labia protruded beyond her outer, down-ringed ones. He'd seen it before and it brought memories.

Her cunt looks like Edith's!

At nineteen Leon had been studying English at the Sorbonne. One morning he was enjoying an espresso at an outdoor cafe when, at the next table, a thirty-ish woman with an atrocious American accent called the garcon. Her face was pretty, but what attracted Leon was her ample bosom. There was some confusion between Edith and the waiter about the meaning of "martini".

Leon explained diplomatically to the pretty American what the word meant to a Frenchman, and it cleared the air. When Edith suggestively asked, "Would there by a guide that I could hire to show me the city, M. Castel?" Leon took the bait.

She was an American businesswoman who was vacationing for a month in Paris. Leon served as her guide for the balance of the day. They had dinner that evening at the Tour d'Argent (Edith paid). Later, in her hotel room on the Rive Gauche, Edith introduced him to her peculiar fetish. She wouldn't allow Leon to touch her until he satisfied it.

She had him sit on the floor in her hotel room beside the bed. She lay on it on her side, facing him. She drew up her knees until they nearly touched those alluring breasts. The position exposed her labia and gave him his first look at her unusual pudenda. Her inner labia protruded beyond her outer ones by nearly two centimeters.

Since then, Leon had seen others like it, but to a young man of nineteen, hers were remarkable.

"Gently, Leon!" Leon she had cautioned. Her voice was husky with some emotion that he would never understand. He knelt beside the bed and sucked one of the folds into his mouth and began to nibble it. He took another in his teeth and pulled. Edith began to make strange sobbing sounds.

In the sexual activities that followed, Edith was wild. By dawn, Leon had ejaculated six times. He never learned the number of her orgasms.

* * *

Leon looked down at Janine's thighs again, this time more carefully. There were several faint pink lines on it. They were raised slightly and he admitted it; they did look like welts.

"Come here, Leon," Deirdre said; "look at her face!"

He moved beside her.

Janine's forehead, nose, lips, and chin appeared glossy. They looked coated. He touched her cheek and his fingertips came away sticky. They felt as if he'd dipped them in honey.

"Leave me alone!" Janine exclaimed, blushing.

She tried to turn her head away, but she winced, and she abandoned the attempt.

Leon ran his fingertips over her lips. An elastic string of fluid stuck to them and, when he withdrew his hand, it broke and a droplet fell between her lips. Janine pressed them more tightly together.

Leon lowered his head and inhaled.

Her face was redolent of aroused female.

"Women clients used her!" he said, laughing.

"At least one did. A lot of girls are repelled by lesbian sex, and she's one of them."

"That was her punishment?" Leon laughed, disparagingly. "A whipping would be much more effective!"

"You're wrong. There are girls who would rather die than have sex with a woman."

Leon still had his doubts. "Even if such girls exist," he said; "why would Crane bother trying to change her? If she refuses to have sex with a lesbian, who cares? Most of Crane's clients are male, and they won't care if she won't have sex with another female."

Deirdre snorted. "Men do care, and you know it!"

"What do you mean?"

"Crane's clients expect a slave to do whatever they tell her to. That includes have sex with another female. You should know that, Leon. You told me yourself that seeing two women is a turn-on for you! The other male clients are the same."

Leon reflected, and he conceded that Deirdre had a valid point.

"Yesterday, Janine must have refused to have sex with a female client," Deirdre said.

The blue girls had to punish her. Do you know why they left her here overnight, instead of taking her to the Discipline Room?"

He shrugged. "You tell me."

"I'll do better," she said. "I'll demonstrate for you."

She pointed to the closest armchair. "Go sit there and watch. When I give the word, I want you to come and help me."

* * *

Deirdre wanted to be certain that Leon saw everything, and she waited until Leon was seated in the closest armchair. Then she walked to the spot where he had been standing, between the brunette's spread legs.

"Two women usually use the girl on the propeller," she said. "When you help, we'll pretend that you're the other female."

Leon nodded. "O.K."

Deirdre leaned forward over Janine. She grasped the hem of the brunette's miniskirt and began rolling it upward toward the girl's waist.

"What are you doing?" the brunette cried. "Leave me alone!"

The girl couldn't move her head, but she kept her eyes open, following Deirdre's actions with a fearful look.

When Deirdre was finished, the skirt was a thick sash about the girl's waist. Below the ring, Janine was naked, from her navel to her toes.

"What did you say your name was, Sweetie?" Deirdre asked.

"J-Janine."

"What a pretty name!"

'Slave Janine' has a nice ring to it!

"Oh . . ."

The girl gave Deirdre a tentative smile. "Thank you."

"You have some marks on you. Did they mistreat you yesterday?"

The girl tried to nod, but the chains stretched her earlobes further and she winced and desisted. "Those women last night were horrible. I couldn't believe women could be like that!"

"You poor girl! Are these whip marks?" She touched one with her forefinger.

"Ow!" Janine winced. "Yes, Mistress."

"These marks are awfully close to your privates. Did they . . . ?"

"No!" Janine said, blushing. "They threatened to, telling me to cooperate. They wanted me to do something disgusting!

The poor girl. Soon she'll be much more embarrassed!

Deirdre felt a tingle of anticipation.

"And, did you, Dear?"

Janine grimaced. "No! I'd never do that!"

"But, they whipped you! Your thighs have blisters."

"Oh. That's why they're so sore. Those women were horrible. But, I didn't do what they wanted!"

"You didn't cooperate with them? Even after they whipped you?"

"No, I didn't."

A slight smile crossed the girl's face. "I can take a lot of pain."

"Well," Deirdre exclaimed; "thank goodness for that!"

She leaned over the girl and smiled down at her. "But, you'll cooperate with us, won't you, Sweetie?"

"What?" The girl looked fearful again.

Deirdre felt another tingle in her genitals. Anticipation always turned her on.

She glanced at Leon to be sure he was watching.

"The last time I did this," she said; "a crowd of clients came over and watched!"

That made him smile!

Deirdre inched forward on her knees and when she was snugly between the brunette's thighs, she grasped the girl's outer labia and spread them.

"No!" Janine cried.

Deirdre inserted her tongue between the girl's exposed inner lips.

The girl gasped. "Stop that!" she cried.

Deirdre drew her tongue upward between the labia, spreading them like a boat cleaving water.

"Stop it, stop it!" the brunette cried. She struggled in her bonds, but her ankles were strapped too tightly, and her forearms were so far under the bench that she could hardly move.

She twisted her hips, but Deirdre grasped the girl's knees and held them. The girl was unable to repeat the movement.

She drew her tongue upward inside the left labium, pushing it aside; then she repeated the stroke inside the right one. Using the tip of her tongue, she traced an oval, round and round the button, which was swelling. Janine shuddered.

Deirdre flattened her tongue, fitting it in Janine's vulva. She drove it slowly downward, like a plow, moving her tongue from side to side, spreading the lips, until she reached the orifice. She probed it, inserting her tongue as far as possible.

"No!! Stop it! Stop it!" Janine cried. She again tried to struggle, but without effect.

Deirdre raised her head to observe Leon. He smiled when he saw her look, and he unzipped his fly. His penis immediately bobbed into view from his lap. It swayed, forward and back.

Leon kept his gaze on Deirdre. He grasped his shaft in one hand and began to pump it.

Deirdre lowered her head again. She stroked the button with her tonguetip, lightly.

"Oh!" Janine exclaimed.

Deirdre moved her tongue around it. It was larger. She stroked it again.

"Oh!"

My god, this is getting big!

Deirdre had a fierce urge to suck it. The tingle between her own legs was insistent. She spread her legs, glad that the carpet was so thick and soft.

The girl began moaning.

Deirdre raised her head. The girl had closed her eyes.

Deirdre removed a hand from one of the girl's knees. She reached between her legs.

God, am I wet!

Deirdre looked again at Leon. He was pumping his protruding organ, rapidly.

"Come here, Leon!" she called.

He smiled and approached, continuing to masturbate.

When Leon reached her, he looked down at her, pointing his penis at her face.

"How about you helping me with this?" he said, grinning.

The head was an inch before her eyes, and Deirdre obtained her first good look at his penis. In the dark of the auction room she hadn't been able to glimpse it.

It was one of the largest she'd ever seen, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest. Her salivary glands were working. It took some effort not to open her mouth and take it in.

"Later," she promised.

She rose to her feet, feeling intoxicated, and she walked past Leon to the rear wall. She examined the devices that hung there from hooks.

She selected a short strap whose contoured grip was smaller than those of the other whips and which fit her hand well.

This must be the kind that the blue girls use.

The handle was of a light-colored wood, perhaps oak. The flexible and glossy black leather was about ten inches long and about one inch wide. She flicked it, up and down. It was stiff, flexing only slightly.

This is ideal. A blow from this will sting!

She returned and stood beside Janine's head.

"What do you want me to do?" Leon asked.

"What I was doing, silly. Lick her cunt!"

Leon didn't reply, but Deirdre could read his expression easily enough.

He hates me talking like that. He's pretending that he didn't hear me!

But he knelt between Janine's legs and reached up with both hands, grasping her outer labia between his thumbs and fingers. He tried to spread them, but they slipped from his fingers, like fresh oysters.

Deirdre laughed. "They're slippery, you idiot. Grip them hard!"

"I didn't expect them to be wet," he said, looking down at his fingers.

* * *

Leon laughed. "This is the biggest clitoris I've ever seen!" he said.

"That's what I thought," Deirdre replied. "But, I haven't seen all the cunts that you have."

Leon stared at her across the girl's body.

I shouldn't have said that. I really annoyed him!

"It was a compliment, Leon," she said. "What I meant was, you're irresistible to women."

She smiled, implying that she had been bantering. "How Babette got you," she said; "I'll never know!" But she did know.

Her money.

At any rate, Leon seemed placated.

He lowered his head. He grasped the brunette's knees in his hands as she had, and he inserted the tip of his tongue between her inner lips. He drew his tongue slowly upward, , spreading Janine's pudenda as it went..

Deirdre looked down. Janine no longer appeared embarrassed.

The girl's eyes were closed, and she was breathing deeply. Each time Leon drew up his tongue, her parted lips emitted a soft, birdlike cry.

Keep your eyes closed, Dear!

Deirdre's heart pounded. Anticipation was such a turn-on!

She moved forward until her hipbones butted the end of the propeller arm. Her abdomen was only an inch from the brunette's head.

She raised the hem of her skirt and she spread her legs.

She rose onto her tiptoes and inched forward, over the brunette's head. When her genitals were directly above Janine's upturned face, she stopped.

She shoved the whip under her armpit and held it with her upper arm. She lowered her hands and spread her labia with two fingers of each hand.

She leaned forward over the girl's torso and looked down. Her pudenda were about two inches above Janine's face. She lowered her body until her vulva was directly over Janine's nose and mouth and then, quickly, she sat, putting all of her weight on the girl's face.

"Mmmff!" Janine cried, struggling futilely in her bonds.

Deirdre smiled, imagining the girl's expression, her eyes wide open in shock.

Janine attempted to move her head, but it was pinned by Deirdre's weight. Moreover, Deirdre squeezed her thighs together, clamping Janine's head in a vise-like grip.

All Deirdre could see of Janine's face was her chin.

If I hadn't trimmed my pubic hair, I wouldn't even see that!

In a saccarine tone, she said, "Lick me nicely, Dear. I so want Leon to see me come on your face."

"Mmmf-mmmf!"

"I think she said 'no', Leon. She didn't speak very clearly."

"Mmmf-mmmf!"

"I'm sure of it," Deirdre said, looking at him; "I can feel her trying to shake her head."

Leon smiled. "You'd better persuade her," he responded.

"Janine, Dear," Deirdre said, "You aren't cooperating. I'll have to encourage you."

"Mmmf-mmmf!"

Deirdre withdrew the strap from under her arm.

"Pull those lips farther apart, Leon. I don't want to miss and hurt your hands."

He obeyed, his forefingers and thumbs gripping her furry outer ones, allowing Deirdre to see most of the girl's vulva. The exposed button had grown enormously. It now looked as large as the tip of her pinky and glistened in the overhead light.

"Far enough?" Leon asked, grinning.

Deirdre leaned forward for a closer view, pressing down her own aroused clitoris. It felt very pleasant.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Sweetie!" Deirdre cried. "Start licking!"

"Mmmf-mmmf!"

"Persuade her," Leon said.

Deirdre raised the strap as high as her shoulder. Janine's clitoris pointed upward between Leon's forefingers. It presented an easy target. Deirdre swung the strap down, and it struck between Leon's fingers with a 'splat!'

The brunette emitted a loud, "Mmmmmff!!" and she struggled violently in her bonds, twisting her hips. For a moment Deirdre feared that the girl's pudenda would escape Leon's gripping fingers, but he held them.

"Lick it, Sweetie!" Deirdre exclaimed, laughing.

"It's shrinking Deirdre," Leon said. "Again, before it's soft!"

She swung again, 'splat!'

"Mmmf!! Stmpf, Plmf!" came the girl's cries.

Deirdre leaned forward and again raised her hips.

"What did you say Dear?" she asked.

"I'll do it! Stop, please!"

"Lick it!"

She sat again, and felt Janine's tongue.

"Aaah!" she exclaimed. Thrills shot up from her genitals.

She braced her feet on the carpet, and she began moving her hips. She undulated them slowly, in a circular corkscrew motion, stroking her genitals on the girl's face. It felt delightfully slippery.

"That's good, Sweetie! Don't lick too fast. We have all morning. I don't want to come too soon." . Deirdre closed her eyes. She tossed the strap away and heard it bounce on the carpet.

The sensations in her groin were exquisite. There was no need to move. The girl was doing it all.

Deirdre opened her eyes. Leon was now standing facing her across Janine's body, his hand gripping his protruding penis and pumping it furiously.

Deirdre looked down, but she was unable to see any of Janine's face. The girl's breasts looked inviting. She reached down and grasped the girl's nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.

She wanted more than the licking tongue.

"Suck it!" she ordered, and she pinched Janine's nipples. She worked her clitoris forward and back.

The girl struggled under her, emitting muffled cries, "Mmmf-Mmmf-Mmmf!"

"She can't breath," Leon said.

"Who cares?" Deirdre exclaimed gaily.

She closed her eyes, concentrating. The girl's mouth felt heavenly!

Deirdre raised her hips slightly, and the girl gasped and inhaled deeply. Deirdre felt herself with a forefinger. She was dripping wet! She probed lower. Janine's lips felt slippery.

She looked down past her muff. The girl's face was wet, from her forehead to her chin.

"Keep your mouth open, Dear," Deirdre said.

She used her first and third digits to hold her labia apart and, with her middle finger, located Janine's lips. She lowered herself and guided her swollen clitoris between them.

I hope I won't have to ask Leon for the whip!

Interrupting her pleasure would be so disappointing.

However, the girl had learned her lesson.

Deirdre pressed down. It slipped in, and she withdrew her hand. She began moving up and down, in short, quick thrusts.

* * *

Deirdre emitted a loud cry. She raised herself again and looked down.

Liquid suddenly squirted from her labia, onto Janine's face. The girl coughed, violently. She closed her eyes and mouth, tightly. Squirt after squirt struck her face, and liquid ran down her cheeks and into her hair. It collected in the depression under her head in the leather top of the bench.

Deirdre looked up. Leon was Leon grinning at her and masturbating rapidly.

His penis spurted. A long streak of cream shot over Janine's body and landed on her neck. A second spurt struck a breast and ran down its underside. A third sank into her rolled up skirt and produced a dark spot. Two last, half-hearted, squirts traversed a few inches and pooled in her navel.

* * *

Leon moved around to the girl's left side. She was a mess, but the arm in front of him was clean, and he wiped his shrinking organ on it. He dried it on her sleeve.

"What a fine idea!" Deirdre exclaimed, smiling.

She drew herself off of the girl, moved opposite him, and wiped herself on Janine's other sleeve.

CHAPTER 39: Sheila's New Cellmate

It was late afternoon. By the time they'd taken the long walk, Sheila had sand in her shoes. While Kelly entered the Pet Shop, she stopped and shook them. When she had her shoes back on and followed the blue girl in, she found Kelly pulling things, right and left, off of shelves and from hooks. Kelly began handing them to Sheila, and soon the blonde's arms were full.

"Kelly, do I really need all this junk?"

Kelly shrugged.

"You might, Kiddo. Anyway, I always take everything I can think of when I come here. It's a long walk round trip."

Loaded down, Sheila had difficulty not dropping something. She and the blue girl returned along the path much more slowly than they had come. As they approached the clearing with its tables and chairs where Crane and the clients had awaited them on her first day on the island, the stack in her arms shifted. The enameled green hair dryer slipped out and vanished in the greenery beside the path. Kelly had to spend a minute of searching on her knees in the sand before she located it.

They entered the Academy through the side door. They were in the Reception Room, and Sheila immediately glanced at the wall to their right. She was relieved to see that the stacks of suitcases were still there. As far as she could recall, they looked as they had on the day that she and the other captives had disembarked from the ship. Sheila tried to see if her name was scribbled on one, but few of the markings on the luggage faced the interior of the room. Of those she could see, none looked at all like 'Ericson'.

They passed the long tables where they had filled out the forms, and Kelly opened the door into the Main Lounge.

About twenty people were in the room, most of them in armchairs, conversing. Sheila looked around. Most of the occupants were men, but a few women were also present. She and Kelly passed three elegantly dressed women in armchairs talking and smoking cigarettes which, judging from the scent that filled her nostrils as they passed, were marijuana.

A man and woman were seated on their right, at a table near the bar, half-full glasses before them, while two men were seated at the bar, smoking. A black man was arranging glasses behind the bar.

As the two girls crossed the room, it fell silent. Sheila felt as though the eyes of every occupant in the room were on her.

"A new blue girl!" the woman, who was seated at the table with the man, exclaimed.

"Hardly," the man said. "Look at her clothes, Deirdre. She's in training."

"You there, slave!" the woman called. Sheila glanced behind her. She hoped that the woman was calling another girl, but she was not. The woman pointed directly at her.

"Come here!" the woman repeated.

"What should I do, Kelly?" she asked, hesitating.

"Oh boy, Kiddo!" Kelly said, grimacing. "I don't like this. I guess you'd better go over there; otherwise she'll get pissed. Give me that stuff. I'll wait in the hall for you."

Sheila wanted the blue girl to stay with her, but she supposed Kelly knew best, and she transferred the pile of things into the blue girl's waiting arms. A few moments later Kelly was heading for a door opposite that through which they had entered.

The couple, seated at a table close to the bar, had half-full glasses before them. The woman was blond and buxom, and Sheila guessed she was about forty. The man was tall, with black hair. He looked about the same age as the woman and was very handsome. When Sheila reached the woman, she noticed with a start that the woman's right hand was gripping the man's erect penis, which protruded from his fly under the table. She was masturbating him. His organ looked the size of a large cucumber. It was the largest erect penis that she'd ever seen.

"Y-Yes, Mistress?" Sheila asked, standing before her.

The couple looked up at her and neither said anything for a while. She felt her face grow hot. Obviously neither of them was concerned that she could see the woman's outstretched arm and her hand, under the table, pumping up and down on the shaft rising from the man's lap.

The woman smiled, and she turned to the man.

"Leon," she said, "isn't this the female that Babette was going to buy for you?"

The man nodded. "She was too cheap to match Lindsey's bid."

"Is your name Sheila?" the woman asked.

"Yes, Mistress," Sheila responded. The couple looked amused by her embarrassment.

The woman's hand was incapable of completely encircling the man's member and, periodically, the woman moved her other hand to aid it, and she enclosed the shaft with both hands, her thumbs crossed and her fingers interlaced around it.

"Are you the slave with the blond cunt?" the woman asked.

Sheila flushed, uncertain how to respond. If she replied, 'My pubic hair is blond, if that's what you mean,' she felt sure that her correction of the woman would anger the woman and draw some punishment.

"Yes, Mistress," she finally said.

"Show it to us," the man said.

Sheila wondered if the man was joking. But, hoping that the woman would rescue her with some counter like, "Oh, don't ask her to do that, Leon, you're embarrassing her!" seemed a futile fantasy here in the Academy.

The two clients waited, amused, obviously expecting her to obey.

Sheila raised the front of her miniskirt, hooked her thumb under the elastic of her thong, and pushed it down, exposing her pubis. She held it, her face hot.

The man curled his forefinger up at her. "Closer," he said.

Sheila approached him, and the man inserted his fingers in the elastic of her thong, at her hips. He rolled it down into a rope and allowed it to slide down. It slithered past her knees and lay about her ankles.

"Raise your skirt higher," he said.

Sheila raised the hem a few inches.

"Higher!"

Sheila drew it to her waist, as far as the short skirt would reach.

The clients seated around them all seemed to be watching.

Oh god, how am I going to get out of this?

The man leaned forward. He reached down for the thong, compelling the blond woman to stop her up-down pumping. She continued to hold it, her fingers half around the shaft.

"Lift up your foot," he said.

She raised her foot and he drew the thong over her shoe. "Now the other."

He tossed the black nylon onto a nearby vacant table, where it lay in a ring beside an ashtray.

"Spread your legs," he said.

He sat back up again. The blond woman started levering her forearm up and down again, pumping the skin beneath the huge head. The rose-purple crest was so big that, when it was pointed directly up at her, Sheila was unable to see the woman's fingers and thumb below it.

"M-Master," Sheila said, hoping to escape, "I-I'm supposed to report to Master Crane."

She woman exclaimed, "Slave, your purpose is to please us! Spread your legs."

Sheila obeyed. She felt the man's fingers on her thighs. They rose toward her genitals, and she shivered.

Fingers pinched her pudenda. She wanted to pull away, but feared that, if she did she would exacerbate things. She ignored her pounding heart, and she feigned unconcern. She stood, legs apart, while the fingers explored her vulva. They touched her everywhere. Fingers entered her vagina, and in spite of her resolve, she shuddered. Soon the fingers moved toward her clitoris. They reached it and began to stroke, round and round.

"Open your blouse," the man said, "Show us your breasts."

"Y-Yes, Master."

Sheila undid its buttons, from the top down. Then she opened it, displaying them.

"Don't they look delicious, Leon?" the woman said. "Do they make your mouth water?"

"They do," he said. "Deirdre, faster." He jerked her wrist, up and down. When he released it, she continued at the faster pace.

Wherever Sheila looked, her eyes met other eyes. She looked down and saw the purplish head of his penis. It looked huge above Deirdre's pumping hand. She wondered how that monster would feel within her. Then she saw Leon's smile. She flushed and looked away.

His hands were on her breasts, his fingers flicking her nipples. When she glanced down at his hands, his fingers gripped them. He pinched, and she felt them grow hard.

"I'm close, Deirdre," he said.

She slowed her pumping hands. "Make her swallow it, Leon."

He turned his chair around, until he faced away from the table.

"On your knees, slave," he said.

Sheila felt her face flush. She went down on her knees before him. The huge organ stood upright before her face, and both of Deirdre's hands were about it, pumping rapidly up and down.

A hand grabbed her hair and it jerked her head, pulling it painfully forward. When she looked up, the purplish head was directly before her eyes. It looked as large as a tangerine.

Sheila was unable to move. She was between his thighs, her bare knees pressed into the carpet. She had lost a shoe and one foot was bare. Her legs were jammed hard against the front of the armchair, and her arms were on each side of his hips, her hands pressed awkwardly into the cushioned back of the chair.

At the end of each upward motion, Deirdre's hands came perilously close to Sheila's nose. She couldn't see much except the blonde's pumping hands and the fat head of his organ. Below them she saw Leon's trousers and open fly and, inside, his pubic hair.

Suddenly, Leon cried, "Aaaah! Aaaaah! Aaaaah! Aaaaah!"

The slit spurted, and a geyser of cream went into her face. Sheila closed her mouth and her eyes.

Sheila felt it on her eyelids and cheeks. She felt another high on her forehead that must have gone into her hair.

When it was over, her face felt as covered as it had that first day, when she and Kelly had visited the E.L. But, this was even worse. So much was on her face that it trickled from her chin.

"She's dripping on your pants, Leon!" she heard Deirdre exclaim.

The hand gripping her hair suddenly pushed, and she lost her balance and fell backward onto the carpet.

"Get out of here!" Leon said.

Sheila drew up the tail of her blouse and wiped her eyelids until she was able to see.

People were smiling at her; some were laughing. All watched as she rose to her feet. Her face hot, she adjusted her skirt. Then, buttoning her blouse, she walked to the far door and exited into the hall.

Kelly was sitting on the carpet near the stairwell. The blue girl looked toward her and exclaimed, "There you are! You took long enough, Kiddo!"

Sheila couldn't reply. She was afraid if she attempted to say a word, she'd burst into tears.

The blue girl stood up as Sheila approached. Kelly pursed her lips and shook her head, looking at her face and up at her hair.

"Some guy really did a job on you! I was kinda afraid something like that might happen. If I'd stayed in the Main Lounge though, it might have got worse. Clients try to get two blue girls, like together, if you get my drift."

Kelly picked up the pile of objects from the floor where she'd laid them and re-stacked them in Sheila's arms. She opened the stairwell door for Sheila, and they started down the stairs.

Sheila felt filthy.

She was carrying four towels, two folded blue girl uniforms, a spare pair of shoes, and a shoulder bag, the latter containing vibrators, handcuffs, whips, a prod, toiletries, a hair dryer and a myriad of other things that Kelly had told her might be useful. Sheila didn't know where she would put all the stuff!

* * *

"Here we are!" the blue girl said. Sheila stopped behind her while Kelly unlocked the gray metal door.

Sheila entered. She was surprised to see her roommate asleep under a blanket, her head on a pillow, facing the wall. Toni never slept in the daytime, at least not over the week that Sheila had been her roommate.

"See ya in the A.M., Kiddo!" Kelly exclaimed.

The door slammed behind Sheila, and the sound of footsteps diminished.

She dumped her acquisitions onto her bed.

I'm tired, but it's probably just tension, from all that happened today. I don't think it's any later than mid-afternoon, about three. Thank god I have the rest of the day off!

She felt filthy, especially her face, although she also felt sweaty from being outside in the heat. She searched through the pile on her bed and found the toiletry items, including the shampoo and conditioner. She carried them and the hair dryer into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, showered, and washed her hair.

When her hair was dry she exited the bathroom. For the first time, she left the towel behind in the bathroom. Toni never bothered covering herself, and the younger girl laughed at Sheila every time she came from the shower with the beach towel about herself. Toni's ridicule bothered her more than her embarrassment at leaving the bathroom in the nude.

She felt tired but refreshed, and she lay back on her bunk, resting her feet on the pile of items. She glanced across at Toni. She looked again and gasped.

The occupant of the right hand bunk lay with covers to her chin. She had turned over, and Sheila saw that she wasn't Toni. It was the woman whom she had met in that stateroom on the cruise ship, Judith!

The brunette opened her eyes and yawned. She rubbed her eyes and looked across at Sheila. A look of recognition appeared on her face.

"Oh!" Judith exclaimed, her eyes widening, "I remember you!"

Sheila thought of the night she had spent with Judith and the Senator, and she imagined, shamefully, what the brunette must think of her.

Judith sat up, holding the sheet up to cover herself. Sheila was suddenly embarrassed by her own nudity.

"You're, uh . . . the girl that Prescott hired on the ship," Judith said; "What are you doing here?"

"Th-This is my room," Sheila responded, wishing she had the towel about her. She drew one of the blue girl uniforms from under the pile on her bunk and stood up, holding it between herself and the brunette as she slipped into it.

The brunette exclaimed, "Your room?" She spoke the two words as though it was the oddest thing in the world.

"Well," Sheila said; "I think this is my room. I didn't notice the number over the door. I was carrying all this stuff and following a blue girl. She opened the door. Was there a girl here when you got here? Slim, with black bobbed hair. She probably was wearing a maid's uniform and a white cap."

"No one was in here," Judith replied. Her shrug indicated that she considered it of no importance.

"From the moment I got to this place, I've been lodged in one of these little rooms. I complained to the manager, but last night . . . " (She glanced at her wrist, which was bare) "or maybe it was this morning. I haven't seen a clock since I got here."

"I was carrying all that stuff," Sheila said; "and I didn't notice the cell number. Maybe she brought me to the wrong cell."

"'Cell'!" the brunette exclaimed with a short laugh. "That is sure the fuck the right word! I had a better room at the Oakland Wye during my first semester in law school!"

"When did you get here?" Sheila asked. "I left here, or my room anyway, early this morning."

"The service here is shitty," Judith said. "I should be in a suite with Senator Ellsworth. The manager showed me around this place last night. We finished really late. I guess it must have been this morning. Whatever."

She shrugged again. "When I got here, I was too beat to argue with him. I just crashed."

Sheila wanted to sympathize, although it was hard to feel kindly toward a client. All of her encounters with them had been unpleasant. "Crane doesn't pay a lot of attention to other people's opinions," she said.

"Well, now that I've gotten some rest, I have no intention of staying here. There isn't even a tub in the bathroom!" the brunette said. "Hand me my gown, Sheila."

With a turn of her head she indicated the rear wall. A dark garment hung from a hook over the foot of her bunk

Sheila handed it to her.

I'll be glad if she moves out.

The brunette slipped her arms into the dress, a royal blue evening gown with silver spangles. "Zip me up," Judith said, and turned her back.

Sheila drew up the slide fastener.

She said, "I think the blue girl who brought me locked the door. I don't believe that you can leave now."

After fastening the snap at the back of Judith's neck, she went to the door and tried the knob. It rattled but wouldn't open.

"Do you mean to tell me that you don't have a key?!" Judith exclaimed, staring at Sheila with a look of exasperation.

"I forgot to ask for one. I'll get one tomorrow."

Actually, Sheila didn't know if Crane would want her to have one before she was working for him.

She said, "You'll probably have to wait until morning. That's when they'll bring our breakfast."

"Morning?!" Judith cried. "I'm fed up! First thing tomorrow, I intend to find the Senator. What's your name again?"

"Sheila. I'll be a blue girl starting . . . "

"When Prescott learns of all that I've been through, he'll give it to that asshole of a manager. When I met him, I thought he'd be helpful. To be honest, I even rather liked him. But it was all a front. That man should be selling used cars!"

"Crane?"

"Don't be stupid; who else would I mean? He didn't even tell me that those two blue girls were taking me back down here. We left the elevator before I realized that we were in this basement again. Isn't there any thermostat? It's cold in here."

On the ship, when Sheila met her and the Senator on the ship and he abused the brunette, Sheila had sympathized with Judith. She no longer did.

I can't imagine why Crane put me in here with a client. All I can think of is that his upper floor residences are full, and that he had no choice but to put her down here.

"Tomorrow I'll be starting as a blue girl," Sheila said; "I'll get to see more of this building. I promise, Judith, if I see the Senator, I'll tell him that you're here."

"God, I'm tired!" the brunette said. She sat back down, smoothed her dress, lay back, and closed her eyes.

Sheila sat on her own bunk. She was tired but not sleepy.

Even if serving breakfast and lunch in the Dining Room is as boring as Toni says it is, I still envy her working there. It's horribly boring just sitting here. The blue girl job will be interesting, but after work, what then?

Toni had suggested that she apply as a waitress if Crane turned down her application as a blue girl.

"The day shift is crowded already," she had said. "Clients come in for breakfast and lunch, at all hours, so Crane keeps a bigger staff there than he really needs. I don't mind; it gives me a chance to smoke. Besides, I get to beat my jaws with the other girls.

"You should apply for the night shift," she told Sheila. "That's where Crane's model types work. He could use another waitress at night."

I'll ask Kelly tomorrow if there is anything to read. I noticed a Library off of the Main Lounge, but I don't know if blue girls are allowed in there. Maybe it's just for clients.

* * *

Judith opened her eyes again.

"How come you're here?" she asked. "Here on the island. Do you work both places--on the ship and here, too?

"What do you mean?" Sheila responded, mystified. "I don't work on the ship."

Judith gave a skeptical laugh.

"Hypocrite!" she exclaimed. "I know that you're a call girl. Yvonne keeps a bunch of you on the ship to service the male passengers."

"What!" Sheila's face grew hot. "I'm no call girl!"

Still, recalling how she'd met Judith and the Senator, she understood how Judith might have gotten that misapprehension.

Judith knows that I was escorted by those ship's officers to her stateroom. After she let me in, I acted exactly like a call girl!

She was a slut that night, but it was from fear, after being abused by those four crewmen.

Sheila blurted out, "The ship's officers are kidnappers, Judith. They abducted me, and they forced me to go to your cabin. They kidnapped other girls and women, too!"

The brunette gave a scornful laugh. "You're a riot! What a story; how can you imagine I'd swallow that?"

"B-But, it's the truth!" Sheila said.

"I'm not prejudiced against prostitutes, Sheila; don't be so fucking sensitive! I don't care about the laws in the States. Being a whore for money is a job. Every country has prostitutes."

"I'm not a call girl!" She was close to tears.

"Well," Judith coolly asked; "how do you explain your picture in Yvonne's catalogue?"

"My picture?" Sheila frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"The captain's catalogue. Prescott borrowed it from Yvonne. I saw it on our stateroom coffee table. It was open--I couldn't help looking at it. Both you and the other girl were knockouts!"

"Yvonne? What other girl?" Sheila asked, with no idea what Judith was talking about. Of course a client like Judith must know things that she and the other the captive girls had no knowledge of.

Judith shrugged. "I'll play your game. Are you pretending that you don't even know that Yvonne is the captain of the ship?"

"I don't! Are you sure the picture was of me?"

Judith nodded. "There were two photos. One was a side view. In the other one, you faced the camera. I saw your name at the bottom of the page. Besides, the front cover of the catalogue had a list of names taped to it, including yours."

"In the photos . . . was I nude?"

Judith nodded. "How can you pretend that you weren't working the ship with the other girl? Her pictures were on the facing page. All four photos looked professional."

Those photographs that the SMF photographer took of me!

Judith yawned. She lay back again and closed her eyes.

It's hopeless trying to explain everything to her. She won't listen.

CHAPTER 40: The Senator Explores

The Senator was in no hurry.

He opened the door to his suite and peered the length of the hallway in each direction. The fluorescent illumination overhead in the hallway had been reduced to three rectangles of light, each one recessed behind a herringbone-patterned grill. The one in the middle of the hallway lit up the elevator doors, while the two end rectangles illuminated the stairwell doors. No one but party-goers would be up this late, and the hallway was empty. Ellsworth exited, and he walked briskly down the carpeted corridor toward the nearest stairwell.

He was dressed lightly, with a short-sleeved white polo shirt over tan walking shorts; on his feet he wore tan sandals. He had dispensed with underclothing: Undershorts would be a particular hindrance, and few male clients in the Academy wore any. Female clients often wore brassieres but never panties.

Ellsworth carried a briefcase. At this hour it would look odd but less revealing than a bag. It contained everything that he might want, including a coil of rope, a large tube of petroleum jelly, a strap that Kelly claimed was 'a real stinger, Master!', a cat-o-nine tails, and one of Jeff's experimental prods.

He entered the stairwell. During the day the top stairwell was usually oppressively hot, but at this hour it was refreshingly cool. The basement that housed the slaves would be downright chilly. He grinned.

How unfortunate for them.

It would be doubly entertaining for him, to compel a female down there to undress. Not only would she dislike the exposure, but she'd hate the cold.

Unless their cells are heated, which I doubt.

For prominent clients like Ellsworth, Crane provided all the comforts in the expensive fourth floor suites. He had cut corners in the third floor apartments, though; each of those comprised no more than a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and a bath. Moreover, the bedroom contained only one double bed and its entrance had neither a doorbell nor a buzzer. Of course, those were for intended for less influential clients as well as for his paid staff, including the doctor and dentist.

The cells on level B where the slaves were kept must be even less inviting.

His sandals clattered on the concrete stairs and echoed strangely in the silence.

What a contrast with the day, when he always heard background noises, especially the shrieks from the Discipline Room, located adjacent to the stairwell. He often developed an erection as the cries echoes upward and he imagined trainers bringing birch riding whips across the naked bodies of the females there. During his first sojourn in the Academy, the sounds had induced him to look in on the scene, but he seldom bothered anymore. Usually, the room was too crowded. One had to arrive early, and that meant bribing a guard to inform him when a female was scheduled.

These fucking floors have such high ceilings: twenty-two stairs between each one! At least I'm not climbing. I could have taken an elevator, but I might encounter party-goers. There's little danger of meeting anyone here in the stairwell.

The guard was easier to corrupt than Ellsworth had anticipated. No consequences had developed from his first bribe. When he proffered the second one--five times that of the first--the boy took it with alacrity.

That had slightly disappointed him. Five hundred had been too generous.

Generosity rankled like a pebble in his shoe.

He continued down the stairs, shrugging it off. The amount was insignificant..

Anyway, Lindsey will provide the money, as long as her supply holds out.

He doubted that Crane would learn of the guard's misconduct. All that he asked of Miguel was to make a trip to the fourth floor each evening and slip the keys under his door.

In the morning Ellsworth would return the keys under his door.

Miguel isn't as stupid as I thought. He hasn't asked-not once --what I plan to do with them.

Ellsworth reached the basement. He opened the stairwell door.

The hallway was dark: All of the fluorescent overhead lights that illuminated the corridor during the daytime were extinguished. Only two solitary incandescent bulbs, very dim ones (he guessed they were seven and one-half watters) were lit. These were located at opposite ends of the long passageway. As he held open the door he was unable to see very far beyond it into the hall. He couldn't even perceive the doorknobs of the closer cells. He peered into the hall, but all he could distinguish was the dim light from the bulb at the far end of it.

Fuck! Why didn't I put a flashlight in this briefcase?!

What little light that there was would have to serve. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

Christ! I hope the lights in the cells are on!

There was no assurance that they would be, and he'd been doubly stupid not to have brought a flashlight. It would be a problem to even locate a wall switch.

Ellsworth moved cautiously. He felt his way along the right hand wall.

His fingers encountered the frame of a door. Suddenly, he saw the bright dot of the peephole and he sighed with relief.

The cells are lighted!

He leaned forward and put his eye to the lens. The interior was brightly illuminated. A girl lay asleep on a bench-like shelf against the left wall. She was completely naked, and shivering.

There wasn't even a sheet covering her! She lay in a fetal position, her feet in his direction. Ellsworth could observe her buttocks and, between her thighs, her labia. Hers were framed by an oval of brown fuzz. Ellsworth moved his head. Opposite was another girl, this one a blonde. She too was naked.

Ellsworth's heart raced in his chest. He felt like a schoolboy who was flush with pocket money, one who had arrived, unchaperoned for the first time, at a candy store.

He checked his watch. Three-thirty.

The cells are illuminated all night.

He proceeded to the next door. Inside he again observed two females. He recalled seeing each of them at an auction the previous year.

The clients who purchased them must have returned them to Crane. I suppose these are for rent.

Ellsworth continued to feel along the wall, proceeding cautiously. After what he guessed was Cell 30, he encountered recesses. His fingers found a long vertical separation in the 'wall' and then, groping about, he found buttons.

An elevator. I'll take this when I return.

Nina and Kelly were asleep in the next cell. Each girl lay under a blanket, her head on a pillow. He saw blue uniforms hanging neatly from coat hangers against the rear wall.

There are a dozen females down here that I'll have to fuck!

But he'd never remember all of their cell numbers. Next time he'd bring a note pad.

Two other blue girls, Polly and Cheryl, were in the cell opposite that in which Nina and Kelly lay. He'd seen these two arranging chairs and otherwise aiding Crane during the last auction.

He proceeded to the next cell.

The blonde!

To his surprise, Sheila also lay beneath a blanket like Nina and Kelly, and her head lay on a pillow.

He was even more surprised when he observed the opposite bunk.

Judith!

The bitch is wallowing in the same luxuries as the blonde, with blankets and pillows. What the fuck is Crane up to?

He peered through the glass at the back wall, straining his eyes to distinguish the clothing that hung from two hooks. Neither garment could be that of a trainee. The dress above the foot of Sheila's bed looked like a blue girl's uniform; that above the brunette's appeared to be a black evening gown. It could be of silk, and looked spangled with stars.

I suspected that Crane was up to something when he didn't produce Judith during the auction. As for the blonde, she should be in training, but that's a blue girl uniform.

The Senator shrugged. Crane planned to swindle him, but now that he had discovered where the blonde was, the manager's plans were of no importance. However Crane planned to use Judith didn't matter, either. He'd outwitted the man.

Despite that fool's attempts to thwart me, I'll use both of these sluts. I'll make the blonde serve my prick in every possible way. When I tire of her I'll make her serve my friends' pricks on her knees. As for Judith, she's what Jeff has been looking for, a female subject to test his electrical devices on.

On the Senator's last visit to the shop, Doc Kreff had been there, having a heated technical discussion with Jeff.

A naked female was there also, her hands bound over her head by a rope to a ceiling hook. Ellsworth was considerably more interested in the girl than in the boring discussion that the two men were having about electrical devices. The female was one of the pretty waitresses who served the Senator in the Dining Hall. At the moment, her legs were conveniently separated by a spreader bar, and Ellsworth took the opportunity to explore her cunt with his fingers.

Ellsworth was amusing himself by flicking her clitoris and, as it swelled, observing her embarrassment, when he found himself becoming interested in their conversation.

Doc and Jeff had been stimulating female genitals electrically. They had experimented on the bound girl over the previous week, during which Doc had inserted acupuncture needles into her nipples, her labia, and her clitoris, where they served as electrodes through which Jeff applied electrical currents from his generator.

The most interesting effects were produced with one needle located low in the subject's clitoris. Any distant needle, such as one in a nipple, could serve as the grounding electrode. Application of electrical pulses into the clitoral needle produced orgasms in the subject whether she attempted to resist or not. Surprisingly, even after the subject became exhausted and hung limply from the ceiling rope they were able to produce the spasms in her genitals.

The two men discussed replacing the needles, which they deemed unnecessary, by implantation of a miniature receiver which Jeff had constructed. About the size of a thick postage stamp, one of its two hair-thin wires could be surgically connected to the nerve nexus in the clitoris. Doc considered the implantation to be routine and simple, but he resisted performing it because it lacked safeguards.

"Jeff, boy. You know the clients that Crane gets!" he said; "Damn few would use your generator sensibly!"

He argued that the slave's owner would be tempted to increase the generator's voltage and the duration of its use.

"Young man," he told Jeff; "Sure as snow in winter, they'll injure the girl. If a client complains to Crane that our device ruined a slave who is worth over ten thousand big ones, Crane will fire us."

"Doc," Jeff argued; "let's keep experimenting. We'll find the lowest voltage that gives her an orgasm. I'll fix the implant so it won't exceed that voltage."

"That won't stop a client from leaving the generator on for a week and forgetting about it," Doc replied.

"I'll make it cutoff after, say, two hours."

Doc laughed.

"Neither of us has any idea just how often a female can take something like that. How many times a day can a slave tolerate two continuous hours of climaxing? We'd give her a coronary, Jeff. I'm telling you, you'll get us fired!"

The implantation experiment was too risky, and they had returned the slave to her cell.

* * *

Judith would be ideal for Jeff's device!

Ellsworth himself would perform the experiments. The data would be valuable, and as long as Judith held out, he would continue applying the pulses.

Doc Kreff's feared that extremely powerful orgasms would have permanent effects on the subject, but that was no impediment to Ellsworth. Doc thought that long term application of the pulses would either destroy or reinforce the nerve paths that induced climax. If the latter, virtually any external stimulus would induce an orgasm.

Christ! The more one whipped a slave, the more she'd climax!

It was bizarre, but a theory worth testing.

* * *

Ellsworth would provide Doc and Jeff with valuable scientific data, for a fat fee, of course. Doubtless, the testing would be rough on Judith, but Ellsworth had no reason to concern himself with that. He had hoped to gain several thousand dollars for her sale, but Crane obviously wasn't going to sell her. He'd lose nothing if the experiment damaged his former attorney.

Anyway, in the interests of science, that was a risk that Ellsworth was willing to take.

It's a pleasure not to be restricted by all of the legal constraints that are such an impediment in the States.

Disposing of Judith here on the island was going to be more interesting (and more lucrative) than he had anticipated.

* * *

Ellsworth withdrew his eye from the glass. He'd just passed the elevators, and a lot of cells remained to observe. He groped along to the next door.

The goodies he was going to enjoy during this sojourn on the island would make a Don Juan envious! He would enjoy two females every night. It was an intoxicating thought.

With so many females available, it was a pity that he couldn't perform as he had at fifteen. However, there were other ways to gratify himself.

I enjoy whipping a female almost as much as fucking her in the ass.

Whenever he had difficulty developing an erection, he'd order the slave onto her knees. If she failed to make him come in that way, he'd whip her tits. It was a win-win plan. Imagining it immediately gave him a hard-on.

* * *

He reached the next cell, and Ellsworth put his eye to the glass.

Its contents made his heart race.

A gorgeous black-haired beauty lay on the left hand bunk. She was somewhat older than he preferred, perhaps in her upper twenties, but she had a fantastic figure, with a narrow waist and big tits. Even in the prone position that she was in, her knockers looked firm and well-shaped. Her nipples thrust out from areolas that were hills of their own.

Every few seconds, she shivered. Every naked girl down here was curled into that same fetal position and most of them shivered as this brunette did. The cells must be as cold as the hall. Each one lay with her head facing the inside door (which he supposed led to a bathroom), and her buttocks and thighs faced the hall door and the spyglass. The position gave him a view of each female's cunt.

Keeping his eye to the glass, Ellsworth unzipped his fly. Lacking the encumbrance of undershorts, his cock immediately freed itself. He grasped it and, without taking his gaze from the naked girl, he began masturbating.

The last two cells were empty. The Senator moved further. He encountered double wooden doors, doubtless to the T.C. Across the corridor from it, he found the D.R.

His tour had taken longer than he had anticipated, but Ellsworth had achieved both of his goals. He had seen all of the slaves who were available for abuse, and he had found Sheila and Judith.

He felt tired but horny. He continued to masturbate with one hand while he groped back toward the midpoint of the corridor with his other hand. He stopped at an occasional peephole for a few last looks.

He reached the elevator and depressed the Up button. While he waited, he awkwardly stuffed his cock back in his pants and zipped up his fly.

The question is, after I take Sheila and Judith, where will I keep them? The moment that they're missed, Crane will guess that I have them. He'll send guards to search my quarters.

As the lift rose, Ellsworth considered how and where he could keep the two females so that he'd be able to use and abuse them at his leisure.

By the time the lift stopped at the third floor and the doors slid open, Ellsworth had worked out the logistics.

Right now I need to satisfy this hard-on. I'm not about to jerk off with Lindsey available.

* * *

Using the key that she had given him, the Senator unlocked the door and entered her apartment. At this early hour he expected to find her in bed.

Instead, he found her in the living room, in her recliner.

He stood in the foyer, watching.

Lindsey LeBeau lay in the chair naked, her eyes closed and her legs dangling over its arms.

Ellsworth approached, quietly, although Lindsey's moans would cover any inadvertent sound he might make.

A naked brunette knelt on the carpet before Lindsey, her head between the cosmetic executive's legs. The girl was about twenty years old, with big tits. Ellsworth immediately recognized as another Dining Room waitress, and she had served him many times. Like all of the waitresses who served evening meals, she was gorgeous.

The girl also had her eyes closed. She was moving her tongue up and down between Lindsey's pudenda, spreading them aside like a ship parting the waves.

The idea of putting his mouth to a cunt revolted Ellsworth. The mere thought made him queasy.

Strangely however, it was the idea of he himself (or another man) performing the act that made it so disgusting.

Watching the girl put her mouth to Lindsey's cunt was different. It didn't sicken him. Watching her push aside the pink folds of glistening flesh with the flat of her tongue soon had his cock extending the cotton of his shorts like a tent pole.

Ellsworth unzipped his fly again. His imprisoned rod sprang out and bobbed twice in the air before he grabbed it and began pumping it with machine gun rapidity. In less than a minute, he was close to an orgasm.

Lindsey emitted a loud moan, and Ellsworth feared that she'd open her eyes.

Instead, she withdrew her dangling legs from the chair arms and squeezed the girl's head between her thighs. She began rubbing her genitals up and down on the girl's face.

Ellsworth unfastened his belt and jerked open his shorts. They fell to his ankles and he kicked them across the carpet. His shirttails dangling and his fist gripping his erect penis, he crept behind the kneeling girl. He spread his legs and crept over her and Lindsey, step by step, until his knees butted against the arms of the chair.

He placed his left knee on the cushion beside Lindsey, shoved it up into her right armpit and raised himself onto the chair, ensconcing his right knee into the other armpit. He straddled Lindsey's chest, his groin over her breasts.

* * *

"What?!" Lindsey exclaimed, opening her eyes wide.

His fat hand was before her eyes, gripping his member about the shaft, and pointing the head at her. It was barely an inch from her face, and a droplet beneath the oozing slit dangled and threatened to fall on her chin.

She looked up. Ellsworth was grinning down at her.

"Open your mouth!" he demanded.

He lowered the fat head and held the slit before her lips as he continued pumping his organ rapidly.

His moving arm shook his massive body and transmitted the tempo into her and the chair from his knees, which probably hurt her as he pressed them into her armpits, and from his thighs, which he squeezed against her sides..

The fat head of his penis was about two inches from her open lips when the slit spurted. A streak of cream shot between them and disappeared.

His free hand reached out and grasped the back of the chair to pull him closer. He pressed the fat head between her lips, and his penis jerked again.

* * *

Ellsworth milked a few last drops from the slit. He wiped them off on Lindsey's eyelids.

He looked behind him at the girl, and he carefully raised himself.

If the whore behind me raises her head, I don't want her to bang my balls.

Ellsworth clambered down and retrieved his shorts. As he drew them on, out of the corner of his eye he observed Lindsey draw up a knee. He raised his head just as she thrust out her foot and shoved the girl from the chair.

The girl tumbled onto the carpet.

Ellsworth watched Lindsey scramble from the chair while cupping a hand over her mouth. Eyes closed, she groped her way to the bathroom. She didn't close the door, and Ellsworth heard the sounds of retching, followed by the flush of the toilet.

* * *

When Ellsworth awoke, he glanced at the clock. It was still early. Lindsey's bed was comfortable, but he couldn't go back to sleep. His plans for the blonde and for Judith fermented in his head. He was reasonably certain that, after he took them from their cell, he could keep them long enough to use them both as long as he pleased without Crane's men finding them.

It will be a pleasure to see your disappointment, Crane! If your guards disturb my furniture while they search my suite, I'll make certain that they spend a day cleaning it.

Ellsworth rose. Several sets of his spare clothes were in her closet, and he slipped into white walking shorts and a multicolored Hawaiian short-sleeved shirt and sandals. The cosmetic executive's directory lay on the stand next to the phone. He opened it. Rita and George had suite 404, at the opposite end of the Academy, and one flight up, on the fourth floor.

He entered the living room. Lindsey hadn't dared to risk awakening him by sneaking a blanket from the bedroom; so he found the two females entwined together, naked, on the sofa. They looked cold and uncomfortable.

He smiled and left the apartment.

CHAPTER 41: Crane in his Office

After the two girls left, Crane picked up his phone. He punched in three numbers.

"Rita?"

"Who is this?"

"Crane. As I recall, you bought Ed Ericson, the husband of that blonde slave, Sheila. I want to borrow him . . . "

"What?!" There was a brief pause and then a shrill, "No way! Are you telling me that some other woman wants him? If you think I'll sell him back to you, Crane, forget it!"

Crane held the phone away from his ear.

"Only to borrow him, Rita. At least you could show some gratitude that I found a male for you. You've been bugging me for over a year to get male for you--one that's well-hung."

"It took you long enough, Crane," she said. She seemed slightly mollified.

Will you lease him to me?"

She laughed. "Why should I? I'm having a ball!"

"I want him only for a day. Sixteen hours, Rita. I'll pay you the fee that I charge clients for a female." It was double what Crane charged to rent out a male.

Rita said, derisively, "A measly five hundred, Crane? You're a cheap prick!"

"You won't loan him to me?"

"No way!"

"One thousand."

"Cheap, cheap. I paid you enough for him."

Crane was irritated. "He cost you less than the cheapest female that went in the last auction, Rita. How much do you want for a one day rental?"

"Half of what I paid for him. For eight hours." Rita laughed softly. "Crane, you have no idea how good it feels to bust your balls!"

"Christ, Rita! Two and a half thousand, for only eight hours? You're ripping me off!"

"Tough. Take it or leave it, Crane. Want to hear what I trained him for?"

"Not particularly. Why only eight hours, Rita? You have the kid."

Crane tried to recall the young man's name. "Bill."

"To throw a party. Mine won't be like one your men customers throw, though, Crane. I intend to only invite women. You know what they'll see?"

"You tell me."

"Two gorgeous hunks, each one sucking the other's cock."

Crane responded, sarcastically, "Rita, you really picked yourself a job. You'll never get them to do that!"

"You think I won't succeed?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, listen to this. The kid is already trained!"

"Bullshit!"

"You know the female that I bought? Robyn?"

Although it was a futile gesture over the telephone, Crane nodded. "She's small, with long black hair. A college girl."

"That's her. Her breasts are large for her size. I bought her for George. He adores big tits, Crane."

"Everyone knows that, Rita."

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"When he wants his cock sucked, he prefers Bill!"

"Jesus, Rita!" He paused, stupefied.

What the fuck did she do to the kid?!

"Are you serious?"

"I don't joke, Crane. He sucks George's cock."

"Jesus, Rita. What did you do to the poor kid?"

"It was fun! And I'll train Ed the same way!"

"Speaking of Ed, I hope you haven't worn him out."

Rita emitted a raucous laugh.

"You really want him, don't you, Crane, Baby! How come so bad? Have you gone queer?"

Crane tried to control his temper. Did he really want Sheila's husband this much? Rita was a bitch. It would be pleasant to hang her by her ankles and whip her tits. He'd use a cat, and one that was tipped with metal pellets.

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled, loudly.

"He isn't for me," Crane explained. "I'll use him to test a new blue girl. What I want to know is, is he O.K.? You're rough on slaves, Rita."

"Females, for the most part. Ed is fine."

"Twenty-five hundred, then. I'll take it off your bill."

Rita giggled. "I knew you'd give in!"

"I want him tomorrow morning, Rita."

"Send two guards. He's strong."

Crane hung up, exhaling a long breath.

Robbery!

Twenty-five hundred! He didn't really have to use Ed. Still, with Sheila's husband and her friend both here, it gave him the opportunity for an optimum test of the blonde's commitment. He really wanted to see the blonde's reaction, with her husband and her best friend involved.

Of course, that wasn't the sole reason he'd agreed to Rita's cutthroat price for him.

The large amounts that I've gotten accustomed to handling are responsible. A few thousand dollars doesn't impress me much anymore.

* * *

Crane picked up the phone and again punched three buttons.

"Training Center, Nina speaking!"

"Nina, I'm hiring another blue girl."

There was a pause. Crane could hear her breathing. He could almost guess her thoughts.

"That's good, Master. I hope it isn't that blonde, Sheila. She hasn't been trained, you know."

"Training isn't critical, Nina. She's married, and she's seen you work in the T.C. She's smart. I expect her to pick things up fast. She and Kelly have gone to the shed for uniforms and supplies."

"She won't be reliable, Master Crane! She'll be too sympathetic. Just you wait and see-she won't discipline slaves properly."

"I disagree. In any case, I'm testing her tomorrow."

"Here in the T.C.?"

"In my suite."

"Well, what do you want from me?" She sounded angry.

Was Kelly right? She sounds jealous.

Crane had taken Sarah for his personal slave six or seven months ago, and Nina had been upset about it. He remarked on it to Kelly.

"Well, Master," Kelly said; "that doesn't surprise me. Nina has like, a monster crush on you. She gets uptight when you favor any slave."

He had forgotten Kelly's statement until now, but it was probably all Kelly's imagination.

She was a romantic, and she liked to fantasize relationships.

Nina is simply being hard-nosed.

Crane appreciated that in a blue girl, and he needed more females like her. In fact, this morning, Sheila had favorably surprised him by her ruthless disciplining of Sarah.

"I want you to bring her husband up here tomorrow morning," he said.

"Rita has Ed Ericson, Master. She'll never let you have him!"

"I've already arranged it. Take Duke along with you."

* * *

Crane switched on his computer. He printed out a spreadsheet, carried it into his bathroom, and locked the door behind him.

The brunette's moans, and the sound of Sarah's vibrator came through the other door, that into his bedroom. The two slaves were busy, but Crane took the precaution of locking that door also.

He lowered the toilet seat, opened the medicine cabinet, and removed all of the bottles from the top shelf and placed them on the lid of the toilet tank.

He reached into the open cabinet and levered the shelf up. The hinged rear of the cabinet swung out, exposing his steel safe, with its black and white central dial. He twirled the knob several times and unlatched the door.

His thirty-eight lay revolver lay in front. He removed it and placed it beside the bottles. He drew out one of the two shoeboxes, and then seated himself on the toilet lid.

Each bundle contained fifty American hundreds, held together by a rubber band,

He glanced at his spreadsheet. The auction of the last shipment grossed four hundred thirty-five thousand. Rentals since then amounted to eleven thousand. Crane didn't bother to remove the box that remained in the safe: it held receipts for apartments and suites and for miscellany-meals, racks, and so on. Those barely covered his costs of supplies, maintaining the building, salaries, and his largest outlay--payments to subcontractors.

He counted the bundles and the two odd bills, each a thousand. The total agreed roughly with that of his spreadsheet.

Sheila had brought him fifty thousand dollars. He could afford to buy her back from Lindsey, but it was a lot to sacrifice.

Fifty thousand is ridiculous, for a blue girl!

He had made a mistake in offering incoming female slaves that option.

Crane didn't consider reneging on his promise. There was a good chance he wouldn't have to buy her back.

Hiring her is a long way from certain. It depends on whether Lindsey will sell her back to me. Besides, Sheila has to pass her test and then prove herself over the week.

During the auction Lindsey had seem determined to obtain Sheila, no matter how much she had to pay. It seemed likely that she would refuse to sell the blonde back to him. If he went to Lindsey now, and she refused to relinquish Sheila, he'd have no reason to test the blonde.

Crane wanted to test Sheila. Even if he didn't need to determine her commitment, he wanted to test her for his own enjoyment. Having her friend Wendy and her husband Ed participate in her test would make it interesting.

Considering what he had planned soon gave Crane a hard-on.

I'll simply give Sheila the test first! If she passes, then I'll see Lindsey.

If she didn't pass it, he would send Sheila back to the T.C. When Duke and Nina certified her as trained, he'd turn her over to the lesbian.

Crane's buzzer interrupted his thoughts.

He hurriedly returned the bundles to the box and the box to the safe. By the time he'd returned the bottles and jars to the cabinet and unlocked both bathroom doors, the buzzer sounded twice more.

* * *

Babette felt nervous. Even though it was inside the suite, the buzzer sounded terribly loud. She didn't dare be seen entering Crane's office. She glanced up and down the hallway. At least it was still empty. She raised her fist and knocked; immediately, the door opened.

Crane's eyes widened.

"Babette!" he exclaimed. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "It doesn't matter that much to me, but you're taking a risk."

"I'm sorry I didn't call, Crane," she said; slipping into the room. "I couldn't use the phone. My companion Leon is in our suite. I imagine you'll think it strange, having brought him here, but I don't completely trust him."

"Keep your voice down," he said, closing the door.

"I know we agreed to meet at night, Crane," she said; "but this is rather urgent."

"Two of my slaves are in the bedroom. Keep your voice down."

"Well . . . where can we talk?" She asked.

"In my living room. Wait."

Crane went to the bedroom door and opened it only far enough to put his head through.

Babette heard him call, "I'll be busy, Sarah. Don't bother me for anything!"

He returned and took her hand. He led her through a door that was adjacent to the wide windows on their left that overlooked the jungle.

"This room is sound-proofed," Crane said. He closed the door and locked it.

Babette looked about. The room was much smaller than the one they'd left and was square, with a thickly-piled beige rug underfoot with abstract designs in blue and gold; she guessed it was Turkish or Persian.

An oval-topped mahogany coffee table occupied the center of the rug. Four dark brown deep armchairs were arranged about it, each with its own lamp table beside it. The only illumination was from a large window on their left. Crane switched on a lamp.

The wall to her right held three paintings, each about two feet in height and about one foot wide, the three close together, arranged to fashion a triptych. Each depicted a (different) woman, each in diaphanous attire. The garments appeared to be ancient Greek or Roman.

"Those aren't original Muchas, are they?" she asked.

"Hardly," Crane said, smiling. "Three original Muchas would take everything I have."

"Aren't you tired of looking at girls and women all day?"

He shrugged. "I like women."

She pointed to the large one on the far wall. She had seen it before, in Paris. Despite Crane's lack of a university education, Crane had often surprised her with his knowledge.

Babette had an urge to impress him, and she said, "Isn't that 'Les Vierges'?"

Before he could respond, she added, "I don't suppose you get many of those, here."

Crane smiled. "Occasionally I get one."

He indicated a chair. "Sit down. Would you like something to drink?"

"No." She took the chair opposite his, the coffee table between them.

"I suppose you came for more funds?" he said.

"Another hundred thousand," she replied. "That should cover my latest expenses, and I'll pay off the workmen."

"Any problems?"

"You mean, because of the addition?"

Babette disliked uttering the word 'dungeon'. She supposed her antipathy for it was because of her legal background but, whatever her motive, she preferred to utilize euphemisms. Aside from her personal feelings, if it ever came to court she could say honestly that the word had never arisen.

"I import them, Crane. When they finish, I pay them in cash, and Mike returns them to Colombia."

"Anything else?"

"I brought the title. Oh, and here's your passport."

She withdrew it from her briefcase and handed it across the table to him. "You're Canadian, from Vancouver."

"If things continue as they have over the last three years," Crane said; "by the time I need this, it won't look new."

Babette withdrew a manila folder and handed it over the table to him. "I'll need your signature on several papers. I highlighted where you sign."

Crane signed them. Then he rose. "I'll get your money," he said, turning toward the door.

"Before you do, Crane, I have something else that concerns you. I didn't want to discuss it over the phone. It's about Lindsey. One of your clients is blackmailing her."

CHAPTER 42: The Senator Visits Rita & George

After reaching the fourth floor, the Senator exited into the corridor. It was lit slightly more than the basement, by two overhead fluorescents. He found suite thirteen and was about to push the buzzer when he.thought to look at his watch.

Not yet eight.

He knocked softly. There was no response, and he knocked again, loudly. He heard a mumbled male voice: "Yeah?"

"It's me, George," he said.

"Who? Talk louder, asshole!"

The Senator grinned. That was George. He waited. Footsteps, then the knob.

The door opened, part way, and his friend's head appeared in the doorway. It was outlined by the light from within; then the door opened wider. George gazed vacantly at the Senator, bleary-eyed. He stifled a yawn and squinted. Then his eyes widened.

He exclaimed, "Senator! It's good to see you, old boy!"

He opened the door wide. "Why so fucking early?!"

The Senator stepped in. George appeared older than he had over the Christmas break. His paunch was more noticeable, and for the first time the Senator noticed that the thinning brown hair on George's head was streaked with gray, and his jowls were more extended. The deterioration in his looks seemed noticeably more than it had been just a few months ago.

I've put on weight, but there's muscle under my flab. I look better than men half my age. Women still can't resist me. Poor George resembles my basset hound, Balderdash. It's fortunate for him that the Academy is here. He doesn't need his looks anymore to fuck the coeds and high school girls that he goes for.

His friend was dressed in a black bathrobe, loosely tied with a sash, and wore slippers over his bare feet.

Ellsworth grasped and pumped his hand. "Did I wake you, George? I apologize."

"Not quite, Senator, but it's a fucking good thing you knocked! Wake Rita at this hour, and she'll cut off your balls!"

The Senator replied, "I don't doubt it, George. I regret the hour, but I've been up all night. I couldn't sleep and I won't, not until I make a proposal to you-actually to both you and Rita."

We both know that Rita wears the pants in this family, but I see no need to rub it in on my friend.

"Do you now!" George exclaimed, returning his grin. "When my old buddy comes to me with a proposal, it means the long green. Well, either that, or a good time. Since we're here on the island, I suppose it's a party-right, Senator?"

"No titles, George, please. Prescott, to you and your sister. The three of us go back too far to be formal with each other."

"You can say that again. I remember when you first got elected to Congress. You were at our house a lot . . ." he smiled slyly; "to confer" (he emphasized the word) "with Dad."

That elicited a smile from Ellsworth.

"Your father is still a big contributor, George."

His host led the way into the living room. Ellsworth noticed several changes in the room, including four new ceiling chains with manacles at their ends.

Better and better. A pair for the blonde and a pair for Judith!

He also noted two racks, a standard pillory and an aitch, each constructed (he presumed) of light oak. They occupied the center of the room and were coated with so many layers of varnish that they reflected light from a nearby table lamp. In a corner he saw a horizontal metal bar, provided with four handcuffs mounted in its base. It was a convenience for either a whipping or for easy access to a girl's two nether orifices.

A pity that none of the three is in use.

The wall-to-wall carpet was new; its color was jet black, into which red and yellow dragons were designed, and had a pile that looked nearly two inches thick. It was pseudo-oriental, and Ellsworth had no doubt that it had cost Rita several big ones, but it really did look tacky.

Rita's taste was florid. Ellsworth had ignored such external matters when he'd first met Rita, many years ago. She'd been in her twenties. In those days, she was beautiful, voluptuous, and absolutely irresistible. As for her shrewdness, he'd admired it even then.

Even at twenty-two, which had been her age then, Rita would do anything, as long as a pot of gold was there. Of course, she had eventually obtained everything-position, influence, and money.

Ellsworth thought that she would have become more conservative with age, but the decor in the room was jarring.

It's like her taste in apparel and jewelry.

The wall pictures were Van Goghs which, in a suitable setting, would have been attractive. Here, they clashed bizarrely with the dragons.

He looked at the enormous nude painting of Rita that was opposite the windows and well-illuminated by the natural light. It had been done many years ago. What a knockout she'd been! Her tits, even today, looked good. Now, he supposed, they were party tits, remodeled by some top-notch plastic surgeon.

Rita and George's suite was located on the west side of the central corridor, while the Senator's own suite was on the east side, the same as Crane's office and rooms and, like his, overlooked the green jungle canopy.

Here in Rita's suite, the glass that took up most of the opposite wall overlooked the sea. At this early hour of the day, the water below was dark. He could hardly see the waves. During any clear evening, however, the sunset from the window would be spectacular.

"Is Rita still asleep?" he asked, glancing at the two closed doors on their right. As he recalled, her bedroom was the one overlooking the water.

"Who knows?" George replied with a shrug.

"She could be up by now. Rita plays with her new toys every morning." He grinned. "And every night, too."

"Her toys?"

I hadn't thought of that. She may not have room for the blonde and Judith.

"Her friends are green with envy," George said; "For once, Crane got what she's been bugging him for, two real hunks.. She's having a ball, Senator!"

"I'm not surprised, George. As long as I can recall, she's been in Crane's ear to get her a male with a huge tool. Did she get her heart's desire?"

"She did with the older one. The kid's prick is more my size, Senator, but aside from that, he's a hunk. Actually, they both are." George smiled. "You won't believe this, but Rita keeps both of them horny."

Ellsworth raised his eyebrows. "Impossible! As long as I can remember, George, Rita has been insatiable."

"Not if she had reason to tease. Rita never fucked a business prospect if it was more in her interest to keep him horny. You know how she levered guys."

"These are two slaves, George. She has no reason to keep them horny. She must fuck them."

George shrugged.

"She'll rides on one for a while but switches before he can come. You know how she is, Prescott. She loves to bust balls."

"How does she satisfy herself?"

"Well, as I say, she switches from one to the other. But when she comes, it's mostly from using the kid's mouth."

"Ugh!" The Senator grimaced, and he felt his stomach turn. "That's sick!"

George laughed.

"I forgot how you felt about muff-diving, old friend. I could never figure you!

"Do you remember that time at a party at my frat? You bet those two coeds that they wouldn't do each other."

Ellsworth nodded. "At that age I didn't believe they'd do such a thing. I put up two cee notes, offered one to each of them. I was foolish. What made me really mad was that I couldn't afford to throw away two hundred bucks."

George laughed. "Well, you got something for your money. Watching them sure the fuck turned you on!"

"That was different, George. It's the idea of my doing it that revolts me. Or, of any man. Let's drop the subject."

"I don't think Rita fucks as much as she used to. If I walk in on her unexpected, I'm more likely to catch her playing with one than fucking him."

"Are their cocks impressive?"

"When I saw Ed's, I was more envious than when I saw yours for the first time."

Ellsworth didn't like to hear that.

Ellsworth was vain about his member. He had been, ever since the age of sixteen, when the wife of his high school football coach had, in evident astonishment, told him, "Pressy, yours is bigger than Jack's!"

Coach Hammer had been a big man, larger all around, and at least two inches taller than Ellsworth had been, then. Perhaps Ellsworth's cock wasn't a prizewinner, but it was larger than the few other erect cocks that he'd seen.

"But not the younger one's?"

"It's average. If we got a tape measure and compared hard-ons, I'd estimate that his would match mine, if I were circumcised. But the kid is about eighteen. Aside from his medium-sized cock, he's a hunk."

George grinned. "As a matter of fact, when I'm in the mood for a . . . " he began, but his voice trailed off.

* * *

Ellsworth was about to ask him what he intended to say, but they had been distracted by the sound of clinking china from the open kitchen doorway.

"Your sister is up," the Senator said.

"That's my slave making coffee. Crane's staff put in a breakfast nook since you were last here. Rita and I don't bother to take breakfast in the Dining Room anymore."

"Now I remember!" the Senator said; "You purchased a female in the last auction. I'll have more to appreciate than just the coffee."

* * *

"Prescott, if my memory serves me, you take cream and two sugars, right?"

"I'm cutting down, George. Cream, but only one sugar."

The Senator followed him into the kitchen. The odor of fresh coffee was appetizing, and Ellsworth inhaled deeply, feeling his salivary glands working.

"I make the little cunt get up a half-hour before me to start the coffee."

"Has she been through all of Crane's training?"

Ellsworth saw a petite long-haired brunette, whom he guessed was in her late teens, placing a large platter in a cabinet. Her back was to them, but he could see that she had a narrow waist and a delectable ass that her long tresses nearly touched.

"Those handcuffs make her job difficult," the Senator noted.

George nodded. "She's clumsy, but if she spills anything, I whip her."

The table was in a booth-type alcove. Ellsworth took the farther bench, which allowed him to observe the girl without turning his head. The girl's tresses, so glossy that they reflected light from the overhead fluorescent, hung far down her back and contrasted well with the white of her gown.

Her garment was a virtually transparent nylon babydoll pajama.

She turned in their direction and, from the dark triangle in the region that interested him, he was sure that it lacked panties. He could see that her breasts were large for her figure and from the way they projected, they had to be very firm.

He thought of grabbing and squeezing them. It was one means by which the Senator often compelled an attractive female to comply with whatever he was in the mood for.

The girl lowered what appeared to be a pitcher and a sugar container. She leaned over the counter until her back was horizontal, holding a coffee grinder with her handcuffed hands. Her ample breasts squashed upon the counter. She then straightened up, and stretched onto her tiptoes in order to replace the grinder in the cabinet.

In that position, the raised hem gave him a complete view of creamy buttocks. When she bent over the counter, it provided him with a view of rosy lips, the outer ones of which were outlined by an ellipse of down, as jet black as her tresses.

"Robyn!" Ellsworth called.

The girl jumped, and she turned to face them. Seeing the Senator, she curtsied.

"Y-Yes, Master?" she said.

"I was just testing my memory for names," Ellsworth responded. "I remember you from the auction. Your body is appetizing."

She colored. "Th-Thank you, Master."

Ten or twelve feet separated the breakfast alcove from where she stood, but the light over the sink illuminated her enough, and the Senator could see the hue of her breasts through her thin garment.

The Senator turned to his friend. "She's gorgeous. I love those tits."

His cock felt like it was going to burst from the cotton of his trousers.

"Me too," George replied. "When I'm at an auction, the female's tits are the first things I look at. At the last sale, that blonde-Sheila--was my choice. She has great tits, D cups at least."

The Senator agreed.

It should make my proposal all the more tempting to him. My sales pitch will be to Rita.

"I can't complain, though," George continued. "This little cunt is tight! Every morning Rita and I have an argument about who gets her-Rita, to train her; or me, to fuck her."

"Your sister is training her? Robyn is already trained, George. I saw Crane's staff working her over with whips a few nights ago."

"Rita's training her for a party," George responded. "She wants Robyn to perform with the two males."

"Rita plans a party?"

George nodded. "I'm not sure she'll invite any men, though. She wants to impress the women here."

The Senator lost interest. Whatever would impress women wouldn't impress him.

"The girl is a good fuck?"

George smiled. "Her cunt is almost as tight as her ass. She's like a cherry every time."

"How is she on the skin flute?"

"Not that great. I really prefer getting head from . . . " George paused and his voice trailed off as it had earlier. The Senator noticed but decided not to enquire.

His sister is sucking him off. Rita gave great head when she was young. I suppose she's even better now-if that's possible.

"I don't mean to say that I don't make her go down, Senator," George added. "But my kicks come from knowing that she hates it so much."

He laughed. "You should see her face when I come in her mouth!"

"She just needs more practice at it," Ellsworth said. "Yours may be the first cock she's sucked on. I mean, except for what she got during training."

"She's pretty slow. I whip her while she's blowing me. It speeds her up."

The Senator resisted the urge to laugh. He raised his eyebrows and assumed a serious mien.

"That sounds awkward, George, even dangerous. You're taking a terrible risk, whipping her while she's got your prick between her teeth."

The Senator's eyes were on the girl, who was across the kitchen, bending low over the sink. She was washing something with a sponge and the sprayer hose and seemed not to be listening to their conversation, but at that point her face reddened.

George evidently missed his allusion, for his friend shook his head and replied, "It's easy, Prescott."

"I use my belt. With this waist of mine, my belt is fifty-two inches long. When I'm lucky, it lands right between her cheeks."

He laughed. "I'll let you guess where the tongue lands!"

Ellsworth gave him a disapproving look and shook his head, "It's too big a risk, my friend. Don't whip her until she's finished you."

George frowned. "Why? When I show her what I'll give her if she's too slow, she bobs her head like crazy! You can't imagine how good that feels!"

"It's risky. You'll shock her into closing her jaws."

His friend looked stunned. "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "I never thought of that! As a matter of fact, sometimes she scrapes me with her teeth."

"That's common. She has a small mouth, George."

* * *

They watched the girl for a minute or so, without speaking.

Robyn switched off the coffee maker. She bent forward and carefully poured its contents into a decanter with her manacled hands.

The coffee fragrance permeated the small kitchen. Ellsworth closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The Colombian coffee that Crane provided to his guests here was the most delicious that he had ever tasted.

Robyn filled two cups.

The two men watched as she gathered spoons and napkins, a small pitcher, and a twin-handled container that probably contained sugar. She placed everything on a tray. Because of her manacles, she bent low and hoisted it high enough to carry.

She approached the two men, her upraised arms providing them with enticing glimpses of her bobbing breasts, visible through her nearly transparent garment. Her bobbing breasts impacted the base of the tray as she walked, and imparted an up-down motion to it and to her arms.

The Senator watched intently as she approached. He hoped to see hot coffee slop over the lip of the decanter and over the rim of the tray. It would be amusing to see her reaction when it scalded those gorgeous tits.

To his disappointment, she arrived unscathed. She leaned forward and placed the saucers with the filled cups before them, providing Ellsworth with another view of their deep cleavage. The babydoll nightie didn't conceal much and, by the time she'd finished, the Senator's penis was as hard as the marble table that she placed the items upon.

His eyes followed her buttocks as she returned to the sink.

"You said that she's tight?"

"I feel like I'm popping a cherry every time."

The Senator's thought that his organ was above the average man's size. Nevertheless, he considered any female who could squeeze it with her cunt to be a treasure. A large proportion of the high school girls that Crane imported to the island had that ability, and when the Senator was provided with a choice, he selected females that ranged in age from fifteen to seventeen.

He didn't know if size or muscles were responsible. Crane's trainers compelled girls to walk about while gripping long heavy objects to improve the muscle tone of their vaginas.

The Senator doubted that muscle tone accounted for Robyn's ability: She was too new.

"It's due to her small stature," the Senator said.

He saw George gazing down at his trousers.

He's probably envious that I can get a hard-on so easily. George is probably ten years younger than I am. I'll bet he has trouble getting it up.

"Feel free to use her, Prescott," his friend said. "We came here to enjoy ourselves."

"You're a true friend, George. I'd like to fuck her, but first I'd like to discuss my proposal with you."

"I understand, Senator," George said. "But that's no reason to deprive yourself. She has two hands and a mouth."

Ellsworth smiled. "Well," he said; "if you put it that way, George . . . I don't mind combining business with pleasure."

George turned his head. "Robyn!" he called.

The girl jumped. She quickly placed a bowl in the rack. She curtsied. "Yes, Master?"

"Come here."

Robyn trotted back to the two men, breasts bouncing. She knelt facing them, on the ceramic tile.

The floor must be hard on her knees. It's a pity to bruise those attractive legs, but satisfying my cock is more important than a slut's comfort.

"Robyn," George said; "Master Ellsworth will want to fuck you, but we have matters to discuss, and he doesn't have time to spare. Get under the table and take care of him."

The Senator looked down at her.

Jesus those big tits must be firm! That nightie hangs from them like her nipples are hooks!

The girl blushed. "B-But, Master . . . !" She looked from George to the Senator and back. "Y-You're m-my Master!"

George reached down and gripped a handful of the girl's hair. He held it like a rope and slapped her face twice, very hard.

"Ow!" she cried. Tears ran down her cheeks. "Th-Thank you M-Master," she stammered.

"If you object again . . . " George leaned down. He grasped a breast, and his fingers clenched.

"Ow!!" Robyn cried. "Please stop, Master! I'll do it!"

The girl disappeared under the table. Ellsworth felt her touch his foot, and he moved it and spread his legs. He unzipped his fly. His already erect organ bobbed up into the kitchen's cool air. He gripped his rigid cock and held it horizontally under the table.

"Here," he said, not bothering to look down. "Suck this, while your Master and I talk."

Across the table, George asked, "How long do you think this will take, Senator?"

Ellsworth shrugged. Cool fingers encircled his member. "Maybe half an hour, George. But I'd like Rita's input. Would it be too much trouble to see if she's awake?"

His friend smiled. "Of course not."

George leaned down. Ellsworth heard him say, "Robyn, our discussion could be finished in thirty minutes. Make Master Ellsworth come before then."

"Yes, Master," Ellsworth heard her soft voice answer.

George raised his head. "Rita should be up, Senator. Since she didn't come out, I'll bet anything that I'll find her playing with one of her hunks."

He stood up. "I'll be right back, Senator."

The Senator grinned. "Take all the time in the world, George."

The girl's mouth felt very pleasant and, as George left, Ellsworth closed his eyes.

I can't agree with George's complaint about her. She'll have me coming in ten minutes!

Committee meetings in Washington should provide this service.

* * *

Ed's balls hurt. Prior to his abduction he had been accustomed to masturbating several times a day. Since the first day on the island, however, his wrists had been bound either behind his back or under his chin, to his collar.

For days he had been unable to touch his sex organs with his hands. During the voyage he had masturbated just once, in the ship's head, and that had been his sole release for the week.

Even when he showered each morning with Bill, that scumbag George was always present, ready with his prod. The first time George touched his testicles with that thing had felt like getting hit with a hammer. He had collapsed onto the tile floor, retching. It took more than a day before his balls stopped hurting.

Of course, the way they hurt now differed from that. They had to be engorged with sperm. He couldn't stop thinking of naked women. Virtually every stray thought that he had gave him a hard-on.

The bitch liked to see it hard. Every morning when she got up, she'd walk past him, naked and would giggle as his penis responded. It invariably had become hard by the time she reached the bathroom door. Whenever she entered the room she'd come to him and take advantage of his bound hands and the spreader bar.

She seemed to know every possible way to give him an erection.

Initially, she only used her hands but recently, she'd gotten more obscene. Each morning, by the time she left the room, his organ would be bobbing in the air and the slit would be dribbling like a leaky faucet.

She avoided giving him an orgasm. She got kicks by keeping him in a frustrated state.

Once, she'd been overconfident, but it hadn't been much for him to gloat about.

It had been after he'd slopped up his dinner from the bowl. George had wiped his face and re-mounted him, with his wrists behind his back and the bar between his legs. Rita came in, dressed to kill in a scarlet evening gown and a mess of jewelry. Another female entered with her, some bleached blonde, but one who was more tastefully dressed.

Deirdre, that was her name!

It was obvious that both women were naked under their gowns, but Rita flaunted hers as she always did. She raised the hem of her dress and both women laughed when his penis rose like a meter needle in response.

Ed recalled her words.

"This is Eddie, Deirdre. Isn't he a hunk?"

The woman smiled. "He's gorgeous, Rita."

"I see that Crane got you what you wanted," she said, glancing down at his erect organ.

"It took him long enough!" Rita responded.

She reached down and encircled his cock with her long fingers. Ed tried not to react, but her fingers felt cool and familiar, and it took very little to stimulate him. She did nothing other than enclose it in her hand, but thrills surged up through him as she held it. She obviously was unaware of the effect it was having on him, and Ed feared that, whatever he did, the Bitch would punish him.

Rita reached between his legs with her other hand. She stroked his testicles. Their skin immediately became erect and drew them up.

"Isn't that risky?" the blond Deirdre asked.

Rita looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Ed knew what the blonde meant. He felt the onset of his orgasm, and before Rita realized it, his penis spurted.

"Christ!" Rita exclaimed, jumping back.

She released his organ but by then, two squirts of semen had wet the front of her gown.

Ed obtained relief from the ejaculation, but his pleasure was short-lived.

To punish him, the Bitch removed a shoe. She applied the heel to a part of Ed's body where he was exquisitely sensitive.

To Be Continued