Prelude

She stood beside her master's desk at the Hostel and watched him work. She liked the way he could have her prepared for service but then shut her out of his mind and go on working if something turned up that needed his attention. It told her how completely relaxed he was with his ownership of her and she felt that it was only right and proper that she be shut out if that was what was required.

After all he was the third member of the family she had served and her current master had inherited her when his older brother had died. How much more deeply could a woman be enslaved?

She was naked apart from three inch heeled, black court shoes, her collar and cuffs and was standing with her legs braced apart, as she had been taught. The leather cuffs were clipped together behind her back and her leash had been clipped to them and hung down behind her. Her black leather collar with its steel D rings was buckled safely around her neck. She never felt naked when she wore it, strangely she only felt naked when dressed respectably and lacked her collar - it defined what she was, what she wanted to be - and her master's name engraved on the tag that hung from the front ring declared it. It said all there was to say about her.

Her master frowned at something on his screen, glanced round at her irritably and pressed a buzzer on the corner of the desk. After a few moments a tall man with a shaven head entered.

"You needed something, sir?"

"Yes, Armstrong," her master said, sitting back and rubbing his eyes. "I'm going to be busy here for a while yet. Take this to the lounge and tell whoever's there to keep her occupied till I'm free will you?"

"Yes, sir."

The man came over to her and reached between her legs, his hand brushed her lips as he reached for her leash, gripped it and pulled it forward, tugging her hands more tightly into her buttocks. He wrapped the leather loop around his fist and shortened the chain slightly so that as he pulled it to draw her after him, she felt the cold steel press against her labia as she began to walk after him.

They left the office and walked along the corridor that ran along one side of the stable yard to the rear of the big, old house. Her master's company had bought it some years ago - she had helped with the transactions - and had set about making it snug and warm enough so that a woman could be kept naked in it all year round. The y padded along the deep carpet, the man paying her no attention at all. He opened the heavy oak door that led into the house proper and closed it behind her before leading her towards the main hall. A door opened on their right and another woman came out from the kitchen. She recognised her instantly. She was a black woman called Mirielle who had been a talented athlete in her teenage years and who still had the most beautiful, long, silken skinned legs. They were fully on show. She wore only a pale fawn sloppy sweater that left one smooth shoulder naked and the welt only just covered her crotch. As the man led her past, she managed a quick flirtatious glance at Mirielle who returned it as quickly before concentrating on the coffee service she was carrying. They had shared quite a few nights of blistering pain and rending pleasure in this house in the past.

She was led, with Mirielle padding along behind through the huge main hall to another heavy door and through this they entered the lounge.

It was almost as big as the hall with three eight-foot drop sash windows along one wall. The far wall and the back wall were taken up entirely by book shelves and the fourth wall was dominated by an imposing marble fireplace. There were leather armchairs and chesterfields dotted about and around one coffee table four men sat. Three women sat on the floor beside them, their legs curled to their sides. The seating was not for women here.

She was led to the book shelves and her leash was wrapped around a hook on a shelf that was at her chest height, making the chain tighten against her lips even more. When she was secured the man turned and quickly felt between her legs, which she had immediately parted when they halted, he parted her lips and made sure the steel of the leash was snugly seated between them. He grinned at how wet she was and left her with a pat on the right buttock. He had beaten and fucked her in the past, as had all the men here and she felt nothing but gratitude that he had taken a moment to ensure her bondage enhanced her status as a helpless sex slave.

As she knew she must, she kept her eyes on the books in front of her - masculine books about armaments, golf, fishing, war and commerce. There were further masculine touches too. There were eye bolts and hooks screwed into the mahogany shelves at regular intervals and at all heights. Up above, stout four-by-four lengths of timber protruded, every six feet or so, with eye bolts on the ends. Where the uprights stood to support the shelves, whips hung, arranged vertically down them. There were chains hanging from some of the hooks too.

In this room a man could read quietly, talk to friends or treat his slave with slow measured cruelty. Or he could simply tether her and whip her to his heart's content.

She stood as quietly as she knew she should and tried not to let this knowledge seep too far into her mind or she would be sorely tempted to rub herself against her chain; something that would anger her master if she was found out. And if she wasn't she would confess and take her fully deserved punishment to assuage her master's displeasure. But she would try her hardest not to cause him any displeasure in the first place.

She heard footsteps approach and held her breath - hoping one of the men was coming to take and use her, but instead she saw out of the corner of her eye, a male hand reach out and take a flogger with braided leather tails, knotted at their ends off a hook beside her. He was humming quietly to himself and squeezed her left breast briefly before he left her.

She heard male voices behind her, one of them was Mirielle's master.

"Take that off, girl. Kneel down, head down, arse up!"

In her mind's eye she saw the superb body, the long back and narrow waist swelling out to those gorgeous, smoothly rounded hips, the proudly jutting buttocks tightened by the posture. And between them - the thighs obediently parted - the dark treasure of her tightly whorled anus, the widening pouch of the labia and the thin, wavy line of the inner lips - she knew it well and licked her lips as she formed the picture.

There was a tense silence for a moment and then a heavy thud. Instantly Mirielle let out a hoarse groan and a choked off sob. There were female gasps and male expressions of approval.

There was a second thud and this time a shrill scream from Mirielle and more sobs.

"Come on, girl. Back in position!" her master urged her and she heard Mirielle scrabble to obey.

Mirielle was tough stuff and she could only think that the masters were indulging in what they called cuntbusting to fetch that kind of reaction so quickly.

Mirielle's master would be standing over her head and aiming the whip at the buttock cleft so that the whip scoured the whole vulval area, the knots landing on the lower stomach and maybe the clit itself. She swallowed as she felt herself heat at the thought of the delicious pain, of the way Mirielle would writhe and cry between lashes but always return to offer herself for more.

Again the thud and again the scream, broken off by sobs now. A scrabbling as Mirielle resumed her position.

Thud. Scream, tears.

In between, the men exchanged opinions about how well she was taking the beating and how well - or otherwise their slaves would take it.

The intervals between the harrowing lashes became longer and the tears and sobs were constant now. She lost count of how many Mirielle had taken, but suddenly she felt a hand on her bottom and another reached around her to release her leash.

"Come and entertain us, Alice," a man's voice whispered in her ear as she half turned. It was Mirielle's master.

He led her over to the table where the group was gathered. Beside them on the carpet, Mirielle lay on her back, her legs splayed wide open. Her dark skin didn't show where the whip had scored her inner thighs but Alice could see how the outer lips had swollen almost completely over the inner ones. And she could see how her stomach was heaving and trembling as she fought for control after the blasts of pain.

"Kneel down and get your face into her cunt. Arse in the air," she was told.

Her heart thundering she obeyed and slipped her hands under Mirielle's thighs to grip her buttocks. She saw the woman's breathing stop and then resume as she felt Alice's presence and knew what was coming.

Alice hoped it would be the cane as she heard someone go over to the shelves again. The bitter stinging of the cane as she savoured the fragrance of Mirielle's cunt would be a perfect blend of agony and ecstasy.

She felt the narrow shaft of a cane laid across her buttocks and awaited an order.

"Begin!"

She leaned in and sucked hard at the clitoral hood, feeling the slicked and hardened nub on her tongue as she shimmered it against it.

Above her she heard Mirielle cry out in shocked delight. At the same time the cane landed. Alice drummed her feet against the carpet as the sharp spears of pain lanced through her and groaned in her throat as she held the other woman's clitoris in her mouth, then released it and licked it before ducking her head down and ramming her tongue into the vagina. Again Mirielle cried out, again the cane landed and Alice gripped her fingernails into the buttocks as she bathed her face in the flooding juices.

The cane sliced into her again and she opened her mouth wide so she could scream and suck in the clitoris again.

"Oh, fuck!" Mirielle cried out as her hips bucked up against her face.

Somewhere above her a man groaned as he spent - presumably in his slave's mouth, the cane hit her again and Alice lost herself.

She and Mirielle surfed the giant waves of pain and pleasure the masters caused to be raised in them. They drowned joyously in the floods of sensual overload and the only cogent thought Alice was aware of was the deepest gratitude to her master for allowing her to experience this. For allowing her whole body and mind to be submerged in the pleasures of submission.

The cane continued to fall. Mirielle orgasmed, washing Alice's face in her juice. Alice groaned and cried until she too came.