"And if you could just sign here, here, here and...here," Sarah Bolton, owner and Managing Director of Executive Fantasies, handed the form to Jennifer Harris, her latest client, pointing to the crosses which indicated the places where her signature was required. She also passed across her Mont Blanc fountain pen; nothing but the best from ExF.

Jennifer skimmed through the pages, confirming that the contract was exactly the same as the one she had had thoroughly checked out earlier. She hadn't made her way to the top without carefully reading the small print; and this contract, albeit a very private one, was not going to escape her usual scrutiny. Flicking through the pages, she thought about how she had ended up here, purchasing, at great expense, this weekend of escape.

In the decade or so since she had left collage she had been successful, successful beyond her, and everyone else's, expectations. She'd spotted a gap in the market and, with ruthless efficiency, had built up her business until her turnover was measured in eight figures. However, this success had come at a cost, a very personal cost, and amongst all the business, she never had time for relationships. Sure, she'd had one or two flings along the way, but she'd never had time to let any of them get close, close enough to divulge her real desires.

And it was these real desires that she was going to indulge now. Probably it was because she was such a control freak, because she insisted that, in every part of her business life, she was the one in control, that her fantasies were just the opposite. During the working day she was constantly in demand by those looking for her to take charge, to make the decisions, to lead the pack. As a stark contrast, in her rare moments of relaxation, she had come to dream of having someone else take control and make the decisions; she would be the led, not the leader. She would weave complex stories where she was subject to every whim and caprice of some dominant figure at whose feet she would grovel. As the years rolled by these fantasies had become more intense, more involved and her desire to act them out had become stronger and stronger. Naturally this was not a thing she could share easily. She had quite a high public profile and was hardly going to endanger her position by being indiscreet with any of her rare one-night stands.

And then Julie, a friend she'd met at a marketing conference, had, after one or two too many cocktails together, told her about 'Executive Fantasies' or 'ExF' as they preferred to be known. Julie had explained that ExF was an organisation for people who wanted, and could afford, an outlet to explore the extremes of their sexuality, to travel far outside  the conventional norm, and to do so without risking shame or exposure. Julie hadn't asked too closely about Jennifer's kinks anymore than Jennifer had asked about Julie's, but there was an understanding that here was an organization that was discreet, professional, and, above all, understanding. The very next day Jennifer was on the phone to them.

It had taken a while before she had cleared the vetting procedure. ExF were very fussy about their clients and were judicious about who they would deal with. Without a personal recommendation she wouldn't have got past the front door and, even then, she was thoroughly checked out to make sure she was who she said she was. Jennifer was reassured by this; after all they weren't the only ones to have made unobtrusive enquiries.

Once the vetting process was over, she was invited to come in for an interview. This was when Jennifer had first met Sarah, who insisted on negotiating with new clients in person. For Sarah it was a chance to meet the client before the last few veils of secrecy were lifted. As for the clients, well, she knew how hard it could be for some to talk about exactly what they wanted and they appreciated the personal touch. Before the meeting Jennifer had been given a questionnaire, a list of activities, each of which she had to grade from one to five where one was 'never under any circumstances' and five was 'yes please'. The list was detailed and wide-ranging which meant that, even before they started, Sarah had a pretty good idea about what Jennifer wanted. This helped to break the ice and enabled Jennifer to be matter-of-fact as she described in some detail her dream of being kidnapped and then sold at auction as a sex slave. Sarah even pulled her up at one point, advising against being too prescriptive and suggesting that her clients often found the element of surprise helped 'spice up' the experience.

Once Sarah had gathered all the details she asked for time to put together a suitable package. She explained that a scenario as involved as the one Jennifer had described wouldn't be cheap; the auction alone required quite a few in the 'cast', and each of them would want to be paid. They agreed to meet a week later, by which time all would be ready.

Now, at the second interview, they went through the contract, dotting the 'i's and crossing the 't's. Jennifer had had time to check out all details, scrutinising all the get-outs and non-liability clauses. She had been impressed by the thorough and businesslike way it had been put together and, although she had blanched a bit when she saw the grand total, she understood that quality comes at a price.

"And here's your new identity," Sarah said as she passed over a purse which had a full set of credit cards, store cards and driving licence, all in the name of Susan Brown. Jennifer flicked through them. They looked very convincing, although she wouldn't dream of actually using any of them. Sarah had explained that, while there had to be some who were aware of her true identity, it was safest all round if this was kept to the minimum possible and, to ensure that even the cast were unaware of her true identity, the actual abduction would be done under a fake name.

"It's just in case, heaven forbid, one of the cast were to go rogue," Sarah explained. "Both parties need to reduce the risk of exposure to a minimum. Of course, when our cast are recruited they're heavily vetted but you can never be one hundred percent sure and, this way, were one of them to go to the press, you would be just another anonymous woman. Were anyone to try to trace you by using these they would hit a dead end, a false name at a false address. Funnily enough, some of our customers actually find it helpful. They find that becoming their fake identity enhances the fantasy of it all.

"OK. Just one final recap," Sarah said as she wound up the interview. "You, or rather, Susan Brown, are to be on the corner of the High St and Station Road at six thirty on Friday. You'll wear a light coloured coat and carry a copy of the local newspaper tucked under your left arm. Oh, and that Gucci umbrella of yours," Sarah pointed to the folded umbrella next to Jennifer's handbag, "carry that as well. Our operatives will 'capture' you and 'sell you into slavery' until, forty-eight hours later, on Sunday evening, when you'll be 'freed'. Your safe word is 'raspberry' and your go-slow word is 'strawberry'. If you're gagged the equivalent hand signals are...."

Jennifer watched as, once again, Sarah demonstrated the hand signals. They had been through this a few times already; Sarah had explaining the difference between a safe word, which would bring all activities to an immediate halt and the 'go-slow' word which meant that she was reaching her limits but didn't want to stop. Jennifer was already quite excited. Two whole days! Maybe it was expensive but Sarah's professionalism had convinced her that it would be money well spent; she would finally get to play out for real what had, so far, only been flights of her imagination.

Come Friday she was a bundle of nerves and had problems concentrating at work. Her PA was surprised that, by five thirty, she was clearing her desk and getting ready to go; Jennifer seldom finished before seven and Fridays were usually no exception. What surprised her more, however, was that, when Jennifer left she didn't take her car but set off on foot, wearing a light coloured coat, carrying her Gucci umbrella and a copy of today's local paper.

And that's where it all went wrong. Jennifer was half way across the pedestrian crossing on Station Rd when a car came round the corner far too fast, skidded on the damp tarmac, lost control and clipped Jennifer neatly on the hip, throwing her to the ground. Her head hit a kerbstone and she went out like a light.

******

Sue Brown looked at the clock on the wall, willing the hands to move. Aged twenty-eight and working as an insurance clerk in a well-known multinational, she was looking forward to the weekend. As far as she was concerned, Friday night was clubbing night. There was a new nightclub playing the latest sounds and she was looking forward to meeting her mates there. She had even bought a new dress from Next. With its spaghetti straps and short hem it was, well, daring but that's just the look she wanted on the dance floor. She had worked late during the week, saving up her flexi hours so that, come Friday, she was off home on the dot of three-thirty. Come the magic hour she left the office, raced back to her flat, grabbed a quick bite to eat, showered and changed so that, by six o'clock, she was ready to head on out. She was slightly against the clock. Her friend Andrea had said that, if she were on the corner of High St and Station Rd by six thirty, prompt, she could get a lift downtown, which would save on the cost and discomfort of going by bus.

With the time to go fast approaching Sue glanced out of the window. A light drizzle was falling and it was not really a night to go out wearing such flimsy clothes. Once she was in Andrea's car she would be fine but bare shoulders were hardly the thing, waiting on the corner of the High St. She'd have to cover up. She got out her beige mackintosh and, needing something to protect her hairdo, she accompanied it with her umbrella. It was a Gucci knock-off from the market, but she felt it was quite a good one and  you had to look quite closely to spot the difference.  Now she could stay warm and dry until she got in the car. Not that she'd go out clubbing in a mac and brolly; she would leave them in the car while they hit the dance floor. There was just one last thing before she left. On her way home she had picked up a copy of the local paper and Andrea's amateur drama group had got a really good write-up. She was sure Andrea would want to see the review so, unable to fit the newspaper into her diminutive handbag, she tucked it under her left arm.

It was already dark by the time she left and the street lighting on the corner of the High St and Station Rd was none too good. Sue, who had arrived early, perched on the edge of the kerb, making sure Andrea wouldn't miss her. She was slightly distracted by an accident further up Station Rd; some poor woman had been run down on the zebra crossing. Walking in London was getting more and more dangerous. Fortunately the ambulance was there in less than five minutes and it appeared that the woman wasn't too badly hurt.

She was still watching the woman being put in the ambulance when her view was blocked by a nondescript white van, which drew up at the kerb next to her. The side door slid open and she saw a figure half hidden in the shadowy interior of the back of the van.

"Susan Brown?" the figure asked.

"Err... yes but...." She leant towards the van to see what was up. How did this man know who she was?  As she did so she saw that it was not one but two figures, crouched inside the body of the van and each was wearing some sort of Halloween mask. Before she had time to react, they grabbed her and pulled her inside. The door was slammed shut, one of her captors banged on the partition and they were off. Fortunately the inside of the van was well padded as they were quite rough with her, throwing her to the floor, grappling with her arms and pulling them behind her back. Her coat was pulled from her shoulders, losing several buttons in the process and, as her arms emerged from the sleeves, she felt something hard circling her wrists and realised that she'd been handcuffed.  She was screaming as loud as she could but one of her assailants clamped his hand over her mouth so her attempts were muffled. Then she tried to bite him but he was wearing gloves and her joy at making him withdraw his hand was short lived when a piece of duct tape was slapped across her mouth. They finished off by putting more tape around her ankles so that she lay, mute and hog-tied in the centre of the van's padded floor. Her dress, which was not that long in the first place, had ridden up to around her waist but she was unable to do anything about it; modesty had gone the same way as dignity.  Now that she was secured, her captors switched on the light and sat back, bracing themselves against the rolling of the van as it made its way through the London streets.

"She's not too much like her photo," one of her captors commented as he looked at a clipboard.

"Here, pass it over," the other said and he too scrutinised the photo, presumably attached to the board.

"I dunno," he continued. "It's pretty close. Young, Caucasian, shoulder length brown hair. It's a bit darker in the picture but these women are always messing with their hair colour. You should have seen my last girlfriend. Blonde one week, brunette the next. Anyway, I'll do the standard checks."

He found her handbag where it had fallen and rummaged inside, finding her purse and, within it, her credit cards and driving license, which he checked thoroughly.

"Hmm... She's Susan Brown, all right. She was waiting at the pick up point wearing a light coloured coat, Gucci umbrella and carrying the local paper under her left arm. This must be the client. I mean, what are the odds?" He looked again at the clipboard. "The photo is pretty close. I mean, you ought to see my passport photo; I'm surprised they let me in to Alicante last summer."

"But that brolly's never a Gucci," the other captor protested. "I can see from here it's a knock off from one of those market stalls."

"Knock off, or real thing, it's got that double G logo on it, that's close enough for me, OK? You can't expect perfection every time.  Right then, sweetheart," he turned his attention to Sue, "we've got a long way to go so you just lie there quietly. We're under strict instructions to deliver you safely and that's what we're going to do. There's nothing you can do to stop us so it would be best for all if you just lie back and enjoy the ride. Nod if you understand.�

Sue rolled over and tried to lash out with her legs. However she couldn't get a purchase and she was simply brushed away. Her captor smiled nastily and pushed himself forward so that he was lying on top of her, his masked face just behind her head. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head up off the floor of the van. His other hand reached down and was grappling between her thighs, reaching for her tights and panties and pushing them down.

"Listen, cunt, I'm paid to deliver you safely and in one piece but no one is too fussy about what happens along the way. Are you going to start behaving or am I going to have to make you?" He groped between her thighs and she felt his coarse fingers on her sex. "Nasty or nice, your choice. Now, are you going to behave?"

Nodding was hard with her head held by the hair but Sue managed it. Maybe she'd live to fight another day.

"Good girl." For all his threatened rape, her captor seemed more interested in her acquiescence than actually attacking her. That said, he didn't pull her panties back up as rolled off her. Then, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, he returned to sitting against the wall of the van, pulled out a newspaper and started discussing with his mate the line up for the Spurs Arsenal derby due the next day. Meanwhile Sue just lay there. Curiously, her main wish was that she could pull her panties back up. They hadn't been pushed much beyond the top of her thighs but that was more than enough to highlight how vulnerable she was. Feeling exposed, uncomfortable and scared out of her wits, she wondered what was in store for her as the van drove off through the night.

After what seemed like hours Sue felt the van pull off the motorway. From the time they had taken she guessed they were well outside London and, from the way the van twisted and turned, she guessed countryside rather than town. Then the van stopped, she heard some muffled sounds from the front, the van started again, drove forward for a while, then reversed and then, finally drew to a halt. The back door to the van was opened and Sue looked out to see that they were in some sort or warehouse. However, she didn't have time for rumination. The door had been opened by a woman who wore a white lab coat and who wore a mask similar to the one her captors wore. Her captors jumped out of the van and gave the clipboard to the woman along with Sue's handbag. As she compared Sue's credit cards and driving licence with the notes on the clipboard, she checked the details of the kidnapping with Sue's captors.

"OK, this all checks out," she said at last. "Take her to processing, will you?"

Her captors reached back into the van and, grabbing her by the arms, dragged her out. With her ankles bound she was unable to walk so she was slung over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried off, down a corridor and into room, which was coldly utilitarian and functional. A long table covered in unidentifiable bits and pieces ran down one side and, next to it, was a full length mirror. In the centre of the room was an upright metal frame about the size of a door. Wrist and ankle cuffs hung on short lengths of chain from each corner of this frame and the whole thing was fixed to a low dolly on which it could be wheeled around. Sue was lowered from the shoulder, which had carried her and lifted up into the frame and, whilst one of her captors held her upright the other looked in his pockets for the keys to the padlock holding her wrists.

Sue was hoping that she could put up some sort of a struggle when her wrists were freed but she hadn't allowed for the length of time she had been handcuffed. Her arms were numb and lifeless and, before she regained any sort of control, her wrists had been lifted up and fastened to the cuffs. Now that she was able to support herself the tape around her ankles was removed and it was no time before they too were cuffed and Sue was left spread-eagled within the frame. Once this was done the frame was turned on its dolly so that Sue was facing away from the table and into the room.

"Thanks, lads, I'll take it from here," the woman from the van said. She had followed them in and, now that Sue was firmly in place, her captors could leave and she came round in front of Sue and looked her up and down. Satisfied that all was well she disappeared from view, returning a moment later minus the mask and clipboard but holding a curious collar arrangement which she proceeded to fasten around Sue's neck.

"This is an electric shock collar. They're sold as training aids for dogs," the woman started to explain as she tightened the straps so that it fitted snugly against her neck. "There is some debate amongst dog owners as to their effectiveness and some feel that they should be banned for being excessively cruel. That's as may be, we don't use them on dogs, we use them on slaves such as yourself. You look confused, so let me explain. While you're here under our control we demand, and will enforce, total and absolute obedience. Of course we expect a certain amount of resistance, and some slave owners even prefer our more, shall we say, feisty offerings. They find it so much more satisfying when the will is finally broken. We, on the other hand, are only interested in selling you and don't have time for all that so, to make life easy, we use the collars. You will obey because, if you don't, you will receive short sharp shock. Like this."

The woman pressed a button on a remote control and, immediately, the side of Sue's neck erupted with pain as the electric shock coursed through it.

"Now that," the woman continued calmly, "was only a small sample of what the collar can provide. I had it on a relatively low setting so there's plenty more in reserve." The woman turned the remote so that Sue could see that the dial pointed to about quarter power. "If you force me to use it again then the next time it will be on a higher setting and after that, a higher one still. If you want to fight it, if you want to find out just how much you can stand, then be my guest. I can assure you that you will break long before we reach full power. Do I make myself completely clear?"

Sue nodded.

"Very well. The first rule you are going to learn is that slaves stay silent at all times and only speak in answer to a direct question. I'm going to remove the tape covering your mouth but if I hear one squeak out of you then I press the button." Again the woman held up the remote so that Sue could see that her thumb was poised over a big red button. "OK?"

Sue nodded again and the woman reached up, took hold of a corner of the tape covering Sue's mouth and, with a sudden yank, pulled it away. Sue couldn't help but give a a little cry, partially of pain and partially of surprise. The woman had obviously anticipated this because, as soon as Sue did so, a vicious jolt of electricity coursed from the collar. This, in turn, caused Sue to cry out again which resulted in yet another shock. It was only by using the utmost willpower that Sue was, this time, able to clamp her lips shut and hold back the cry that threatened to burst from her.

As Sue hung from the manacles shaking with repressed emotions, the woman could not have been less perturbed. She went to the table behind Sue and returned with a heavy-duty pair of scissors, which she used to cut the shoulder straps of Sue's dress. Immediately it started to fall and, as it did so, the woman didn't bother with the zipper but grabbed it and gave a sharp tug, ripping the flimsy material. A couple of snips with the scissors was all that was needed before the remnants of the dress were being tossed into a waste bin.

"Hey, that cost sixty quid from Next!" Sue screamed internally but, wisely, didn't say out loud. But it wasn't just prudence that kept her mouth shut. She was beginning to process what the woman had said. She had talked about 'slaves' and 'owners' and about breaking her will. If her fears about what was in store for her were anything like true then it looked like the fate of her dress was going to be the last thing on her mind. The woman now turned her attention to Sue's underwear. The thin lacy material of her bra and panties was no match for the scissors and, although her sheer nylon tights needed more cutting, they too were soon in shreds. The only thing that gave the woman the slightest bother was getting the last remnants of the tights through the cuffs which held her ankles but even that didn't hold her up for long and pretty soon Sue was completely naked.

Well, not quite naked; the final touch was when the woman removed Sue's jewellery, taking out her earrings and pulling the rings from her fingers. Somehow this made Sue feel even more naked than losing her clothes.

The woman then returned with her clipboard and proceeded to check and measure Sue from head to foot. It seemed as if every inch of her was inspected, measured, noted. She stood behind Sue and reached round, cupping each breast in her hand, feeling their heft and massaging them with her fingers to gauge their firmness. Then the massaging became more directed. As the woman's fingers gently teased the buds of Sue's nipples they responded, standing out firm and proud. When the woman finished by giving them a hard pinch, Sue had to fight to suppress a little cry that wasn't entirely brought on by pain.

After making a few more notes on the clipboard the woman came round, found a stool and sat down in front of Sue. The woman remained dispassionate as she reached forward and inspected Sue's groin, inside and out. After running her fingers through Sue's neatly trimmed pubic hair she peeled back her labia, giving them the same thorough inspection. Using the tip of her finger the woman gently probed the folds of flesh, stroking the inner lips and the hood of the clitoris and, as with her breasts, Sue could feel her body responding. When the woman then probed at Sue's entrance, slipping her fingers inside as far as the first knuckle. Sue was disturbed to find how easily they went in. The woman then removed her fingers, which were now slick from Sue's juices, and rubbed the tips of her fingers around the area surrounding Sue's clitoris, watching it respond. Sue felt a pang of guilt that she was actually disappointed when this stopped. The woman then stood up and returned to the table behind Sue.

When Sue heard the snap of surgical rubber gloves, she didn't need to see the lubricant being applied to the woman's forefinger to know which part of her body was next for inspection. Her buttocks were spread and the woman probed at her sphincter until she broke through, sliding her finger deep inside Sue's anus. The woman's finger was slim and she had used plenty of lubricant so, as with when the woman had fondled Sue's breasts and played with her vagina, despite the almost mechanical way she was being handled, Sue was finding that her body was responding.

Although she had never actually indulged, Sue had always thought that there was something deliciously dirty about anal sex and, now, whether she liked it or not, this was what was happening to her. This, added to the emotionless way in which the woman was working, was a powerful stimulant and Sue even ended up pushing backwards a little. This just earned her a swift smack on her buttock and Sue felt it prudent not to repeat this in case the woman reached for the shock collar controller.

But that just added to the tumult of fear and confusion roiling inside Sue. She knew this was wrong, very wrong; she knew she ought to be terrified, indeed, she was terrified; but why then was she also getting so aroused? She ought to be fighting, resisting this abuse, but she found herself acquiescing, welcoming the intruder into her backside, and it wasn't just for fear of the collar.

After a while the woman finished probing and removed her finger but a few moments later, Sue felt something else pressing against her sphincter and, this time, it wasn't a finger. It was something hard, some mechanical and somewhat thicker than the finger had been. Then there was a pumping sound and whatever it was that was in her bottom started to expand further, growing wider and wider inside her. Sue was close to the limit of what she could stand when the woman stopped. She tugged at whatever was in Sue's anus, confirming that it was not going to come out easily. Then there was a certain amount of tugging and sloshing noises from behind Sue's back until....

As the water from the enema flowed into Sue's bowels she immediately felt full and cramped. After giving only the shortest while for things to settle down the woman hung the enema bag from the frame next to Sue's head. If she looked to her right she could see the fluid level dropping and gauge how much more she was going to have to take. She was close to crying out, begging for mercy, taking a risk on the shock collar, simply to tell the woman that she couldn't take any more when she heard the snap of the surgical gloves being removed and the sound of footsteps retreating. She looked to her right just in time to watch the woman head for the door and, when it closed behind her, she realised she was now alone.

Sue flexed the muscles of her buttocks, struggling to find a comfortable position but, however much she moved, there wasn't one. At last the flow stopped and, after that, the cramping slowly eased. However she still felt that she needed the toilet more than she had ever done before and this feeling just got worse and worse. Believing that she was unobserved, she briefly struggled against the cuffs that held her but to no avail. She wasn't going to escape and she wasn't going to find any comfort.

On the other side of the two-way mirror Barry and Geoff were watching her struggle. The masks they had worn when they had been her captors lay on the table in front of them along with two open pizza boxes. Gill, who had been 'inspecting' Sue, had also been the van driver and, on their way to the warehouse, she had used her mobile to order pizzas from the local take-away. Then, while she was doing the initial inspection, Geoff had been sent to pick them up. Now, with Sue suitably restrained, it was time for a break. Gill came in, went over to a sink in the corner, washed her hands thoroughly and sat down at the table.

"Is that one mine?" Gill asked, pointing at the one unopened box.

"Yeah, four seasons, right," Geoff replied.

"Thanks, Geoff."

"So, how's it going?"

"Fine, fine. No problems at all. Mind you, I don't think I've ever had one so deep into the role," Gill replied. "I'd swear her reactions are genuine; it's almost as if she doesn't know it's make believe. If she wasn't getting off on it I'd be worried."

"But she is getting off on it. She's hot and ready to trot?" Barry asked.

"Yeah, didn't you see how easy my fingers slipped inside her pussy and, when I poked her up the arse, she was practically begging for more. Is anal part of the script? I assume so, what with the enema and all."

Barry picked up a folder that was lying on the table and flicked through it. The third page was a copy of the questionnaire that Jennifer had filled in. He picked it out and ran a finger down the list of activities until he found the one he was looking for.

"Here we go; she's given anal four stars so, if it's not, then it ought to be." He turned to the rest of the file flicked through the pages. "Ah, here we go, yes, she gets anal, but don't you be getting your hopes up, Geoffy baby, she's going bi-curious. We'll just be onlookers."

"If you read the script before we started you'd already know that," Geoff commented.

"Yeah, but I like to wing it. Makes my performance more spontaneous. So, if she's going bi-curious, who's playing the Countess?"

"Fiona's got that one. I'm stuck with playing the auctioneer, again," Gill said bitterly. "Why can't I be the Countess for a change?"

"Because Fi looks good in heels and you look good in glasses and a business suit," Barry replied. "But look at this way, playing the auctioneer is better than playing one of the slaves."

Gill, miffed at being told that Fi looked better in heels, shot him a glance that would have scorched titanium, but this friendly joshing was all part and parcel of being part of the 'cast'. This banter continued as Barry put the script back on the table and the three of them finished off the pizzas, washing them down with cans of Coke.

"Well, no peace for the wicked," Gill said when she had finished the last slice. "It's time for our little lady to get scrubbed down. See you later." And with that Gill returned to the room where Sue still hung from the frame.

Gill could see the relief on Sue's face when she returned. However, her discomfort was far from over. Gill kicked the lever that unlocked the brakes on the wheels of the dolly and pushed it towards a large pair of doors at the end of the room. The doors swung back when the dolly hit them to reveal a bathroom area a bit like the changing rooms at the gym. At the far end was an open shower located over a drain in the floor. Gill pushed the dolly until it was over the drain and then locked the wheels. She went to a cupboard where she fitted over her lab coat a plastic overall followed by a surgical mask over her face, surgical gloves and hat along with some eye protectors that fitted over her normal glasses. She took a bucket from the bottom shelf, which she used to carry hair shampoo, shower gel, shaving foam, a razor and a natural sponge. These she arranged on a shelf before taking the bucket and putting it on the dolly between Sue's legs. She released the valve on the enema nozzle so that it shrunk and could be eased out, picking up the bucket as she did so. Sue wasn't sure what was expected of her but, as soon as the enema plug was removed, she could hold back no longer and, with an immense sense of release, she voided her bowels.

With a look of absolute distaste, and feeling as if this was where she really earned her wages, Gill took the bucket and emptied the contents down the toilet. She rinsed it out with disinfectant and put on the ground next to the toilet bowl. Returning to where Sue hung, she reached for the showerhead, turned it up full blast and directed it at Sue's backside. The shock to Sue as the water hit her buttocks was partially mitigated by the sense of relief that the end of the enema had left her with.

At first Gill merely washed away the results of the enema. Pointing the showerhead directly at Sue's buttocks and the back of her legs, she repeatedly soaked and rinsed until all was completely clean. This done, she started in earnest, soaking Sue from head to foot before reattaching the showerhead to its holder and returning with the hair shampoo. Although the circumstances were undeniably bizarre, Sue actually enjoyed having the rich lather massaged over her scalp. Then Gill switched to the shower gel and sponge, washing down Sue's body, starting with her face and working all the way down until every inch and every nook and cranny was thoroughly clean.

Before rinsing Sue off, Gill swapped the shower gel and sponge for the shaving foam and razor. Although Sue had shaved her armpits earlier, Gill still lathered them up and did them again. Then, inevitably, Sue's pubic mound was in for the same treatment. Although Sue had already trimmed her pubic bush to a neat 'landing strip' this was not going to suffice and Gill, grabbing a stool, sat down in front of her and worked away at removing every trace of hair.

Sue gave another shudder. Was that because of the chill she felt a result of standing wet and naked? Was it brought on by the eerie silence as her intimate parts were shaven? Was it the feel as the blade slid over her sensitive flesh, both titillating and worrying? She didn't want to get nicked. She sincerely hoped that the woman would continue with the level of care and attention had brought to the rest of her treatment. Maybe it was it a mixture of all of the above. Maybe it was the continuing chaos of her confused jumble of emotions.

She was still trying to process what the woman had said about 'slaves' and 'owners'. Whilst she had heard that slavery was still endemic in parts of the third world, surely that didn't mean that ordinary British women were snatched from the streets of London? Furthermore, the care and attention being lavished on her meant that she wasn't destined to end up in a sweatshop sewing trainers and, surely, if they were looking for girls to be sold into prostitution in the back street brothels of some Far East city then they would be looking for someone younger than her. So, almost as strong as the 'what's going on?' confusion was the equally baffling 'why me?'

Countering these fears, part of her was firmly in denial. Somewhere amongst all this were her adolescent fantasies about being whisked away by some sort of Rudolph Valentino figure. A romantic novel she had read as a teenager had caught her fancy and, whilst she knew it was pure tosh aimed to titillate, the images it had evoked had fuelled her fantasies ever since. The woman busy working away between her thighs was playing directly into this fantasy. Not that she was some mysterious stranger sweeping her away on a wild stallion or anything like that. More it was the sense that Sue was being prepared, that, having been captured, she was being titivated for the benefit of whoever was eventually going to take advantage of her. Was it any wonder that, along with the fears and uncertainties, there was a tingling anticipation about who it was that had ordered this?

From Sue's perspective Gill seemed to be frustratingly overzealous. Time after time she'd run her fingers over Sue's recently denuded flesh feeling for any roughness and, when she found some, she would once again apply the razor. At last, when she was finally satisfied, she rinsed the area off with the showerhead, after which she set to with some tweezers picking out the hairs she had missed with the razor or those in areas where the razor couldn't reach. Unsurprisingly, there were a significant number of those in the perineum, where Sue had found it hardest to shave and, as Gill plucked them out, Sue was hard pressed to contain the little squeaks of pain, which threatened to escape. At one point the she wasn't quite successful and Gill reached under the plastic overalls for the remote for the shock collar, looked up at Sue and gestured meaningfully. After that Sue, wondering if the shock collar would even be safe under the shower, bit her lip to keep herself quiet.

Eventually Gill was satisfied so she picked up the showerhead one more time and, this time, rinsed Sue down from head to foot. Then, using soft white towels she picked from a pile, she towelled her down from head to toe. With Sue clean and dry, Gill took off the protective clothing, unlocked the wheels of the dolly and pushed it back into the other room.

When they got there she picked up off the table a wide leather belt. When Sue saw that it had cuffs attached she knew exactly what it was and where it was going. It looked like her time in the frame was over. The belt was made from hard leather and wide enough to stretch from the top of Sue's hips to the bottom of her ribs. Gill did the three fastening buckles up quite tightly so it constricted her waist almost like a short corset. When Sue's left wrist was freed from the frame she had more sense than to fight it. After all, her other three limbs were still attached and the shock collar was still around her neck. [Exceeding my remit, how is it that the shock collar remained on Sue during the shower? Dangerous, no?]The right hand was next and Sue had to concentrate on keeping her balance until her feet were freed.

Gill moved a stool  instool in front of the mirror and gestured with the shock collar remote that Sue should go and sit on it. A link from the back of the stool was fastened to a D ring on the belt and ankle cuffs attached to the front legs of the stool made sure Sue would stay put. Gill then took a brush and dryer and proceeded to style Sue's hair. Once it was dry she moved behind Sue to give her a manicure and replace her nail varnish. Sue couldn't, of course, see exactly what was happening but, judging from the bottle, her nails were going to end up a bright scarlet. This was repeated for her toenails and this time Sue could see and confirm that, yes, they were going pillar box red. Whilst waiting for Sue's nails to dry, Gill started on her make-up. She selected a range of pencils and powders from the table and set to on Sue's eyes. Gill had spend some time working away before she turned for some more eye shadow and Sue was able to see the progress so far. Grudgingly she had to admit that, although the look she was being given was tartier than she would have chosen, it wasn't too bad. Gill was obviously an accomplished beautician. Mind you, Sue would never have chosen lipstick in that bright red shade, even if it did match her nails.

But, even then, Gill wasn't quite finished. She turned one more time to the table and, when she turned back she was holding three items which looked like tweezers except that the gripping ends were covered with rubber tips, there was a sliding ring to lock them shut and the other end had a little bell attached. Starting with Sue's left breast Gill leaned forward and gave her nipple a little kiss, sucking and nibbling until it was fully erect. Then, pulling the nipple out with her fingers, she clamped the tweezers around it and slid the ring up until grip was firm. This whole procedure was then repeated on the right breast so that Sue was now wearing a matching pair.

Sue had already guessed where the third clip was going and, when Gill pushed her knees farther apart, her guess was confirmed. Gill used her left hand to hold Sue's labia apart and, after licking her fight forefinger, used it to gently stimulate Sue's clitoris. The insistent throbbing from the nipple clamps was already having an effect and Gill's forefinger, along with the knowledge of what was coming, was just what was required to have Sue's clitoris aroused and poking out. This time, when the clamp was applied, Sue couldn't avoid a shudder and she was fighting back the urge to cry out. Gill, noting this, moved it slightly so that the clamp was around the hood rather than directly on her clitoris and, when the jaws were closed, the pain, although still very much there, was now bearable.

Gill disappeared for a while, returning with a shoebox from one of the better West End stores. From this she removed a pair of strappy high-heeled shoes. Sue's heart sunk. She had obviously worn heels before but these were extreme and she knew she would struggle. Gill knelt down before her and undid the ankle cuffs before fitting them. Then she undid the link which held the belt to the stool and ordered Sue to rise.

When she got to her feet, walking was as hard as Sue had feared. She was tottering on the heels and, with her arms firmly fixed behind her back, she couldn't use them to balance her. The three clamps, especially the one on her clitoral hoodis, punished every clumsy move as they tugged at her sensitive flesh. Impatiently Gill ordered her to walk by swinging her hips and, using a cane to reinforce her points, instructed Sue on the small, mincing steps she would need to use in these heels. Satisfied at last that Sue could walk without falling, Gill led her from the room, down a corridor and through a door marked 'Display Room'.

This room, while not particularly large, was well appointed. At one end was a seating area with a sofa and two armchairs arranged around a coffee table. At the other was a small dais and, arranged across it were three upright chrome metal poles, each maybe waist height. From the top of each pole hung a short length of chain with a quick release clip on the end. Sue had trouble stepping up onto the dais. The nine inch rise nearly defeated her, but Gill held her arm to support her and she was led over to the left hand pole where she was positioned with her back to it. The chain from the pole was attached to the D ring at the back of the belt and Sue was, once again, locked in place.  From off to one side Gill fetched a block, nine inches square and two feet long which was covered in the same carpeting as the dais. This was placed between Sue's ankles so that she was forced into a wide legged stance. Gill stood back, tilted her head to one side and gave Sue a long, critical look. Evidently she was satisfied with what she saw as she then turned on her heel and left.

All Sue could do was wait. She could not reach to where the chain was attached to her belt so she wasn't going anywhere. Although she could reach for the top of the pole with her hands the extra support it gave was minimal and Sue was fast finding how the simple act of standing still can be tiring when wearing such extreme heels. However, she hadn't been waiting long before the door opened and Gill reappeared leading a woman who was similarly dressed, or should that be undressed, as Sue was. As this woman was led over and attached to the far right post she glanced across and her eyes spoke a symphony of fear and dread. It wasn't long after this that two became three. This time the woman being fastened to the middle post was tall, thin and very black. She brought to mind a documentary Sue had seen on the Masai tribe, elegant and poised, except in this case, she was obviously distressed as well. Gill gave a quick glance around, ensuring all was ready before disappearing again.

Sue looked across at her companions. Both were attractive women and, with the combination of the wide stance, the high heels enhancing their legs and the way their cuffed wrists forced them to stand with their breasts thrust forward, there was no doubt that they were being shown at their best. As with Sue they were closely shaven and the hint of shower gel in the air suggested that they had been prepared in the same way. Sue smiled at the black girl, trying to make some sort of contact, but she seemed too scared to respond.

The door opened again but this time it wasn't Gill who entered but a woman dressed not unlike those on the stage. She was evidently the end product of the process into which they had been thrown. Like the exhibits she wore little more than high heels and a wide leather belt but, unlike the exhibits, her collar was more decorative than functional and, as an extra, she wore matching leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Another significant difference was the vivid red stripes across her backside. Evidently it wasn't just shock collars that were used for training.  She was carrying a tray, which she put down on the table, taking from it and arranging champagne in its ice bucket and the accompanying four flutes to make a harmonious display. This done, she went over and stood against the wall, straight and upright and looking very pretty. Then it was back to waiting.

It was only five minutes or so later that Gill did appear. Her lab coat was gone and she was dressed in a charcoal grey business suit, the 'A' line skirt coming to just below the knee. She was accompanied by three others, two men, both smartly dressed business types, and another woman who was tall, slim and elegant. Chatting gaily they sat down on the sofa and armchairs and the 'slave' who had brought the tray in, taking the role of hostess, opened the champagne and poured out four glasses. These were evidently the 'owners' and Sue was hardly surprised when, as she was pouring, one of the men reached between the thighs of the slave and groped between her thighs. Indeed, even when the champagne was poured, he continued to hold her and Sue could see her squirming in an attempt to avoid his attentions.

"And so, Herr Otto," Gill started, "if you can keep your hands off Trixie for a moment. As you know, she is not for sale; well, not today, anyway. Is there anything on the stage which takes your interest?"

With this the three 'owners' turned their attention to the stage. Suddenly Sue felt more naked, more open, more exposed than she had ever felt before. Sure, she had been naked ever since her clothes had been ripped from her when she had first arrived. Sure, the woman who had prepared her had taken outrageous liberties with the most intimate parts of her body. Sure, she had been standing, on display, her breasts thrust out and her legs wide open, for some time, but now, now it was different. The three 'owners' turned towards the stage and scrutinised the girls. More than anything Sue wanted to close her legs but the shock collar remote was just there on the table and she knew what would happen if she did. She found herself starting to shake, which made the bells attached to her nipples and clitoris ring out.

"As you know, I am looking for new ponies for my farm. The black mare would look fine between the shafts of a sulky, but I might be interested in the others as well, if the price is right. Tell me, are there many bidders tonight?" Herr Otto replied in a strong German accent.

"Apart from the three of you here we have a further nine on our internet feed," Gill replied, following the script. Secretly she was appalled at the way that Barry was hamming it up as Herr Otto, but the client seemed to be buying it.

"I thought you only had two girls on offer," Geoff, acting as 'Walt' from the US of A, said in what he thought passed for a Texan drawl.

"Well, Walt, that was the plan but we had a last minute addition. The one on the left was only picked up this evening. That's why we're a few minutes late starting the sale."

"May I?" 'Walt' took a large cigar out of his pocket and, without waiting for an answer, proceeded to light it. In response, 'Herr Otto' took out a pack of Turkish cigarettes and put one in a long thin holder before lighting it.

"And you, Countess, do you wish to smoke?" Gill asked of the woman who had come in with them.

"As you are aware, my vices lie elsewhere," the Countess replied. "But we are not here to smoke, it is not long before the sale and I want to inspect the goods before I buy."

She got up and, followed by the others, went over the stage. The Countess spoke in a strong accent, which Sue thought might be, for example, Brazilian. She certainly had the colour for such a Latin background. In fact Fiona, who was playing the Countess, was from Croydon. Her Latin looks were the result of her Italian father and her colour the result of regular foreign holidays.

At first the three owners just walked about, going from one captive girl to another and looking at them from all angles. However, it wasn't long before look turned to touch as the owners’ inspections got closer and closer. The Texan went as far as to peel back Sue's lip and, with a curt 'open', he inspected her teeth. Meanwhile, 'Herr Otto' was lifting the black girls breasts, weighing them, pushing them from side to side.

"This filly, her breasts are a trifle large for pony work," he commented ruefully. "That is a pity because, otherwise, she's a fine specimen."

"What's the problem with big tits?" 'Walt' objected. "My ranch hands, they like a bit of tit on a girl. The bigger the better as far as they're concerned."

"It's the racing," Herr Otto explained. "When she runs they will swing about and slow her down. I require sleeker lines. And now let us look at this filly." He came over and joined 'Walt' in front of Sue. The bells on her nipple clamps jingled as he felt her breasts, lifting them, peering underneath, presumably looking for breast enhancement scars.

"This one is better," he said. "The breasts are firm and natural. There's more than enough to know she's not a stallion but she should be fine when racing. Do you see?" he asked. 'Walt' followed his lead, jiggling Sue's breasts around and agreed that they were suitable. "I feel she would be perfect with a little training," Herr Otto continued as bent down and felt Sue's calves and then her thighs, just as if her were buying a horse. "Yes, yes, she has good muscle tone, very fine indeed."

Sue shuddered as Herr Otto'shis hands continue to wander over her body. It would almost have been preferable if he had seen her as a sex object rather than livestock for racing. This did not play at all to her Rudolf Valentino fantasy.

"My boys spend enough time with real horses to want to play with human ones on their time off," Walt said with a laugh. "They're simple boys. They want 'em leggy, blonde and willing. Mind you, I'm prepared to make an exception on the blonde part for Black Beauty here." He indicated the girl fastened to the middle post. "How's she for gobbling. You say she's had basic training. Do you mind if I...?"

"No, please, go ahead, be my guest," Gill replied.

'Walt' reached behind Black Beauty's' waist for the clip which held her belt, undid it, and pushed her to her knees. He unzipped his fly, pulled out his penis and stood in front of her.

"Come on, honey, show Uncle Walt just how willing you are and maybe I'll buy you for my ranch hands. They like a little dark meat from time to time."

Black Beauty made a small show of reluctance but 'Walt' grabbed her by the hair, which made her cry out and, when she did, he forced himself inside her.

'Black Beauty', whose real name was Celia, had known all along that this was coming. After all, it was in the script and, to tell the truth, she didn't really mind. It wasn't just that ExF paid well for her services, although the fact that she had paid off her student loan, and had quite a bit put away in the bank, was a big plus. Far more relevant was the relaxed attitude that had, by necessity, developed within the cast. When your job involves repeated intimate contact it is impossible to be uptight about such things and if, this time, she was the one giving Geoff a blowjob, he might well end up repaying the favour next time around. And then, well, while she wouldn't admit it too loudly to the others, she was never that upset when she 'drew the short straw' and sometimes, with a show of mock reluctance, she would end up offering to play the submissive roles. Partially because it was what the role required and partially because she did enjoy her work, she did her utmost to give Geoff the best blow-job she could and was ready and willing to swallow his sperm when it came.

Whilst 'Black Beauty' was busy giving 'Walt' his blow-job, Herr Otto went over to join the Countess who was inspecting the girl on the left hand post. Sue watched as the Countess reached down and pushed her fingers between the woman's lower lips. The Countess stared into the girl's eyes as she did so but the slave made only a minimal response. After a few moments of this the Countess withdrew her hand and dismissively glanced at the tips of her fingers.

"This one, she is a cold fish," the Countess commented. "I am not interested in cold fish. You can train for obedience but you cannot train for passion. I want my girls to be passionate. What about this other one? Is she passionate?"

The Countess came over and stood in front of Sue, standing so close that, as with the other girl, she could reach down and slip her fingers between Sue's freshly shaven lips. The clamp that had been fitted around Sue's clitoral hood, and the constant throbbing it produced, had kept Sue at least semi-aroused and sensitive to each and every movement. Now the Countess's expert fingers were adding their own piquancy to the mix and the bell on the end of the clamp wasn't the only one that was ringing.

Despite herself, Sue couldn't help but react to this delicious teasing and, almost imperceptibly, she pushed herself forward. This, however, was exactly what the Countess was waiting for. She removed her fingers and held the glistening tips up for all to see.

"Hmm... this is more like it. Let's find out if it's the real thing, shall we?" the Countess glanced over at the waitress. "You, girl, Trixie, isn't it?"

Trixie hurried over and curtseyed in front of the Countess.

"I wish to see if this girl has genuine passion. You know what to do."

Angela, who was playing Trixie, did know just what to do and not just because it was in the script. Unlike Celia, she was quite open about her preferences. She loved to play the submissive roles and, when they were putting this scene together, it was she who had suggested this part of it. She knelt down in front of Sue and gently took the bell that dangled from the clit clamp in her hand.

"Please, Countess," she asked. "May I remove this whilst I...?"

"If you feel it would get in the way."

"Thank you, Countess."

'Trixie' unclipped the clamp and immediately leaned forward and probed with her tongue.  The sharp pain as the blood returned to Sue's clitoris was mitigated by 'Trixie' quite literally kissing it better. Now she was seriously conflicted. Not only was she being turned on against her will, it was being done by another woman. She was straight, definitely straight, so on both counts it was wrong and there was no way on earth that she could possibly be getting off on this outrageous treatment. She wanted to close her legs, she wanted to turn away, she wanted this all to just stop but.... On the other hand 'Trixie' was an expert and knew from first hand experience just what a girl needed immediately after a clit clamp had been removed. The play of her tongue against Sue's flesh was both soothing and arousing and, as she played sweet music with the sensitive folds below so the Countess took Sue's chin in her hand and held it so that they stared into each other’s eyes.

Sue felt like a bug under a microscope. The thing that riled her, the thing that really got her goat, was that this damnable woman, this Countess, seemed to think that she was some sort of sex doll, that, by simply pressing the right buttons, she could be made to come on command. And the worst of it was that it would appear that she was right. Despite, or was that because of, the bizarre situation she found herself in, she could feel the climax building with her and, mindful of the rule about speaking out loud, she had to stifle a moan of pleasure. Again the Countess was quick to pick up on this.

"Ah yes, just as I thought, she loves what little Trixie is doing to her," the Countess smiled, "I see it in her eyes. She was a slave long before she was captured, a slave to the fire in her loins. A slave to the unspoken hungers she would try to deny. Purchasing this one would be doing her a favour, allowing her to fulfill her destiny, allowing her to really explore the depths of her depravity. She would be wasted as one of your ponies, Herr Otto; she has so much more to give than pulling a sulky."

"Maybe my customers would like to sample some of this depravity," Herr Otto replied. "After all, when the races are over, it is time for the stallion to service the mare."

"And what do your 'stallions' know about servicing a woman's body? Your 'mares' are just another hole into which they can ram their manhoods. No, it takes a woman to really understand another woman's body. Look! Look! She's come to her climax!"

Indeed, Sue was overwhelmed by a combination of the bizarre situation, Trixie's ministrations, and speculation as to what would be involved when Herr Otto's stallions serviced her or, more mysterious still, the Countess's 'dark depravities’. Although she would never, in a million years, have said that it would be possible for her to climax standing up, that was exactly what was happening to her. Her knees were buckling and she was struggling to stay upright but she had no other option. Her bound wrists would not let her fall. This tension merely added to the fire and, in the end, she couldn't hold back any more. Leaning backwards and grasping the top of the post with her hands, she let out a massive groan of pleasure as the fire from her groin washed through her. She had to fight to stay balanced on her high heels as wave after wave crashed through her. Then, her passion spent and shaking like a leaf, she slumped forward, unbidden tears rolling down her face.  The Countess, who was still holding Sue's chin, leant forward and gently licked the salty moisture from her cheeks.

"Yes, indeed, this one would be wasted as a pony. She has so much more to give and I'm just the one to take it from her," the Countess said with satisfaction.

"We shall see," Herr Otto replied. "The bidding has not started yet."

"But we already have all our internet clients on line and we would like to start as soon as possible," Gill interrupted them. "If you would be so kind as to take your seats, then we can get the first sale under way."

As the three owners returned to the seating area Gill refastened Black Beauty to her post and then turned to Sue. Trixie had anticipated Gill's requirement, or rather she had read the script, so she passed Gill cloth to wipe down Sue's thighs and a make-up kit to do emergency repairs  whererepairs where Sue's mascara had run. This done, Trixie returned to serving champagne to the owners and Gill fitted a headset and walked to the centre of the stage. On cue a large screen television positioned on one of the side walls switched on. Sue saw that it showed a video feed of the room and when she looked at the ceiling above the seating area, she could see the camera.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Gill started. "Tonight we have three delightful young female slaves on sale for you. The details should have been emailed to you under the usual secure arrangements. If not, they are available as usual on the web site. You all know the procedure by now, all bids are considered binding and all transactions are in pounds sterling. Current exchange rates are shown on our financials page.

"So, without further ado, let’s move on to our first offering," Gill indicated with her hand the girl on the far right, "which is a twenty five year old British girl. She was captured nine days ago and has been in our care ever since. During this time she has undergone basic training and health checks. Details, as ever, are on the site. So, let's have a closer look. Trixie, if you'd be so kind."

Trixie came up onto the stage, went over to the girl, released her from the post and, guiding her by the back of the belt, took her to the front of the dais. The girl was then paraded around, turning this way and that so that every aspect or her was displayed. At one point she was bent over and Trixie spread her buttocks so that her backside was presented to the camera. All the while Gill extolled her virtues, an auctioneer putting maximum spin on the object she was selling. And, as far as the sales pitch went, the girl was an object. The spin stressed her stressed the size and firmness of her breasts rather than her IQ score, even if they knew it. The buyers wanted a doll, a sex doll, not a person.

And then the auction itself started. Sue was amazed at the amount of money being bandied about. Six figure sums were the norm, right from the start. Notably none of the owners in the room were bidding but the screen showed the current bid along with the screen name of the person who had made it. Eventually the bidding petered out and, although Sue had no idea as to who had won she heard Gill say that they would arrange shipping to Abu Dhabi as soon as the payment had cleared.

And then it was the turn of Black Beauty. She was described as a twenty three year old French girl of Sudanese extraction and, as part of the spiel, they showed a clip of her giving Walt his blow job. As well as extolling her 'oral skills', Gill spent some time pointing out the virtues of Black Beauty's breasts and her Amazonian height. This time, when they got to the actual auction, Walt was one of the bidders and, playing along with the script, he had to fight off another bidder until he finally acquired what he wanted. When she was 'sold' Black Beauty was led over to kneel down on the floor and 'Walt' fondled her hair as they moved on to the last and final lot.

Like the others, Sue was unfastened from her post and led out to the front of the stage. Like the others, she was paraded about and put on display. When she was positioned at the front of the stage with her legs wide apart Trixie stood behind her, reaching round from behind her to cup her breast so as to offer them up to the camera. Once again Sue felt more naked than she had ever been before. Now her breasts were thrust forward and her sex was gaping open. She was being offered up, in every sense of the word, and, as well as the three owners in the room there was the unblinking eye of the TV camera.

"And here we have a last minute addition to tonight's offerings," Gill opened her spiel. "A last minute pick up, she was only acquired a few hours ago. It is seldom we offer slaves so fresh from their freedom. She has been thoroughly checked over and is certified free of piercings, tattoos, breast enhancements or any scarring. What you see, ladies and gentlemen, is what you get.

"But it's not just her physical charms that make this a very special offering. Right from the start this little beauty has shown an innate subservience that marks her out a natural slave. With the merest minimum of inducement she has shown a level of compliance that normally requires weeks of training. Why, even now, as she stands open and naked before you, her submissive nature is plain to those who know where to look. All allow me to demonstrate. Trixie, if you'd be so kind...."

Trixie, who was still standing directly behind Sue, used her left hand to hold Sue's hair, keeping her head back and chin up.  To help keep her balance on the high heels and to release some of the strain on her hair Sue leaned back and let Trixie support her. With her right hand Trixie reached down for Sue's groin and gently probed with her fingers. On screen, while the main picture showed all of Sue, some digital trickery was used to open another window, tightly focussed on Trixie's fingers and the magic they worked on Sue's unprotected sex. Trixie's fingers parted the folds of flesh so all could see Sue's swollen clitoris signalling her arousal.

Sue just wished the ground would open up and swallow her. The auctioneer's comments about her compliance were so unfair. She was under duress, under threat from the shock collar. Who wouldn't stay quiet knowing that any false move would result in instant agony? And, if her sex was responding to Trixie's busy fingers, then, well, the damn clit clamp had left her super sensitive; after that who could blame her if such expert usage was having an effect on her? And now everyone was assuming she welcomed such treatment. How, when she was forbidden to speak, could she explain that it had nothing to do with how she was being treated, nothing, nothing!

"Do you see how prettily she blushes, and yet how eagerly she responds to Trixie's touch," Gill commented. "It would almost be cruel not to enslave one such as her, one whose proclivities, whose whole disposition, is towards submission. Just think what a slave such as this would add to your collection. How, with the minimum of coercion, it will be easy to train her to serve in whatever way you desire. Come now, let us open the bidding."

At first there was a flurry of bids but it soon settled down to a contest between the Countess and Herr Otto. Each seemed determined to outbid the other. Sue was amazed as the amounts soared into the higher six figures. Surely these people must have money to burn.

And then the bidding started to slow and, finally, ended with the Countess in the lead.

"Can I not tempt you a little more, Herr Otto? Just look at her breasts," Gill went over and caressed them, "did you not say yourself how suited they are to a racing pony? With the right training, and who better than you to provide such training, with the right training she could win many races."

"She would have to win many races at the prices you are charging," Herr Otto quipped. "Enough, you will bankrupt me." He stood up, turned to the Countess and gave her a smart bow. "You win, Countess. Your pockets are deeper than mine. I hope you find that she is worth it."

"Thank you. Herr Otto," the Countess replied. "That's very gracious of you. Be assured that, one way or another, I intend to get my money's worth. And maybe, next time I'm in Austria, I'll pay you a visit and we'll see just how well she fares around the race track."

"You are welcome any time, you know that. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have business elsewhere."

"And I'm going to enjoy myself with this one," Walt said, taking Black Beauty's hair and pulling it back so that she lifted her head. "I'm going to give her a thorough road test, check that she's good for more than just blowjobs."

"And you, Countess?" Gill asked.

"I need to contact my bank. I have spent rather more than I expected and will need to transfer the funds. Could you have," the Countess paused for a moment, "Rosalita, yes she is to be called Rosalita, will you have her taken to my suite?"

"Of course," Gill replied. "Trixie would be delighted to assist."

"I'm sure she would," the Countess laughed.

And with that they all trooped out. When they had gone Trixie, who was still holding Sue, guided her to the door, out, along a corridor, and into a well appointed suite of rooms. The main room was a living area with a sofa, armchairs, a kitchenette area to one side and a large screen television. Off on one side was a bedroom with an attached en-suite bathroom. Sue was led through to the bedroom where she was surprised to see a cage built into the foot-board of biggest bed she had ever seen. The cage fitted right across the foot of the bed and was high enough to project above it by a few inches so that the free height inside the cage was just adequate to house a crouching slave. The frame of the cage was made from the same wood as the bed and was nicely integrated; if a bed with a cage at the end could be considered stylish then this was it. Trixie took off Sue’s shoes before openinged the door at one end and guidinged Sue her down and into the cage. It was a tightish fit for both height and width. With her wrists still locked behind her Sue had to shuffle forwards on her knees and, once inside, she had to curl up quite tight before Trixie could close the door behind her. However, the mattress was soft and, as she settled down inside, she had the consolation of knowing she was going to be comfortable while she waited. Trixie closed the door of the cage and locked it and, as she left, all Sue could do was wait, wait to see what was going to be done to her next.

As Sue waited the cast were relaxing in the staffroom.

"God, Barry, if your German accent gets any more hammy we'll be making sandwiches out of it," Gill exclaimed as she flopped on a sofa.

"Just playing to the script," Barry replied with a wide grin.

"Just playing the fool," Geoff replied.

"As if your Texan drawl was any more convincing," Barry retorted.

"Children, children," Celia cut across. Now that her part in the proceedings was over she had changed back into a pink tracksuit and was ready to go home. Barry thought that she looked gorgeous and was trying to build up the courage to ask her out. Jayne, too, had changed into 'civvies' as had Gill, but Angela and Fiona, Trixie and the Countess respectively, were still in costume. Angela had wrapped herself in a dressing gown, partially to keep warm, partially for modesty. Whilst she had no problem strutting her stuff while playing one of the scenarios, and, indeed, had been involved in a wide range of sexual activities both with other cast members and with the punters, here in the staffroom she always felt a little shy.

"Where's the boss?" Geoff asked. "She's usually here to watch when we have a new customer."

"She got called to LA," Fiona replied. "Some movie star demanding an immediate interview. She's not normally pushed around like that but money talks, I guess."

"Some movie star? Who is it? Please tell me it's...."

"Never you mind who it is or isn't," Fiona cut across sharply. "We all know the rules about client confidentiality and, if we do get this one, those rules apply double. Anyway, the boss is due back some time tomorrow so I guess she'll fill us all in on the details when she arrives." She glanced at her watch. "Anyway, it's time for our little Rosalita to get fed. Angela, are you all set?"

"Five minutes," Angela replied. She got up and went over to the kitchen area where she found a dog's double feeding bowl. From the bread bin she took three slices of granary and tore them into bite size chunks, putting them in one of the bowls. The other side she filled with plain tap water. Picking up her high heels she set off down the corridor until she was outside the entrance to the suite area of the set. Putting the dog bowl on a table placed next to the door, she put the shoes on the floor and stepped into them. She was well practised at walking in extreme heels but she still preferred not to unless the script demanded it. Then she took off her dressing gown and hung it on a hook next to the door. Back in costume and back in role, she entered the suite as 'Trixie'.

Sue looked up when she heard the door open, wondering what was in store for her next. She was expecting the Countess but, instead, it was Trixie carrying a dog bowl arrangement. Trixie came over to the cage and put the dog bowl down on top of it. Then she undid a catch, which allowed part of the end of the cage to fold down. This left a hole big enough for Sue to poke her head through and the folded down bit made a sort of ledge on which the dog bowl could be placed. As Trixie bent down to put the bowl on the ledge Sue looked out at her.

"Please...." she started.

Angela looked at the caged woman. She was just about to go into role and give a harsh rebuke when she saw the look of lost confusion in her eyes and, despite the fact that she thought this was all play-acting, she took real pity on her.

"We slaves are not supposed to talk," she said gently.

"But what's going to happen to me? Please, I need to know."

Angela stared again at the caged woman. She'd known the customers go deep into role, after all, they were paying enough for the experience so they would want to get the most from it, but even so this was extraordinary. It really was as if this woman thought it was the real thing. But surely Gill and the boys would have done their checks and, when she thought back to the scene just before the auction, there was no mistaking then how much this woman had got off on the abuse. With an internal sigh, Angela dismissed any doubts she might have. If the client wanted to go this deep into the role then that's what she was paying for and Angela, grateful for the employment, was glad to oblige.

"You're a slave now. You were sold to the Countess. You'll stay here for a day or two and then, when she returns to Venezuela, so will you."

"Venezuela!"

"Shh! the Countess is not a bad Mistress but she will be strict at first. Learn to please her and all will be well. Now, eat up, that's all you will get for a while and the Countess gets upset if you don't finish your food."

Sue looked at the bread and water in front of her.

"I'd rather die," she said with vehemence.

"No, you wouldn't," Angela reassured her as she stood back up to leave.

And once again, Sue was left on her own. Angela left the room and, putting her dressing gown back on, returned to the staff room. There, along with the others, she watched the CCTV screen as Sue, tentatively at first, dipped her head in the first bowl and picked out a piece of bread. This she washed down with a sip or two of water.

"So, what's next?" Angela asked of the room in general.

Fiona picked up the script from the table.

"Well, she spends some time in the cage and then it the Countess's bed time. Trixie comes with me to act as personal maid so tonight it's you and me getting up close and personal. After that there's a whole bundle of options depending on what signals she gives of and whether or not she spends the night in the cage. Cast members, You and myself with Gill on standby in case we need a representative from 'Management'.  Who's manning the CCTV?"

"I'm on it," Ruth, their resident techie, a young woman wearing jeans and a tee shirt answered.

"Fine. Nice job with the web site, by the way. Looked just like the real thing would," Fiona said. "Are you sure you're OK with staying up all night?"

Ruth just grunted. They were well used to her taciturn ways but there was no doubting her skill and they all trusted her implicitly. Without her, many of the tricks that persuaded the customers that this converted warehouse was an international slave trading centre simply wouldn't work. She also seemed to have no concept of the normal working day. They were all used to unusual hours but Ruth would often put in thirty-six hour shifts just to see if a software upgrade would work.

For a while they all just relaxed but Fiona kept glancing at the CCTV, watching Sue until she judged that the time was right.

"OK Angela, time to get back in role. I think the customer has had enough on her own. It's time for the Countess and Trixie to go to bed. See you tomorrow, guys," and, with that, Fiona got up from the table and, after waiting for Angela to join her, made her way towards the suite. As when Angela had gone to feed Sue, they stopped outside the door to get properly in role and then, with Fiona, or rather the Countess, taking the lead, they went into the suite.

At first they completely ignored Sue. Fiona, as the Countess, started to disrobe and Angela, as Trixie, acted as her maid. From time to time Fiona would glance at Sue out of the corner of her eye and was gratified to see that she was watching closely. When the Countess was completely naked Trixie went to the cupboard and fetched out a mid thigh satin shift and a matching gown. Then the Countess sat down at the dressing table and proceeded to take off her make up.

In fact this deliberate procrastination was driving Sue crazy, just as it was supposed to do. Being ignored, being left alone, was building up her levels of frustration beyond that which she could endure. She wanted to cry out, to demand that, for better or for worse, this damn Countess should pay her some attention.

"Thank you, my dear," the Countess said as, at last, she got up from the dressing table. She walked towards the bed and, almost as if she had forgotten, glanced down at Sue in her cage.

"I see you fed little Rosalita," she said to Trixie. "Has she been taken to the bathroom as well?"

"No, Countess," Trixie replied. "Shall I do that now?"

"I think so. We don't want her soiling her bedding."

Trixie went to the door of the cage and unlocked it. Sue had to back out and, with her wrists still locked behind her back, this involved a certain amount of wiggling. As she came free Trixie slipped her fingers under Sue's collar and used it to guide her over to where the Countess stood.

"The collar, it can go," the Countess ordered and Trixie undid the buckles that held it and took it away.

"Stand," the Countess ordered and Sue struggled to her feet. "Let me look at you, let me see what I paid so much to acquire." She reached for Sue's breasts and removed the clips from her nipples. The sting as the blood returned was too much for Sue and she couldn't stop a little cry from escaping.

"Oh, my poor little Rosalita," the Countess said. "Are your nipples sore? But you looked so pretty with the bells hanging from them. I loved the way you tinkled as you walked. Maybe we should get your nipples pierced and then you could wear bells all the time. Would you like that?"

Sue, used by now to staying silent, didn't know whether the question was rhetorical or not. More than that, she was sure that her honest reply, that she could think of little worse, would simply get her into more trouble.

"What's up, girl? Has the cat got your tongue? When I ask a direct question I expect an answer. Now, do you think I should get my slave's nipples pierced?"

"I... I don't know," Sue replied.

"Did I not tell you it pleased me for you to wear them?"

"Yes..." Sue got the impression more was expected of her. "Yes, Mistress," she essayed.

"I am not your Mistress, I'm your Countess and don't you forget it."

"I'm sorry, Countess." Sue felt that she was getting in more and more trouble but didn't know what, if anything to do about it.

"You are new, you are young and you are more than a little scared so I will forgive you, this time. Next time be sure that the crop or the cane will be used to help you remember your manners. Do you understand? And while we're at it, stand up straight and smile. I won't have my pets looking miserable."

"Yes, Countess." As Sue straightened up and pinned a smile on her face she noted that the Countess was only concerned as to whether her 'pets' looked miserable, not whether or not they were miserable.

"That's better. Now I paid a great deal of money for you and I expect to get value. Your job is to please me, to keep me happy, to be everything I want. If I think that you look pretty with bells on your nipples then your sole wish should be to please me by wearing them. Now then, I asked a question, would you like to have your nipples pierced so you could wear bells all the time?"

"Yes, Countess, that would be lovely, Countess," Sue replied as if she were a little girl agreeing to ribbons in her hair.

"And how about down here?" The Countess reached between Sue's legs and probed between her lower lips. �How about a bell down here as well."

"If it would please you, Countess, then it would be my pleasure to wear one for you."

"That's better. Now you're learning." the Countess reached for Sue's breasts and took her nipples, still sore and protruding, between her fingers and thumbs. She pinched hard and jolts of pain throbbed through Sue's body. "Don't you ever forget it," the Countess half whispered, half snarled. "If you fail to please then you will be punished and, if that doesn't do the trick, then there is always a place for you in Herr Otto's stables. Or maybe you would prefer that?"

"No, Countess, of course not, Countess. I live to please you," Sue said hurriedly. The Countess might be scary but the thought of that horrible Herr Otto and being treated as some sort of racing pony, that was far, far worse.

"Very well. Now Trixie will take you to the bathroom and, after that, we'll talk some more."

Trixie took Sue by the elbow, led her to the luxuriously appointed en-suite, took her over to the toilet and sat her down. Sue just looked up with a 'what now?' expression. Trixie put her hands on Sue's knees and crouched down in front of her.

"I know you're scared. I was when I was first taken, but the Countess isn't a bad Mistress, well, as long as you keep her happy." Angela was following the script, which had her in the 'good cop' role. But, as well as the script, she was genuinely concerned for the welfare of the client. She's seen them deep in role before but this one was extraordinary. As such she was spurred on to play her part with more sincerity and not to ham it up the way the boys had done. This client, in her slave role, really needed a friendly face and it was Angela's, or rather Trixie's, place to provide it.

"Who knows," Trixie continued, "if we don't upset her then maybe she'll let us play together. Would you like that? I know I would."

Sue looked at Trixie who, with her bubbly personality and happy go lucky ways seemed to be quite content with this bizarre lifestyle. If nothing else she'd found a friendly face and that calmed her down. She gave a weak smile in response.

"Come along now, let's not keep her waiting," Trixie urged and, to reinforce this, she gently pushed Sue's knees apart.

With a shock Sue realised just what was being demanded of her. In her na�vet� she had thought that she had been placed on the toilet simply as somewhere for her to sit down. Now it was apparent that she was expected to actually use it. The Countess's remarks about soiling her bedding came back to her and she realised how innocent she had been. Blushing deeply, partially from embarrassment at having to pee in front of someone else and partially in having been so stupidly innocent she hung her head.

"I don't think I can," she muttered.

"Yes, you can. Now, come on or we'll both be in trouble," Trixie urged.

"I can't. Not with you watching."

"Give it a try, please, do it for me, will you?"

Somehow being asked to do it for Trixie was just what Sue needed to overcome her shyness. And, when it came down to it, she did want to go. At first she had to force her self but soon, what started as a trickle, soon became a torrent. Again she looked at Trixie and, as their eyes met, she gave a little giggle.

"There, that's better," Trixie said when Sue had finished. "Just let me wipe and then I'll brush your teeth."

Trixie used a piece of toilet paper to give Sue a quick wipe before flushing the toilet and rinsing off her hands. Then, once again, she took Sue by the elbow and led her over to the basin. From a cabinet above she took out a toothbrush, applied some toothpaste and, standing behind Sue, reached around to brush her teeth. Sue watched in the mirror as Trixie used her other hand to hold her tight. This touch of skin on skin, added to the way that something as banal as brushing her teeth was being done for her, was weirdly erotic. Once they had finished Trixie filled a glass with mineral water and held it up so that Sue could rinse. This, somewhat to Sue's surprise, was followed by two more glasses of water but, as it was cool and refreshing, Sue didn't mind too much.

Then Sue had to wait while Trixie also used the toilet. She didn't seem in the least bit fazed about doing her business in front of a stranger. Then she too brushed her teeth so that the two of them were ready for bed. This done they returned to the bedroom. The Countess was stretched out on the bed and she looked up as the door opened.

"Oh, look at you both, my pretty little slaves, so sexy together! Oh, Trixie, you'd make such a perfect partner for Rosalita I might just put in an offer to buy you as well. Ship the pair of you back to Venezuela. What fun we would all have together!"

"Ooh, yes, please, Countess", Trixie replied. Sue just bolted on a smile.

"But because I've been told in no uncertain terms that you're not for sale I'm just going to have to make the best of what little time we do have together. Come along, Trixie, your owner tells me you're one of the best. Get undressed and sShow me just what that busy little tongue of yours can do for me."

Trixie took off her shoes, her wrist and ankle cuffs and her belt before jumpinged enthusiastically onto the bed. and, sSettling between the Countess's outstretched legs, she pushed up the hem of her shift. Then, starting with delicate butterfly kisses, she caressed the sensitive skin on the inside of the Countess's thighs with her lips.

"Watch carefully, my little Rosalita," the Countess ordered. "Soon it will be your place to give me pleasure. It is a skill you will have to learn and one I will make much use of. You will become an expert; I will make sure of that, and, if Trixie is anywhere as good as I have been told, it would be wise for you to emulate her. Come here, come closer, stand where I can reach you."

Sue moved next to the bed and the Countess stretched out her arm and reached between Sue's thighs. Sue had to fight the urge to step back as she felt the Countess's finger probing her flesh, searching for her entrance and slipping inside. This in itself was a bit of a shock for Sue. The ease with which they had slid inside spoke of a level of arousal that Sue had been trying to deny. Ever since her capture she had been on an emotional roller-coaster; scared, confused, bewildered, pushed from pillar to post and deprived of the most basic freedoms, she was having to use all her wits to keep herself together. What she hadn't had the head space to consider was what this penetration so vividly demonstrated, the fact that she was also turned on by it all. That seemed wrong, so wrong but she couldn't really deny it.  Back in the auction room she had succumbed so easily to Trixie's ministrations and now, a combination of the Countess's fingers inside her and the sight of Trixie, busy between the Countess's thighs, was disturbingly erotic. It wasn't just that she didn't fight as the Countess used her finger as a hook to draw her closer, part of her was actively encouraging it and, without being able to stop herself, she pushed her hips forward so as to impale herself further. The Countess noticed this, looked up at her and smiled, which only added to Sue's mortification and confusion.

But she couldn't help staring at the sight before her. Sue considered herself straight, and watching two women making love would not be her first choice of eroticism. However, the Countess looked superb with her elegant body framed by the satin nightwear and the sight of Trixie's tongue working its magic made her own groin tingle at the memory of when it had been done to her. Moreover, although the Countess's praise of Trixie's skill had been part of the script, that didn't mean that it wasn't true. This was far from the first time that Angela and Fiona had played together for the benefit of a customer and they knew well what turned each other on. Their moves, although choreographed, were based on a very real erotic understanding between them and neither was entirely faking.

Indeed, Fiona was, in a very literal sense, losing the plot. She still had the fingers of her right hand inside the client but any movement there was purely automatic. While she endeavoured to keep her emotional involvement with Angela purely professional one couldn't deny her skills and, truth be told, there had been a certain amount of manoeuvring on Fiona's part to ensure that this scene was part of the script. Revelling in playing the Countess, and allowing her exhibitionist streak to come to the fore, Fiona was enjoying every moment as she raced towards her climax. The moans of pleasure, the way she arched her body, were not faked in the slightest. The only problem was that Angela, who loved giving head as much as Fiona loved taking it, was almost too damn good at her job. According to the script the Countess was supposed to retain an icy detachment at all times and that simply wasn't possible when every nerve in her body wanted to cry out in pure pleasure. As she passed beyond rational she tried to remember not to call out Angela's name, or, if she really had to, to make sure she called her Trixie. And then the last vestiges of control just disappeared. She threw back her head. To hell with professionalism; she had no choice but to go with the flow. A series of strange animal cries came from her mouth as the climax crashed through her body.

For a while the only sound in the room was the gasping of the Countess as she came back down to earth. Trixie still lay between her thighs although she did look up, catch Sue's eye and give her a broad wink.

"Ooh, but you're good," the Countess said at last. "Now come up here and lie next to me. You, girl," she turned to Sue, "go and fetch a damp flannel from the en-suite."

With her hands fastened behind her it was quite a challenge simply to open the en-suite door, let alone find a flannel, rinse it in warm water, squeeze it out and return to the bedroom. When she returned the Countess was still sprawled full length on the bed but now she had Trixie tucked up in the crook of her arm. Sue went over to the bed and half turned so as to offer the flannel to the Countess who took it from her and used it to wipe Trixie's face. There was a tenderness about her actions that came from more than the script and, from Sue's perspective, they looked more like lovers than Mistress and slave, whatever than might mean.

"And would little Trixie like a reward?" the Countess asked.

"Oooh, yes please, Countess!"

"Well, it's only fair that, after you have satisfied me so well, that I return the favour. Would you like that pretty little pussy of yours licked?"

"How could I possibly say no?" Trixie replied.

"Well, Rosalita, get on with it."

There was a moment's pause as Sue digested exactly what the Countess had just said. Apparently returning the favour, in her eyes, didn't mean that she was actually going to do it. Indeed, it was hard to see someone as haughty and arrogant as the Countess performing such an act on a slave so, in that sense, what else had she expected?

And then there was a second pause. All three women knew that this was some sort of Rubicon. So far Sue had had things done to her; now she was to do them to other people.  For Fiona and Angela this was just the normal pause before the client plunged further into the fantasy. For the Countess and Trixie this was just an untrained slave hesitant to perform her new duties. For Sue this was just another twist in the madness.

"Come along, Rosalita," the Countess said, as if to a child. "Don't make me have to punish you."

For Sue it was as if, at this point, it got real. By obeying, by acquiescing, she was giving in, she was accepting her new 'slave' status. On the other hand the Countess had shown how quick she was to anger and, as the shock collar had shown, rebellion and disobedience could have painful consequences. Was this really the time to make a stand? She looked at the Countess but she couldn't hold the gaze and, trying not to let her reluctance show, she went round to the foot of the bed, scrambled up onto it and, as well as she could with her hands behind her back, squirmed and wriggled her way up between Trixie's legs.

Of course she knew the basics; after all, one woman's anatomy is pretty much the same as another's. Furthermore she had had it done to her, usually by blokes who reckoned that a bit of licking pussy earned them a full blowjob complete with swallow. More pertinently it wasn't that long since Sue had been on the receiving end of Trixie's clever tongue and that memory was still fresh. If she just did to Trixie what she liked being done to her she couldn't go too far wrong. Tentatively she kissed the shaven mount of Trixie's mons, just brushing her lips against the skin, before adding a little tongue. Slowly she grew bolder, her kisses became stronger, she roamed further and, as she ran the tip of her tongue along the grove where the thigh meets the torso she felt Trixie respond. This awoke a daemon within her, a daemon that loved to tease, and she made the whole thing into a game. Keeping, for the moment, away from her final destination, she set out to see what pleased Trixie the most. For starters, If Trixie liked being kissed along that groove then that's what she would do. She tried the same trick on the other side and then explored a little deeper into the groin; she varied the intensity between butterfly kisses and sensuous slides of her tongue and, using judging from the way in which Trixie was responding as a guide, searched out the bits that made her tingle the most.

But Sue knew that all this teasing was just a way of putting off the inevitable. The lips of Trixie's sex were still there waiting for her; a door she had to open, a passage she had to explore. It was time to move on, to bite the bullet, to do as she had been ordered.

If Sue had been apprehensive before it was nothing to how she was feeling now. As she used the tip of her tongue to trace out the contours of Trixie's nether lips they seemed to open for her and, for the first time, she knew the taste of another woman. To her surprise this wasn't as bad as she had feared; on the contrary, now that she was actually doing it, there was something wickedly delicious about the way that Trixie was responding to her tongue. Moreover, even the taste which, a few short hours and another lifetime ago, she would have thought abhorrent wasn't unpleasant at all and was further proof that her teasing had borne fruit.

Although she was concentrating her whole attention on Trixie's sex that didn't mean she had stopped her teasing game. She used her tongue to explore every nook and cranny and, if she occasionally brushed against the inflamed nubbin of Trixie's clitoris then she didn't stay there long. However, when Trixie ordered her, from between clenched teeth, to get on with it, she knew it was time to concentrate on the hub of her pleasure. As Sue concentrated on pleasuring Trixie below the waist, so, further up the bed, Fiona was playing with Trixie above the waist.  Partially they had to stay firmly in role. If the client were to look up it was important that she saw a Mistress and her slave sharing a passionate moment. But it wasn't just that. Whatever the true emotional attachment between the two women, they found that the job was simply easier if they pretended it was real. Fiona cupped Angela's breast with her hand and used the tip of her fingers to play with the nipple.

"What a way to earn a living," Angela whispered rather breathlessly in Fiona's ear.

"I gather she's doing OK then," Fiona whispered back.

"She's more than OK, she's good, she's very good, she's...."

Angela was starting to lose control so Fiona kissed her long and hard on the mouth both to enhance the experience and to quell any unfortunate cries that might want to escape.

As Trixie climaxed so Sue had to struggle to stay with her. Trixie arched her back and lifted her hips as she came and, unable to use her hands to hold on with, Sue had her work cut out keeping with her. Then, with an enormous but somewhat stifled groan, Trixie had had enough and rolled sideways effectively throwing Sue off. Panting slightly from the exertion, Sue knelt up and watched as Trixie, still held by the Countess, revelled in her pleasure. Sue felt a certain amount of pride in a job well done. There was no doubt that Trixie had climaxed and that had been entirely down to her.

"Ooh, thank you, Countess," Trixie said as she cuddled into Fiona once she had recovered somewhat. "Thank you for letting a slave come."

"You're more than welcome, sweetie," the Countess replied "Now I think it's time to put little Rosalita back in her cage and then we'll all settle down to a good night's sleep."

Sue was devastated. Firstly there was the way that Trixie was expressing all her thanks to the Countess. It was as if all her hard work, all the effort she had put in to overcome her squeamishness, was as nought. Meanwhile, what had the Countess done? Nothing! She had never felt so unappreciated. Secondly there was the prospect of going back in the cage. She had hoped that her hard work satisfying Trixie would bring some reward. She was physically and emotionally exhausted and her shoulders ached from the way her wrists were fastened behind her. The Countess's bed was so luxurious, so welcoming, she would have given anything just to be allowed to lie down and stretch out.

Fiona was watching for, indeed expecting, such a reaction. Like all the cast she had experienced most of what the client was going through, either through other role play scenarios or because the boss insisted that those playing 'owners' should not put the 'slaves' through anything they hadn't experienced themselves. As such she knew that the psychological effects of the cage were far more devastating than the physical effects and that 'the Countess' was being inordinately cruel to order her back in. She watched the client closely, looking for signs, half expecting the 'slow' word but all she saw was tears. Slow word or not, she realised that she had to tread carefully here. She wasn't, by nature, a cruel person but she had to ensure that the client was getting the experience she had paid for.

"Why so sad, Rosalita?" she asked, back in role as the Countess. "Surely you understand that, until you are fully trained, some restraint will be necessary."

"Please, Countess," Sue started but then realised she had broken the 'no speaking' rule.

"It's OK, little one, you may speak," the Countess replied.

"Please, Countess, please don't put me back in the cage," Sue begged, "and please, my arms, my shoulders ache so."

"Are you telling me how I should look after my property?"

Sue was a little taken aback at being described as property but that was all part of the bizarre world she was now living in. Remembering how she had been berated earlier for not being happy she realised she would have to choose her words with care.

"Please, Countess," she essayed, "I... err... your property wishes to serve you joyfully, wishes to be everything you desire but it's hard, so hard when my shoulders ache so. And the cage, Countess, it is so small...."

Fiona was seriously conflicted. She could hear all too clearly the pain in the client's voice but still she hadn't head either the 'stop' or 'go slow' words. However, whatever the client's wishes, Fiona, along with all the cast, had been well trained in the medical aspects of bondage and keeping the client's wrists constrained would be risking injury. Some sort of compromise was required but she still needed to stay in role as the Countess.

"Have a care, Rosalita, you are testing my patience with your complaining. However, as you are new and as I am not completely heartless, I will free your arms for tonight. Now then, get in the cage before I am forced to punish you for disobedience. Trixie, help her in, will you?"

Sue was about to restate her case but the Countess's firm expression dissuaded her and, reluctantly, she allowed herself to be guided off the bed and down onto her knees so that she, once again, could shuffle into the cage. The door was locked behind her and the Countess herself got off the bed and opened a hatch in the roof of the cage similar to the one they had used when she had been fed. This allowed her to reach through and undo the cuffs that held Sue's wrists. As soon as this was done the hatch was closed again and the Countess went round to the end of the cage where the feeding hatch was still open. She sat on the floor looking in at Sue.

"I know it is hard, little Rosalita, but you have much to learn and the quicker you learn it the better it will be. You were born to be a plaything and, when you have fully learnt that, when your only wish is to do my will, then you will share my bed. But, just as the untrained pony rejects the bridle, so the untrained slave still yearns to be free. Until you are broken, until you are truly mine, such restraints as these are sadly necessary. Now, give me a good night kiss."

The Countess leaned forward towards the feeding hatch. Sue nearly rebelled again. Comparing her to an untrained pony! How dare she! But she was tired of fighting so she put her head out through the hatch and let herself be kissed.

And then the feeding hatch was closed, the Countess and Trixie got into bed and after a bit of snuggling turned the lights off. Sue tried to find a position she could sleep in and, to be fair, the mattress on the floor of the cage was soft and the room was suitably heated so that, as long as she didn't want to stretch out, she was comfortable enough. At least her hands were free and she could massage her aching shoulders. Feeling tired and defeated all she could do was lie there and wonder what the morrow would bring. With a sigh she curled up a little tighter and drifted off to sleep. In the background she could hear Trixie and the Countess continuing to cuddle each other. Was the spark of jealousy, the desire to switch places with Trixie, entirely down to a need to stretch out or were there other cravings as well?