Book 1 of the Million Dollar Chronicles


by Sir Thomas

- provided for use on SirJeff's Ponygirls by the author.
- do not use without the author's permission.


Chapter 5 - The Fifty Cent Tour


I must have nodded off. I felt a hand on my shoulder. As I opened my eyes I found hugo’s huge grin to be a welcome sight.

“Enjoy your nap?” Hugo asked.

“Could have used a bit more shuteye. What time is it?” I asked as I stretched and yawned.

“We have an hour to get you ready,” he said, ignoring my question. “Go brush your teeth and rinse well. I have to gag you again.”

I shook the cobwebs out and trotted naked into the bathroom. Hugo followed. After a thorough wash and rinse of my mouth, Hugo introduced me to the special gear for cleaning out my lower opening. The toilet had a control panel nearby. He told me to press the button labeled ‘Start’. When I did this a thin, lubricated dildo swung up from the toilet. He told me to pull my cheeks apart and sit on it. When I had done so a green light appeared on the panel which said ‘Ready’. Underneath this light was another red button that said ‘Lock’. Following Hugo’s instructions I pressed this button and immediately felt the dildo expanding. The tip and butt expanded quickly but the body of the device also expanded. This took time, perhaps two minutes. A red LED display counted down as the dildo slowly spread my anus. The panel sounded a beep when it was complete. At this point another green light appeared next to the label ‘Ready to Wash’. When I pressed the associated button the process began.

Hugo said I could watch the process on the red LED display if I wished. I expected a wash and a rinse, perhaps several. I didn’t expect to see the word ‘Pressurize’ though. This was the first process. Compressed air was injected to expand me. Then three sets of washes, soaks, and rinses were performed. The dildo was never released. The unit injected the water and removed it by vacuum. When the process was complete I was exhausted.

Hugo explained that there was no automated system for cleaning my sex. Instead he showed me a closet which had a number of supplies such as towels, makeup items, etc. It also contained a large number of female necessities including douche kits. He handed me three boxes bound together and told me to perform the process three times.

As I sat on the toilet cleansing myself he explained a few things. “First,” he said, “You will always address anyone you meet in this household by their first name. As an example, when I tell you to do something you will acknowledge the command by saying ‘Yes, Hugo.” Clear?”

“Yes, Hugo,” I responded correctly. I had to stifle the giggle. Hugo seemed so serious.

“You will never use the term Mistress or Master. Unlike similar relationships we do not enjoy those titles. Paul absolutely hates to be called ‘Master’ and you will be punished and fined if you do. Marie doesn’t mind the term nearly as much but she is to be addressed by her first name as well. I will introduce you to the staff and other slaves in due time. You will memorize their names and follow their orders. Got it?”

“Yes, Hugo.”

“Good. Now, as to what you can expect, Marie has dictated how you are to be presented. When I take you to her you will always be gagged. You will always have your hands bound behind you and you will always have heels on. In addition, you will always have both lower orifices plugged. For the next year these conditions will not change except under the most unusual circumstances. Understood?”

“Yes, Hugo. May I ask a question?”


“You always talk about Marie. What about Paul?”

“What about him?”

“Doesn’t Paul make any decisions?”

“Rarely. You see, this was mostly Paul’s idea. The only reason Marie agreed to it was because she doesn’t like to be a submissive. She doesn’t like to perform oral sex either. But to accommodate Paul she decided to hire a slave or two for his pleasure. One thing led to another until finally they contacted me. I had this large property and I was in the process of building a large ranch when they came up with the idea of a bondage complex. Since we had both visited the same bondage clubs and knew each other well, we decided to join in this venture.”

“So you own everything? I thought Marie and Paul were the owners.”

“I own the property. Marie and Paul own the slaves. The million bucks they pay come out of their own pockets. As payment for letting them use the facilities I get to train the ‘pick of the litter’ if you will.”

“How far will Paul go with me? He seems pretty nice but I’ve learned that first impressions can be deceiving. Who has final say in what can be done to me?”

“Marie controls all aspects of Paul’s pleasure. Marie will decide when you see Paul, what he can do with you, how he binds you, and anything else that might relate to Paul’s pleasure. Oh, and don’t be fooled. She loves him with all her heart and she trusts him implicitly. But she is charged with his pleasure. That’s why you will only perform oral sex on Paul and your lower openings will always be plugged when you visit him. Anything below the waist is her domain. Understand?”

“Yes, Hugo.”


After all the business in the bathroom we headed to the large makeup table in the bedroom. Hugo began by removing the chains going from my nose to my earrings. Funny thing is that I had hardly noticed that they were there. He told me he’d put them back on once my makeup was done.

Then Hugo began combing my long blonde hair. He took nearly ten minutes to get it to his liking. As he combed he also applied a fine spray conditioner, which improved its body and fullness. He finished the act by gathering my hair into a ponytail that he secured with a special red leather strap.

Next he applied dark red lipstick with a small paintbrush. He made up my eyes using a brown tint. I had to apply the mascara myself under his close scrutiny. Finally he dusted my cheeks with a little rouge and examined me.

“Good. Now we just need to let the lipstick cure before we apply the gloss.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, not understanding. I never heard of a lipstick that needed to cure.

“Your lipstick is something new. It’s smear-proof. You have to apply the color first. Then after a few minutes it will dull. Then we apply the gloss. When that cures it won’t come off without applying a special cream.”

“Oh!” I said. I thought to myself, what a neat feature! Then I realized why and I said, “Oh!” again. They didn’t want to ruin my makeup when they used my mouth!

Eventually the gloss layer dried and I had a smear-proof pair of red lips ready for whatever purpose these people wanted. I had to sit in the chair and pucker up for two minutes after Hugo was done. It felt stupid but Hugo insisted. He wanted the finish to look perfect. It did.

“We’ll have to replace the coating every three days. It will begin to peel after that,” he told me.

All this time I had been staring at the plastic bag on the table. It had been sitting right in front of me the entire time. Hugo didn’t pay much attention to it but I did. It held the gag I would wear. I was hoping it was something different than the previous gag. When he opened the bag I was relieved to find it much different than the previous tongue stretcher. Instead it was constructed of a simple ball with black leather straps that would obviously encircle my head. That I could live with.

“I want you to learn how to put this on yourself,” he said. “Before long you’ll be expected to do your own makeup and gag.”

“You want me to tie myself up?”

“No, I’ll help you with most of the gear. You just have to do the makeup and the gag.”

“Even that horrible gag you used on me before?”

“No, that gag I’ll have to help you install.”

“I hope I won’t have to wear that one anytime soon. I hated it and it hurt my tongue and jaw.”

“Unfortunately that gag is one you’ll have to get used to during the next few months. We use it to stretch your jaw and tongue.”


“So you’ll provide better oral sex. We have special gags that require your jaw to be open wider than it does now. The tongue part is for Marie. She wants your tongue to extend from your mouth by another quarter inch. She feels it will allow you to pleasure her better. I tried to tell her a person’s tongue won’t grow from stretching but she likes the control aspect of it. Anyway, time is running short so if you would please put the rubber ball in your mouth I’ll show you how to buckle it.”

There were no hasps on the buckles and no obvious way to release them. I also found it strange that there was no apparent way to adjust the straps. Still, I now trusted Hugo so I inserted the ball in my mouth and pulled the straps around my head, following Hugo’s instructions. Hugo informed me that he and Marie had small keys that would unlock the gag. Also, he told me I would never be left alone while gagged, not even for a moment.

Hugo showed me the proper way to arrange the straps before inserting the rubber ball in my mouth. As I examined the straps in front of my face I began to get a feel for how they would encircle my head. I gathered my willpower and opened my mouth wide. The ball barely fit behind my teeth. My tongue was pressed down and backwards as my jaw was stretched by the two inches of shiny red rubber. Hugo guided my fingers to the first straps that he wanted me to connect. These were the side straps that would buckle behind my neck. The clasp connected with a small amount of slack. It had a hinged lever on it. I had to push the tongue under a slot near the base of the lever. Then I had to hook it under the lever. When the lever was pressed into place the lock would engage and take up the slack. It would stay that way until a key was inserted.

One by one I buckled the remaining straps around my head. The hardest ones were those behind my ears. Hugo encouraged me but didn’t help. He said I had to learn how to do it myself. The last strap to be connected slipped under my chin and clipped to the harness near my right ear.

I found the harness tight and the ball to be quite uncomfortable. It certainly looked erotic in the mirror. I had seen others bound this way on the net but I had never figured to be a bondage model wearing such a device. Hugo’s words calmed me but I found myself becoming increasingly anxious. I had to force myself to remain calm as he installed the small gold chains that connected my nose ring to my ears. At that point he led me away from the vanity. I had to keep telling myself that they weren’t going to hurt me, that I had nothing to fear. But I was still quite nervous.

We entered the closet. While I waited, Hugo picked out the gear I would be wearing. It was apparent to me that he was doing this on the fly. It was also obvious he had done this before. He seemed to know where each item was located since he never had to search amongst the hundreds of items. I was impressed.

He started with a red leather collar that was at least three inches wide. It buckled in back. As before, the collar had no adjustment. It simply fit perfectly around my neck. This collar was extremely thick and had a flared bottom that covered the base of my neck, both front and rear. Once he had it secured I couldn’t move my head from side to side and it kept my chin lifted. It didn’t raise my chin extremely high but I couldn’t see my breasts or my feet without leaning forward at the waist.

In the closet’s mirror I now found that the collar had a single gold loop in the front. This loop was nearly three inches in diameter. It added quite a bit of weight to the collar, which was already quite heavy. It was obvious to me that there was metal between the layers of leather.

Hugo stared at me before deciding on the next item of apparel. It was as if he were dressing me in his mind. I watched as he walked to the far end of the hall and selected a white leather corset. I had seen them in old movies and once in an x-rated flick.

I knew they were tight and they needed to be laced. I also knew they would reshape my body, pulling my waist in and thrusting my breasts and hips out. This one was different. First, it didn’t cover my breasts. That was unusual in itself. What I found truly unusual though was the lack of laces. Instead it had six nylon straps with ratcheted clasps. They reminded me of the hold-down clamps found on luggage racks. These were interspersed with eighteen clasps similar to the ones on my gag. Hugo told me that the ratchet clamps would be removed once the main clips were fastened.

And that’s pretty much the way it went. He wrapped the white leather around my body and had me hold it in place under my breasts while he connected the straps to the ratchets. Slowly he took up the slack as the garment began to hug my body. I was expecting him to say something like, “Suck in your belly,” as he tightened the straps. But instead he worked silently, pulling my waist in slowly but surely. As he pulled I tried to adjust to the tight fit. I found myself arching my back and sticking out my rear. I found myself standing straighter too. I could no longer bend at the waist by more than a few degrees.

Eventually the rear edges of the corset had come in contact with each other and Hugo connected all eighteen clasps. At this point he could remove the ratchet devices and close the zipper that would hide all the metal devices. Even this had a mating connector at the end of its travel. I was really locked into this gear well.

The next phase of the operation involved footwear. In this case Hugo seemed to have already decided on a pair of knee high red boots with four inch heels. These heels were wider than the stilettos I had previously worn. They were a little narrower than the standard Cuban heel design, perhaps an inch wide at the tip. I realized that I could probably walk in these for a little longer than the spikes I had worn earlier.

Hugo seemed to enjoy lacing my boots. I was thinking to myself, “If he just wasn’t gay, I’d try and make a pass at him.” Then again he seemed to enjoy the act of binding me too much to be totally immune to my charms. I had the feeling that he was unsure of his lifestyle commitment. Maybe Teresa was confused. Maybe he was bisexual. I couldn’t tell. What I could tell is that I was becoming increasingly fond of the big guy. He was handsome. He was nice. And he cared. I just wished I didn’t have this band of leather around my neck so I could get a better look at him.

Hugo walked to a section of the closet that contained a number of hanging leather pieces. I couldn’t tell what they were by their shape. They all appeared to be triangular in shape. Each hung from a metal ring. All had a myriad of straps.

This one was also dyed red to match my collar and boots. When Hugo had me put my arms behind my back I realized it was some sort of arm binding device. It featured many eyelets and a pair of straps. Hugo had me place my palms together as he slipped it up my arms. Inside I found it to be padded with soft fleece which felt very nice on my skin. The wrist area had an elastic band to hold my wrists in the proper location. Hugo had to pull fairly hard to get my hands through. But they fit perfectly just as everything else had.

He loosely connected the straps, threading them under my armpits and over the opposite shoulder. The binder would not come off without help. Next, he pulled the laces tight enough to nearly pull my arms together at the elbows. It forced my chest out and pulled my shoulders back. Now I really had to stand up straight. Hugo continued to adjust the laces and the straps until he was satisfied with the fit. Now I was really his.

I had forgotten about my lower orifices. Hugo apparently had not. He went to a shelf and opened a black box which was illuminated by a pair of green lights on its front. When he pulled out the pair of dildos I was quickly reminded.

“These aren’t nearly as bad as the others. They only buzz and only for a few seconds. They don’t shock. But they last a long time. The front one will last sixteen hours if it isn’t triggered too much. The rear one needs to be replaced every six hours. That works out since you have to be cleaned three times a day anyway. So, let’s get them in and we’ll get rolling.”

Each had its own green light. They were glowing steadily. Once Hugo inserted each device into me he secured them with small gold caps which screwed onto the studs. He then turned the light to the right on my vaginal insert and it began slowly blinking. I assumed he did something to the rear device as well. He finished my bondage by taking a gold chain with two inch links and wrapping it around my waist. He secured it at my belly with a padlock then pulled the tag end of the chain through my legs and connected it to the ring on the end of my arm binder. He finished the decoration of my body by clipping several short chains between my bulging breasts, clipping them to the rings hanging from my nipples and allowing them to hang in front of me. As he turned, I was ready to follow. And I did.

As we entered the bedroom Hugo needed to explain some additional rules. “We usually use hand signals to control our slaves,” he said. “As we walk watch my right hand. If I want you to kneel on one knee, I’ll put one finger down. If I want you on two knees I’ll use two fingers. Understand?”

I nodded without making a sound.

At that point he put one finger down and I immediately dropped to my right knee.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Now the rule is, if you’re following me when I signal, you’ll walk up to my side. Then you’ll drop to your right knee. But I’m facing you, I want you to drop where you are standing. Clear?”

Again I nodded silently.

“Excellent. I’ll signal for you to rise by cupping my hand and waving my fingers. If your bondage is severe as it is now, I’ll help you up. Otherwise you’ll be expected to rise on your own. Of course if I start moving without signaling and your plug is armed I expect you to rise on your own. You have all that?”

I nodded again. It was getting complicated but if I used common sense I figured that I could avoid being buzzed or shocked or whatever these things did to me. Anyway he put me to the test by turning and signaling with his fingers. I rose and took up my position six feet behind his right shoulder.

As we walked he continued to explain. “The name of this game is control. Control is sexually stimulating. It crosses lifestyle boundaries. For example, some gay men such as myself can gain sexual pleasure by dominating women, in this case, you. The more aspects of your life I control, the more I enjoy the scene. Here, we’ll control many aspects of your life that you would not even consider being significant. That includes how you walk, talk, dress, eat, sleep, and any of a dozen simple facets of your life you take for granted. Sometimes the circumstances we’ll force upon you will be meaningless and tiresome in your opinion. To us it will always be important. Why? Because it will indicate your level of obedience. And that’s how we judge how good we are. You see, turning a person into a slave is like creating a work of art. The discipline and beauty of the slave reflects the dedication, creativity, pride, and perhaps the very soul of the owner. There is nothing we care about more. When I show you off to Marie and Paul the praise they give to you is a credit to me. I am your trainer and I take that responsibility seriously.”

So he considered me to be a work of art. Now I understood why he took so much time preparing me for this encounter. I also understood why the bondage was so severe. It was as if I was a pet going to a show. It was quite obvious that he enjoyed the creative process. I was his creation but more importantly I was also his pet. Yes, it was degrading but it was also something I understood since as a child I had owned many pets. I just never figured that I’d be on the other end of the leash.


I didn’t have to kneel again until we had descended the ramp. I found walking in the heels more unnerving while descending than when I had gone up the ramps. I had to look down the slope and that bothered me. But I got the hang of it by the time I had gotten to the bottom.

Once we were on level ground again he suddenly stopped for no reason and pointed one finger toward the floor. I suppose it was a test to see if I was paying attention. Well I hesitated then nearly tripped as I rushed to his side and dropped to my right knee.

“Well, that was certainly graceful,” he said sardonically. “Don’t rush. Take your time. You need to keep your eyes on my right shoulder. You only have to watch for hand signals when I stop, at least for now. We’ll get into more complicated hand signals shortly. For now, the only signals you’ll get are kneel and rise commands. And those commands are only given when I’m not moving.”

With the lecture over he silently signaled me to rise. I found it hard to stand and would have lost my balance if Hugo hadn’t put a hand under my armpit. I still hadn’t gotten used to these heels.

He had me follow him around the lower level of the huge building just for practice. Every now and then he’d stop and point one or two fingers toward the ground. I learned quickly that he was in no rush to have me kneel at his side. I became comfortable with the act of walking up to his right side and kneeling on command. He began praising me for my obedience and my gracefulness. He said I was progressing nicely.

After ten or fifteen such acts he began instructing me in other signals. Now I had to watch his right hand while I was moving as well. These signals would tell me how to walk.

We started with a signal for the normal walk. This signal consisted of him showing me an open flat hand with his fingers together and pointing straight down. He called this the at ease signal.

Next came the trot signals. There were two, the half knee lift and the full knee lift. When his flat palm was placed against his leg with fingers extended I was to execute a half knee trot. This consisted of flexing my knees and pointing my toes toward the ground with each step. I was to raise my leg until my thigh was at a forty-five degree angle. He told me I was to stomp my heel smartly with each step so he could hear it clearly. The full knee step, signaled by placing his flat palm horizontally, was exactly the same with the exception that I was instructed to raise my knee much higher, at least as high as my waist. With both steps I found that it produced a staccato march. My gait was stuttered and halting, almost military in nature. I found it demanded tremendous concentration. It became overwhelming to now have to watch Hugo’s hand while concentrating on my form at the same time. Add to that the need to stay behind his right shoulder and kneel on command every now and then and I had no time to think about my nudity or bondage. I only could pay attention to Hugo, attempting to be the perfect, obedient slave. I thought I did a good job.

Those were apparently all the walking lessons for the day. Hugo gave the hand signal for the half knee trot and I began lifting my knees accordingly. As Hugo led me into the glass corridor my heels echoed through the chamber, making me self-conscious of the situation I had gotten myself into. I felt anxiety invade my thoughts. But suddenly Hugo signaled a change and turned his palm horizontal. I forced myself to concentrate on the new trot. I now had to lift my knees higher.

We traveled through the mansion for some time before coming to a large parlor. Marie was waiting with Paul as well as several other people. There were twelve slave girls bound in various outfits. They were all gagged and each had their hands bound behind them with single sleeves. No sleeve was alike and all were brightly colored. Not one stitch of black leather was to be found on these slaves.

Each was accompanied by an attendant. The attendants were all dressed the same, wearing white pants and t-shirts with a black belt. These attendants, unlike Hugo, wore a pair of name tags. One tag indicated the name of the trainer. The other tag would simply say, “Trainer of Sex (or bondage) Slave,” on the first line followed by the name of the slave on the second. It was obvious that each girl had their own personal trainer.

Most of the trainers were seated in chairs and love seats. The slaves knelt nearby. Each trainer held a leash, keeping the slave’s head within easy reach. These leads were rarely attached to a collar, although some were. Most were attached to bare breasts. Some were connected to rings mounted in the slave’s crotch, and of course there was the occasional tongue leash.

When we arrived I could see everyone’s eyes light up, especially Marie’s. She approached me displaying a huge grin. “Oh my,” she said. She began running her hands over my face, feeling the leather straps. She quickly moved to my breasts, petting them as if they were prized possessions. I could tell she enjoyed the feel of tight leather. “I do love that white corset. I think it’s Paul’s best idea. I wasn’t exactly in favor of it back when we started this all but I do love the way you always seem to make the white anchor the ensemble. It really sets off the other colors,” she offered, commenting on Hugo’s creativity.

“I think it’s only proper for a rookie. White seems very appropriate for a virgin offering,” he said.

“Virgin offering,” Marie repeated. “Yes, I like that term. It’s not necessarily accurate but I think it’s more than appropriate. Anyway, we have introductions to make. Paul?”

Paul introduced each slave and master. The slaves seemed to be much disciplined. It was evident in their manner. They only nodded once when introduced, as I had been told to do on several occasions. They responded to simple tugs of the leash or mere hand signals without delay. I noticed their movements were stiff, almost robotic in nature. It was obvious that they had been trained well.

The masters seemed to be caring, often petting the slaves’ hair or caressing them against their leg as they knelt. They often played with the slave’s hair. Some would wipe drool from the slave’s lips. Not one seemed to be abusive or demanding. They each seemed to have a close relationship with their slave, as if they were in love with them. It made me wonder if they were.

Marie and Paul apparently didn’t possess personal slaves. This seemed strange to me at first. I suddenly realized that we were all owned by Paul and Marie. We were their personal slaves and we would all share that responsibility.

Marie took the transmitter from Hugo and signaled me to follow. Hugo walked behind both of us, apparently watching me from behind. Paul stayed with the other slaves.

Shortly after we started moving, Marie slapped her right thigh. I took the hint and began doing the half step I had been taught. I realized as I walked that Marie couldn’t see me walk. Only Hugo could enjoy seeing me march in this strange manner. I wondered why the roles weren’t reversed. Why didn’t Hugo lead, allowing Marie to watch me march? Perhaps Marie simply enjoyed hearing my footsteps click on the wood flooring. It was puzzling to say the least.

Our little parade moved through the various parts of the complex. I followed Marie closely, always on guard to avoid setting off the buzzer between my legs. Marie walked slowly, never looking back but always talking. She knew I wouldn’t wander out of earshot of course.

We traveled to the far end of the west wing and arrived in one of two buildings that housed the attendants, the other situated on the end of the east wing. Marie pointed one finger to the floor and I calmly walked up to her side and knelt.

“This is servant complex one,” she said. “On the opposite end of the complex is servant complex two. Each has two floors above ground and a recreational facility below. We won’t disturb the tenants since some work the late shift. In due time, you’ll meet all of them.”

We next proceeded to the left center building, the sister building of the one that I had been taken to earlier. Marie ordered me to march as before. When we arrived Marie explained that the lower level was dedicated to marching sessions. All her girls marched.

“Bondage is fun for a while,” she said. “But soon it gets boring without a theme. That’s why I like having my slaves march. It gives me something to focus on, to build upon. I have to admit, it’s become an obsession. But I suppose you’ve already figured that out.”

We trotted up to the second floor and entered one of the slave quarters. Marie again signaled me to kneel at her side. The bedroom was deserted since all the girls were in the main parlor. I noticed that the room was similar to my quarters. It was wedge shaped and nearly the same size. There was one difference. There were two beds instead of one. These girls had to share bedrooms.

We began another march. This time our destination was the mansion. Hugo continued to follow as I stomped my heels. Half way through the glass tunnel Marie stopped and ordered me to kneel at her side once more.

“You’ll notice the courtyard is beautifully kept. The grass is green. The palm trees are leafy and healthy. The flowers are perfectly pruned. If you thought that things seem out of place for such a hot climate you would be correct. Palms and roses don’t grow in the desert without a lot of irrigation, which we simply can’t do here. All of it is artificial, all except the cactus that is. The trees are hollywood props. The grass is artificial turf and the flowers are custom made to my specifications. We do have a gardener but his job is more a matter of rearranging the flower bed to make it look original each week.”

“If you look into the distance you can see the storage barn where we house the most elaborate coaches. We tend to use them in the evening after the sun has set. Even with the shade the trees provide it’s far too hot during the day to march outdoors. We do have a solarium on the rear deck of the mansion though. We’ll make sure you get a proper tan, although you might not like the method we use.”

The sun was setting quickly and Marie was apparently on a tight schedule. Perhaps she wanted me prepared for an evening trot under bit and bridle. I couldn’t tell. All I could tell was that she wanted to end the tour quickly. She turned and started moving. I had no choice but to follow.

Marie made the sign for the high step. With Hugo following I did the best I could to move in the precise high-stepping fashion he had taught me only hours before. I was clumsy but I didn’t fall. I was getting tired and the heels didn’t help. I fell behind and got buzzed in my crotch. I quickly moved closer and concentrated on improving my gait. Neither said a word, as if they expected me to lose my stride. Marie just kept walking forward. I kept marching.

The last part of the tour was kind of dull. Marie showed me the various rooms in the mansion. In the rear was the kitchen where no fewer than twenty servants and four chefs were doing initial preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast. The kitchen was of restaurant dimensions capable, according to Marie, of serving three hundred people. The thing that surprised me was that no one was even slightly fazed by the fact that a leather clad bondage model had entered the room. I had to wonder if they were that accustomed to this situation. Apparently yes.

On the first floor there also was a large guest bedroom as well as a playroom capable of satisfying the most avid bondage enthusiast. The walls were littered with gags, harnesses, whips, and all sorts of ropes and straps. The center of the room contained racks and posts for binding the slave. Even the ceiling and floor had hooks and rings to be used for all sorts of kinky fun. It made me a little anxious to see gear in such quantity, especially knowing that I’d get to sample most of it before long.

The mansion had an elevator. I appreciated that fact since the stairway was an elaborate carpeted affair that I would never be able to climb in my outfit. The second floor also contained a bondage playroom although this seemed to be more of a storage area. Oh, it wasn’t used to store bondage gear. It was used to store slaves. Now I knew where all the bondage slaves had disappeared to. They had been conspicuously absent from the mansion during our tour. Now I knew where they were. This was the gallery.

Each girl knelt in a suspended cage no more than three feet square. Their heads were mounted in stocks along the front edge of each cage. The stocks were nothing more than a black felt block of wood laid at an angle to the top of the cage. It made each girl’s head protrude forward. Each head was, of course, gagged severely. The gag of choice was the tongue stretching gag I had worn earlier. The end of the tongue was adorned by a small silver bell.

Paul was in the room examining each girl carefully. As he finished inspecting each girl, an attendant would wrap the cage in a black cloth skirt, essentially hiding the interior of the cage. Only the head remained visible, on display for all to see. At that point the attendants would then sit down. They used chairs directly behind the cages, watching carefully for any trouble that might develop.

“We’re not doing the evening trot tonight so Paul decided to put the girls in these display cages. The girls will spend a few hours here to make up the difference. They soon understand how much more interesting ponygirl bondage is,” Marie quipped.

Once all the cages had been covered, Paul pointed to one cage on the left. “I’ll use her,” he said. The cage was lowered to the floor a second later. Two of the attendants grabbed protruding handles on either side of the cage and removed it from the chain rig. The cage was placed on a dolly and pushed into the next room. I watched as the rear facing head of the slave gazed directly at me. She didn’t seem fearful at all. But it was pretty hard to tell with the gag stretching her mouth.

We followed them into the next room. This room could best be described as a bondage lounge. There were several leather chairs and love seats facing a carpeted area where it was apparent that various bondage scenes could be carried out. The corners contained large padded crosses. The center of the room contained one wide post and the ceiling sported a number of chains and suspended bars with manacles. The right wall contained a number of closets and cabinets which I was sure contained even more bondage gear. The entire left wall was built of French doors which opened onto the rear patio. Looking through the doors I could see two wooden frames equipped with manacles. It seemed as though the entire complex was built from the ground up with nothing but bondage in mind.

I was ordered to watch carefully as Paul removed the girl’s gag. “First he’ll kiss her,” Hugo whispered to me. Paul crouched and looked into the girl’s eyes. She seemed to smile before he kissed her on the lips. When he stood, he looked down at her. Their eyes met and she nodded once before opening her mouth and extending her tongue. “She just told him she’s ready for oral sex,” Hugo informed me quietly. At that point, the girl’s face disappeared as Paul pressed himself up against the girl’s face. I knew what he was doing. I was grateful that I couldn’t see the actual act. Oh, I had seen this done in X-rated movies but I had never been in the same room with someone who had done this kind of stuff. It made me very uncomfortable.

After Paul had finished with the girl, her attendant cleaned her up and took her away. Paul then approached me and placed his hand under my chin. “Do you think you can handle that?” he asked. It was a challenge to nod my head but I did. I still didn’t know how I would summon the courage to agree to the act but I knew I would have to or lose out on that million bucks.

“Train her well, Hugo. I’ll give you three days. Make sure she’s ready,” he directed Hugo.

“I’ll do that. Are we finished,” Hugo asked Marie.

“I think so. We’ll take care of Paul’s needs. Then we’ll work on the other stuff for my benefit.”

“Yes. I’d think that would be best,” Hugo agreed.


The tour was over. We had returned to my room, Hugo leading the way. I was exhausted. My jaw was sore from having it spread for nearly two hours. My feet hurt from walking in heels all day. My shoulders hurt. And I won’t even mention how things felt between my legs. Add jet lag to all this and the fact that I had gotten up early to start this entire process and you could see my point.

But nobody seemed to care about my state of exhaustion. Instead Hugo led me to my room and had me kneel. He obviously wasn’t done since he didn’t remove any of my bonds. He just had me drop to one knee at the foot of the bed. “Stay,” he disappeared into the closet.

A moment later he returned with some very strange items. The first item of note was a long black leather collar which had a number of straps and gadgets hanging from it. “Don’t be afraid,” he said as he wrapped the leather tube around my neck and head.

The collar was close fitting and long. It bulged slightly to fit the contour of my head as it rose above my ears and covered the back of my head. There were air holes cut in the leather around my ears to allow me to hear clearly. In addition, the collar across my shoulders extended both front and back to my breastbone and shoulder blades. Once the buckles in the back were secured I couldn’t turn my head without turning my entire body.

“I’m going to prepare you for oral sex training,” he warned. “We do this with all the girls, especially those that have no experience in the art. Don’t be afraid. I’ll go slowly so you can get used to the activity. I’m now going to fix it so that you won’t be able to close your mouth. Then we’ll take it from there. Don’t be afraid,” he said.

The next ordeal involved Hugo inserting metal spoons into my mouth alongside the rubber ball. He had to disconnect the ball from the head harness first of course. The spoons were U-shaped and attached to the collar with adjustable leather straps. One went in each side. Once the straps were pulled tight he removed the rubber ball. My mouth stayed open of course. “Extend your tongue,” he ordered. I dreaded the words but obeyed. A small gold cone was produced for my tongue which he pressed over its tip. He pressed a pin up from underneath. Then he gave the pin a quarter turn with the wrench and it was secure. Hugo produced a leather leash. In short order he had my tongue pulled out of my mouth and secured the leather strap to the collar. He left the leash loose enough so that I had to keep my tongue extended enough so that it just touched my lower lip.

He had me stand and follow him to a large chair that faced the TV. He sat and I knelt. I knew what was coming.

“I know you’re nervous,” he said. “Every girl, even the ones that are experienced get nervous at this point. That is normal. At the start I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. This session’s going to last an hour or so. If you feel you can’t handle it, back off now. I won’t stop you and you won’t be penalized, at least not tonight. Now lean forward and take it,” he ordered as he unzipped his pants and showed me his manhood.

A moment later my mouth was full and I didn’t like it. I knew I’d have to do this but I was hoping I could adjust better. I tried to think about the money. After all, this was the act that would get me the big bucks. Bondage only paid a tenth of what the sex paid. This single act was worth $900,000. That was enough to keep me leaning forward, even though it was the most disgusting thing I had ever done.

“Eyes up, Casey!” he ordered. “Try to maintain eye contact with your owner whenever possible. Also, press down harder with your lower lip and keep your teeth off my cock.”

I did as he ordered and looked up at him. He praised me then sat back and turned on the TV. I heard some sports program, probably ESPN. In the meantime I noticed him getting hard and realized that eventually things were going to get difficult for me. I knew what the next act would be. I was on the verge of panic.

Hugo must have noticed and began petting my hair. “Don’t be afraid. It’s not as bad as you might think,” he said. He then threaded his fingers into the straps of the headgear, preventing me from pulling back. With his right hand he grabbed one of the chains going from ear to nose and gently pulled me even closer to him.

“When you’re ready, I want you to start sucking just like you did with the vegetables. Once you start, I’ll force you to complete the act. Don’t be afraid. It’s not that bad.”

Now I was frightened. I no longer had the ability to say no to the act. If I resisted, I’d be raped. But I knew Hugo. He had treated me well all day. This was a training session I realized. I had to do this because that’s what I was being paid to do. That’s how I justified it. That’s how I got myself to comply. And I did.

He began petting my hair with his left hand as he held onto the chain with his right. His entire body stiffened as I tasted the semen in my mouth. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to be released. I began to pull away but he held onto the chain firmly. I felt pain in my nose and my right ear. I was helpless and confused and I didn’t know what to do as the liquid collected in my cheeks and under my tongue.

“Swallow,” he said as my mouth began filling. I began to panic. He repeated his command, “Swallow, I said!”

He wouldn’t release me from his grip. I looked up at him for encouragement. He was smiling. “Come on, Honey. I know you can do it.” A second later my mouth was no longer full of semen and I was again sucking his cock. He praised me. “Good girl. Keep that eye contact though.” I kept looking up at him while my tongue and lip did the work he desired.

While he didn’t exactly go flaccid, after my initial bit of work he had me relax. Instead he simply forced me to kneel between his legs, gagged with his manhood. He refused to remove his cock from my mouth. Instead he kept hold of the chain going to my nose and continued to watch the news. I had to keep him in my mouth for nearly an hour. During that time he ignored me for the most part. He simply wanted to exert his dominance over me by keeping me gagged in this manner.

Twenty minutes later, while a commercial was on, he forced me to begin the sucking and pumping action again. He continued to coach me. He especially paid attention to my eyes, forcing me to look up at him at all times. In the meantime my tongue remained extended and I continued to suck and swallow.

At the end of this session I again remained kneeling with him in my mouth. Another twenty minutes passed before the process was repeated a third time. This time was the final session. Once he was satisfied he removed himself from my mouth and began undressing me. I made a sour face once the gag was removed.

“Do you think you can do that three or four times a day?” he asked.

“You mean one session with three or four orgasms like we just did?” I asked.

“No. I mean three or four hour long sessions like we just did.”

It took me a moment to comprehend his words. “Yes, Hugo, I can do it,” I said confidently. “If I can handle one hour like this, I’m sure I can handle more.”

“When we have parties you will.”

Again I hesitated. But I wanted the money that bad. “I can do it, Hugo.”

It took some time for him to remove all the bondage gear. I massaged my jaw and stretched afterwards. Eventually I was free of the gear and he allowed me to wear a black silk robe for modesty’s sake. He escorted me to the bathroom where he donned a pair of gloves before removing my dildos. “Shower and brush your teeth. Use lots of mouthwash. You’ll feel much better. I’ll be back in half an hour. I’ve got one more thing to show you before you hit the sack.”

I ran the water extra hot and let it flow over my tired muscles. My shoulders were extremely stiff from the strict bondage I had endured for the past four hours. I couldn’t remember when I had enjoyed a shower so much.

Hugo was sitting on the bed waiting. He rose when I emerged from the bathroom and he wrapped his arms around me. His kiss seemed sincere rather than platonic. If he were truly gay, I’d expect otherwise.

“For being gay you sure seem to perform a lot of heterosexual acts,” I offered.

“I’m funny that way,” he said mockingly.

“No, I mean it Hugo. That woman, Teresa, said you were gay. But you don’t kiss like a gay man.”

“You’ve kissed gay men before?”

“You know what I mean,” I said.

“I’m still discovering myself. Maybe I’m not as gay as Teresa thinks. Anyway, it’s getting late. Let me give you your orders for the morning.”

I helped him gather a few items from the closet and deposit them on the shelves that were to the left of the vanity. I took the boots while he gathered the rest of the gear.

I noticed that the boots had high heels made out of a clear plastic material. The heels were roughly an inch wide and five inches high. The boots also sported silver horseshoes. They were steel of course but they also had rubber cleats. Hugo explained that this feature was added so I could walk on the polished wooden floors of the mansion without risk of damage.

Hugo opened the bag containing the gag, a black wooden bit attached to a series of black leather straps. “Notice the opening in the back,” he ordered. “You insert your tongue in it and press upwards on this button until it snaps in place. Then you insert the entire assembly in your mouth. To release the pin press both metal end-rings inward at the same time.”

“You want me to gag myself? Now?” I asked, fearing that he wanted me to sleep with a bit in my mouth.

“No. Tomorrow morning I want you to do the following. When the alarm goes off at six…”

“Six a.m.?”

“That’s right. You have to do your exercise before the sun is very high or it will be too hot. You’ll get used to it. Besides, this is the Western time zone. To a New Yorker, it would be more like nine in the morning.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

“This panel on the wall has the details of what you have to do. Try and be finished by seven. I’ll come and get you around then so I can finish your outfitting. We need to have you downstairs and ready by seven thirty.”

“Yes, Hugo. What do I have to do?”

Hugo suggested I set the alarm earlier than six o’clock, at least until I got used to the routine. I read over the instructions several times and checked all the items I’d need the following morning. Hugo suggested I get to sleep by eleven. That gave me a half hour.

Hugo said that a couple girls might still be up in the office. After Hugo left I decided to visit the narrow room. It was roughly twenty-five feet long by eight feet wide. It was equipped with a TV, a long, narrow dining table, a sink, and several chairs. Off to one side was a set of metal stairs leading up to the third floor. I could see a door at the top labeled “Monitor Station Sigma. Authorized Personnel Only.”

There were a few people in the room, three men near the window and two girls sitting closer to the door. They were only wearing their robes like me. They were drinking glasses of water and watching a movie. “Hi,” one of them said. “I’m Dee and this is Sandra.”

“I met Sandra,” I said. “I’m Casey.”

“You get your Hugo special?” Dee asked.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

“You OK?” Sandra asked. She seemed concerned.

“I never did it before like that. I’ll be fine,” I said.

“You can’t let it get to you. Besides, Hugo never does anything in a mean way. He cares for all of us. That’s why he built this place,” Dee said.

“Yes, Hugo does seem to enjoy what he’s doing,” I said.

“Hugo likes to train because he considers himself an artist and us his masterpieces. Didn’t you notice how meticulous he is with makeup and hair style, how careful he is with every seam, every buckle? He believes bondage is an art form, not a kinky sex act. After a while, you’ll see his point,” Sandra explained.

“Does he train you girls too?”

“No, not anymore. He only trains girls during the first month. Then we’re handed off to the crew,” Sandra said, pointing to the men I had noticed earlier. “Would you like to meet them?”

“Casey, this is Brandon. This is Tony. And this is Ed. Ed works the evening shift and does the walkthroughs. If you’re still awake in the middle of the night you may spot him in your room. Brandon is my trainer and Tony handles Sandy. They rotate every so often to keep us from getting too attached. Hugo doesn’t want the trainers to get too close to the slaves.”

“He doesn’t seem to follow his own set of rules then,” I quipped.

“Oh?” It was Tony that seemed most surprised.

“From the way you talk about him I get the impression that he avoids being affectionate. And he is gay too, right?”

“That’s right, although he split up with his friend many years ago. He was affectionate? That’s strange. Maybe he’s finally breaking out of his slump,” Sandy said.

I was going to ask more questions but thought better of it. I just had a gut feeling that this might be a good place to offer a little diplomacy. “Please,” I said. “This is my first day. I suppose I’m not used to so much attention. Perhaps I read more into his smiles and kisses than I should have.”

“Perhaps,” Tony said. “So, how did you handle things?”

“I’m still here,” I said.

“Good for you,” Brandon said. “You’re the first girl in six months to hang in there after the first day.”

“Really? I suppose this whole deal is pretty intense. But with a million bucks I’d figure at least someone would think the sacrifice would be worth it. How many girls?”

“Four,” Ed said.

“Really! Well, I’m not leaving anytime soon. I may not enjoy the activity as much as some people but I can deal with it.”

“That’s the way I feel,” Dee said. “Hey, it’s getting late and we all have to be in harness tomorrow at seven. I’m hitting the sack.”

“Same here. You better set your alarm a little earlier than six since you’re not familiar with the list of stuff you have to do. Make sure you read the list carefully before you climb into bed. And don’t forget to take those chains off your face. You’ll never fall asleep with them on,” Sandy suggested.

“Thanks,” I said as I headed back to my room.


To be continued...