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About Face by Mark Andrews

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    • Average 4.0 from 3 ratings

Or ‘How the Lady Became a Slave'.

Lady Emily is very aware she is the Earl of Rutledge’s daughter and continues to feel that way even when naked, tramping through the desert, chained to her friends as part of a coffle of white slaves!

It takes a lot of pain and suffering, a good deal of stringent bondage and deprivation, to break Emily’s spirit, even to the point of taking her to an African village where she is to be a sex slave to all the young men!

From the giddy heights of pampered living to abject naked slave, this is the story of one woman’s downfall!

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 8 / 2011

No. words: 38500

Style: Male Dom - M/F

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Excerpt


"Emily, it really is too bad the way you treat Hazel. This is the Twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. She is your maid, not your slave."
"Oh, Mother. Stop fussing. She's paid to be my maid and if she can't do her work better I'll have to look for another maid."
"Emily! The fault is yours, not hers. You are arrogant, snobbish and a disgrace to our family. Your father is even talking of changing his will to disinherit you if you cannot learn to behave properly and with more regard to others."
The twenty-two year old girl's face took on a stubborn look. "Well, perhaps it's a good thing I'm going away then, Mother. I will be out of your hair next week and won't be able to embarrass you ..."
The Countess of Rutledge sighed, as she had so many times after conversations like this. "It is not we don't love you, dear. Just that you are so ... so, well, impetuous in the things you do and contemptuous and mean-spirited in the way you treat our servants."
"I love you too, Mother. Anyway, this trip to the Greek islands will be wonderful and I'll try to treat Hazel better."

Poor Hazel. She was perfectly competent as a lady's maid. She had started as a housemaid eight years ago when she had been sixteen. Her family had always lived on the Rutledge estate and in generations past, many of her forebears had served the earls of yesteryear. She had been pleased to receive the promotion to lady's maid to Lady Emily - until she had realised that no-one could serve that young lady well enough. Now, she wished she hadn't taken the position but it was too late. She knew if she asked to go back to her former position, the countess would have no option but to dismiss her. She could hardly accept that her own daughter was a snob, an arrogant bitch and treated her servants as things.
Often, as she lay in her bed, she dreamt of the things she would like to do to Lady Emily. These included boiling in oil and stretching on the rack and sometimes she dreamed she was in some eastern harem where the positions were reversed and she was the lady and Emily the servant - or slave. Ooh, wouldn't it be fun to order her to take a thrashing ...
But now she had to prepare Emily's clothes for the trip. She was going to join a cruise on the motor yacht of a friend, Billy Hetherington, second son of the Marquess of Cull. Actually the yacht belonged to the Marquess but Billy had arranged this cruise through the Greek islands. It should be really wonderful.
Hazel wondered how wonderful it would be for her, constantly at the beck and call of the arrogant young aristocrat. Not too good, she imagined. Still, it was a cruise and perhaps she might get to see some of the islands. She had heard they were really beautiful. Anyway, she would see how things went on the cruise and if they didn't pick up, she would throw in the towel and go to London. With her experience, she would soon get a job with someone else. These days, competent maids were few and far between.

They boarded the yacht, Esmerelda, from Athens, or rather, its port, Piraeus and were soon headed off towards the Aegean Sea. It was a happy group, all friends that made up the passenger list of the large yacht. There was Billy, of course and his fiancee, Heather de Winter; James Curtis and his wife, Jill; Buffy and Liz Scott; Emily, and lastly, John, Viscount Dilford. They were all of an age, around mid twenties and all out for a good time, although Billy was level-headed enough not to let them get into trouble - at least trouble of their own making.
Emily continued to be bitchy towards her maid and Hazel finally made up her mind to give up her position as soon as they returned home to England. She would have jumped ship at their next destination but she didn't have the ready to buy her ticket home. And so, while Emily continued to carp and find fault with everything she did, Hazel just tried to ignore it. Emily's friends saw the way she treated her maid and they thought her quite over the limit but she was their friend ... the bubbly, vivacious life-of-the-party. One or two of them remonstrated with her but it like water off a duck's back. All that happened was that she attacked the poor girl only in the privacy of her cabin.
"Come on, Hazel. Buck up. You are really lazy! Rub my back. No, further up, stupid ... And why isn't my dress laid out?"
It was no good complaining that Emily had demanded that her back be massaged since calling for her maid. Or that she hadn't yet made up her mind which dress she was going to wear ... Hazel had long ago discovered that excuses, even legitimate ones were of no use when dealing with the flighty Lady Emily Harcourt.
She did get to see some of the islands, but only from a distance. "No," said Lady Emily, "you haven't earned it. Stay here and see to my clothes ..."
Her friends shook their heads and began to wonder when the explosion would come, for no one could put up with that sort of treatment for ever. Meanwhile, Hazel had struck up a friendship with one of the crew members, a personable young man named Gary Somers. He was a steward on the yacht, was really good-looking and, Hazel could see, even with his clothes on, had a really nice body. Not too many muscles but nicely athletic. It was he who persuaded her to stick it out. "No good jumping ship here, Hazel. Any time she makes life too bad, you just come to me and have a good cry, eh?"
She did, too. Not because she needed it. She was made of sterner stuff than that; but because crying on his shoulder let her get a good feel of his lovely body! She could explore and grip at the wonderful muscles in his arms and chest and his thighs. She just knew he would look fabulous stripped down. She spent as much time as she dared in his company. Their little flirtation developed into the beginnings of love and then Emily found out.
Her rage was unbounded. "How dare you!" she stormed. "Without my permission! You will remain in my cabin. You will not see him ..." It went on and on and nothing Hazel could say would calm milady's rage. It was so unreasonable. What harm was there? Of course when she emerged from her cabin and joined her friends in the saloon, she was all the lively young society lady. The story had already got around, though. The cabin doors weren't that thick and by the time she emerged, every one of her friends knew of it. Hazel pined in her cabin.
And so the cruise continued. On through the blue Aegean, calling at many of the islands dotted throughout its calm waters.
And then they struck. It seemed they knew exactly where the Esmerelda would be ... They boarded her at two in the morning, as she was moving. They were experts, these modern-day pirates. They came on her in silent speedsters from the stern and, while their mother ship moved up closer, they took over the bridge, shot the officer and crew on duty and stopped the yacht's engines. In minutes, their colleagues had joined them and a sleepy motley of passengers, servants and crew were lined up in the saloon, the guns of the pirates trained on them. Hazel was aghast to see her friend, Gary Somers, was among the pirates. He winked at her and smiled wickedly. She was still lined up with the others, though.
First, they demanded the passengers' jewels, money and other valuables. Viscount Dilford objected - and got a shot in his belly for his trouble. The others quickly acceded.
"And now," said the leader, a swarthy Turk, "you will all strip out of them clothes."
Eyeing John Dilford lying in a foetal position on the thick carpet of the saloon, they obeyed with alacrity, every one of the aristocratic passengers, their servants and the yacht's crew stripping off their night clothes as if their lives depended on it - which they did. Now naked, they stood up, very ashamed, trying to cover their privates from the stares of the pirates. Now naked, there was no difference between the aristocrats and the others. All were human beings - and no more.
The leader glanced at his men, silently warning them to be vigilant, then he strolled up the line, pushing one back, leaving others in place. Those who were pushed back were the fats, the skinnies and the uglies. Those that remained of the passengers were Billy and his fiancee, Heather; Buffy and Liz Scott; and Emily, three of the maids, including Hazel, and a number of the crew.
The others were taken out onto the deck, shot in the head and bundled over the side. So was Dilford. The rest were made to board the pirate ship which was now alongside the stationary Esmerelda. Then, as they watched, the lovely yacht began to settle. The horrible pirates had opened the sea-cocks. In only half an hour, she was gone. Down through the clear blue water to rest on the sand at the bottom of the Aegean. There had not been time to get out an alarm. There had been no warning at all. To all intents and purposes, she had simply disappeared.
Her former passengers were now herded below decks on the pirate ship. They were still naked and had to walk single file along the dirty, peeling passages and companionways of the ship, once a coastal tramp steamer of some eight hundred tons. They ended up in a large, bare cabin. There was no furniture ... nothing at all. The door banged closed and they all looked at one another in dismay. Then it started.
They all talked at once - and then there was silence as they stared at each other again. Eventually, they all sat down around the walls and spoke more rationally. "Well," said Billy Hetherington, "Here we are. Exactly what we are, I'm not sure but I have a very good idea ..."
"What?" came a chorus of voices.
"Well, if I'm not very much mistaken, we are now all slaves ..."
"Slaves!!!???"
"Yes, slaves. Why do you think they disposed of James and Jill? Bodies no good, d'you see?"
The others stared around at each other and slowly nodded. Yes, the rest of them were good-looking. Those who had been summarily taken out, shot and then tipped over the side had all been less than appealing in appearance. They were of course still self-conscious of their nakedness and were each hiding their sex from each other but that didn't conceal their athletic bodies (if they were male) or their lovely breasts, slender waists and firm muscles, if female.
"But slavery was abolished in the Nineteenth Century," protested Buffy Scott.
"No it wasn't," said Billy. "Oh yes, in the western world, perhaps. But not in the middle-east - and where d'you think we are now?"
"We're in Greece," said Heather.
"Not really, my darling," smiled Billy. "We are in the Aegean Sea and very soon we will be close to Turkey. Turkey officially does not permit slavery and neither do the Arabian countries ... I said officially. But it goes on. My father was at one time the under-secretary for the Foreign Office dealing with this part of the world. I know white slaves are still sold quite openly in certain out of the way places."
"Oh my God!" said Emily, hugging her knees close to her lovely breasts and trying to hide her vagina from the rest of them. "And we will be sold as slaves?"
"Yes, Emily."
"For what purpose? I mean what will they make us do ..."
Hazel was enjoying herself now. Forgetting that she too was in the same boat, it was quite delicious to hear the once proud Lady Emily Harcourt speaking with such horror at her plight.
"Come on, Emily. You know as well as I do what you will be doing. What about us males?"
Emily blushed as she contemplated that everyone there knew she and all the other girls would most likely be sold as sex slaves, to join the harem of some rich prince or merchant. She wasn't concerned with anyone else. Being utterly selfish, she didn't give a tinker's damn what was going to happen to the males amongst them.
Hazel asked the question. "I don't know, Lord Billy. What will happen to you men?"
He smiled across at the vivacious young maid. "Some of us will be used the same way you are, Hazel ..."
Her eyes widened. "You mean ..."
"I do. Exactly that. We will have to please other males - sexually. But not all of us. Slaves are still used as a source of cheap labour in this part of the world. Some of us will be sold as slave-labourers to work, probably still naked, deep underground in mines where we can't be seen; or perhaps as base domestics, scrubbing floors on hands and knees ..."
"I can't scrub floors," wailed Emily, while Hazel looked at her contemptuously.
Billy smiled sympathetically at his friend. "You can, Emily. And you will, if that is what they demand of you ... Do you know what they will do to you if you refuse?"
Emily shook her head, her eyes now stained with tears while Hazel gloated.
"They will whip you, girl ..."
"Whip me? No. I don't believe it ..."
"You better believe it, slut." The door had opened and Gary Somers had entered. He had been listening to the conversation from outside the stark cabin and now he had come in to gloat over his friend's former employer. "Come here, Hazel," he said, holding out his hand to her. She scrambled to her feet and joined him, standing self-consciously beside him as he stared contemptuously down at Emily.
"You treated Hazel here as nothing more than a slave. You were arrogant and demanding. Now, it is you who are the slave. Come, Hazel ..."
He drew the former maid out of the room and then closed and locked the door. "Come, let's get you some clothes and then we'll talk."

"You mean you are a pirate?" she said incredulously as she sat across the table in the mess, staring at her so handsome lover.
He grinned. "Yep. Not proud of it, I suppose, but it's a living ... and a damned good one. But now, I'm going to branch out. What I said back there is true. Your bitchy Lady Emily is indeed a slave, as are they all. I have been elected to take them and sell them. Her (and you) are my share of the haul from the Esmerelda. You are going to be my wife - if you'll have me. The former Lady Emily is going to bring us in a great deal of money. I am to sell the others on behalf of the rest of my friends ..." He paused and looked at her speculatively. "How do you fancy running a slave shop as my wife and my partner?"
"Gary, you can't be serious?"
"Oh but I am. Talking to my colleagues, I've found out there are places where slaves can be bought and sold quite openly. Foreigners aren't normally allowed there ... We're going to set up shop there."
"But you're a foreigner."
"Yes, I am." He grinned across at her, his handsome young face lighting up impishly. "But I have a passport in. Abdul has been dealing there for years. He is going to vouch for me. And with all our slaves in tow, I am going to set up our slave market in this little town deep in the Arabian desert. I want you to join me."
She sat and stared at him in wonder. She knew she loved this so handsome, athletic-looking young man. Normally, of course, she would have rejected his offer out of hand. The very idea! Her being a slaver. It hardly bore even a thought. But her mind had wandered over the possibilities. Domination over Emily. What a delicious thought.
She said so. "Gary, I'm no slaver. Until a few hours ago, I was a lady's maid. Now I am your prisoner with the offer of marriage and a partnership in a slave shop... I love you. I know that. I want to marry you and I will. As for the slave shop, if it wasn't for Lady Emily, I'd say no ... As it is, well, she has been a bitch to me for the last two years while I've been her personal maid. Yes, I'll do it. It will be a pleasure to teach her how to behave."
"You realise we'll have to whip them. Especially the former aristocrats. They will not take kindly to being turned into slaves and it will be our task to train them and condition them to be servile but useful sex slaves ..."
"What about the men, Gary?"
"Oh we won't keep them long. I don't actually fancy training them as sex-boys. We'll exercise their bodies while on the ship but when we get them to the town, we'll just put them up for sale as they are. If their buyers want to fuck their asses, so be it. If not, then they will toil as labourers ..."
"When can we start training Emily?" she asked, a nasty little grin on her face.
"What about right now ..."

"You, up!" Gary was standing over the Lady Emily Harcourt.
"Me?" that lady said, staring up at the handsome ex-steward in fear.
"Yes, you. You are going to begin your training ..."
"No. Please ..."
Gary now raised his right hand. In it was a long, thin, leather covered switch. He brought it down, hard, right across her lovely and so naked breasts.
"Aaaaggghhhhheeeggghhhaaaggghhh!" she screamed, her hands coming up to grasp at the thin welt across the swelling mounds of soft flesh.
"Get up, bitch!"
She scrambled to her feet and accompanied him out of the cabin where she had been locked with the others for the last twenty-four hours. It had been a dreadful time. They were cold. They were hungry and thirsty and the only way they could relieve themselves was in an old bucket that had been placed in the cabin for that purpose. They had to do it publicly, in full view of their friends, servants and crew. Now of course, all were equal. The absence of clothes underlined that to them all. The former servants still deferred to their masters or mistresses but not for long. Not after they began their training.
First, though, Emily was to have a short sharp lesson in manners. She was taken out on the well deck in front of the bridge structure. There Hazel was waiting for her. She noted the thin red line across the tips of her breasts and reached out to finger them.
Emily brushed her hand away angrily. "Don't you touch me, Hazel. You're my servant ..." Hazel smiled lazily and brought her own right hand forward from behind her back. Emily stepped back in fear. "No. Please. I didn't mean it ..."
"You did mean it, bitch. But you will never address me in like terms again. Never ever again!"
She raised the leather switch and lashed it down, right across the younger girl's sex mound. The scream was terrible. It rang out, rising in intensity and then drained away as Emily slowly lost her lungpower. She shook in pain and shame and stared wildly around at the crew members who had gathered to watch the naked young aristocrat get her comeuppance. The grins on their faces were all directed at her sex and she struggled wildly to cover it and her breasts at the same time, largely unsuccessfully.
"Stand up straight, slut!" ordered her former maid, her face a mask of implacable hatred.
"Hazel ..."
The hand came up again and this time, the slash went right across the mark already emblazoned on her breasts. The scream was music to Hazel's ears and she stared derisively at her former mistress. "Don't you ever call me that again, slut. I am now Mistress to you. And if you ever are foolish enough to forget it, remember the whip ..."
Emily stared at the older girl, aware now, for the first time, that she was indeed in this former servant's power and that she had better obey. She straightened her body but kept her hands in front of her sex.
"Hands up on the back of your head, Harcourt. That's better - and get your elbows back. Thrust your udders out at me."
Gary watched, amused and pleased at the same time as his friend and now wife-to-be turned the arrogant young bitch into a humble slavegirl. He thought he had chosen very well. Hazel had all the makings of a born dominatrix. It would be good to let her work her hatred out on this little strumpet. Earl's daughter indeed.
By now, he thought, the alarms would be going out. The Esmerelda's disappearance would be world news for a while. No doubt the authorities would have ships and aircraft searching the Aegean, but by that time, they would be well clear. The earl would have lost his daughter and the marquess his yacht.
"Now let us see you exercise." Hazel had stepped forward and was running her hands all over Emily's svelte body, as if assessing it ... just you would an animal at the market. "Hmmm, room for a lot of firming up here."
There wasn't really. Emily's body was near perfect. Her skin was smooth as velvet and her muscles already firm and supple. There was no fat on her lithe form. She had a beautiful complexion and it was reflected in the skin all over her body. Its colour was peaches and cream; its texture smooth and soft.
The muscles of her flat belly were just apparent when she moved. Her thighs were firm and shapely and her buttocks small and almost boyish with sharp indents at the sides. Her breasts were perfect half-grapefruits and the nipples a lovely rose-pink. Her neck was slender and her eyes a lovely violet colour. Her nose was small and lightly upturned. Her hair was fine and soft and a shimmering silver-gold. She had kept the brush at her sex neatly trimmed. She was, in essence, a beautiful girl of just twenty-two years.
She stared at Hazel in fear. She now recognised this former servant had the whip-hand over her, literally. She had to do as she said or suffer more of those terrible strokes of the supple, leather covered birch on the most sensitive parts of her body.
"Yes, a great deal of work will be required with you, slut. For a start, I want to see fifty sit-ups. And if you falter, expect the whip to your breasts ..." Emily got down on her back on the canvas-covered hatch cover over the forward hold, raising her knees to perform the exercise. "No," instructed her tormentor, "Knees flat and hands up behind your head. This is not some sissy gymnasium for yuppies. This is real work ..."
Emily sobbed once but complied. One eye was on the cane in Hazel's right hand. She tried to raise her body but it was hard going. She had kept herself in trim with riding, squash and tennis but this sort of exercise she hadn't performed since leaving school. Down came the whip, right over her thighs. She screamed again while Hazel directed her to work harder.
And for the next hour, the former servant worked her ex-mistress as hard as she knew how. At the end of it, she made her announcement. "Not nearly satisfactory. A dozen cuts to the bare buttocks. Bend over, slut, and touch your toes ..."
Emily sobbed again. She had been doing a lot of that over the last hour. She looked at Hazel, silently pleading to be let off this last degradation.
"Do you want to be strung up there by your heels and really flogged?" the girl said.
Emily quickly touched her toes and now Hazel really whipped her naked buttocks as hard as she could. Each stroke was delivered at full power and the mistress relished each one, now fulfilling what she had dreamed of for years.
Gary asked one of the crew members to take the now very chastened girl back to the cabin while he took Hazel for a cup of coffee.
"You did very well, girl," he said, grinning from ear to ear at her across the table.
"Actually, I enjoyed it. With her, anyway. I'm not sure I want to do it to the other ladies or the female servants."
"You may not have to. When they see the way Harcourt is treated, I suspect they will toe the line." He looked curiously at her. "What about the males? Would you like to whip them?"
She grinned. "It might be fun but some of them I really like. Billy Hetherington. He's quite a nice young man, actually."
"He may be. But he's still a slave. Our slave. We are going to train him to be obedient ... It won't be for long with them. I'm not into male slaves really. After this, we will specialise in females ..."
"How long are we going to be doing it for, Gary?"
"Until we have a million quid. That'll be enough to begin a legitimate business. And then we can go back to Britain."
"Will we dare to ever go back there?" she wondered aloud.
"Of course. We will have been kidnapped ourselves. Our stories will be authentic. Most of it true. We'll just change the roles a bit. We'll even contrive an escape from our master ... a cruel man. But come on, time we began on the other female slaves. By now Harcourt will have told them how cruel you are. It won't take much to have them jumping to your tune. I'll have one of the others take the males up and work their bodies, too. We want them nice and firm when we sell them ..."

And for the remainder of the voyage, the males were worked on the after well deck while the females exercised on the forward one.
They were also now permanently separated as to sex. As Gary explained to his fiancee, "We want them really randy, Hazel. Keep them apart now and they will be aching for it by the time we are ready to show them."
"Are we going to make them perform, Gary?"
"You bet your sweet life we are, girl. Even that snooty bitch Harcourt will be acting like a whore on heat by the time we're ready to sell them." He paused and smiled lightly at his girl. "You're really beginning to enjoy this, aren't you?"
She coloured a bit and then grinned. "Yes, I suppose I am. I've sort of got over my earlier attacks of conscience about the others. I really want Harcourt to suffer and if that means the others have to as well, too bad."
"Good for you. Now, we are going to modify their bodies soon. I think you will enjoy that, too."
"Modify them?"
"Yes, well, depilate them, and ring them, anyway. Slaves sell much better when they look young and hairy bodies don't look young. We first shave them - all over, and then apply a grease that works right down into the hair follicles, eating out the remaining hairs, roots and all. It never grows back, ever."
Her eyes were wide. "Down here, too?"
"Down there especially. After they are depilated we insert rings into the left female labia and through the foreskin of the males. If they're cut, it goes in through the penis and out under the crown ..."
"Why?"
"Two reasons. Rings on slaves' bodies mark them as slaves ... we will be adding more when we get them there. But also because that is how I am going to tether them when we move them to the village."
"Won't they be going by vehicle?"
"Certainly not. Part of their training is to debilitate them. We have already gone part of the way there by keeping them totally naked and now separating them into male and female groups. Now we take it a stage further. They are going to walk over the desert."
"And us?"
"We will be riding horses ..."

Lady Emily Harcourt was the first to have her body hair permanently removed. She was brought into a small cabin that had been set up as a slave treatment room. There they spreadeagled her by means of ropes reeved through pulleys recently fixed to the cornices at the top of the walls on two facing sides of the room. Her wrists were buckled into the leather manacles and her arms pulled up and out so that she was on tip-toe. Then they locked her ankles into similar manacles and dragged them out sideways so her feet were right off the cabin deck and she was fully suspended.
She screamed ,of course, and mouthed foul vituperations at them all but at her former maid in particular. "You bitch, Hazel. Just wait till I get free. I'll have you whipped within an inch of your life for this ... I'll skin the hide from your flesh. You'll regret the day you ever dared to go in with these scum!"
That and much more, all in like vein. Hazel stood looking up at her, then stepped forward and slapped her across the face, very hard, knocking her head to one side and then the other. Then, for good measure, she bunched her fingers into a fist and rammed it into the girl's belly.
Emily quickly fell silent. Her eyes still blazed hate but she had at least stopped talking. "One more word and I fetch the whip, slut. It will be a pleasure to lash your breasts and your sex, then all over your miserable hide until you are one big mass of welts and bruises ... Anything more to say?"
"No, Mistress," the former 'lady' said sullenly.
"Good. Now, I am going to shave you. Don't move or the razor might just slip ..."
She produced a lethal-looking straight razor which Emily looked on fearfully. Hazel lathered the suspended girl's vulva and then proceeded to flick away the soft hairs that had formerly protected the female sex organs. She also did her legs and her armpits, then rubbed the remaining foam away with a towel.
"Now to make it permanent," she said gleefully, digging her fingers into the large jar containing the ointment. She smeared it all over the newly shaved areas while Emily looked down on her work with distaste.
But then, as the stuff began to work its way down the hair stubble and into the follicle itself, she began to squirm and then to moan and finally to scream out in real pain. Her wriggles and contortions were quite comical, at least to Hazel who stared up at her former employer, gloating over her new power over the haughty bitch.
They left her to hang there for two hours while the ointment did its work and then they brought her down to rejoin the other female slaves. They all stared at her in dismay. Her sex was now totally exposed to their gaze. If she had felt vulnerable before with her clothes denied her, it was doubly bad now. The labia and the cleft between them were now smooth and clean -and very, very apparent.
One by one, the other females were taken to the little cabin and treated similarly. And after them, Billy and the other males were also done. With them of course, there was much more hair. At least in some cases. Buffy Scott was largely hairless, with only a triangle at his groin and tufts at his armpits, but the others had more or less body hair, all of which Gary wanted totally removed so they looked like pre-adolescent boys. Big and muscular pre-adolescent boys, but boys nonetheless. The male body, without its normal hair certainly looks much younger. And now, after working out under the sun on a daily basis, they were all tanned a delightful golden colour. With their pubic and other body hair gone, they now tanned everywhere. It was clear they had been worked nude out in the sun and this too added to their shame.
Gary gave them a couple of days to recover from the pain of their depilation then, again starting with Lady Emily, he began on the first of their rings. Hazel was now quite excited over the prospect of seeing Emily ringed, particularly down there. She stood watching as the aristocrat was led in and again suspended in the frame.
There was no abuse this time. Emily stared at Hazel with hate in her eyes but she said nothing. Just as well, for Hazel was holding an electronic prodder in her hands. Emily had already tasted this instrument of pain once. Hazel had pushed its tines into her breasts when she had been insolent one day. The pain had been quite excruciating. She certainly didn't want another dose - and not where Hazel was looking, down at her sex mound. Those gleaming prongs, shoved in there, would be absolutely horrible.
Gary used a punch for the hole. One of those gadgets leather workers use to make holes in their material. It had a number of punches on the rotating tip. He had chosen a fairly small one. But it was big enough. It was four millimetres in diameter to take the thickness of the ring that would shortly be gracing the girl's left labium majora, the outer lip of her sex.
The ring itself was made of very, very hard titanium steel. It was four millimetres thick and formed a ring four inches in diameter. It was hinged and had a cunning locking mechanism. Once the male end was slipped into the female orifice and pressed shut, it could not be opened. The only way it could be removed was by sawing across the ring and there were very few saw blades capable of cutting the ultra-hard material. In colour they were a dull grey and when in place, would mark the wearer forever as a slave.
"Clean her sex, Hazel. Don't worry if the spirit drips inside her cunt and excites her. She will soon be in more pain than ever before in her young life. It will give her a foretaste of what is coming."
Hazel grinned as she dipped the cotton-wool swab into the container of alcohol. She held the dripping white wool up for Emily to see then began dabbing it all over her sex, making sure a lot went right inside. The pain was instantly obvious. Emily screamed, swore in a most unladylike manner and struggled in her bonds as Hazel dabbed the thing all over her sex for far longer than was necessary.
Gary donned surgical gloves and then fished the punch out of the autoclave in which it had just been sterilised. He took it in his hand and placed the business end over the outer lip of her vulva and then firmly pressed the handles together.
Emily went white as the blood drained from her face. She didn't say anything for a moment or two but then the scream was utterly dreadful.
"Aaaaggghhhhheeeggghhhaaaggghhh!" It was a shriek of utter agony and reverberated round and round the small cabin.
Gary gestured to Hazel to again douse the now bleeding wound with more alcohol and then took the ring out of its aseptic plastic envelope. Emily stared at it through her pain-glazed eyes, not really understanding what was happening to her. He brought the dull silvery ring up close to the newly made hole in her flesh and slipped it through, then carefully closed the hinged ring. It snapped shut with an audible click. Now it looked like a perfect, endless ring. Neither the hinge nor the catch opposite it could be seen. Even with a magnifying glass it would be hard to find the tiny seams in the metal and as it dulled further, quite impossible.
They let her down and two of the crew helped her along to the female cabin into which they were locked every day. It was as plain and devoid of furniture as the one they had been place in on arrival. They had to sleep on the bare metal deck and still the waste bucket was the only item in the bare steel room.
The other girls looked down at her sex in horror while the men gestured to Heather de Winter to accompany them. She tried to resist but they soon overpowered her and dragged the naked, screaming girl along to be similarly treated.
When each of the females had been done, they came for Billy Hetherington. He didn't resist. Billy was a pragmatist. That he was the son of a peer of the realm meant nothing to him (unlike Emily). He was now a slave and he felt the only course was to make the best of it.
He went along with the men, if not willingly, at least without resistance. They strung him up just as they had Emily and the girls with his limbs drawn out in a long 'X' and Hazel stared up at his lean, muscular body with appreciation. By now of course, she was sleeping with Gary every night and as she had thought, found his body to be really wonderful. Hard and muscular. But Billy and the remaining members of his guest list and crew had all been retained because their bodies were worth keeping. The daily exercises over the last ten days had also helped, refining them just that little bit, sloughing off the small layer of fat under their skins (their diet was totally fat-free) and honing their muscles a trifle.
The males' bodies were all totally nude now, their genitals smoothly naked of every last hair and Hazel stared at Billy's now with something like lust. Gary nudged her and frowned and she smiled guiltily and blushed. He gestured to the boy's cock and she quickly dipped her swab of cotton wool into the alcohol and daubed its tip liberally with the fiery spirit.
Billy groaned as some leaked inside the foreskin and attacked the sensitive glans and his fine muscles corded most alluringly but now she didn't look. She didn't want to make Gary jealous.
Gary fished the punch out of the autoclave and now approached the dangling young man who stared down at him calmly. He knew he was about to suffer a great deal of pain. He didn't want to give this scumbag slaver the satisfaction of seeing him succumb to it. He didn't, either. Only the smallest of groans escaped from his lips as the punch closed over the tip of his foreskin, boring a neat hole on both sides.
Gary then took up the ring. This was slightly different from the female versions. These ones could be opened - if you had the specially-shaped key that fitted in to an almost invisible section of the ring's surface near the catch; and knew just where to apply it. Pressing in here allowed the catch to be released and the ring removed. The reason for the difference was that some prospective owners might well wish to use their newly acquired white slaveboys for sexual purposes. The rings would of course, prevent an erection, indeed, even the first stirring's of their cocks would result in very severe pain.
But many men who bought males slaves desired to feel their hard cocks up their own assholes and while celibacy might be appropriate to ensure the boy was reserved only for his master and that he would be at his randiest when required to perform this duty, it was of course necessary that the ring be capable of removal.
They didn't look any different. You really had to know where to look to find the little pressure point and then fit the key just so.
Gary slipped it through the bleeding hole and snapped it shut, grinning up at the Marquess' son as he performed what might seem to be a final end to the boy's sexual exploits, then he gestured to Hazel to daub the ring and the wound once more, after which he was let down and returned to the other boys.
Each one then suffered the same treatment.
Now, as the girls exercised on the forward deck and the males, the after deck, the rings in their naked sex flesh marked them for ever for what they were: sex slaves.


Reviews

Very great story with simple plot 5 out of 5 (gilesbolla)

Author Information

a prolific BDSM writer who lives on the Gold Coast of Australia. His books have been delighting Olympia Press customers for many years.

 

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