G2-Story-032-Gemma-Pt-5

It was nearly a week since Helena had made the fateful mistake of underestimating her lover’s desire to enslave her and knelt before him to offer her submission, never expecting that he would immediately handcuff her and enforce his will with absolute and uncompromising ruthlessness.

She had been paying for that miscalculation ever since and would continue to pay, for Steven who had been her lover until he became her Master, had made it crystal clear that he had no intention of letting her go back on the submission she had given. From the first moment the cuffs closed on her shrinking flesh, they had never been taken off completely, always holding at least one wrist and one ankle to something solid and immovable, or clamping both wrists snugly behind her back.

To Gemma’s secret delight and the despair of her newly enslaved sister in bondage, their Master had ordered Gemma to instruct Helena in the duties of a slave girl and warned his new, junior slave girl, Helena, that she was to obey her senior, Gemma, as if she was him.

Helena had tried to protest, but it was a total waste of breath and earned her two stripes of his crop, followed by an order to kneel and pledge her obedience to Gemma. With her buttocks smarting and her eyes filled with tears of pain and shame, she had to do as she was told or receive another punishment.

Unsurprisingly, Helena chose the sensible option and accepted Gemma’s temporary authority over her and in the succeeding four days worked as hard as she had ever worked in her life, Gemma constantly encouraging her and reminding her that her Master would be far less tolerant of mistakes. At night, they talked for hours, Helena asking dozens of questions about Gemma’s experiences as a slave, until she had to order the smaller girl to keep quiet and go to sleep.

Twice every day, their Master fed them both by hand, Helena copying Gemma’s unquestioning acceptance of the demeaning process, then Helena had to demonstrate what she had learned, her face scarlet with embarrassment as she displayed her breasts and belly and bottom to the man who had been her equal and her lover, but whose handcuffs now held her captive and subject to his stinging crop and rigid discipline. To both slave girl’s surprise, he didn’t arouse or take either of them and they couldn’t help but wonder why not?

Then, one day he unexpectedly unlocked the room where Gemma was busy putting Helena through her paces. Both girls went instantly to their knees and held their submissive poses as he cuffed Helena’s wrists, then he ordered them to follow him, telling Gemma to keep a tight hold on Helena. Gemma recognised the travel crate at once and knew she would soon be on her travels once more, but when Helena was close enough to see the strong leather straps and sound-deadening foam lining the crate, she went wild with terror, wrenching at her handcuffs and trying to tear her arm from Gemma’s grip. In vain, Gemma tried to calm her fears, telling her struggling slave sister how she had travelled in the box and how safe and relatively comfortable it was, but Helena wouldn’t listen and it eventually took Gemma, her Master and the threat of a cropping for both of his slaves, to persuade the trembling, sobbing Helena to climb into the crate. Strap by strap, her body was immobilised and as the gag was wedged deep into her mouth, her horrified eyes and the futile clenching of her bound limbs brought a sympathetic stinging to Gemma’s eyes. It was then that their joint Master decided to exert his absolute power over them.

Locking Gemma’s wrists behind her, he bent her over the open crate and ordered her to arouse Helena’s breasts with her lips and tongue, reinforcing his shameful demand with a cruelly hard slash of his crop across Gemma’s stretched buttocks. Her yelp of anguish was followed a second later by Helena’s muffled shriek of outraged shock as the helpless brunette felt Gemma’s lips capture her taut right breast and a moist, warm tongue lap delicately at her crinkled flesh.

Punished once, Gemma dared not disobey and her own arousal flared as she was forced to bring both of Helena’s responsive nipples to throbbing rigidity, her mouth moving from one surprisingly large, coffee brown button of flesh to the other, in obedience to her Master’s commands while he stood by her side, his crop ready to strike, gazing down at his new slave girl’s quivering breasts and savouring the intensity of her shame as she was tormented for his pleasure.

Warning Gemma not to stop, he moved behind her, thrust her legs roughly apart and sank his hard maleness deep into her belly, the instinctive arching of her neck met with a sharp cut from his crop and a terse command to continue arousing Helena. He took her quickly, with fast, deep lunges and Gemma gasped through her nose, her lips and tongue never ceasing to inflict devastating havoc on Helena’s breasts, her own body spiralling towards climax as he neared his peak.

He came massively and Gemma screamed her ecstasy into Helena’s palpitating breast as his seed fountained into her belly to release her own furious needs. Taken ruthlessly, Gemma sagged limply over the crate, her face pillowed on Helena’s ample breasts while her belly bucked and pulsed in climax, no trace of shame able to complete with the fierce joy of her surrender to her Master. It was several minutes before Gemma could lift her head and when she did, her eyes met Helena’s horrified stare.

Not having been given permission to speak, Gemma tried to give her what reassurance she could, with a weak smile and an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders, designed to convey the message that she was sorry for what she had had to do, but she’d had no choice. Helena’s eyes didn’t change and Gemma knew she hadn’t understood, but then it was too late, for their Master closed the lid over the small brunette and secured the catches.

A short length of chain from a nearby ring bolt to Gemma’s collar ensured she wouldn’t stray and she watched as her Master bent and lifted the crate and its helpless contents in his strong arms then took it from the room, returning a few minutes later to unclip her chain and take her on the same, short trip.

The crate sat in the back of a closed van, lashed down to rings in the floor and in a very few moments, Gemma, too, was secured, lying on her right side, her wrists and ankles linked by a short strap and others at her collar and ankles holding her still. As he bent to gag her, he smiled and told her that she had done well in her training of Helena and she crinkled her eyes in thanks. Then his hands went to her breasts and she gasped with instant arousal when he caressed her gently and chuckled that it didn’t seem fair to him that Helena should be the only one to have erect nipples and that, very soon, she wouldn’t be. Unable, and most definitely unwilling, to evade his touch, Gemma rocked back and forth the inch or two her bonds allowed, her passion rekindled while he toyed with her hogtied nudity; her breasts and belly drum tight with desire, despite her previous climax.

She froze, her eyes growing wide when his extended finger found the puckered ring of her anal passage and she shook her head pleadingly as it pressed firmly, demanding admittance. He grinned evilly and ordered her to relax her clenched buttocks, then she blushed a vivid red and reluctantly obeyed. One finger, then another, breached the tight circle and Gemma groaned in despairing shame as, in spite of her wishes, her muscles contracted to draw his fingers deeper into her body.

Calmly and quite deliberately, he combined caresses of her sensitive nipples with the slow, careful probing of his fingers to drive Gemma out of control; her breasts straining forward to meet his touch and her buttocks pushing backwards with a voluptuous rotating motion while she succumbed to the overpowering sensations. Her orgasm, when it came, was more powerful than Gemma had imagined, but less explosive, seeming almost to slide into her belly in a long, smooth sweep, rather than the abrupt crash she was more used to ... but it was no less pleasurable for that, and she surrendered herself deeply, her body melting into a warm, delicious haze when she orgasmed yet again. He left then and as her climax swirled around her belly and its power slowly diminished, Gemma smiled into her gag with pure happiness.

The steady purr of the van’s engine was very restful and Gemma slipped in and out of a shallow doze as the journey progressed, her body using the time to refresh itself after her exertions. Steady braking brought her back to full wakefulness and while the van came to a halt and her Master walked through from the driving cab, she looked up at him eagerly, wondering where she was and what would happen next.

“Relax, slave girl.” he told her, “We’re not there yet. This is just a little diversion to drop Helena off before we carry on with our trip.” He saw the surprise in Gemma’s eyes and chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes,” he said, “I know. You thought she was coming with us, didn’t you? So did Helena, but you’re both wrong. Another van will be here any minute and Helena will be transferring to it, but you will not. One of the phone calls I made was to some old friends of yours, Gemma. I’m sure you remember your trainers, don’t you?”

Gemma shivered and her eyes went involuntarily to the crate containing the other brunette. She remembered the two women and the man who had begun her training only too well ... and it was not a happy memory, the recollection of their rigidly enforced discipline and stinging punishments still vivid in her mind. Now, Helena was going to be forced to undergo the same painful education and Gemma did not envy her one little bit.

“I see that you do, slave girl.” he went on coldly, “Good! Then a few words of advice from you might save her some unnecessary suffering.” and he unbuckled her gag, then went to the crate and lowered the end panel to reveal Helena’s nude, immobilised body. Gemma spat the large rubber ball out of her mouth and looked to her Master for permission to speak.

“I’ll give you thirty seconds or so to tell her what’s going to happen, slave girl.”

“Listen to me, Helena!” she demanded urgently, “This is very important. You’re not coming with us. You’re going to stay here to be trained, just like I was when I was a new slave girl. You’ll have three trainers and please believe me, they are tough. Much tougher than you can even imagine. They will make you obey, no matter how much you fight, and they’ll crop you every time you do something wrong. For your own sake, be sensible, Helena. Do exactly what they say, no matter what it is and you’ll be all right. It’s your only chance.”

Gemma stared imploringly at the lovely, black-haired girl bound so securely in the travel crate as her Master thrust the gag back between her teeth. She had tried, and all she could hope was that Helena would take her warning to heart and act on it. If she didn’t, she was in for a very unpleasant and painful time. The sound of a second vehicle driving up heralded the arrival of Helena’s trainers and Gemma shivered when the familiar faces climbed into the van.

One of the female trainers stood over her, the woman’s eyes glinting with amusement when she looked down at Gemma’s hogtied body. “What a pity it isn’t you that needs training. I enjoyed making you obey and your body was most delightfully responsive to the whip.”

“It still is.” her Master confirmed cheerfully and Gemma blushed when the woman gave a predatory smile. “I’m sure it is, but should she ever need retraining, I would be most happy to take her on ...”

“I’ll bear that in mind, but for now, it’s my new slave girl who needs your services.”

Gemma slumped with relief while the trainers and her Master moved to the crate and stared down into the opened crate. Helena’s barely audible squeals of horror told of her helpless terror while her naked body was examined in humiliating detail. The crate was resealed and Gemma was left on her own as it was transferred to the Trainer’s vehicle, but her spirits sank to rock bottom when a second, identical crate was carried in and prepared for her. Released from her hogtie, but under the watchful gaze of her Master and the three trainers, she had little choice but to step into the crate and allow herself to be strapped into place; her body equally as helpless and defenceless as Helena’s had been. With the exchange completed, the trainers took their leave to begin their work. Gemma’s Master bent low over her.

“We have a long way to go slave girl.” he informed her. “This may help to relieve the boredom.” and his fingers found her breasts.

The breath burst from Gemma’s nostrils in an explosive grunt and she tensed against her bonds as he rolled and caressed her ringed nipples, but the straps had been designed specifically to prevent movement and held her with embarrassing ease. Hopelessly aroused, her breasts throbbing and belly burning with unsatisfied lust, Gemma could only stare in mute supplication as her Master closed the lid on her torment then snapped the catches to seal her into the dark, silent interior of her transport crate.

The van sped off and Gemma whimpered into her gag, her body helpless prey to the surging arousal forced upon her, but unable to do anything to alleviate its effects as the miles went by. As her Master had warned, the journey was long ... but not so long that her body had time to calm and when the van braked to a halt and she felt her nipples stiffen again in anticipation. Her wooden prison was lifted and carried a short distance, then came a jolt when it was lowered, but to her dismay the lid was not opened. Time went by and her anxiety grew, for the crate remained firmly sealed and her mind raced while as she tried to imagine the cause of the delay of her release. Distantly, through the thick sound proofing her crate, she heard the coughing roar of an engine starting and felt its vibrations tingle up through her buttocks. A second joined in and the vibrations redoubled, then vehicle began to move forward, wheels bumping over an uneven surface when it accelerated rapidly. The jolting stopped and Gemma felt an invisible weight press her down into the foam lining the box.

Sudden understanding crashed into her brain and she gave a breathy squeal of shock. She was in an aircraft! The engines, the jolting, the sudden weight, it all fell into place and she realized that she was in a small plane that had just taken off from a grass airfield. Hard on the heels of that realisation came another, much, much more worrying one. She was being flown out of the country, far away from any hope of escape or rescue.

The engines droned on, carrying Gemma farther and farther into the unknown and she closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax; suspecting that she would need all of the mental and physical reserves she could find when the plane landed.

A change in the engine’s note woke her from a deep sleep and as she blinked dazedly, she realised that she could have been unconscious for hours. The plane bounced with a sharp squeal of rubber, then settled and rolled gradually to a halt. Gemma sucked in a deep breath to calm her renewed fears, then once again the crate was lifted and moved. She waited for it to be opened and was once again disappointed as, unknown to her, she was carried by two uniformed sailors down to a tiny, abandoned harbour and placed aboard a powerful, inflatable motor boat. Her Master took his seat, the sailors cast off the mooring ropes and sent the craft skimming over the calm blue sea towards a huge, white, two masted yacht that waited offshore.

Brilliant sunshine dazzled Gemma when the lid of her prison was thrown back and she screwed up her eyes against the fierce glare, aware of two dark shapes above her. Her pupils narrowed, adjusting, and she gave a muffled squeal of horror. The two shapes were men dressed in white, short sleeved shirts and blue shorts, their thick, black, curly hair matched by luxuriant moustaches and their eyes invisible behind dark glasses. Gemma didn’t know either of them and her naked body trembled violently, terrified that she had been sold by The Consortium. Were these her new Masters?

They bent over and unbuckled the straps, then pulled her arms behind her back, locked her wrist cuffs and lifted her from the crate. A great gasp of relief leaked past her gag as she saw her Master deep in conversation with two other men, their backs to her, but her relief gave way to growing apprehension when they turned towards her and she recognised Matthew and Nicos.

Gripped by the two muscular strangers, Gemma stared around at her surroundings, realising for the first time that she was on a yacht. Even to her untutored eye, it was magnificent; gleaming with spotless paint and varnish, with the teak deck beneath her feet scrubbed smooth. Polished brass and steel glinted in the sunshine and pristine white sails clung neatly furled on the booms of the two immensely tall masts. Her mind flew back to her time as a slave girl to Axel and Nicos and her belly gave a thrilling lurch when she remembered Nicos telling her that his yacht had room for a slave. This must be it ... and she was unquestionably a slave.

As Steven, Matthew and Nicos strolled across the expanse of teak deck, the two men holding her released their grip and stepped back. Immediately, Gemma sank gracefully to her knees and presented her body to her Masters.

“Welcome to my yacht, slave girl!” Nicos greeted her genially, “I have been looking forward to having you aboard.”

Gemma swallowed hard, knowing full well that ‘having her aboard’ could be interpreted two different ways and that he would ensure that she experienced both. Behind her, a deep, harsh voice spoke in a language she did not recognise and Nicos replied briefly in the same language. The two men, crew members she now assumed, moved away, heading forward and Nicos chuckled.

“My crew were asking if I still needed their help with you, slave girl. I said I thought I could manage.” he chuckled again. “They’re good crew, but luckily for you, they like boys. Unlike the three of us, who most definitely prefer girls.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but very obedient ones.” and he gazed sternly at Gemma until she dropped her eyes submissively.

“Can we get back under the awning?” Steven asked, “It’s like an oven out here and I’m not used to this heat.”

“Yes, of course. Some shade and a nice cool drink will help. Come, slave girl!” this last addressed to Gemma, who immediately rose to her feet and followed her Masters when they walked beneath a white canvas canopy shading half a dozen thickly-upholstered deck chairs and scattering of low tables.

“Kneel beside my chair girl and keep still!” Nicos ordered sinking into a seat, then turning to Steven. “Call the stewardess, will you please? Just ring that bell by your side.”

Almost before the last note of the bell died away, there was a soft rattle of chains and Gemma gaped in astonishment as the tall, slim figure of Clarissa hurried to respond to the summons. Utterly naked apart from a steel chastity belt, her wrists and ankles linked by glittering chain running through a central ring on her belt, she went to her knees before Steven and bowed her head.

“What may I do to serve you, Master?” she asked softly, “Command me and I will obey.”

Her long red hair swayed to the trembling of her shoulders. Steven looked down at the fettered girl kneeling at his feet and smiled cruelly.

“Well, well! If it isn’t the lovely Clarissa! And in chains, too. What’s this, Matthew? I thought Clarissa was your personal love slave? Or has she been found wanting in her duties?”

“Clarissa knows better than to be found wanting, dear boy. She knows it would be both foolish and painful. No, no, it’s nothing like that. As you say, she is my love slave, but it would have been most discourteous of me to accept Nicos’ generous hospitality and contribute nothing in return, so I have offered Clarissa’s services to both him and, of course, his guests, for the duration of our visit.”

There was a clink of chain when Clarissa shuddered and Gemma’s eyes filled with tears of pity for the humiliated redhead, remembering how keenly she had envied Clarissa’s obvious devotion to Matthew, her love Master. To find herself offered to another Master, to be used as he and his guests saw fit, must have come as a dreadful shock to her and Gemma could only imagine her futile horror when her Master’s offer had been accepted.

“Is that so?” Steven rubbed his chin, “Very generous of you, my friend! Sadly, my new slave girl has just begun her training and will not be ready for several weeks.”

His deliberately offhand announcement created quite a stir, as he had known it would, and for several minutes he fielded questions from the other two Masters regarding Helena’s enslavement and his plans for her future.

Kneeling beside Nicos’ chair, her body beautifully offered, Gemma listened, appalled, as Helena’s fate was discussed by the three Masters and she could not control the shudder that racked her body as she learned that Helena’s large nipples were to be pierced for rings similar to her own. Nicos reached down casually and hooked a finger in the ring through her left nipple.

Gemma froze, hardly daring to breathe and horribly aware that he could cause her terrible pain without even moving from his seat. Totally cowed and now totally controlled by a single finger, she was held helpless while Matthew and Nicos congratulated Steven on his new slave, then decided that such good fortune should be toasted in champagne.

“At once, Master!” Clarissa rose to her feet with fluid grace, the chains from her fetters clinking softly, then hurried inside the cabin.

“Will she be able to serve champagne in those chains?” Steven asked interestedly.

“It may be difficult for her,” Matthew shrugged, “but life for a slave girl is often difficult. She’ll manage I expect, and if she needs encouragement, well, we’ll give it to her.” He flexed an imaginary crop between his hands.

“Mmm. I’d enjoy that.” Steven said slowly, “Would you mind if I gave her a taste of the crop?”

“Not at all! My crop is in my cabin. Send Clarissa to fetch it when she has served the drinks, if you like.”

Gemma looked around and realised he was right. Apart from the two tall masts, there were the horizontal booms high above the deck, goal post shaped supports that the booms rested on, vertical steel ladders up to the open steering position, dozens of wires supporting the mast ... and everywhere she looked, ropes: thick, thin, all colours and every one neatly coiled to hang from its own cleat. The options for securing a slave girl were virtually endless!

A rattle of chains announced Clarissa’s return with a bottle of champagne and three glasses balanced on a silver tray, her brow furrowed in concentration. Under the eyes of her three Masters and Gemma, she sank to her knees to place the tray on a low table then poured the champagne, careful not to spill a drop of the golden liquid. One at a time, she took a glass to each of her Masters, going to her knees before him and pressing her lips to the glass before proffering it to him. It was a thrillingly submissive display of servitude and Gemma felt her groin grow wet as she watched, wondering if she, too, would be made to serve a Master so humbly and so well. Clarissa picked up the tray, then turned to face her Masters.

“May I serve you in any other way, Masters?” she asked, her cheeks burning redly.

“Yes, Fetch the crop from my cabin.” Matthew ordered. “Master Steven wishes to use it on you.”

For a split second, the redhead teetered on the brink of refusing the order, her eyes flashing with anger at the unfairness of the command, but then her ingrained training took over and she lowered her head.

“At once, Master!” she whispered and hurried away, her spine stiff with useless fury.

“I love that dam’ girl, but you can’t give her an inch.” he growled. “She loves being a slave girl, but never stops pushing to see if I’ll let her get away with something. When you’ve finished with her, I’ll give her an extra half dozen, just so she knows that I didn’t miss the look in her eye just now.”

“We will stay a while and watch the first part of Clarissa’s disciplining, then I shall take you to my cabin, slave girl.” he smiled coldly as Gemma’s belly kicked powerfully. “Serve me well, or it will be your turn next to feel the crop.”

Gemma chewed on her gag, wishing she could tell him that he wouldn’t need it. The shock of being flown to a foreign country, of finding herself aboard his yacht, of seeing Clarissa’s deliciously erotic subjugation, of knowing that she would be made to watch as the redhead was whipped for no other reason than to amuse her Masters, all combined to stir Gemma’s physical and emotional senses into a turmoil of masochistic desire which his casual assumption of authority over her body did nothing to alleviate.

“Move between my legs, slave girl, your back to me and sit back on your heels.”

As she obeyed, his hands snaked over her shoulders and clamped over her breasts, forcing a groan of pleasure from her.

Clarissa returned and knelt before Steven, the gleaming black crop held out in her hand as she looked up at him

“Is that how I trained to you to offer the crop? I think not.” Matthew was not happy. “Now do it again and do it properly. And while you do it, you can think about the six strokes I shall give you for embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

Clarissa shuddered in fear, then kissed the crop, her pink tongue licking the leather voluptuously before thrusting her head down and offering the whip again on the palms of her outstretched hands.

“Hmmph! Better.” Matthew snorted, “Don’t hold back when you beat her, Steven. My impertinent little slave girl bitch needs a lesson in manners.”

Steven took the crop and hauled Clarissa to her feet, pushing the trembling redhead towards a pair of large wooden cleats set close together into the deck then forced her to her knees. Using all the slack in her chains, he looped her wrists to one cleat and her ankles to the other, holding her on all fours, spine curved and buttocks raised; the taut stretched cheeks of her bottom bisected by the steel band of her chastity belt running through and between her legs. Poor Clarissa was terribly vulnerable and clearly knew it, for as Steven ran his hand over her tensed flesh, she gave a gasping moan and weaved her buttocks as if to evade his touch.

It was never going to be enough and as he raised the crop and brought it down with a wristy flick, she screamed in anguish, her body shuddering violently as a bright red stripe instantly sprang into being across her left buttock and blistering heat seared into her naked flesh. Gemma wanted to look away, but, somehow, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the appalling sight and sound of Clarissa’s punishment and felt her belly churn with liquid heat while the crop rose and fell and the redhead screamed and writhed wildly against her bonds.

“Excites you, does it, slave girl?” he whispered cruelly. “Don’t worry, I’ve known lots of slave girls and every one of them got hot when they saw another slave being whipped. You’re no different. It’s just part of your nature.”

Gemma blushed furiously and wriggled in shame, but then, when his fingers rolled her tender nipples and great waves of overwhelming arousal rippled through her breasts then down into her belly, she knew he was right. She was excited by the scene before her; shamefully turned-on by the mesh of whip stripes now cris-crossing Clarissa’s naked bottom. Exactly as he had known she would be.

She nestled back deeper between his legs, wriggling sensually against the hard bulge of his maleness and hoping that it would not be too long before it was between her legs, her eyes fixed on the developments taking place in front of her. Matthew had joined Steven and was busily unlocking Clarissa’s chastity belt, removing the section which ran between her legs ... and the redhead’s only protection.

“Interesting!” Nicos murmured. “Watch this closely, slave girl. I do believe Matthew is annoyed enough to make Clarissa climax to the crop.”

Gemma gasped, knowing that being forced to climax in such a manner would be the crowning humiliation for Clarissa. It was bad enough to be cropped in front of three Masters and another slave girl, but to be made to come as well ...

“You have been cropped by Master Steven, slave.” Matthew told the trembling redhead sternly, “Now I shall punish you for failing to obey instantly and for daring to offer a crop to a Master without first kissing it. You will receive twelve strokes and climax to the whip.”

“No, Master. Please, I beg you, Master!” Clarissa’s terror was obviously genuine.

“Silence! How dare you? One more word and the punishment doubles!” Matthew roared and Clarissa trembled like an aspen.

The crop whistled down, cruelly hard, and the redhead jerked madly at her chains while she was beaten by her adored love Master, but she uttered not a sound while he administered her punishment. The twelfth stroke burned across her buttocks and Matthew instantly reversed the crop and thrust the leather handle between her juddering thighs.

Clarissa’s legs snapped shut, pulling the crop from Matthew’s hand and her neck arched until the slim column of her throat lay bare above her collar; lips drawn back from her teeth in a rictus of silent screams of ecstasy while her belly pulsed visibly. Before the gaze of her three Masters and her sister slave, Clarissa hurtled into a shattering climax, spasming helplessly in her jangling chains. The crop projected from between her clenching buttocks, jiggling up and down while she came and came in massive contractions. Nicos turned Gemma’s head until he could stare into her eyes.

“Clarissa has served her Masters.” he said firmly. “Now you will serve me. On your feet, slave girl!” Gemma rose gracefully and preceded her Master from the deck and down into the hull of his yacht, her belly boiling like a cauldron and her sex oozing wetly. He flung open a pair of double doors.

“In!” he grated hoarsely and Gemma found herself in a huge, superbly-appointed cabin dominated by a vast bed with beautifully carved, hand crafted teak rails running the full length of its head and foot. She had little time to appreciate her sumptuous surroundings for Nicos seized her, bent her over the rail at the bed’s foot, then took a short chain from beneath the covers and snapped it into the ring on her steel collar, holding her doubled over. He spread her legs wide.

Gemma whimpered, her belly seething and churning as he prepared himself to take her.

His fingers caressed her gently, sliding over the wet flesh of her parted labia and Gemma squealed, her legs half buckling beneath her as he sighed with pleasure to find her so ready.

“I shall take you now, like the hot little slave you are.” he told her, his voice thick with lust, “And you will submit to me as your Master. I have not forgotten my promise the last time I saw you and so later, when I choose, you will pleasure me with your lips and your tongue, kneeling before me as my bondage slave.”

Gemma’s nervous gulp changed to frantic whimpers of joyous welcome as her Master’s hard maleness slid into her slickly receptive sex and buried itself full length in her quaking belly, his fingers burrowing beneath her to capture and stimulate the rigid flesh of her heavily-ringed nipples. Aroused beyond bearing, a first gigantic orgasm thundered into her belly, drowning her in a boiling flood of scalding love juices while she came helplessly, unable to resist the tremendous power of her lusts.

Nicos grunted and gathered himself, then began a smooth, rhythmic pumping of his hips, pistoning into Gemma’s heated sex and belly while her juices continued to spray down. Her eyes widened, but she was held at his mercy and could do nothing to prevent the continued ravishing of her spasming body ... or the rapid growth of a second climax building in her belly when his thrusts increased in power.

From on deck, a faint wailing scream reached Gemma’s ears and her own passion inched even higher as she heard Clarissa’s surrender and knew that, both above and below decks, helpless, desperate women were being forced to submit utterly to their ruthlessly dominant Masters.

Buried deep in her belly, Nicos grew even larger and she squealed in fear when he lunged to her very core, his rigid shaft beginning to throb and pulse as he neared his peak. His fingers squeezed her nipples cruelly, then tugged sharply on their rings and Gemma shrieked in a cauldron of mixed pain and pleasure while she was driven relentlessly over the edge into yet another stupendous orgasm. Her internal muscles clamped like a vice around her Master’s maleness and her belly exploded in coruscating pulses of ecstatic rapture. In response, Nicos began to shudder and jerk when his own climax burst forth and Gemma screamed her abject, willing submission while his seed jetted into her belly and they came together. To her dismay, he slid from her immediately.

Her eyes filled with tears when he left her in bondage, but then, she was a only slave girl and her misery meant nothing to Masters ...

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