Gerda soon realised that the successful
passing of her first examination meant that her training became more severe.
Now she was allowed only one thickness of rubber for her daily whipping and
soon her bottom was permanently red and smarting from the one hundred and fifty
strokes she received every morning. Her demerits, also, were increased for the
slightest infraction of the rules. Within a week she had chalked up the fatal
one hundred and was ordered to report to Miss Dodds
for her punishment. She knelt down meekly as the woman studied her demerit
chart.
"Dear me, slave Gerda, such little violations;
surely you're losing your concentration? Forgetting to kneel before leaving the
room, splitting a finger of your glove, appearing with powder visible on your
black suit - quite atrocious. I think to help you concentrate we'll put you
into a chastity chain for twenty-four hours." Inwardly Gerda winced. Her
friend Yvette had worn one recently and the final hours had been torture as
there was no way she could relieve herself in the toilet. Miss Dodds signed the requisite form and instructed Gerda to report
to the preparation chamber for her punishment.
Her spirits sank even lower when she saw Instructor
No. 7 was on duty. He was one of the meanest and she knew she could expect no
mercy. She handed him the instructions and stood to attention, wrists clasped
behind her back.
"Take off your belt," he said with
a grim smile, then opened one of the numerous cupboards and took down a long
length of thick chain. He fastened the first part tightly round her waist and
padlocked it, then brought the remainder of the chain between her legs, up
through the waist part and back again through her crotch and up to the waist,
gradually tightening it until she was moaning at the pain as the chains dug
deeply into her bottom and private parts. With an effort he secured the end of
the links to the waist chain with a heavy padlock. "There. If I had my way
you would have to do a two mile walk in that, at double speed."
With difficulty she knelt and kissed his
leather-encased bottom before leaving the room. It was agony even to take tiny
steps, the chains cut into her like a knife. She made her way to the slaves'
rest room, where she could have a drink as she was off duty now.
Several slaves were already there, some in
their lounging rubber suits, others in some form of minor punishment bondage.
Her friend Yvette seemed to be in trouble. She was wearing a heavy latex suit
and her gloved hands were padlocked to a steel waist belt. She was wearing a
punishment hood, breathing through nose tubes and had a 'filler' gag secured in
her mouth. The filler tube passed through the gag, which meant she was forced
to swallow anything poured into the outside holder.
Gerda stood by the bar, unable to sit down on
a stool. Marcia, elegant in tight red latex and boots, was brooding over a vodka
martini. "What happened to Yvette?" enquired Gerda, knowing the tall
girl was one of the Top Level slaves and seldom incurred any demerits.
Marcia grinned through the mouthpiece of her
tight mask. "Nothing much. It's her master's idea of a joke. She refused
an extra glass of champagne in his chalet, so now she has to be forcibly given
a drink every hour for twelve hours while he's having a good night's rest. If
she can come to him under her own steam, well and good. If she has to be
carried, then she's going to be sobered up with a heat treatment. Personally, I
think she's having a ball. She can drink like a fish when she wants to."
Yvette was listening and nodded, unable to
speak. Then she pointed a gloved finger at Gerda's chains.
"Yes," said Gerda miserably.
"Twenty four hours and already I feel I want to go to the loo! God it's
tight! I'll have to eat dinner standing up." But even as she complained,
Gerda felt almost proud. The slaves' rest room, with its sofas and attractive bar,
was almost a club to which she now honourably belonged. Gone was her white belt
of novicehood. Now she could at least be one of these
sophisticated slaves, who had suffered all that she had suffered. She ordered a
drink from the rubber-clad 'Bunny' behind the bar and pointed to a girl sitting
in an armchair.
"Who's that? She hasn't a name on the
front of her hood. New?"
"Yes, came in yesterday. Apparently she
was very difficult, bit two instructors and refused to kneel. Now they're
taming her. As you can see, her hands are strapped between her crotch and her
breathing mask has been reduced to a minimum. That's why she's panting so much.
I think they gave her two hours of that before she gets put to bed in a
punishment suit."
Gerda shuddered. She had heard of the
punishment sleeping suits rendering the wearer totally incapable of any
movement, gagged and blindfolded. She looked at the girl with pity, knowing
that one of the biggest sins was to touch another slave or alleviate her
suffering.
The door opened and an Instructor, slim in
his encasing green leather uniform and black boots, entered. He came over to
the bar and the serving-maid handed him a glass of neat brandy. Gerda, Marcia
and Yvette stood strictly to attention. Without a word he poured the drink
slowly into Yvette's filler, watching as she swallowed it. He made a note of
the time on his work-pad, then left the room. Yvette swayed slightly on her
feet, but winked at Gerda through her eye-holes.
"Four more, I think," Marcia said
to Yvette. "Will you make it?" Yvette nodded vigorously, jokingly
offering her hooded head for another drink. Gerda wandered over to the new
slave.
"Cheer up,” she said brightly.
"Just relax. They don't intend to kill you, just breathe slowly and
deeply, you'll get used to it." The girl looked up with gratitude, gloved
hands twitching in their bonds between her legs.
Gerda retired to bed early, hoping that sleep
would ease the pain of her tight restricting chains.
It was sheer luck which saved Gerda from a
highly unpleasant twenty four hours in her chastity chains. At eight in the
morning she was desperately needing to pee, which would mean relieving herself
inside her thick latex working suit. The penalty would be severe, apart from
the discomfort. Her limit had almost been reached when Maria brought in her
breakfast tray and her orders for the day. She also had the key to the
padlocked chains. She removed her gag hastily.
"I can unlock you, Madam, because you
have to report in one hour for Rod training. Please hurry, I must give you your
enema and get you dressed." Gerda needed no urging once the chain had been
unlocked.
Fifty minutes later, enema-ed, showered and having eaten a hasty breakfast, she
dressed in the costume Maria had laid out. First a thin white rubber suit, with
the bottom cut out. Then a short red jacket of shining vinyl, rubber lined and
finally very long black leather boots with the usual high heels and her mask
and gloves.
She felt curiously naked as she hurried
downstairs, knowing that the jacket, or dress, was so short that it barely
covered her cut-out white latexed bottom. She
wondered what the final Rod training consisted of as she had worn a rod so many
times. Surely it could not be something even larger?
She presented herself at the main training
chamber with some apprehension. With dismay she saw the Executioner waiting for
her, dressed in skin-tight black latex from head to foot, her face completely
masked, recognisable only by her long blonde hair escaping from the back of her
helmet. She wasted no time, pointing to a white steel apparatus in the centre
of the room.
"Your feet and hands in the stocks,
slave, and get your legs straight."
With difficulty Gerda stood on the steel
platform and bent over. A serving-maid hurried across and clamped shut the
wrist and ankle bars, locking her into a highly uncomfortable position. Gerda
realised her bottom was high in the air, the short dress riding up and exposing
the white rubber undersuit. It was difficult to keep
her balance, although the abbreviated stock was so heavy there was no chance of
failing over. Instinctively she bent her knees, easing the cramped position,
then screamed involuntarily as a whip slashed across her bottom.
"Keep your knees straight," the
Executioner hissed, "otherwise I'll fix you into steel trousers. Get your
bottom right up in the air."
With an effort, Gerda managed to comply with
the order. Dimly she heard movement around her as two serving-maids, heavily
aproned over their rubber costumes, moved to and fro. She felt warm grease
being applied to her bottom through the hole in her white suit. She gasped as
more grease was squirted up her anal passage under pressure. Then a large ball
gag was being forced into her mouth and strapped tightly round her helmet.
"For your own good, slave; the entry of
the final Rod will hurt, even after all your gradual training. But don't
forget, once you have accepted this, you will be ready and prepared for your
own Master; for the Supreme Master."
Next moment Gerda was writhing helplessly and
vainly trying to scream for mercy as the huge No. 10 rod was pushed slowly and
relentlessly into her. For once, the Executioner was almost sympathetic.
"Relax, slave, accept it, don't fight it. Think of your Master, think of
him entering you this way, slowly and implacably."
Suddenly it was in and sliding smoothly up
her. Now her gagged screams were of ecstasy. She rode on the huge rod, never
wanting it to come out of her, the orgasm building inside her, knowing that
this was the greatest sensation on earth; she bent and stretched, shoving
cruelly down on the massive rod, trying through her gag to thank the Executioner,
to make her understand it was all right, to show her love for Guy.
The Executioner smiled to herself inside her
tight mask. She, too, knew that ecstatic feeling. She was proud of slave Gerda,
although she would never show it. She leaned forward and pushed the huge rod in
further as she felt Gerda's orgasm begin.