Chapter 1

 

An hour later the incredible scene had been prepared. The chalet kitchen, furnished in early American style, had a sturdy long wooden table which the maid had covered with a thick rubber sheet. Upon Karl's instructions, she had placed a pillow under the sheet for Yvette's head and halfway down a large bolster bulged upwards.

By now, Gerda had drunk several vodkas and was alternating between pity for her friend and fierce excitement and horror of what was to come. The German Master had insisted she wear a long heavy red rubber apron over her mistress costume and it rustled loudly with every movement. Karl consulted his watch. “The good doctor should be here any moment. Meanwhile, I think we'll get my slave prepared.” He called for the maid and a minute later Yvette appeared from the bedroom doorway.

She was faceless in a heavy leather hood laced tight and Gerda could see the outline of a severe gag strapped inside. Her tall figure was encased entirely in a heavy-gauge, form-fitting black latex suit, with two holes cut open against the cheeks of her bottom. She wore a broad leather belt with steel rings attached and similar wrist and ankle straps and a heavy leather collar, also with metal rings.

The doorbell chimed and the maid admitted the ever cheerful doctor, dressed in white rubber surgical jacket and trousers. Incongruously, he carried a normal doctor's bag.

“Good to see you, doctor,” said Karl conversationally. “Would you like a drink before we start?”

“Thank you, no. Not while on duty, as it were. Perhaps afterwards.”

“Then we'll go ahead. You know slave Gerda, of course? She will carry out the actual branding. Cheryl, guide my slave to the operating table and start securing her down.”

Gerda felt herself trembling. “May I ask a question, Master Karl?” He nodded approval and she turned to the doctor. “Is this branding dangerous? I mean, could it have any serious effect on slave Yvette?”

The doctor chuckled. “No and yes. No, to it being dangerous. Painful, I grant you, but the antiseptic salve I apply immediately stops any chances of infection. As to the effect, the scars, which will heal very rapidly on the cheeks of the buttocks, will remain there for a long time.”

“I think Yvette is ready now, shall we proceed?”

Gerda found herself rustling into the kitchen in a daze. Cheryl was finishing her task of passing long chains through the various bonds, padlocking them tightly under the table, so that the slave was now spread-eagled by her arms to the front legs, while her rear, raised up by the thick bolster to achieve maximum tightness of the bottom, allowed her legs to be strapped together from thigh to ankles. Both ankle bonds were chained securely to the legs of the table.

“Two long straps now, Cheryl, under the table and round the top of her buttocks and the same round the top of her thighs, to keep her bottom absolutely immovable.”

While the maid carried out Karl's instructions, he carefully examined and tested the taut chains, especially the one holding the heavy neck collar rigidly so that Yvette's face, turned to one side, was held firmly against the pillow. He kissed her gently through the heavily masked gag. She gave a little whimper of approval.

He returned to Gerda, standing uncertainly in the background, still horrified by the task in front of her. “You needn’t worry, liebchen, slave Yvette has been wanting this for a whole year. All I ask is that you do it properly. The irons will be red-hot and it needs only two seconds, but don't pull back at the crucial moment so that she has to suffer this over again.”

All was ready finally. The doctor stood by with swabs and ointment, a hypodermic ready in case of faintness or an emergency. Cheryl handed the first branding iron to Gerda. It looked like a soldering instrument, plugged into the wall by a long cord, on the end of which was fixed a one-inch letter 'K', now glowing brightly red. She took hold of the wooden handle, her senses racing with excitement and fear. She approached the tightly encased bottom of her friend, seeing the two bare patches of flesh straining tautly against the cut-out holes.

“Go on,” urged the Baron softly. “It hurts less if you do it quickly.”

She poised the iron carefully in the centre of the white flesh, then quickly thrust it hard against Yvette's cheek, holding it there for a brief two seconds. There was a sickening smell of burning and Yvette let out a long moaning scream through her gagged face, her body rigidly straining against the steel and leather bonds. The doctor hurried forward and carefully wiped the burn, an angry red welt in the centre of the left cheek.

Mutely, Gerda handed back the iron to Karl, accepting the second instrument with an 'S' fixed to the end. Without waiting for instructions she pressed it firmly against the other cheek, wincing at the sizzle and Yvette's body thrashing helplessly inside its bondage.

Gently the Baron took the iron from her, while the doctor attended to Yvette. On her white bottom was now burnt the final proof of slavehood, a 'K' and 'S', Karl's Slave, branded into her flesh.

When the doctor had departed, after salving and dressing Yvette's angry wounds, Karl bent down over the chained and strapped body of his slave and gently kissed her masked and gagged face. “Now you are truly mine, darling slave, otherwise you must search the world for a millionaire with the initials of 'K.S.'”

It was too much for Gerda, keyed-up as she had been for the horrific moment of applying the branding irons. She burst into hysterical laughter. The German Baron signalled to Cheryl, the serving-maid, to release Yvette from her chains and padlocks. “Serve dinner in half an hour and let slave Yvette join us in whatever costume she wishes.”

He took Gerda by the arm and steered her into the comfortable sitting-room of the chalet, then poured large vodkas for both of them. Gerda gulped it down, the fiery liquid making her feel better. Her inner latex suit was warm and streaming with perspiration and she macked thankfully on her Rod in its grease pants. He undid her long apron and she looked down at her beige rubber jodhpurs and high-heeled boots, the 'Mistress' costume she has been ordered to wear for the evening.

“I feel terrible,” she said finally. “Yvette is my best friend, how will I ever face her again? She's branded for life and I did it.”

“'Nonsense, liebchen, you heard her beg for it? Wouldn’t you wish your Master Guy do the same thing to you? He will, you know.”

A thrill ran through her. To be branded by him, her cruel and loving Master, to bear his mark for ever mor.! Of course he would and now she felt better about Yvette. Abruptly Karl changed the subject.

“As you are my guest for the night, with Le Comte's blessing, you will be put into the Corset Suspender, a pleasant if somewhat restricted way of sleeping. But I'm sure you've had plenty practice sleeping in heavy bondage.”

She smiled through her mask. “Yes, Master, after a night in the Severe Punishment Sleeping Suit, which I experienced recently, nothing could scare me anymore!”

For some minutes more they talked of Gerda's Training, then the bedroom door opened and Yvette emerged. Masked, booted and gloved, she wore a long white rubber evening dress, loose from the waist down. Coolly she crossed to the bar and made herself a drink. Then she came over to Gerda, her smile radiant through the opening in her tight latex hood.

“God, it was wonderful! I've never experienced such a fiery pain before. If I hadn’t been so stupidly scared I'd have taken a Pleasure. Thank you, dear Gerda.” She bent forward and kissed Gerda on the lips, mask to mask. Gerda had an uncontrollable surge of love and clasped Yvette closely to her, suddenly aware of the lithe body inside the rustling gown.

A magnificent dinner was brought across from the main kitchens and served by Cheryl. Yvette sat gingerly on a soft cushion, her scars protected by ointmented lint and plaster. She was in a sparkling mood, hyped by the painful but exciting remembrance of her branding. The Baron joked constantly with her and Gerda felt small and humble in front of these two loving people.

Later, after coffee and cognac the Baron ordered Cheryl to bring in the Corset Suspender. “We're going to bed now, dear Gerda, so I must make sure you're comfortable in your harness. You'll find it most interesting if you've never been hung in one before. You may retire to the bathroom to clean your teeth or whatever little slaves do.”

When Gerda returned a few minutes later, Cheryl was holding out a very stiff brown leather corset with short legs. At a nod from Karl, she climbed into it, finding it lined with heavy rubber sheeting. Her arms slid into sleeves attached inside the corset, rendering them helpless. Under the Baron's instructions, Cheryl laced it tightly up the back to the high boned collar until Gerda was unable to move her body or head.

“You'll love this,” Yvette said cheerfully. “I've spent some happy nights in it, especially if you're greased and Rodded.” Gerda watched with misgivings as Cheryl attached four chains to the reinforced belt of the corset, then hooked them onto the chain passing over the ceiling pulley where Yvette had been hung earlier. She heard the soft click of the winch ratchet and next moment the chains and corset tightened and she was lifted off her feet, her greased insertions pushing tightly into her.

The Baron brought across a soft half-hood which he pulled over her own mask, effectively blindfolding her but leaving her nose and mouth free. “Darkness is always an asset in these circumstances and you can call out if anything troubles you too greatly.” Then he turned to the winch and Gerda felt herself lifted several feet off the floor, her arms tightly laced inside the strong corset, her booted legs dangling helplessly through the leather sack.

It was a wonderful secure feeling, her head held firmly by the high leather collar. She heard them say goodnight and minutes later she herself was sound asleep, hanging in her tight leather and rubber bag.

 

***

 

Black darkness gave way to bright strip-lights overhead and slowly she realised she was in a hospital bed. The Executioner, in a shining black rubber nurse's uniform, masked and gloved, looked down at her, her red mouth grinning evilly through the mask.

“Get up, slave Gerda, you are perfectly well now after your operation. I want to fit you into your new suit which I've had specially made for you. It will be very smart.”

Obediently Gerda struggled to get up. Her arms felt numb and a Japanese nurse had to help her out of bed. She was already clad in a tight black latex suit and now they brought across a gleaming brown leather costume with boots attached and held her body while her legs were slipped into the lower part. Carefully, she stood up in the high heels of the boots while they pulled the tight garment over her shoulders and she felt it being cruelly laced up the back to the high stiff neck. Then a wide corselet of the same material was being tightly fastened round her waist, so that not a wrinkle showed in the shining brown leather.

“Beautiful,” the Executioner said reverently. “Such a much slimmer and more aesthetic effect without the arms.”

Gerda looked down in horror, barely hearing the sinister voice continuing, “The doctor did a nice job cutting them off and a good slave must learn to serve without arms. No more handcuffs, slave and just look how well the leather suit fits without any sleeves...”

Gerda saw the smooth tight suit, devoid of any hands or arms, encasing her body. The heavy gag prevented her from screaming and the other nurse came forward with a faceless leather hood...

 

***

 

She awoke from the nightmare to find herself swinging gently in the Corset Suspender, her arms numb inside the tight leather bag. She could just flex her fingers inside their latex gloves and gave a sob of pure joy when she remembered her situation. The mask prevented her seeing any vestige of light, and thankfully she allowed herself to drift off into the dark void again...