CHAPTER ONE

"When are you going to have her fucked?" asked Janina lazily.

Ira removed her mouth from Janina's left nipple, which she had been gently nuzzling, and replied equally lazily. "Oh, not for a long while yet. There's a lot to be done first. For a start, she's got to be taught to behave herself ... and she's got to learn lots of little tricks."

"Like sucking Buster's cock, for example," smiled Janina.

"That, amongst other things," said Ira. Her mouth went back to Janina's breast and her tongue flickered. Both girls were lying naked on Ira's huge bed, having just completed a very passionate love session.

The object of their discussion, equally naked, knelt in one corner of the room, nose to the floor, hindquarters raised high. This was Virginia Faversham, Ira's recently acquired slave. She was trembling. The bottom that was so immodestly raised was bright red in colour. This was because, a little earlier in the day, Ira had laid the back of a hairbrush on it for some considerable time ... for some minor indiscretion whilst Virginia had been waiting on her new Mistress.

Not that Virginia yet thought of Ira in that fashion. She was new to slavery and simply thought of Ira as an inhuman, perverted monster. She still could not credit what had happened to her and what was still happening to her. The memory of being stripped by those Negroes, and then having her bottom smacked by them, was still hideously vivid. Even more vivid was the memory of her first caning. Twenty-four agonising strokes. That was because she had lost control and tried to attack Ira. She had been secured to a curving block and Ira and Janina had thrashed her in turn.

It was unbelievable that such things could happen. Yet happen they did and that made Virginia realise that Ira was not simply trying to frighten her. What she said, she meant. It was terrifying. The degree of abject servility of Ira's other slaves was incredible to see. Astonishing! No wonder Virginia (or Virgin, as Ira had now cutely re-named her) was trembling. She was aware that, though she endured horrors, far greater horrors lay ahead. And there was no way of avoiding them; no means of escape. One day, she thought, shedding tears of self-pity, I shall be like those other slaves. Crawling, grovelling, slobbering in servility, submitting to whatever bestiality was demanded of her. To be dead and in hell would seem to be preferable.

From the bed, Ira glanced at the latest acquisition and was well pleased. This well-bred, arrogant woman had a superb body. She was going to give her, and Janina, so much pleasure. They hadn't really begun on her yet. On the other hand, as Ira had told Janina, she wasn't going to hurry things. The pleasures were going to be on-going as Virgin went, step by step, down into the basest slavery.

Quietly, Ira slid off the bed, taking with her a long, whippy cane which was lying by her side. Equally silently, she padded across the carpet to the kneeling figure. Then, with remorseless vigour, she lashed the cane across the reddened buttocks up-thrust towards her. Once, twice.

"Keep that backside HIGH, slave!" she bellowed above Virginia's gasping shrieks of pain.

Virginia jerked up in shock, writhing with agony, her hands clamping to the stinging weals which had just been raised. Ira's teeth bared in cruel delight. "Hands away!" she barked. "You know that's not allowed, slave. So you're going to get those two strokes again."

"Uuurrff ... uuurrff ..." sobbed Virginia. "O-ohhh ... h-have m-mercy ..."

"Get your backside up, slave. To the maximum. AT ONCE. Or I'll have you over a Punishment Block and give you a proper caning."

"O-ohh ... p-please ... oohhh ... p-please ..." sobbed Virginia. Her mind was in a turmoil, yet she was aware that Ira truly meant what she said. Thus, groaning, Virginia forced herself to thrust her hindquarters high again. Her soft, lush nates were clenching and unclenching with dread.

"Higher than that - to the maximum," rasped Ira.

Virginia tried to achieve the impossible in the way of thrusting. She was driven by sheer terror.

Then two more vicious strokes lashed across her tormented flesh. Virginia gasped and shrieked, squirming and kicking down to the floor, only just managing to check herself clasping her bottom again.

"Get it up ... up ... up!" demanded Ira relentlessly. This was just a minor piece of discipline yet she was enjoying it enormously. She watched with happy satisfaction as that beautifully curvaceous bottom came thrusting high ... seeing it flinch and twitch with dread. Virgin was learning, she reflected, but still had a long way to go. Ira padded back to the bed and into Janina's arms.

"When I say I want a backside high, I mean it," she sighed.

"Of course, of course," agreed Janina, kissing her on the mouth. She gazed at the four purplish twin-tracked weals which now lay over the reddened buttock flesh. They must hurt. A lot, she thought with cruel satisfaction. Later that day she intended to find an excuse to cane her own personal slave, Teresa. That wouldn't be difficult.

Janina slid down and began to nuzzle Ira's breasts, just as Ira had done to her. They were lovely breasts. She was very fond of them.

"I'm mapping out a little training programme," said Ira.

"Mmmmmmm?"

"I think we'll start by making her tongue us," went on Ira.

"Mmmm ... lovely idea ..."

"I don't think she'll take kindly to it."

"No ... I guess not."

The trembling, weeping figure in the corner heard it all, as she was meant to. I won't be able to do that, Virginia told herself. I just couldn't. It would be too revolting. Against every fibre of her being. No ... no ... no ... it was not possible.

Bottom thrusting high, as it must, Virginia wept even more bitterly.

Why did not some Divine Being strike those two inhuman she-devils dead?

***

In due time Manuel, one of Ira's two male slaves, was summoned and ordered to take Virginia back to her cell and chain her up. Manuel, a virile young Argentinian, did not look too displeased at the order.

"Chain her so that she has to stand on tiptoe."

"Yes, Miss," Manuel acknowledged respectfully. He buckled a leather collar about Virginia's neck and picked up the length of chain attached to it. "Come along, Miss Faversham," he said, "time to take a little rest in your cell."

Ira and Janina smiled happily as Virginia was led out, still weeping uncontrollably.

"I bet Manuel has a good feel round," said Janina.

"I'm sure he does. That's why I get Manuel or Jose to fetch and carry. They can't do more than feel, though."

Manuel was kept permanently on a restrainer, to which Ira held the key. She only unlocked him if she wanted him to fuck one of her female slaves.

"I don't expect Virgin likes even that," laughed Janina.

"You bet she doesn't!"

At that moment the naked Virginia was stumbling along behind the near-naked Manuel. She felt sick with horror. How unbelievable she could be led like an animal by a man! Yet it was happening.

Into the cell they went.

There in the centre was the Punishment Block. Against one wall was the wooden bunk bed. From ceiling beams hung numerous chains and manacles.

"Now," said a grinning Manuel, "although I am a slave like you, Miss Faversham, you know you have to obey me. I have orders from Miss Ira. If you cause any trouble, I shall have to report you."

"Oooooh ... urrrfff ... ohhh ... ohhh ... h-how c-can you?" wailed Virginia.

"Raise your arms high above your head."

"P-please ... pleeeeeeease ... don't ..."

"Do it girl!" Manuel gave Virginia's bottom a good slap. He wasn't supposed to but he reckoned he could get away with it. It felt nice, smacking that lovely bottom, reddened and striped though it might be.

"You beast! Oh ... you're a slave too ... how c-can you?"

Manuel gave her another slap. "Raise your arms," he ordered. Virginia raised them. She knew, if she did not, things would only get worse.

Manuel lowered a chain and manacles, then clamped the restraints around Virginia's wrists. He hauled on the chain until Virginia was standing on tiptoe ... as Ira had instructed.

"Oh ... ohhh ... you're h-hurting m-me ... eeeee!" cried Virginia.

"I imagine so," smiled Manuel. He never felt any pity for the female slaves, even though he might be a slave himself. He was flogged quite frequently by his Mistress, so knew what it was all about.

"L-let me ... d-down ... just a little ..." begged Virginia.

"I might ... just before I go. If you're a good girl." He grinned into the tear-streaked face, saw the terrified eyes. Nice big green eyes. "Ask me to play with your tits." He saw the look of horror, saw the lips bitten, the head turned away.

"Y-you're v-vile ... just vile ..."

"Of course, I could raise you a little higher."

"NOO ... OOOO!" It was a shriek. The muscles in Virginia's arms and back were already straining painfully.

"Ask me then ..."

Virginia gulped. It was obscene. Revolting. How could she? Yet the alternative was more pain. A tremendous struggle went on within her. It was one of many, many struggles she was going to have to make.

"A-alright ... then ..." she said, cringing away.

"Say it," insisted Manuel. "Ask me to play with your tits. Those very words."

"You stinking bastard!" That earned Virginia two good stinging slaps.

"Say it ... or I'll raise you ..."

Virginia gulped again. She had to say it, she knew. What difference did it make? This vile creature would do it anyway. "Play with ... with my breasts," she said.

"Tits," said Manuel.

"T-tits ..." whispered Virginia.

"It will be a pleasure to oblige, Miss Faversham," said Manuel, clasping and squeezing the magnificent orbs before him. He could not recall seeing better breasts. They were large yet they were firm. They hardly sagged at all. Mmmm ... yes ... they felt very good. One day, he thought happily, Miss Ira may want me to fuck this beauty. The thought made his hard get harder. It was pressing painfully against his tight restrainer. Still, such things had to be endured.

Virginia was sobbing and shuddering, twisting and turning, cringing away, yet never able to escape.

"What's the matter, Miss Faversham?" grinned Manuel. "Don't you like it? After all, you did ask me ..."

Virginia almost spat in the Argentinian's face. Then realised, if she did, she would certainly be raised. Somehow she managed to control the vehemence of her fury ... and submitted to the marauding hands. Manuel was happy indeed. Though he was a slave, there were moments like this ... moments of mini-power ... to be enjoyed. He had mauled and titillated all the other slaves and, upon Miss Ira's instructions of course, had fucked all of them. Though he submitted and suffered, he reckoned it was better to be a male slave than a female one.

When he'd had enough of the breasts, Manuel forced a hand between Virginia thighs. His fingers delved.