Still grinning, the young trooper peeled the tight hood up off the brunette’s face, the girl blinking in the bright workshop lights as Jimmy pulled the shiny, now inside-out, latex restraint down her pony tail. She caught her breath, huge wide innocent-looking eyes, a pretty light hazel, widening in fear when she saw the hot coals glowing in the brazier and then closing in resignation. She'd known why she was being brought here. The only question was, would she make a fuss?

Walen hefted a breast, bouncing the full globe in his palm and then rubbing his thumb across an erect nipple. Long-lashed eyes dreamily opened. Very nice!

"You're not going to give me any trouble are you, Big Tits?" he asked, giving her clitoris another little yank with the chain lead.

"No Sergeant," she gasped in pleasure.

The heavy-breasted slave had a slight accent, her face matching her body. Not beautiful, but quite lovely, with full lips and a long fringe falling over her eyes. She made you wonder what she'd look like with a cock resting on her tongue, or licking her own juices off a dildo.

"Good puppy," he told her.

Walen wiped his fingers off on a waiting ball gag, and then for good measure stroked the strap-mounted ball between her legs before holding out the orange ball in the palm of his hand. The voluptuous slave, arms still pulled up high behind her back, swayed gracefully forward from the waist and daintily took the large ball gag into her mouth with just a momentary pressure against his palm as she pushed the obstruction behind her teeth.

"Private?" he prompted.

While Jimmy buckled the gag's straps behind the girls neck and then under her chin, Walen lifted first one and then the other breast by the nipple rings, looking for her barcode and serial number. He found the tattoo on the underside of her left breast, and used a scanner to call up her pedigree on his electronic notepad.

The Queen had decreed that all slaves should be branded at the moment of orgasm so that their marking was not cruel and so he needed the correct frequency to monitor her. The coin-shaped sensors, again surgically implanted at the same clinic that had performed her other improvements, would be attached to the brunette’s skull at the temples. Set to measure a specific brainwave pattern, any orgasm was detected and recorded on the owner’s personal computer. Some owners liked to know how many times they'd made their toy come in a week or a night, but more important the monitored slave knew she could not get away with masturbation or unauthorised sex. With the correct frequency punched into a computer link under his workbench, a buzzer would now sound every time the top heavy toy was made to come.

Hobble and lead removed, they pulled the naked girl astride his short, padded workbench pushing her down onto her stomach, breasts hanging over its end. A craftsman, Walen now waved the young recruit-private away, the task of securing the docile slave his alone. The tall brunette was clearly a powerful beast, and her hindquarters had to be held perfectly still. No mistakes. There were many Sergeants in the Kingdom, but only one was entitled to brand slaves.

Broad leather straps were buckled around her waist and upper thighs, Walen pulling the straps tight, polished leather digging deep into the naked slave’s golden skin. Her arms could remain as they were, wrists secured to the back of her collar by the short chain behind her. Next Walen chained her ankles to ring bolts set in the floor and then jacked up his workbench until her legs were stretched taut. She'd look prettier with straight legs, the eye naturally following stiletto heel to ankle, to calf, to thigh and up over the swelling curve of hip. As Jimmy would have to learn, it was the little details that got you noticed and promoted. Also contributing to the pretty sight she made, a short length of chain linking the back of her collar to the belt digging deep into her waist, held the brunette’s head up nicely.

"The Lords and Ladies like to be able to look into the face of the toy they're watching being tormented," he explained to Jimmy.

The lad nodded understanding. The restraint actually took a little of the strain off the gagged plaything’s bound arms, though her spine was now brutally arched. As a final bit of decorative torture, Walen attached chains from a floor-mounted winch in front of the girl to her nipple rings. And slowly, click by cruel click, pulled her heavy breasts out into painfully stretched cones. Forced to look up and unable to see what was being done to her, the girl whimpered plaintively as the winch click, click, clicked, but made no real fuss. As Walen had suspected, with those heavy tits she had to be used to tit torture. Areolas cruelly stretched, she cried out helplessly as Walen cranked the winch one notch tighter and locked down the handle. Tears welled in the pretty toy's wide eyes.

"That must really hurt her!" Jimmy breathed.

There was no censure in the twenty-year-old's voice. Just awe and delight. Disapproval or sympathy would not necessarily have been a disciplinary offence, but the fact that he could take pleasure in humiliating pain, showed the lad was well suited to his chosen profession. The tit-tortured sex toy Walen was about to brand with a hot iron, had been legally sentenced to suffer by a court of law. The collar around her neck and the serial number and barcode tattooed on the underside of her left breast removed all her rights as a person; she was property. And as property, her legal humiliation, torment and sexual use throughout her sentence were not only right and proper if law and order were to be maintained, but justified simply for the pleasure that her use and abuse gave her Royal owner.

What she had actually been convicted of was unimportant, all that mattered was that she was paying for her crime now. It might be two years because she'd failed to bow her head to an aristocrat, five years for a disrespectful tone of voice, ten years to pay off family debts or twenty years because her parents had committed a crime. The ‘why’ didn't really matter.

Walen chose the largest vibrator he had to screw onto the end of the piston, a fat ribbed shaft, never once doubting this girl could take it. The inflatable butt plug he screwed onto the air hose was a standard size when not filled, but could be inflated to almost any size. She squeaked once, more in surprise than pain, when he pushed the plug into her anus.

"You're going to like this," he promised his naked victim, sliding the vibrator/dildo forward on its piston.

The bound girl groaned, a low helpless growl deep in the back of her throat as her sex was penetrated, arms bound behind her back jerking fruitlessly once. She gasped, a series of increasingly high pitched yelps of pleasure forced from behind the orange ball gag as the ribbed shaft, pushing deeper, stretched her well-lubricated pussy wider and wider. When finally the fat shaft filled her to the hilt, the hazel-eyed slave was panting gently.

The pump handle with its red-lined gauge was on the side of the workbench, allowing Walen to look into the brunette’s face as he inflated her butt plug. She was superb! The voluptuous slave's eyes actually seemed to bulge, full lips peeling back from the ball buckled into her mouth to reveal even white teeth clenched deep into the orange ball as she moaned in distress. As he pumped air into her anal plug, her legs trembled and her tortured breasts swayed on their chains as her upper body twisted, but her faintly whip-marked hindquarters, secured at waist and thigh were held totally still.

He pulled the pump handle again, and then again, the butt plug that penetrated the young slave swelling larger. His strapped-down victim shrieked distress behind her gag as inflating plug and fat dildo stretched her to bursting point. Now tears did roll down her cheeks to pool against the ball gag's straps tight across her cheeks. Tethered tits trembling as she sobbed, the lovely slave's huge eyes met his in a silent plea. Walen gave the pump handle one last pull, needle well in the red now, the bound girl's cry of pain quite delightful.

He turned on the vibrator first, and a deep powerful buzz could be heard all around the room and the vibration felt with a hand pressed into her belly under her. When the top heavy slave moaned in pleasure, he turned on the piston, one hand resting on the girl’s rump. Slowly, the fat buzzing shaft withdrew two thirds of its length with a hissing click, and then plunged deep back inside the brunette's pussy. Hiss, click! Faster, the piston withdrew, and then plunged back to the hilt, its vibrator-tip a blur between spread sex lips.

After the first half dozen thrusts the Prince's new acquisition was gasping in pleasure in time with her mechanical shafting. The sound forced from her was halfway between a sigh and a high yelp, her juices coating the large dildo/vibrator as she was forced again to unwilling sexual arousal despite her distress and humiliation. She couldn't move her haunches because of the straps but the buttock under his hand flexed as muscles twitched and contracted. Walen gave the firm, toned flesh a contented pat.

Usually a female slave would be given five minutes or so; just long enough to get her hot and used to being well-stuffed, then he'd turn off the vibrator and piston and wait until noon in case a member of the Royal family wished to witness the branding, when the mechanical fucking would be resumed. It was the same with slaveboys, where branding also took place at the point of orgasm. Once they were hard, the bound slavegirl kneeling under the workbench with her head in a clamp, could be pulled back so that the male slave’s cock was pulled from her mouth. At noon, her mouth would be pushed back over his shaft, to lick, kiss and nibble her fellow slave to the point where the male toy was ready to be marked.

Walen was enjoying watching the doe-eyed slave strapped astride his workbench taking it so well, he decided to give her a little extra though. Now drooling helplessly around her ball gag as she gasped and squeaked, saliva dripping onto her tortured, stretched, breasts, her eyes were glazed with lust. A nice sheen of sweat gleaming on her panting, naked, strapped-down body, an ecstatic cry of desperate pleasure accompanied the buzzer in announcing she'd been made to come again.

Curious, he called up the gorgeous young slave's pedigree on his notebook. She was called Treasure. He whistled. Sentenced to forty years for treason. He wouldn't have guessed she was an enemy of the state. By the end of her sentence having been youth-treated, she'd physically appear about thirty-five years old, but the extra years she'd been given to pay off her debt to society would be hard earned. He also found that the drooling, gasping, sweat-gleaming girl, moaning mindlessly as the piston pumped the fat dildo/vibrator in and out of her sex, ass stuffed to bursting point, had been surprisingly well educated. She was fluent in three languages and her IQ was way above his own. He patted a sweat-slick buttock again as the dildo piston hiss-clicked, and gave a heavy breast an approving squeeze. Treasure gurgled behind her gag. Not only pretty, with impressive sexual stamina, but smart as well! She really was a quite magnificent beast.

Walen checked his watch, surprised to find twenty minutes had passed while he'd been engrossed in the top heavy brunette’s history. He'd only meant to give her ten, but although she was gasping and slathering a bit, crying out occasionally when the buzzer announced another orgasm, she was taking her ordeal well. Clearly born to be fucked! Another two minutes passed while he put aside the electronic notebook to stir his coals and then he started wondering if she could take half an hour?

Half an hour passed and just when he'd decided he really must give the tit-tortured slave a break, Queen Victoria II herself and a Lady in Waiting - Svetlana, the Russian-born Countess - arrived to witness the branding. After that there was no question of the gasping brunette being allowed a respite.

"Your Majesty," Walen barked, bowing low, right hand brushing the floor and then coming to attention. "Regimental Sergeant Walen and Recruit-private Weaver on duty, Ma'am!"

"Carry on Sergeant," the Queen nodded graciously.

She walked slowly around the strapped-down, unseeing slave while her Lady in Waiting fastidiously settled herself onto one of the viewing couches. The Queen patted a buttock, trailed her fingernails lightly down a stretched breast, and then with one finger, daintily tasted sweat, tears and the juices now dripping from the piston-driven dildo.

"My, she's in a lather, isn't she?"

You never lied to a noble. Ever!

"Yes, Your Majesty," Walen admitted. "I've been tormenting her for thirty-five minutes now."

The Queen raised one perfect eyebrow in surprise at the length of the lovely sex slave's ordeal, stroking the dark shiny mane of hair that trailed down over Treasure's right shoulder to the floor. She reached under the hiss-clicking piston pumping in and out of the girl's sex, plucking a pubic hair from the helpless sexual plaything strapped astride Walen's workbench. The exhausted slave barely squeaked.

Walen watched breathless, career on the line as the Queen compared the pubic hair to the girl’s dark, copper-highlighted mane for colour, and then carelessly tossed the pubic hair aside. Her gaze again swept over unseeing eyes, trembling legs, the tube that disappeared into the voluptuous toy's anus and the fat, buzzing, shaft that was still remorselessly pumping in and out of the bound girl's sex.

"Really? She looks fresher than that. Well judged, Sergeant! How much more do you think she can take?"

Walen swallowed a relieved lump in his throat. "I'd really have to say she was near the end of her tether, Your Majesty," he said cautiously.

"Possibly," the Queen allowed, kneading a thigh experimentally.

The sweat-gleaming brunette gasped, a sound hardly louder than those the thrusting dildo was forcing from her but the buzzer sounded again. The Queen swung her hand down in a stinging slap on each buttock, the crack of her palm and fingers on each taut curve leaving a perfect handprint but getting little response. Lips pursed thoughtfully, the Queen scooped two fingers’ worth of juice off the vibrator and held her fingers under the ball gagged slave's nose. Her own scent refocused the gasping plaything's eyes momentarily. Increasingly intrigued, as he had been, Walen saw a faint smile tug at Queen Victoria's lips. She patted the young sex toy on the head.

"She's got a bit more life in her yet," Queen Victoria II decided. "You can brand her on the hour; but then we'll see what else she's got. It's nice to see a bed warmer with stamina!"

The Queen crouched down at the brunette's head, hands stroking under stretched breasts. The girl was not just breathlessly snorting and slathering around her ball gag; but the chain that was holding her head up, her collar pressing hard against her throat was leaving the lovely slave red-faced, hair plastered around her face. The leather band was deliberately too broad to dig into her neck but was equally deliberately a part of her ordeal.

"My, such a big girl," Queen Victoria said handling the girls’ breasts. "I bet you're fun in bed."

The clock approaching noon, Sergeant Walen stirred his brazier, setting irons in the glowing coals. Because he was expected to brand the slave at the point of orgasm, he needed several ready at different temperatures. He let his eyes roam over the girl strapped astride his workbench, now gleaming as if oiled. Nearly a full forty five minutes of sexual torment had turned the beautiful, intelligent, educated girl into a moaning, blank-eyed, mindlessly gasping bitch on heat. It was moments like this when he really loved his job.

"Recruit-private," he ordered.

Jimmy stepped forward, ready with a sterile cloth. Noon. A minute ticked past, and then another, silence broken only by the hiss-click of the piston and the desperate sounds the buzzing shaft forced from the hard-used slave. The Queen stood at his shoulder, the Countess also stirring herself from the couch for a better view of the iron pressed home.

The four of them now watched breathlessly. A fair bargain, Walen thought; the suffering of one giving pleasure to four.

Metal clicked as Walen rearranged his irons. Another minute ticked past interminably and he found his heart beating faster again; worry gnawing at his belly. The hazel-eyed slave had been made to come and come again over nearly an hour’s hard use now. If she didn't have one more orgasm in her, he could face an official reprimand. Jimmy met his eyes uncertainly as, heavy breasts trembling, the exhausted slave continued to gasp and drool around her ball gag in time with the shaft thrusting into her.

With a barely louder gasp than those her mechanical shafting were forcing from her, the buzzer announced the magnificent slave was coming again. He wouldn't have been sure himself but the sensors monitoring brainwaves at her temples were never wrong.

"Private!" he snapped, selecting a cooling iron.

Jimmy was already stepping forward, wiping clean a patch of flesh high on the right buttock, almost over the thigh. Walen pressed his chosen tool down, holding the hot iron lightly in place for one second, two - a light hiss - and then stepping aside to allow Her Majesty to savour the smell of burnt flesh.

The bound slave squealed in pain, her ankle chains jerking taut with a click, breasts quivering, stretched harder by the chains that tethered her nipple rings as she tried to rear up off the workbench. A perfect three pointed crown, burned just deep enough, now identified her as the property of a member of the Royal Family.

The smell of roast meat slowly permeating the room, Walen hesitantly reached to shut off the dildo/vibrator’s piston, but the Queen shook her head.

"Get me a chair, Private," the Queen ordered, settling herself beside the now branded slave’s head when he obeyed.

Walen really had thought the voluptuous plaything was spent, finished, and watched spellbound as he was proved wrong. Of course just as the brunette was clearly born to be owned, Her Majesty was born to own. With a family tree of slave owners stretching back over sixteen centuries, it was in the blood and of course she could judge a slavegirl's limits better than he could. But watching her effortlessly torture the girl to one more orgasm, and then just one more, was still impressive.

Queen Victoria sat beside the slave's head, looking into her eyes as she lightly touched the tip of a short rod-like shock baton to the girl's big breasts. Each time there was a little snap-like crack and if you looked closely enough, a blue spark leapt from rod to flesh, leaving behind a pinprick burn. The heavy, tethered mounds quivered and twitched as bolt after bolt of agony was delivered here and there; underside, top, nipple! The girl yelped and squeaked, eyes tear bright, but pain was keeping her focused on her tormentor.

"Come on pretty toy," the Queen coaxed. "Just once more! One more orgasm for me. There! Such a good girl; and you want to please me don't you? Now just one more?"

Finally reaching her limit, the shattered slave broke, wailing in protest, trying to plead around her gag, the large orange ball turning her words into an unintelligible babble. Unconcerned, the Queen touched the shock baton to first one nipple and then the other. Over and over until her victim was shrieking helplessly, tears flowing. Then she ducked her head to lick and kiss the breasts she was torturing, the heavy sob-quivering mounds still pulled into cones by nipple chains.

"Don't think! Just submit!" the Queen ordered sternly, her hand under the girl’s chin.

The sobbing slave whimpered.

“You've got such lovely tits, pretty toy. You can take a few little shocks on them for me can't you? To please me?" she coaxed softly again. "That's what big tits are for. You know that don't you?"

Gasping and slavering around her gag, blinded by tears, now branded, and with her ass and pussy still well-stuffed by plug and pumping vibrator, amazingly the trembling young slave still managed to nod her head against the collar-chain that held her head up.

"Good girl! Such a lovely toy!" the Queen praised, bending forward to give her victim a slave kiss; licking the soft, full lips the slave's ball gag parted.

She resumed methodically touching the shock baton with its little crackling spark here and there over the girl's big breasts. Her victim squeaked and twitched with each bolt of pain, but never again protested, eyes on her tormentor's.

"Good! Now, pretty toy, I know you want to come for me again, don't you? Just for me? To please me. Just one last time!" she promised.

The buzzer sounded again.

"Good girl. Aren't you just precious. Such lovely eyes and silky skin. I bet you take the whip well don't you? Now I want you to come just once more! Come on pretty toy. Just once more for me? You can do it!"

The Queen forced her trembling plaything to come four more times. On the sweat-gleaming slave's final orgasm, as Walen watched breathless, her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped limp. He had a moment of terror; but no, she was a young, fit and healthy animal. Couldn't be her heart! As his pulse settled, he realised he was impressed. It was the first time in thirty-two years’ service he'd seen a sex slave screwed unconscious.