I heard Avatrix’s voice long before I heard him. My master always was loud, even when he
whispered. I heard his voice as soon as he stepped outside. I followed his progress down
the tiled path. He was outside the courtyard, walking slowly me.
I saw nothing but the tiled courtyard below my head. I tried to look back between my
legs, but a horizontal support blocked my view. About all I could see was what my master
wanted me to see, that and nothing more.
I tightened the muscles in my butt as soon as I heard his voice, but I knew it did no
good.
I twisted by hands back and forth, but the leather cuffs did not budge. The
whipmistress had tied them to rings on the base of the spanking bar. I had a reputation
for rebelliousness that may have been the reason I was his favourite slave girl. That
kept me close to him which was good, but it also mean my bottom was a frequent target of
his paddle.
I had heard it rumoured, though I placed no real belief in it until I became his slave
girl that he could only get an erection by whipping the fanny of the slave girl he
intended to fuck. All I knew was that he always flogged my bottom before sex, and he
never had a performance problem.
The spanking bar could best be compared to a sawhorse. Instead of just sitting on the
ground, the legs were embedded deep in the ground so no matter how hard she struggled, the
captive bound to it could not knock it over. On the far side, the leather straps kept my
arms bound to the vertical supports, while on the near side, another set of leather straps
kept my legs bound to the nearside.
“These are the cunts I was telling you about,” with an almost girlish giggle when he
stopped behind us.
As my owner, he had the right to rename me. Usually a slave girl’s name was the same as
her free woman name. That served to remind her of her status in life.
Avatrix chose to rename all his slaves. Each one had the same name – “Cunt.”
Usually a master or mistress kept a slave girl gagged. Honestly, what could a slave
girl have to say that anyone would want to hear? A master always had a variety of gags at
his disposals, some which humiliated the captive, and others which made it impossible for
her to make a sound, no matter how hard he paddled her ass.
His whipmistresses had us beg for food and water, referring to ourselves in the third
person.
By the second week as his possession, I could not remember my name. I thought of myself
only as “cunt.” Yes, I could come up with my name if I thought about it, but based on my
function as his slave girl, “cunt” was as good a name as another.
“You take that one over there. This is my favourite pet.”
As he said that he fondled my bare bottom.
From the sounds to my right, I knew my sister cunt was being fucked.
Whack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!”
Avatrix had to warm up first. I expected the blow. I knew from my training that by
screaming through the gag, I could convince him that he punished me more than he actually
did. He thought he was in charge all because I was his slave girl, but I knew how to
manipulate him.
Whack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
The pain was a little worse with the second blow, but I had suffered through more.
On the seventh or eighth blow, I began to cry. I no longer reacted to each blow. I
just sobbed continuously. The pain increased with each blow. I no longer acted as though
I was in pain. My whole bottom throbbed continuously.
By the time he was ready to fuck me, my whole bottom burned.
What came next was a horrible combination of pain and pleasure. My bottom throbbed in
pain until I felt an orgasm. For a few seconds, all thoughts of the paddling I had
received disappeared from my mind.
“Let’s go back to my office and we will discuss the arrangements of our deal.”
Rats! What they were going to discuss some kind of nefarious deal. That was why I wore
a collar. I had to find out what the plan was. I had not even seen who his business
partner was.
I felt his hand on my lower back.
“Put this one in a cage out front so the public can admire her charms.”
Once in a while, he took me to his office afterwards, but I never heard anything
worthwhile. Nothing was said. I was in the perfect position to hear everything he said
when I was on my knees with my head between his thighs.
At least he assigned the task of putting me on display to one of his guards and not a
whipmistress. A whipmistress could hardly pass up the opportunity to punish a naked slave
girl. A guard, a male, was more likely to fuck me than punish me. Having a male guard
hold my leash was a win-win situation.
The guard removed the leather cuffs from my hands. I remained bent over the spanking
bar because straightening up could be considered attempting to escape, even if they still
had my feet fastened to the base of the spanking bar. I put my hands behind my back. He
readjusted their position. I expected him to put handcuffs on me, but he pulled my hands
together so he could lash them together with a cord. I felt him apply at least three
loops about my wrists before he changed the direction of the loops to cinch those first
ones. The ropes dug into my wrists, but I knew they would be much tighter if a
whipmistress bound me. Only when he began unfastening the cuffs to my ankles did I raise
my upper body.
He may not have been a whipmistress but that did not mean he was going to be nice to me.
When he had my legs free, he grabbed me by the shoulders to turn me around so he could
attach the end of a leash to my collar. The leash allowed him to control me with ease. I
was naked, bound and gagged, and had a gag stuffed into my mouth. The leash was
unnecessary. I was going nowhere without his permission.
I knew where we were going so his occasional jerks on the leash to get me to follow were
unnecessary. From the courtyard we followed the passageway to the front of the house.
Another courtyard lay between the door and the gate. Part of it was paved with red-brown
tiles like the courtyard in back. About half the area had well cared for grass and
flowers. They were for the benefit of any visitors he might have. The only time a slave
girl spent time here was if she was rubbing the tiles clean, or weeding the gardens
between the flowers.
A guard leaned up against the wall that surrounded his compound. I knew of no way
to get to the top of the wall so escaping that way was impossible. The wall was fifteen
feet high so a slave girl trying to escape that way would probably break a leg in the
attempt. The wall served both to keep unauthorized people from getting in, and to guard
against slave girls getting out.
The guard gave me no more than a glance as we walked by. Avatrix owned many
beautiful slave girls so he had no reason to pay me any more attention than he did the
others.
The gate leading to the main road already was open. Just beyond the wall, on either
side of the gate was a cage. Each cage was eight feet high with iron bars every four
inches. We headed toward the empty one on the right. I glanced over my shoulder to see
if the other cage was occupied.
Great! I was going to be out there alone.
He pushed me up against the wall so he could free my hands. Once that was done, he spun
me about, pinning my back against the wall.
I had been here before. I had been here several times before so I knew what to do.
Using another rope, he lashed my hands together before me. Without letting go of my arms,
he dragged me forward toward the cage.
The diameter of the cage was small so he pushed me inside. I raised my hands over my
head so he could tie them to an overhead ring welded to the top of the cage. Bound in
this position insured I was going nowhere. I could not get to the knots that bound my
hands. I heard him slam the door behind me and lock it.
I never found out where they kept the key while I was locked in the cage.
The guard moved around in front of me. The rope and ring enabled me to pull my
weight off my feet. I moved one foot to each side of the cage.
“Good girl.”
He patted me on the inner thigh. At least his target was not my sore bottom.
He tied a rope to my right ankle. The other end he tied to a ring on the base. He
moved around to the other side of the cage to secure my left ankle to a ring there.
Not only was Avatrix putting me on public display, he was insuring I had no modesty at
all.
I did not want to be there. I would not be able to accomplish my mission if I was not
near him. Since I wore the leather collar of a slave girl, I had no say in the matter.
New slave girls cringed and whimpered when put on public display while bound and naked.
Those of us who were experienced did not respond. Well, maybe we flaunted our bodies a
little to get attention. That type of activity increased our value should our master
decide to sell us.
I was anything but a new slave girl. I had spent enough time wearing a slave collar
that I felt no humiliation, just boredom. I had a job to do, and being bound naked in
public was not allowing me to finish it. I needed to be near my master so I could learn
what I needed.
Many people moved past on the road the front of his estate. Most people just stared. I
had no idea how many slave girls were on display along this road, but I guessed there were
many. A few people stopped and wondered aloud what price my owner would ask to part with
me.
A couple of them I recognized. Marty from the coffee shop I frequented walked past
without giving me more than a glance. A city guard slowed to ogle my large tits, but he
did not look at my face. A couple of others I recognized, but I could not put names to
the faces.
After I had stood there for ten or fifteen minutes, Wendell the Weasel stopped in front
of my cage. He was one of the worse of the city’s lowlifes. I heard from very reliable
sources that he was paid to identify young women who would make lovely slave girls, but
who had as of yet the honour of being collared. That was the most prestigious of his
jobs. The others were worse. He was suspected of rustling slave girls, but there was no
proof – yet. I sometimes wondered if Marjory Mayhem, my boss, used him to trap him into
doing something illegal so we could arrest him.
The bars of my cage were spaced several inches apart so the viewers could do more than
just watch. Wendell was one to take advantage of that. His fingers pinched my labia.
Two fingers entered my cunt. When I saw his hand moving toward my crotch, I wanted to
draw my legs together but could not.
Damn! I knew I should be embarrassed by what he did to me, but what he did felt so
good.
Finally he looked up at me. When our eyes met, I gave him an almost unperceivable shake
of the head. I had no information to pass on. He patted me on the inner thigh, leered at
my breasts and left.
Before me, people continued to come and go while I stood helpless in this cage. I had
accomplished all I could out here. I had passed word on that I still had nothing. I was
ready to go back inside. Unfortunately, the decision was not mine to make. I would
remain on exhibit as long as my master wanted.
Sometime later in the day, another whipmistress led me back into the house. She called
herself Mistress Irene, though I was not certain that was her name. She never introduced
herself or used her name while threatening me. I overheard a couple guards mention her
name.
I hoped she would take me to Avatrix so I could listen in on his conversations, but
instead she took me into the main corridor from the front of the house to the back. We
walked forward about fifty feet into the house.
“Here.”
She pointed to the floor to my where there was a kneeling pillory, my bane if there ever
was one. Avatrix enjoyed commenting how adorable I looked on my knees staring straight
ahead, but I could learn nothing of his plans if I remain secured in the hall.
The kneeling looked something like a regular pillory except the boards that
imprisoned the neck and wrists were rotated ninety degrees so the holes were on top. The
captive, instead of looking down toward the ground, had to stare straight ahead. The
advantage, or disadvantage, depending on whether you were the one locked in it, was that
the captive was in an ideal position to suck cock.
I stepped around the device to get to the padded bench while she unfastened the board on
the far side. As soon as she lifted it away, I leaned forward to put my throat against
the groove in the wood. The whipmistress leaned forward to slip the second board behind
my head, locking my neck in a small circle of wood. She flipped latches that held the
board in place, and then applied locks. There were two small holes for my wrists midway
between the neck hole and the ends of the board but Mistress Irene rarely used them.
I could not reach the latches with my arms tied behind by back. I knew Avatrix loved to
use padlocks as an extra humiliation. The slave girl could not escape but the padlocks
added an extra layer of helplessness and humiliation.
I could only stare at the wall on the other side of corridor. I knew the pointlessness
of trying to escape. Besides, I had allowed myself to become his slave girl for a reason,
and I would fail in my mission if I escaped his grasp without accomplishing it. I had to
remain a submissive slave girl until I accomplished my mission, even if it meant
convincing Avatrix that I enjoyed being his slave girl.
He might take me to bed as he had the previous eight nights. He might also be bored of
me, and decide he wanted a new slave girl to share the warm of her master’s bed. I might
end up as a serving wench at the dinner table. There was always the chance I could learn
something doing that, but the serving girls were constantly moving between the dining room
and the kitchen so the chance was quite remote.
Until some whipmistress came to take me to my next ordeal, I could only kneel there and
rest.
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