Chapter One
Christine felt her stomach churn with anxiety as the cab rolled to a stop in front of
the huge and rambling house. Am I ready for this? She took a deep breath as she looked
out the window. I’d better be!
She checked her clothing, quickly tugging her skirt down to where it belonged. A quick
finger over the lips to make sure her lip gloss was just so and...
Here goes!
The driver had already taken her single suitcase out of the boot and placed it alongside
the entryway, now he returned to the cab and opened the door for her, watching as she
carefully slid off the seat, making sure to keep her dress from riding up. “You’re sure
this is the right address?” He bit at his lower lip as he ran an eye over the front of
the house. “You do know what they call this house-- don’t you?”
She nodded, unwilling to trust her voice, and handed him the amount they had agreed
upon.
“Bondage Manor.” He pocketed the money and turned away. “That’s what people call it
around these parts—pretty girls like you go through that door.” He climbed back into the
cab. “And not a one of them ever seems to come out.” He peered at her through the
window. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
I hope so too! Christine watched the cab start up and pull away, then, after another
long breath; she stepped to the massive oak doors and knocked tentatively.
“Master Thomas?” The tone was low and respectful. “Can you spare a moment?”
Thomas Kinley sighed at the interruption, even as he maintained the concentration
required to keep the cadence he had developed while lashing the woman squirming before
him. “Just a moment.” His right arm continued its practiced motion, striking first her
left ass cheek, then her right with the still-springy willow switch he had chosen. “Only
a few more...”
The girl had long since given up trying to scream or beg—the tight rubber gag in her
mouth prevented any understandable sounds from escaping in any event. She had also grown
too exhausted by the constant pain to continue her earlier efforts to get free—at this
point, she even lacked the energy to attempt avoiding the precise placement of the strokes
he was laying on. Efforts that had proved futile considering her very strict positioning
on the wooden stocks—positioning that held her so tightly that she was unable to move any
part of her displayed hindquarters.
Her whole body shuddered as the beating continued--Lord Thomas had promised her fifty
strokes—and there were five yet to be suffered.
Swack!
Swack!
Thomas continued his alternating motion. The girl’s ass was deep red now, marked from
top to bottom and from side to side. She won’t be able to sit for a while, Thomas told
himself. Which should serve as a reminder of her proper position in this house!
Swack!
Swack! One more...
Thomas always tried to make the last one special—memorable in some way beyond the pain
it might cause. With this in mind, he stepped forward until he was just behind the bound
girl and ran his hand over her burning ass, smiling at the small noises she made through
her gag. “One more to go, slave.” He allowed his finger to wander into her cunt—smiled
when he found it soaking wet. “Where shall I place it?”
He waited a moment, watching as the girls muscles twitched and strained at the effort to
move as she realized what he had in mind.
Of course, it was all in vain—she was held immobile while, still smiling; he took a long
step back and raised the switch one more time. Right about there would be best I
think...
The final stroke impacted directly on the girl’s offered cunt, bringing a garbled moan
and more straining muscles. “Let that be a lesson to you, slave.” Thomas tossed the
switch to one side and picked up a ready towel. “You are here to serve—not be served.”
He wiped sweat off his neck and arms, then turned away from the pinioned girl and picked
up his shirt. “There’ll be another lesson later this evening...” He smiled as he heard a
small moan. “Better get some rest while you can.”
As he pulled his shirt on, Thomas strode toward the door where a tall man in butler’s
uniform waited. “I take it the new girl has arrived?” Thomas saw the butler nod
slightly. “What is she like?”
“As described, sir.” Waites had been in service to Thomas’ family for nearly forty
years—having taken over the post only when his own father grew too old to properly fill
it. “Rather short in the legs, but a pretty face and a fetching figure—if I may say so.”
“Her attitude?” Thomas headed for the front door.
“She seems to know what is expected of her, sir.” Waites followed. “I left her at
the door per our usual rules.”
“Good.” Thomas reached the door, “Let’s see if she’ll be suitable.”
Christine started as the door opened again. She’d given a moment’s thought to sitting
on her suitcase while she waited for the butler to fetch his master, but decided against
it. Martin briefed me on the rules here. She stood straighter as a rather tall man in
jeans and a white shirt strode out. I don’t want to screw up before I even get inside!
“You are Christine Karatsky?” The man’s voice was perfectly suited to his looks—deep,
unworried—sure of its place in the world.
“I am, sir.”
The man walked around Christine, hard eyes looking over her every inch. “You know what
will be expected of you?”
Christine felt her heart beat a little faster at the answer to that question. “I do,
sir.”
“Once you are inside, you become property—my property--until your contract is
completed.”
“I understand that, sir.”
“You also understand that I will expect perfect obedience and service—and that anything
less will be punished.”
She felt her face redden at that. “I do, sir.”
Thomas locked eyes with her, held her gaze for several seconds—then turned away. “You
have one more chance to change your mind.” He moved back to the doorway, watching her
expression as he did so. “Women wear no covering of any kind inside this place.” He
smiled, eyes roving over her. “If you are truly ready to honour your contract, remove
your clothes and enter.” He turned and walked into the house. “I shall be awaiting your
decision.”
Christine stared at the still-open door for a long moment, then bent down and opened her
suitcase. It was empty—but would not stay that way for long. She quietly removed the
skirt and blouse she was wearing, folded them, and placed them into the case. Her shoes
and panties followed—she had not worn a bra or stockings in preparation for this, knowing
it to be a condition of her contract. Nude, she stood and walked through the door and
into the manor. I hope I made the right decision, she told herself as the door clicked
shut behind her.
The interior hall was dimly lit and comfortably cool. Christine took a few steps
forward, stopping when the butler stepped in front of her. “Slaves do not walk these
halls unfettered.” His voice was low and commanding. “Put your hands behind you.”
Christine had been worried about this aspect of things. She had been bound many times
before, and knew how much pleasure simple bondage brought her. But that was with someone
I knew and trusted. She looked at the butler standing so firmly in front of her. Nobody
here falls into that category… She drew in a deep breath. Still, I knew this was coming
when I agreed to the contract so…
She put her hands behind her, wrist over wrist.
“Very good.” The butler stepped behind her, producing a set of metal handcuffs from
somewhere in his coat. “I think you’ll find these comfortable enough…”
She winced as the metal closed tightly around her wrists—there was no chain joining the
two cuffs, which meant her hands were touching each other with no play at all. She tugged
at the cuffs, felt the hardness of the steel, and realized that all choices had now been
taken from her.
“This way,” the butler stepped in front of her and motioned. “Slave.”
Slave… The word echoed in Christine’s brain, reinforced by the strain on her shoulders
and wrists. Am I really only that? Just a slave?
The butler led her through a relatively large and nearly empty room. What furniture
there was seemed ancient, consisting of a couch that was decades out of fashion balanced
by an overstuffed easy chair. Both were placed rather haphazardly in front of a gigantic
fireplace. Christine could see sculpted figures on both sides of the hearth although it
was too dark to make them out. There were noises as well, slight sounds that came from
rooms scattered down the hallways she could see on either side of the room she was in.
Some of the noises sounded suspiciously like sobbing.
“Master Thomas is waiting for you.” The butler led her to an oaken door. “Remember
your place and all will be well.” He knocked on the door and turned the knob at some
unheard command. “Master Thomas,” he announced as he pushed the door opened. “Here is
the new slave.”
“Very good, Waites.” The dark haired man was leaning against a huge desk, eyes fixed on
the doorway. “Have her come in.”
At a nod from the butler, Christine made her way into the big office. She noticed
something moving to her right, and turned her head a bit to see what it was.
My God! Christine almost stopped in her tracks. There’s a girl there! She turned her
head further--enough to see a set of wooden stocks standing in one corner. A blonde girl
around her own age was strapped to those stocks, her legs pulled out tight and tied to the
bottom corner of the wooden contraption, her body bent over a mid-bar so that her ass and
legs were fully revealed and, judging by the red marks that criss-crossed her ass had been
beaten quite thoroughly.
“The slave wasn’t pleasing.”
Christine turned to see the dark man still leaning against the desk, his eyes fixed on
her.
“She has been properly punished—as will you if you make the same sort of mistake.”
Christine swallowed hard, a shiver running through her—but she had the presence of mind
to tear her gaze away from the punished girl and walk the rest of the way to the big desk
and the man waiting for her there.
“Kneel there.” He pointed to a spot about two feet in front of him. “Do it properly.”
Christine had been taught to kneel by the man who had sent her here, and managed to fall
to her knees with the proper grace.
“Good.” The dark-haired man stared down at her. “I see you’ve had some training.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled. “While in this house you will call me Master—is that clear?”
“Yes,” she swallowed again. “Master.”
“You know your purpose here?”
Christine nodded. “I’m to translate some old texts.”
“You’re familiar with Olde English and the other languages involved?”
“Yes master.”
“Good.” He smiled at her. “Do your job well and you will live comfortably enough.
Fail and…” He gestured toward the girl in the corner. “You will be punished.”
“Yes master.”
“Waites will show you to your cell.” He touched a control on his desk—something which
notified the butler that he was wanted. “Later this evening, I will show you to the
library and indicate which texts I want you to begin with.”
“Yes master.” She had found the word cell chilling in a way she hadn’t expected.
“Go with Waites.” He nodded at the now-open door. “We will speak again later.”
Christine got back to her feet and did as she was told—she didn’t want to be punished—at
least, not yet.
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