April never knew the names of the two men who held her and Niki naked and chained in
the cellar. The few times she was not blindfolded in their presence their faces were
always covered by hood-masks and they were smart enough never to refer to each other
personally. After a while in her mind she named them Thug One and Thug Two: a pair of
large, at times carelessly brutal men who usually smelt of sweat and beer, and who were
their de-facto masters.
It was a strange truth that she would probably recognize their erect cocks if she
saw them again. Every orifice of her body had become intimately familiar with them. She
knew their length and girth, each fold of skin and pulsing vein, how fully they filled her
mouth, how far up her vagina they reached, how much they distended her anus and how
completely they plugged her rectum. She even recognized the distinctly different taste of
their sperm in her mouth.
Neither did she know where the cellar they were held in was situated, beyond that
it was somewhere in Riddlemouth, which was a city that occupied much the same the physical
location in the parallel world of Nethervale as Bristol did in her own version of England.
They had been brought to it blindfolded, bound and gagged and had not seen the sun since
except for the glow that filtered through the thick, grimy glass of a high, narrow,
recessed and heavily barred window.
The window was their only link with the outside world but it offered no more chance
of physical escape from the cellar than did the only other possible means of egress: the
heavy ironbound door situated at the top of a flight of stone steps through which they had
been brought. Nor was there the possibility of calling out when they were left alone in
the cellar in the hope somebody outside might hear them. When their mouths were not
filled with their captor’s cocks or briefly freed for the purposes of eating or drinking
they were kept securely closed with thick strap and plug gags, which were held in place by
additional crown and chin straps and padlocked behind their necks. Their captors had no
interest in anything they wanted to say and reserved their tongues and lips for their own
pleasures.
Even if they had the means they could not reach the window to break it and raise
the alarm, always assuming there was somebody on the other side to take notice. Heavy
chains connecting their thick leather collars to rings set in the wall confined them to a
bed of straw and a waste bucket in one corner of the cellar well away from the window.
Such restraints were not unusual when confining bondmaids and it might have made little
difference to their conditions even if they had been the legal property of their captors.
Any owner could confine them like this if he so wished. In Nethervale bondmaids were
regarded as little better than animals who could talk… when and if they were permitted.
Not so many months ago back in her world undergoing such an ordeal would have
driven April mad. She would have cried herself to sleep and lived each day in fear. Had
she been rescued she would have undergone therapy and trauma counselling and been expected
to bear the mental scars for years. Now she simply accepted and endured, finding any
small crumb of comfort or pleasure along the way. She did not like her situation and
longed to be almost anywhere else, but she knew it would not destroy her. After all, she
was a trained bondmaid and expected a measure of suffering as natural. What counted was
that she still had Niki. While they were together she thought she could take anything.
At night as she slept curled up against Niki’s warm body she dreamed of Marvell’s
bondmaid carnival from which she had Niki had been accidentally stolen by the two thugs,
along with Marvell’s caravan, for the purpose of discovering its concealed strongbox.
“Kidnapped” would have been the wrong word as it had not been the thugs’ intent to take
them. Since they were mere bondmaids and therefore legal property in Nethervale, “stolen”
seemed the more appropriate term.
She wondered if the Marvell’s missed them. She hoped the carnival was doing well
and had triumphed in its battle with their business rival Harry Carlo, who had been trying
to sabotage their tour and ruin them so he could take over their show. It was he who in
desperation had finally hired the thugs to steal Marvell’s caravan. The last April knew
he had been setting about tearing it to pieces in search of the strongbox, not knowing
that she and Niki had already thrown it into the front garden of a house as the thieves
had driven the caravan through the city in the dark small hours.
She wished she could have seen Carlo’s face when he discovered he had been wasting
his time. In retrospect it was probably lucky the thugs and taken her and Niki away with
them to sell on after the excitement had died down and make a little extra cash on the
side. She shuddered to think what Carlo would have done to them had he found out it was
they who had cheated him of his prize.
Thugs One and Two at least had no personal reason to hate them. To them she and
Niki were, like all bondmaids, simply living sex toys existing for their personal
amusement. They were a collection of hot tight orifices arrayed for their cocks to
plunder and spill their seed, pliant flesh they could mould and pinch and slap, pretty
faces they could watch crumple in pain, soft eyes they could see fill with tears until
they pleaded mutely to serve them by any means, and lovely bodies that they could confine,
twist, stretch and bend to serve their pleasure.
Yes, April admitted without false pride, they both had attractive bodies seemingly
made to suffer.
April had lightly olive-tinted skin, shoulder length straight dark hair, deep brown
eyes, a full mouth and straight narrow nose. Large brown erect nipples capped her full,
proud breasts. Her hips wide, her navel deep and her bottom cheeks strong and well
rounded. Hard labour had filled out the feminine curves of her thighs and calves with
underlying muscle. The lips of her sex were fleshy and pouting and perfectly smooth and
hairless.
Niki by contrast was a blonde of slightly lesser build with a mass of waved
honey-blonde hair. Her eyes were blue, her nose a little broader than April’s and her
lips red and full Her skin, at least at the start of their captivity in the cellar, had
born a light golden even tan that showed off the prominent conical pink nipples that
capped her neat, high breasts. Months of vigorous exercise and a carefully controlled
bondmaid diet had left her waist was trim and her stomach flat, displaying her deep navel
to its best advantage. Like April her prominent sex was perfectly smooth and quite bare.
They were also alike in one other respect. Both bore a purple scar brand on the
upper slopes of their right buttocks in the shape of the letters RW set inside a circle.
This stood for Ramswold, a market town some miles to the north on the other side of the
Papswell Rises, the equivalent in Nethervale of the Cotswold hills, where she and Niki had
first unwittingly emerged into Nethervale and been captured and condemned to bondmaid
service.
Up until recently they had also worn brightly jewelled carnival piercing rings
through their nasal septum, nipples, labia and clitoral hoods, together with coloured
carnival collars and cuffs. Their captors had removed all these distinctive items and the
perforations in their flesh were left to close-up in preparation for their eventual sale.
The thugs did not want them recognized as stolen property.
It was the prospect of their sale that April both feared and longed for. Her fear
was that she and Niki might be separated. Her hope was at some point during the process
of sale and the ensuing change of owner they would have a chance to speak out. She had
heard the thugs talking about selling them openly. Surely a reputable auction house would
not want to deal with stolen goods.
They might even be returned to their last legal owners. The Marvell’s had grown
fond of herself and Niki and they had foiled Carlo’s plot against them. April imagined
there might even be a reward for their return to the carnival. All they had to do was
explain to somebody who they really were and they would be saved. April clung to that
possibility with all her heart. Life as a carnival girl with Niki had probably been the
happiest time she had spent in Nethervale.
In the meantime, however, they had to accept their lot and make the best of it.
The thugs at least had the sense to keep them exercised since they wanted them fit
and healthy so they would fetch the best price. Their method was simple but effective,
employing the sort of device commonly used in Nethervale to control and discipline
bondmaids.
In one corner of the cellar was a heavy wooden upright frame reaching almost to the
ceiling supporting between it horizontal rollers at the top and bottom, fitted with large
wooden cogs at each end. Looped over the rollers were two heavy ropes between which
wooden slats were tied, rather like a continuous rope ladder. The teeth of the roller
cogs engaged with the ladder slats. Climbing up one side of the ladder caused it to run
about the rollers in the other direction, the speed determined by adjustable friction
brakes.
For at least an hour twice a day April and Niki each climbed that interminable
ladder. Even when the thugs were not there to monitor them they could not slow down or
step off the device. There was nothing to cling to on the frame on either side. Slack
chains hanging from a ceiling ring hooked to their collars prevented simply stepping off.
They might have grasped these chains above their heads and briefly hung from them to rest,
but that would have caused them to sink too close to the ground and that they dared not
do.
While on the ladder machine they were impaled on a large plug-headed anal dildo
mounted on the end of a long rod that was fastened to a pivot set in a heavy base plate.
Just under the flared dildo base flange there was a telescopic sprung section in the rod.
Below this was a set a wooden disk bristling with upward facing nails. If they slowed
their rate of climb and sank down the ladder the rod compressed and the nails jabbed their
bottoms, warning them to climb faster.
At the end of each exercise session they were lathered with sweat and utterly
exhausted. Their bottom cheeks stung and smarted from nail scratches, while their anuses
ached from clenching the dildo inside them.
They spent much of their days huddled together on their bed of straw. If they
still had the energy after exercise they made love with sticky fingers twirling within
their hot wet slots, wishing they could use their tongues instead. Mutely they gazed into
each other’s eyes over their gags and reaffirmed their love. But they had to keep some
passion in reserve, for when the thugs visited them to take their pleasure they expected a
show, however unwillingly given, of unbridled bondmaid lust.
April hung upside-down from a ring set in the ceiling beam. Her legs were parted
in a “V” and held in place by the cuffs of a spreader bar. Her arms were bound behind her
back. A ring gag held her mouth wide, which was also stuffed by a smaller ball plug. A
metre away from her Niki hung bound in the same manner. She could not see her as their
backs were turned toward each other so they faced outwards, but she could feel her every
move. A short taut chain with a hook on each end passed between their splayed legs, the
links running through their clefts and plunging into the mouths of their vaginas. The
hooks themselves were lodged deep inside them, their tips turned outward so that they dug
into the front walls of their passages, pressing into the roots of their clitorises and
making their pubic mounds bulge even more prominently. As they hung from the beam rings
the slightest twist or turn of their suspended bodies tugged on the chains and pressed the
hooks deeper into them.
It was painfully arousing even when they were at rest, but rest was what they were
not permitted.
Armed with lashes their captors mercilessly flailed their exposed torsos from hips
to dangling breasts, which jutted out oddly as they tried to flow down towards their
shoulders. Leather thongs curved between their thighs and licked across their chain-cleft
slots. They stung their palpitating stomachs and set their soft mammaries jumping and
bouncing from side to side as they went from pink to cherry red. The impact of the blows
and the stinging pain made them buck and arch their backs, as though performing a strange
inverted dance. Every movement jerked on their crotch chain and increased their torment.
Their clits stood out like little plumbs as their bulging, clenching slots overflowed
with their juices that tricked down their stomachs. It complimented the saliva that ran
about their gags and into their hair, as did the tears from their bulging red-rimmed eyes.
The thugs did not use lashes that would cut their captives’ skin since they wanted
them in good condition for sale. But their flesh still glowed and burned. Such screams
as got past their gags mingled with the crack of the lashes. If any of this escaped the
confines of the cellar it would hardly raise any comment. The sound of bondmaids being
punished was mere background noise in Nethervale.
Inevitably the moment came when the pain became something else and April and Niki
began to jerk and writhe in their bonds independently of the lash strokes. Their eyes
became filled with desperate need as instinct took over. At this point April imagined the
thugs grinned knowingly under their masks.
The men pulled out the girls’ ball gags and, clasping their suspended bodies,
rammed their cocks through the rubber rings and into their mouths. April and Niki nearly
chocked as the invading cockheads probed the backs of throats and their gullets, using
them as they would their sister passages currently filled with hooks. Bending their heads
between the soft splayed thighs the men nipped at the helplessly erect clitoral buds and
then bit down.
April and Niki screamed in agony. Yet still they sucked and gobbled on the shafts
that spouted hotly down their throats even as they were racked by helpless slavish
orgasms. That was the unholy wonder of it. Despite everything they still came. As they
had learned all too well bondmaids knew no shame.
Then one day, a month after they had been taken down into the cellar, the routine
changed.
Judging by the light at the cellar window it was morning as they heard the key turn
in the lock of the door at the top of the stairs. Immediately April and Niki scrambled
into their submissive postures, kneeling with legs spread wide to display their naked
pussies, heads down and hands clasped behind their necks.
Thugs One and Two clumped down the stairs and lit the oil lamps that dispersed the
gloom in the cellar. Then they went over to their captives.
Rope leashes replaced their collars, balls of rag and rope their strap gags. They
were blindfolded with more strips of rag and taken up the stairs and out into the open
once more. From the echoes and the feel of the stones under her feet April guessed it
was probably an enclosed yard. But it was still outdoors. It was so good to feel warmth
and fresh air on their skins even if they could not see the sun.
The thugs set about cleaning them up. They were soaped over and hosed down.
Enemas flushed them out and Jympson’s grease was applied to their rears and smoothing
cream to their pubes. Their hair was dried and combed through.
‘You’re going to Flauntwell for auction,’ Thug One growled. ‘You don’t give us any
trouble or else, understood?’
April nodded. She was not interested in retribution against them. They had simply
been Carlo’s tools and the sooner they got away from them the better. As long as she and
Niki stayed together that was all that counted.
Properly fresh and clean for the first time in a month, they were loaded onto a
small cart. More of the same coarse rope that formed April’s leash was used to bind her
wrists behind her back and tie her ankles. Her leash was pulled down between her thighs
to her ankles, then up through the cleft of her buttocks to her wrists, binding her
doubled-over in the foetal position. She felt the warm reassuring pressure of Niki’s body
butting up against hers as she was bound in the same way.
A covering of what both felt and smelt like old sacking was thrown over them. This
was not done to spare their modesty, of course, nor would anybody in Nethervale be shocked
either by their nudity or state of bondage. It was done because they were stolen goods.
They heard the two thugs climb aboard and with a jerk the cart started off, carrying them
away to be sold like animals.
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