As they exited the elevator, Dawson brought Fallon out onto the balcony where her friends
were all kneeling on the tile. She was pushed down next to Megan who was no longer gagged
but still looking wildly around.
Fallon realized Dawson had walked away from her and was heading down the hall towards his
suite. Her head snapped around when the muscle bound man in the tight leather pants began
to speak. “I am Master Demano, and I own you in the afternoons. My training will get you
in top physical condition, so you will be better able to please your Masters and Mistress.
Stamina is an important requirement of your conditioning, as well as a tight, strong
appearance.”
Without warning, Megan rose and ran towards the balcony. Her intention was obvious, and
all of the girls screamed in horror. Ten feet from the edge, Megan came to an abrupt halt
and she stiffened and shrieked, falling to the ground and writhing. Arturo strode calmly
towards her, and drew an invisible line on the tile about a foot back towards the other
girls. “Your collar must be on this side of the barrier for the correction to stop.”
He left Megan shrieking and twisting on the floor, and turned towards the other wailing
girls. “Stop that noise. It is irritating.” He was pleased when they reduced to
sniffles. The girls continued to focus on Megan, who occasionally jerked on the ground,
and finally began pushing her feet on the tile, trying to slide her prone body away from
the agony. Demano continued, “All of the windows and doors… and the balcony, of course…
have a security measure installed for your safety. Your Masters are investing much time
and money into your training, and will not see it wasted on an impulsive accident.”
Demano turned to see Megan out of the shocking zone and quivering with her knees curled
to her chest. “Megan, get back into position, or I will use the remote if you choose to
enjoy your collar’s abilities.” His accent was very thick, and Fallon had no idea of its
origin. Megan sobbed and dragged herself back to her place beside Fallon, and when Fallon
tried to scoot closer to console her, Demano warned, “You have enough to worry about with
your own training.”
“Now, in the warmer weather, we will train out here to give your body a pleasing color
from the sun. There is an inside room on a lower floor for inclement weather and winter.
Everyone look over here.” The girls’ eyes followed him to where a large, round metal disk
lay on the floor with two chains hanging from one edge of a matching disk suspended over
it from the ceiling, and two strewn on the edge of the surface of the disk on the floor.
“If anyone needs correcting for not following my instructions, they will be spread and
hung from these disks. They turn very slowly, with half of the arch beyond the collar’s
boundary. Would you like to demonstrate the device for your friends, Megan?”
“No,” she shrieked and began to back away.
Demano stormed up to her and grabbed her collar. “No, Master.”
“No… no, Master,” her panicked voice gasped.
Demano patted her head. “Very good.” He looked down at the thin woman’s body, noting
small breasts with no muscle tone, slim hips which produced little curve for a waist, and
a flat ass. “I think you might try hard to get your body strengthened for your Master.”
Demano unhooked their wrists and led them through two hours of stretching and slow
exercises. Through the months working with him, the maneuvers became more demanding and
strenuous as their bodies lengthened and tightened.
Over the course of their time with him, none of the women ever tried to run away, as
exercise class and the bathing that followed were the only time the women could sometimes
whisper to each other. As time wore on, there seemed to be less and less they needed to
say.
After Demano was finished, he clipped their wrists behind them again. Leashes were
attached to all four collars, and gripped in one of his big hands. The girls followed him
silently to the elevator, eyeing each other nervously when his thumb touched the pad.
They sank into the mountain, and exited on the floor that Fallon thought the clinic was
on. He led them down to the door at the end of the long corridor, and it opened to a room
softly lit, with padded tables scattered around it.
“Groomers, come,” Demano ordered. Five naked young women appeared from behind them, and
knelt before the trainer with their hands clasped behind their backs and their chests
thrust forward. “Anna, you will take care of Courtney. Beth can take Megan, Veronica and
Andrea, and Heather and Fallon.” Demano turned to the frightened women. “You will follow
the slaves’ instructions or be punished.” He waited a moment, “Acknowledge me, slaves. I
will not remind you again.”
“Yes, Master,” the quivering voices replied.
Heather was a tiny brunette with no outstanding features. Her eyes held dulled
acceptance of her situation, and Fallon found herself wondering how long ago she had been
captured. After Demano unhooked the leashes, he lay back on a sofa with the fifth girl
kneeling between his legs.
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