Chapter One
The rider approached the inn at a trot. Each hoof struck the mud, sending mud and water
flying in all directions. With his cloak pulled about him for protection, the rider
hurried to get out of the heavy rain.
Because of the rain and dark clouds, he almost missed the inn sitting back a hundred
yards from the road. The sign dangled from one chain, spinning crazily in the wind. He
reached up to read the words painted on it to ensure he had the correct inn. He turned
his mount to the right.
At his approach, a slave girl raced from the front door to get the reins. Because
of the rain, she was naked except for her high heels and slave collar. Once he had
dismounted and pulled his saddlebags from the horse, he slapped the slave girl on the bare
bottom. She led the horse around back to the stable.
The noise of those inside did not change when he opened the door. Their attention was
on a naked slave girl lying on her back on a table. Her navel was filled with drink. A
second slave girl, on her knees beside her, lapped up the liquor with her tongue. Since
neither was bound, he guessed they played the game “Lick the navel.” Whoever drank the
liquor quickest won.
The man surveyed the scene. Not seeing the one he sought, he made his way around the
room. He recognized the man sitting next to the fireplace. His pants were down about his
ankles. A naked slave girl sat on his legs, hers spread wide to accommodate his cock.
She excited both by bouncing up and down on the shaft.
“Where is Marek?”
The man looked to see who had asked, then nodded up as he looked toward the ceiling. He
turned his attention back to his naked companion and grabbed her by the tits.
The man made his way to the bar. If Marek was upstairs while the party happened down
here, he must have important business to transact. He ordered a drink. The bartender
poured some amber liquid in a glass and set it before the man. The price was a dozen
pfennings. It was a steep price, but he did not want to haggle. He had more important
things to think about. He leaned against the bar as he surveyed the scene.
Four men he recognized immediately. They were Marek’s lieutenants and would play an
important role in any activity he chose to undertake. Six men seated at a long table near
the fire wore the livery of the Duke of Baft. They were engaged in a game of chance
involving three dice, two small bones, and a radish.
All the slave girls he saw were naked. Not one showed the slightest embarrassment at
her revealing state, telling him all were trained slave girls. Since they all wore the
same costume – nothing – he guessed correctly that they were house slaves of this tavern.
Wherever they went, hands groped the most private parts of their bodies. They might
squeal through their ball gags in surprise, but they offered no resistance.
To do so would draw unwanted attention to their attitude. The only result could be
punishment.
The outside door flew open again. A man wearing oilskins appeared in the opening. As
he stepped inside, anyone looking at him would see that he had a bundle slung over his
left shoulder.
He crossed the room to the bar where he deposited the bundle on the bar. Only someone
paying close attention would have noticed that the bundle wiggled about. During the
wiggling, the toe of a high heel appeared in sight.
He threw a handful of copper pfennings on the bar. The bartender poured redeye into a
glass and placed it in front of him. The man poured it down his throat in one quick
movement.
As he slammed the glass down on the wood surface, he asked, “Anyone around here
hiring?”
“What do you do?”
The man grabbed the foot to pull it in the air, revealing a shapely calf.
“You want to talk to Marek. He’s upstairs.” As he said that the bartender nodded
toward the ceiling. He gave the man a sly grin.
Well, there is no doubt what Marek’s business was.
Let us back up a few hours, late afternoon, just as the coach from Phagria arrived.
Miss Elizabeth van Hoft was the first to alight from within.
“Come along girls. We want to get inside before the heavy rain falls.”
Gingerly, she tiptoed through the mud toward the front door. Someone had laid down
boards so the passengers could make it inside without wading through four inches of mud.
Two slave girls bolted through the door ahead of her to get their bags. Another held the
door open for them. As she came nearer, Elizabeth thought she recognized the slave girl.
The terror in her eyes told her she was correct. She had been here the last time she came
through. She patted the naked slave girl on the right cheek. She wanted her to know that
she had recognized her.
If she had time, she would play with her again. Obviously, she had made an impression
on the slave girl.
The great room of the inn was still when she entered, particularly compared to the
raucous noise that would emanate from it later in the evening. Three men sat at a table
at the far end. When she came through the door, they looked up.
She smiled and nodded.
The man in the centre nodded back. He was someone she had done business with before.
“Come along, girls. Let’s get to our rooms, so we can get some dry clothing on.”
They signed in and headed toward the stairs with three slave girls trailing behind with
their luggage. Once the muffled sounds indicated they were on the second floor, the man
who had acknowledged Elizabeth’s presence quickly arose and went to the front desk. The
clerk turned the book around so he could see what room they were in.
“We will give her a few hours to play with them,” he announced as he returned to the
table. “Nothing else is going on.”
This was Marek.
Ah ha! We have the machinations of another evil plot!
Elizabeth shepherded the two girls into their rooms before going to hers. She indicated
where she wanted the bags to go. The slave girl, who had brought the bags up, paused just
short of the door. Crouching a little, she stuck her bottom out, awaiting her tip.
Elizabeth grabbed a handful of hair to pull the woman’s head back so she had a better
look at her face. She did not recognize her. That was a shame. She would so like to
play with someone she knew.
She released her grip on the young woman’s hair. She pushed down on her shoulders,
forcing her to stick her bottom out further. She stepped close to her, facing in the
opposite direction so her left hip was against the slave girl’s left hip. She bent over a
little, so she could put her left arm around the slave girl’s lower back.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
Her hand moved quickly from one cheek to the other. The slave girl bounced about as the
blows landed. She did not make a sound though. The ball gag did a most effective job of
muting her cries. Though in pain, she did her best to remain as silent as possible,
knowing any show of pain would only encourage her to keep spanking.
When she finished, Elizabeth gave the naked woman a shove toward the door. Once in the
hall, the slave girl turned back toward the woman, curtseyed, then fled down the hall
toward the stairs. With a self-satisfied smile on her face, Elizabeth sashayed toward the
door. She could not resist sticking her head out in the hall to see if anyone was there.
She so hoped there might be a slave girl or two tethered outside a room.
She hummed a little tune as she emptied one of the bags. The bag with her clothes
remained on the floor against the wall.
Once everything was ready, she went to the room next door to get Sue.
Everyone who saw her had to admit that Sue Thompson was the most beautiful woman they
had ever seen. Her lovely face was framed by her long black hair. She had a habit of
tilting her head forward so she looked at you through her eyelashes.
Yep.
Nobody deserved to be a slave girl more than she.
Elizabeth had picked her to go first because Kim, the other girl, was definitely smarter
and might suspect something. Once she had Sue bound, she was certain Kim would go along.
The first woman’s overwhelming beauty intimidated Kim. Elizabeth hoped the “Lemming
Effect” would occur. The Lemming Effect – the description slavers used to name the
tendency for other women to follow the lead of the first who acted. By the time they
realized they had been duped, it would be too late.
“Could you come down to my room for a second? There is something we have to discuss.”
Of course, the beautiful brunette followed. Elizabeth pushed the door shut behind her
and drew the latch. She did not want to be disturbed.
“I promised the two of you a special vacation. This grand tour of the major cities
along the sea will be an event you will never forget.
“Tomorrow we will arrive in Tron City. There is an establishment there I think you will
enjoy. Have you ever been to a bondage boutique before?”
Sue’s brown eyes opened wide. Sure, she had heard about such boutiques, but she had
never seen one. She suspected they were a rumour.
Slowly she shook her head.
“Madame Freda’s appears to be a tea room. There are doilies aplenty, fine china, about
fifteen blends of tea. The tea room really is the front for the most exclusive bondage
boutique in this region. Not everyone can get in. Even those who know about it have
trouble getting in, unless you are on the “A” list. I am on it, and I can get the two of
you on it, too.”
“Is it true that free women dress up as slave girls there?”
“Oh, yes, I assure you it is quite true. It gives you an unbelievable sense of freedom.
You no longer have to follow the mores of society. True, a mistress will order you about
and make you do things that you secretly wanted to do all your life but was afraid people
would criticize you if you did do them.”
She paused to flash a friendly smile at the young woman. The thought of Sue naked and
at her beck and call aroused her. She had to keep reminding herself to take things
slowly.
“Interested?”
“Are you sure this is legal?”
She smiled again, a smile that was close to a laugh.
Of course, it was legal. The unwritten common law stated that if a woman was dumb
enough to allow herself to become enslaved, she deserved it. Enslaving her might be
illegal so the person putting the collar about her neck could still be in trouble with the
law, but the captive would merely end up enduring the fate she had chosen.
“What do I do now?”
“Well, we need to practice. I said this is fairly common behaviour so the women who
enter this establishment have been there, or to another place, often. We need to practice
so you are not recognized as a newbie. The key to being a slave girl is to blend in. The
same holds true at the boutique. You do not want them to know this is your first time.”
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