CHAPTER 1
The city of Grossberg lay 100 leagues north of the capital. As such, it was far enough
away from the seat of imperial power that there was little interference in day-to-day
business. That is not to say, however, that cities and town closer to the capital were
under the thumb of the empire. With declining central power, any centers of civilization
were almost independent city-states. They simply did not have to conform to the pretense
of obeying the emperor.
The ending “berg” meant it was a fortified town. Perhaps it once served to keep
marauding bands out. These days, though, the wall about the city was maintained to keep
slave girls in. With the current unpleasantness on the frontier to the west, some civil
administrators talked about improving the walls. The insurrection, led by the charismatic
“Warlord,” was still 150 leagues to the west. Though he had sacked several smaller towns
and defeated two large armies the empire sent after him, his force was still too far away
to raise much concern.
The present insurrection provided opportunities for economic benefit, but they largely
passed Grossberg by. A person could make money selling supplies and slave girls to the
imperial armies, but the main artery to the west was on a river between the capital and
Grossberg.
That is not to say, however, that Grossberg did not prosper. Enterprising individuals
always had slave girls to sell to the slave traders. And the slavers, of course, had
their own means of acquiring slave girls. As long as they did it outside the city’s walls
(or at least did not get caught within them), they could acquire a valuable asset at
little cost to themselves.
Many slave traders had compounds outside the city’s walls, where they prepared slave
girls for transit. Many had residences inside, though you could not tell whether a
mansion belonged to a slave trader or not.
The building where the Contessa lived, in many ways, was more of a palace than a
mansion. Only the very, very rich could afford such a place as this. Though many
wondered how the Contessa could afford such a place, no one had the nerve to ask. She had
money, and with money came influence. Who knew what sort of unwanted attention the wrong
questions could generate?
A footman stood watch outside the front door. When the Contessa returned from whatever
function she attended that night, his job was done. The door was bolted from the inside.
No one could get in through that door with anything less than a battering ram. No one
knew what went on within the walls, though many speculated. Surprisingly, most people
speculated correctly.
The twins, Candy and Mandy, were nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement. Their
guardian, the Contessa, had insured that they were sheltered from evil outside influences
as they grew up. They had no friends their own age. The Contessa seemed to think that
her own friends were sufficient for these two youngsters. And as for boys – forget it.
Their education consisted of the proper manners for a young lady. Deportment was the
main theme.
Now that they were legally adults, however, they wanted some fun. They wanted some
adventure. The Contessa always smiled politely, pointing out that she knew what was best
for them. The time for adventure had not come yet.
Into their life came Sharon Smith. Sharon delivered flowers. That was how she made it
past the Contessa’s guards to talk to the two. No one seemed to know who had ordered the
flowers. No one tried to stop the beautiful blonde from entering the mansion with her
arms full of three or four large vases.
“Tell us what happened on your date last night?” the twins asked her.
Shifting her eyes back and forth to give the appearance she did not want anyone to
overhear the conversation, she leaned forward to give a largely imaginary account of what
happened. The first few times, she told them the truth. When the truth appeared to bore
the twins, she elaborated with actions that did not take place. Finally, she resorted to
outright fiction. Her dates were never as interesting as she said. Before coming to the
Contessa’s mansion, she would skim one of the latest romance novels to get ideas from what
a good date would be.
“He did!” one of the sisters would eventually gasp.
She nodded solemnly. None of her dates were romantic. All they wanted to do was get
into her panties, which, in reality, was okay with her.
“We wish we could do something like that.”
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t the Contessa ever let you go out?” Sharon asked, already knowing the answer to
that question, having done her research. The twins left the mansion only when they were
escorted by the Contessa. They would go shopping, perhaps have lunch at a tearoom, then
go back to the prison they called home. “Haven’t you ever thought about sneaking out?”
The beautiful twins looked at each other in astonishment. Such an act had never
occurred to them.
They were identical twins but Sharon had no trouble telling them apart. They were
beautiful, with long, flowing dark hair. The only difference was that Mandy had a small
birthmark on her right cheek near the corner of her mouth.
The simple fact that the blonde could tell them apart convinced them that Sharon really
was their friend. None of the Contessa’s friends was able to distinguish between the two.
Her friends made them feel as though they were mannequins on display.
“We couldn’t do that.” Candy said, shaking her head.
“No, we couldn’t.” Mandy echoed.
“Why not?”
The twins did not want to admit the truth. They had never contemplated something like
that because they were afraid of getting caught. They knew their guardian had a vicious
temper. Though she had never done anything to them, they had seen how the Contessa
treated her slaves.
The Contessa called the room her “studio.” It was an interior room at the back of the
mansion, with the walls soundproofed so that the only people to hear any sounds coming
from it would be her slaves and staff. The staff knew to keep their mouths shut and the
slaves, well, the slaves were kept gagged so they were never a problem. In this room, the
Contessa took out her petty frustrations on her slaves. No sounds emanated from the room
except those of a paddle striking flesh. No one wanted to know what happened inside.
Slave girls went out of their way to avoid walking past the door.
The twins had only secondhand knowledge of the room. They had overheard the servants
and whipmistresses talking. They knew their guardian was stern. They did not know what
occurred within, and they were afraid to find out.
“You don’t know how to do it.” Sharon finally said. The lack of inflection in her
voice made the sentence a statement.
The twins nodded.
“How about if I help you? There is a tavern just a couple blocks away. We can go
there, meet some guys, and have some fun.”
“Meet some guys?”
“Yeah.”
The two looked at each other as Sharon answered.
The grand adventure did not occur immediately. Sharon had arrangements to make.
When they knew the Contessa had retired for the evening, Candy and Mandy dressed, and
silently descended the stairs to the first floor. Sharon had instructed them to go to the
kitchen to wait for her.
The kitchen door was locked at night and the key placed somewhere safe. During the day
the door was locked, but the key remained in the lock. During one of her forays into the
mansion, Sharon had removed the key so she could make a wax impression. From the wax
impression, she had a locksmith make a key. When the twins entered the kitchen, they were
shocked to find their friends sitting on a counter eating an apple.
“Let’s go. We have only a few hours and a lot of fun to cram into them.”
She locked the door behind her. She did not want to leave a clear path on how the twins
had disappeared. Let the Contessa waste her time looking for hidden passages and secret
doors.
She led them down an alley behind the buildings. She had practiced this movement
several times since she entered the Contessa’s mansion for the first time. Though it was
more dangerous coming this way, she did not want to run the risk of being seen and
remembered. The risk existed that they might encounter a group of men who could not pass
up the opportunity to enslave three beautiful, nubile young women. If they passed the
front of the mansion, Sharon ran the risk of someone seeing and remembering her. Give her
a few days head start, and she was certain the Contessa would never find her. She saw no
reason to give her pursuers any advantage at all.
“Where are we going?” Candy asked.
“The Inn of the Fettered Female.”
“That sounds – dangerous.” Mandy said.
“It is. But you are safe with me.” That was not the first lie she had told them, and
it certainly would not be the last.
As she continued down the street, Sharon tried to think if she had ever told a bigger
lie. After half a dozen steps, she shook her head. No, no lie had ever been as big as
that one.
At this time of night, most stores and establishments were closed, the doors bolted and
the windows shuttered. Sharon paused every 20 or 30 steps to listen. The footsteps of
the twins behind her drowned out any sound she might hope to hear. The first time she
held up her hand as a signal for them to stop. After that, they stopped when she did.
Convinced now one moved before or behind them, she signaled them to continue forward.
This route into the tavern led to a private club in back. The action had wound down in
the public room in the front of the tavern, but in the private club, the entertainment
continued. While it was possible to go from the public room to the private club, a
customer needed the permission of the tavern keeper to get there, and he gave that to no
one he did not know. The route Sharon took was more direct, but the individual still
needed permission to enter the tavern.
The door was locked, but a doorman opened it when the blonde knocked. She had been here
several times before so he recognized her. He pulled the door open to let her in. He
kept it open for the twins, staring brazenly at their bottoms as they moved down the hall
away from the door.
The first thing the twins noticed upon entering the club was the naked slave girl
hanging from the ceiling with ropes binding her wrists together and running up to rings
screwed into a ceiling beam. Her head was back so her long dark hair hung down past her
fanny. She slowly rotated to the left until she had moved about halfway around, then she
rotated back in the other direction.
“Oh, good!” Sharon said. “There’s a floor show.”
Candy looked at her sister, seeing the same look of astonishment on her twin’s face that
she had. Never had they imagined such excitement.
Sharon ushered them into a booth.
“Three goblets of white wine.”
Their waitress wore an outfit that superficially resembled a French Maid’s outfit. The
significant difference was that the neckline ran under the tits so they were exposed, and
the skirt had no back so the wearer’s bottom was completely exposed as well. Across the
bare skin of her bottom were half a dozen red marks where she had been switched.
She curtseyed and turned toward the bar. Sharon had no idea how she communicated the
order to the bartender, but that was not her concern. A glance as they crossed the room
had told her that the bartender had seen her when she entered. He would know what to do.
As the slave girl walked away from them, Mandy leaned across the table to whisper, “She
doesn’t have panties on!”
“All of the Contessa’s slaves wear panties,” Candy added.
“It is an impetus to better service. If you don’t like the job she is doing, you can
give her a swat or two across the fanny.”
“Won’t her owner complain?”
“No, it is part of the service. Think of it as part of the floorshow. Sometimes it is
fun to reward a slave girl for good service with a couple slaps on the fanny. All slave
girls crave recognition.”
The waitress returned with the drinks on a tray. Since her wrists were manacled before
her, she could not remove the drinks from the tray. Sharon grabbed them before either of
the twins could move. She handed them theirs, and put her own in front of her.
“That’s strong!” Mandy exclaimed after her first sip.
“No doubt anything the Contessa has given you has been watered down. These are adult
drinks.”
Sharon was, of course, lying again. The drinks she gave the twins were fortified,
meaning the white wine had a healthy dollop of grain alcohol added. On the other hand,
Sharon’s drink was diluted with water. She would be sitting pretty when the twins were
passed out under the table.
“Here’s to the good life.” Sharon lifted her goblet. Her goal was to keep Candy and
Mandy drinking. She doubted their tolerance for alcohol was very high.
“Hey!” whispered Mandy pointing to their left.
The floorshow was about to begin.
The room had booths on three sides. At the corners there were tables to accommodate
larger parties. The fourth wall had the bar. The door through which they had entered was
on the left. Another door opposite it led to the front of the inn.
The man began by using a ball gag on the captive. She did not resist as he pressed the
bright blue rubber ball into her mouth. He pulled the ends of the strap together behind
her head. Before continuing, he tossed half her long hair forward over her right
shoulder, and the other half forward over her left. Her long tresses out of the way, it
took him only seconds to buckle the ends together. He pulled her hair back so it hung
down her back, not wanting to hide her tits. For the punishment he had in mind for her,
he wanted unimpeded access to her titties.
She pleaded through the gag as he fastened the spreader bar between her ankles. This
left her cunt exposed and vulnerable. Ignoring her plaintive whimpering, he moved around
behind her. By reaching around her body from both sides, he grabbed her nipples. At
first he was content to fondle them, but then he began squeezing and pulling them.
“We are in for a treat.” Sharon said with a smile.
“How?”
“What?”
“She did not please that man, so he gets to punish her.”
“What did she do?”
“Probably nothing. But it is her fault anyway. The feeling is that if she was a better
slave girl, he would not have had a performance problem.”
“A performance problem?” Mandy asked.
Candy leaned over to whisper in her sister’s ear.
“Oh,” Mandy said quietly, looking down, her cheeks flushing hotly.
Sharon waved the waitress over.
“Another round.”
She placed her goblet on the tray. The twins quickly finished their drinks so they
could place them on the tray beside Sharon’s.
“Is he going to spank her…?”
Mandy paused, not certain which indelicate word to use.
“Pussy,” Sharon volunteered.
“Okay. Is he going to spank her pussy?”
“Oh, no. At least, I think not. Usually something much less painful is enough to turn
a slave into a sex machine. He will probably just tap her pussy with a switch. That
won’t hurt her though.”
“You’re kidding!”
From the blank looks on the face of the two beautiful twins, Sharon realized Candy had
not been kidding. These two had never seen a slave girl contorted in pain as a master or
mistress dealt her the punishment she deserved.
“All he has to do is tap it, and she will be in excruciating pain.”
With mouths wide open in astonishment of this revelation, the two turned to watch the
punishment of the slave girl. The man had finished playing with her titties, and now
concentrated on her pussy. She struggled, but bound as she was, she could not stop him
from passing an arm about her hips so he could place his hands on her cunt. One hand
gently rubbed her labia to excite her.
At first the slave writhed from the embarrassment of this action, but soon turned into
writhing from growing ecstasy. She thrust her hips forward and back to try to rid herself
of her hand but since she was bound, that was not going to happen.
“I thought he was going to punish her. He is playing with her so she has an orgasm.”
Candy said, puzzled.
“He won’t let her come. He will get her all excited, then he will begin to punish her.
When her body cools off, he will do it again.”
With mouths open even further, they stared as the waitress arrived with the second round
of drinks.
“Do you think she has done a good job?”
“Yeah, I guess.” The other twin nodded in agreement.
“Then I guess she needs to be rewarded.”
Sharon stuck her hand down beneath the table. Realizing what she was about to do, the
waitress spread her legs apart and leaned forward to make it easier for Sharon to reach
her pussy. Her rapid breathing through the ball gag told all three she was approaching an
orgasm.
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
“Now get along before you get into trouble.”
She slapped the slave girl on the fanny. Before running off, she executed a little
curtsey to thank the woman for making her come.
“Let’s drink up before our drinks become warm.”
The twins took a big gulp from their drinks. From the glazed looks on their faces, she
knew she would not have to wait much longer. They probably had enough alcohol in them so
they would do what she wanted. She wanted their resistance lowered, but she did not want
them unconscious.
By then, the man had retrieved a switch from a table. He stood to the right of the
helpless captive.
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
The blow was little more than a tap, but it landed on the most sensitive part of her
body.
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!”
She struggled with her bondage but nothing she did would stop the assault on her cunt.
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
“You know, I have heard that there is a training academy here in town that trains new
slave girls to love pain.”\
“No!” the twins exclaimed in unison.
“I haven’t seen it personally, but from what I hear, they start out with over the knee
spanking. One hand slaps the bottom, the other plays with her pussy. They are trained so
well that when they graduate, they become aroused whenever their fannies are smacked.
Imagine that! Imagine having a slave girl so well trained that the more you punish her
with pain, the more she loves it.”
“No!”
“No!”
Sharon smiled at them. The two stared back at her, mouths open, something of a glazed
look in their eyes. It was time to act.
“Let’s go upstairs. There is something I want to show you.”
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