Corporate Slave Chronicles: Bets and Bridles

Melissa DuVant

Copyright © Melissa DuVant

 

The right of {Author Name} to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

 

All rights reserved.

 

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

 

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Helena Brimstone: Bets and Bridles

Chapter One: Rage in a Cage

Chapter Two: Mile High (Food) Club

Chapter Three: Dealings with Authority

Chapter Four: Breaking the New Mare In

Chapter Five: Race Day

About the Author and Artist

Corporate Slave Preview Chapter: A Hand-Picked Choice

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Dillon for backing this!

 

 

Helena Brimstone: Bets and Bridles

 

 

 

 

Chapter One: Rage in a Cage

Helena leaned back in her chair, reaching out and grabbing her flask, drinking the protein shake. The air was hot and humid, the doors open to outside, tropical air wafting inside. Both of the fighters were perspiring, their skin shiny with sweat, at least the parts not bound away within latex straitjackets - one red and one blue, tight leotards with their arms wrapped around their waists, highlighting their breasts and the curves of their bodies. Their balance was strained, forced to keep moving by having their feet locked into hoof-boots, feet almost completely vertical. Chunky metal collars were locked around their necks, although they weren't currently leashed to anything, with padded helmets topped with bunny-ears giving them some protection against head-shots.

Their mouths were covered by muzzles, and Helena glanced down at her command tablet - should she limit their air? Although they were both fighting as best they could, so there was no reason to punish them just yet. A little tickle to their necks could be useful if they slowed down, but for now, they were both managing to fight, although they were getting strained, their breasts swelling and straining against their straitjackets as they sucked in deep breaths, getting tired from their efforts. Well, this was round three, and both had been fighting well!

Red moved, quickly side-stepping in a feint, before managing to kick out, their reach limited by the need to keep their balance. They connected with a leg, leaving another impact mark, the hit triggering a shock into their opponent, who staggered, but managed to stay standing.

Helena stretched, glad of her own skimpy clothing in the thick and muggy heat - she'd been working out herself, so was wearing a sports bra and some exercise shorts, with sports tape wound around her knuckles and ankles, feeling the satisfying throb of a good workout session, her muscles strained but already healing, faster and stronger. From up here in the executive suite, she had a commanding view over the arena - the seats were mostly empty, not really surprising given the early hour.

The two "fighters" shoved into each other, their bound arms making a regular grapple impossible, but tired from having already fought, trying to kick at each other. It didn't look very good, but there were certain drawbacks to making people fight when straitjacketed! She tapped the screen, her finger pressing against a "bell" icon.

A few seconds later, the door to the booth opened, a young woman walking in. She was wearing a sleek black leotard and thigh-high stockings, a shiny metal collar bright around her mouth, lips hidden behind a muzzle-gag, eyes ringed with smoky mascara, her black hair tied into a long braid that hung almost to her buttocks.

She dipped her head in a curtsey, before Helena settled back into her chair, spreading her legs wide. They dropped to all fours and crawled forward, braid scraping along the ground, before coming to a stop between Helena's legs. She reached forward and stroked their head, before grabbing at their braid, using it to tilt their head upwards, staring into their dark eyes. 'I've had you before, haven't I? Although you were disobedient then, weren't you? It seems that being disciplined has worked though.'

And their skin was now a smooth tan, rather than the pale white it had been - she'd been staked out in the sun to teach her the dangers of misbehaving, her skin getting burned red, between whippings and floggings.

With her other hand, she reached along the side of the woman's head, feeling along the muzzle strap until she found the lump holding the strap in place, and pressed her finger against it. It beeped, recognizing her finger-print, the thing unlocking, and she pulled it away. It left a slight red line around the woman's cheeks and jawline, where it had pressed down, their mouth opening to suck in a deep breath of unfiltered air, but they were smart enough, or at least well-trained enough, not to say anything.

Her tongue slid out of her mouth, soft lips parting, mouth opening, Helena nodding. 'Good girl. Know your place!' She pulled her legs together, shimmying her shorts aside, before pulling their head forward, their tongue sliding against her thigh, licking at her own sweat. They crossed their arms behind their back, each hand grasping the opposite elbow, and began to kiss and lick at Helena's exposed pussy. After her training session, she deserved a little pleasure! And they were skilled, eagerly sliding into her without any protest, as she rested her legs on their shoulders, tightening them around their neck, feeling the collar pushing against her thighs. Even as she pulled them into herself, they didn't stop working, tongue sliding and slipping into her, quickly finding her clit and curling around it.

The fight was still going on, but Blue was clearly going to lose - a kick knocked her backwards, and she stumbled against the cage wall. The contact shocked her, making her scream in pain. Red didn't relent, managing an impressive jumping kick, slamming her feet into the other woman's chest. The scream was even louder this time, the cage wall crackling with lightning, Blue falling against it and suffering painful sustained shocks, before collapsing forward and breaking contact.

The referee raised her hand, counting down - Blue was clearly in no position to rise though, straining to even stay conscious, Red poking at her with a heel. The ring-girl ran in, her own ass well-outlined in tight shorts, breasts bouncing inside her top, preparing Red for her prize.

Helena let herself be pleasured - the girl really was skilled with her tongue, her hair silky-smooth against Helena's thighs. She could feel their short puffs and exhalations, tightening around legs further, testing their stamina.

Down in the ring, the winner's straitjacket had been opened up at the crotch, a double-ended dildo slid into them. One advantage of keeping the meat locked away and chaste! They were always so eager for any touches, just a few strokes got them hot and wet. She gave the girl's hair a tug, nice and hard, hearing them grunt in pain themselves, tongue pushing deeper and deeper.

The ring-girl and the referee worked together to drag the barely-conscious loser into position, opening up her straitjacket to reveal her backside. The double-ended dildo wasn't symmetrical - the part outside of the victor's body was a lot larger and rougher, studded with large lumps and bumps.

It didn't take long before the loser had been mounted, the dildo starting to penetrate into their tight asshole. That seemed to wake them up, and they started squirming, trying to get away, before being held down by the referee.

As their asshole was violated, spread wide in a painful gape by the oversize cock, warmth started to blossom and bloom within Helena, the girl's tonguing having worked, bringing her towards pleasure. She twisted the braid around her fist, clamping and relaxing her thighs in time with the waves of pleasure, pulling harder each time, enjoying their increasingly-pained squeaks. As she neared her peak, she used her thighs to grip their head, denying them air, enjoying the sensation as they more desperately sucked and kissed at her, wanting to get her off.

And then she came, the sensation strong and fierce, overwhelming her entirely, her head lolling backwards to look up at the black ceiling, filled with dusty struts and lighting rigs. She barely heard another drawn-out and pained squeak from the girl, before her thighs relaxed. She didn't let go of the braid, enjoying having the tongue still inside of her, sucking away her juices, only slowly withdrawing.

'Mmmm, good girl. Good girl.'

They made a sound that was probably one of pleasure, leaving kisses against her thighs, staying knelt down in place, if she were to be further needed.

'Put your mask back on.'

There was the faintest touch of hesitation before they obeyed, picking it up and pushing in against their face, carefully adjusting the seal to make sure that no hairs lay across it. The thing clicked lock and sealed, the sound of their breathing immediately going silent, diffused by the mask. Helena released the braid, before checking the mask herself, giving it a quick tweak, wrenching their head around, making sure it was securely attached, the straps nice and tight.

'Good girl! Maybe a little more training for you. My two girls deserve a little fun - maybe they could work you over?'

The woman flinched and looked away, eyes downcast. Well, she might be skilled with her tongue, but didn't have much in the way of muscle-tone - was she one of Persephone's cast-offs? They were always dainty and fragile. Nice to look at, but far too easy to break!

An LED on the mask suddenly changed color, a voice speaking out from it, jarringly and disconcertingly male, full of brash and swagger.

'Hel! Good to speak to you.'

There wasn't a camera on these things was there? She didn't think so, but she pulled her shorts back up anyway. Why the hell had Lilith though that it was a good idea to let calls come through them? It was fun making the slaves "say" whatever she input into a text-to-speech, but having someone else's voice come through was just creepy! Especially without any warning!

'Lance.' The pleasure of the orgasm quickly faded. 'How did you get this number?'

'I bumped into little Persephone.'

Dammit! What was that brat doing?

'She's doing well. Said you were down at the family estates in the tropics. Probably overseeing some new talent?'

The girl was sat still and placid, eyes still downturned, not showing any reaction at having a man's voice come from her.

'Yeah, family business. You know how it is. Why are you calling?'

She felt a ripple in the warm and muggy air, the door opening, sending a slight breeze forward to kiss her skin.

Someone walked in, backed by sunlight, making her eyes hurt, as she saw a broad-shouldered silhouette, who stopped to pose with his hands on his hips, perfectly gelled blonde hair atop a handsome face, leather jacket held over one shoulder. When he spoke, it was in eerie stereo, voice coming through the speaker and from his own face.

'Wanted to be sure you were here. Couldn't miss a chance to catch up with you - you ghosted me back in New York. I had the private box all booked up for that prize fight, even got in some entertainment that you would like!'

It had been a good fight - MMA, rough and brutal, the fighters both ended up bloody and bruised, bodies slick with sweat before the fight had been called. She'd watched it from up-close, seats right at the front, able to hear every impact, the sound of flesh-on-flesh, slaps and strikes, the increasingly-desperate pants of the fighters, both trying to claim the prize for themselves. And then she'd had her own fun with her own two, making them fight for the right to be fucked by her! That had been a good night.

'Something came up. Last minute. So I had to tend to that.'

She stood up, not wanting to be lower than him - although he was slightly taller than she was, especially in his thick boots, compared to her feet, just wrapped in tape. He had good muscles on him, evidence of the amount of time he spent at the gym, and at least some skill at fighting, although he preferred posing and showing himself off.

'Unfortunate. But it's a pleasure to see you again.' He smiled, sweeping a hand through his excessively-perfect hair, teeth gleaming white.

'Sure. So what are you doing here? This place is pretty hard to get to!' By deliberate design - the isolation made it harder for anyone to escape, and ensured that the privileged guests could enjoy their pleasures without anyone snooping around and seeing them.

'Well, as we keep missing each other, then I thought I'd come see you personally. Maybe we could go for dinner?'

She'd rather feed him to a crocodile or shark for dinner! But he had connections and wealth himself, so she made herself smile. 'I'm rather busy, I've got a lot to do. Although if you want some entertainment, I'm sure some of the smaller apartments are empty. Or you can stay here for the next fight.' She looked down - the loser's ass had now been forced to consume the full length of the dildo, tight hole made to gape impressively wide, the woman's eyes wide in pain from the ass-fucking.

'Well, I've bought a girl of my own. From one of the best stables. I think she's got what it takes to beat the best of the Brimstone stables.'

Stood outside, tethered to a post, was a young woman in full pony-wear - black leather boots and corset-harness, their face wrapped in brass-studded leather panels and a blinker, their arms bound behind their back to make a better platform to sit on, a bright red plume atop their head. They twisted, shaking a buttplug tail and using it to flick away a mosquito that settled onto their shapely rump. They had a good shape, their muscles well-defined without being bulky.

'Oh? What stable is she from?' Helena brushed past him, moving to inspect the pony-girl. She squeezed a thigh, before feeling their buttocks, glad of the sunlight on her skin. Then she ducked, feeling their knees - that joint was always weak and the first to go. 'Hmmm, she does seem quite nice.'

'A little independent trader I found. Mostly garbage, but I think this one most have ended up with him somehow.'

'Hmmm.' She continued to feel at the woman's skin, pushing fingers into nerve-clusters, feeling how they reacted. They seemed skittish, but didn't try and bolt or fight back, even when she moved to check their chest, twisting the leather against them, seeing how much of their shape was natural and how much had been forced onto them by the leather.

It was disappointing to discover that the pony-girl seemed to be genuine - well-trained, obedient and in good form, although with a little pudge around the waist. Nothing that a few good, hard rides wouldn't take care of though! She whinnied, the bit between her teeth shaking as Helena twisted at a nipple.

'She does seem to be a good find.' Although from how she was reacting, the pony-girl wasn't used to pain? Had she been trained that long ago she didn't need the lash anymore? Well, her trainer had done good work with her.

'I think she can beat your best. Care to make a bet?'

'Mistress Helena, you have a flight to catch.' The flat, electric voice sounded out from the mouth of the woman, who had crawled outside, staying on all fours. 'Please ensure you have everything packed and ready.' It changed to an actual voice, although sounded barely any more alive, Lilith's voice sounding out. 'Don't be late. There are things you need to do.'

The recording played again, before stopping. The woman's eyelids were fluttering, the mask now cutting off their air - Lilith must have set the mask to tighten up after delivering the message.

'Dammit! Look, Lance, your new girl is nice, but I need to go.' Before Lilith started sending even creepier messages! Or leaving a trail of passed-out slaves until she got on the damn plane. At least she had clothing and everything else she needed in the apartment in New York, so she wouldn't need to pack much.

'I was going to suggest a race. In, say, a week?'

She barely heard him, waving her hand, the woman managing to crawl still, her lungs gasping for breath through the mask.

'Sure, sounds good.' She started walking away, the grass soft and warm beneath her feet, heading for the nearest entrance to the tunnels honeycombing the island, where she could then get through to her own rooms, and then to the landing strip.

'Good. I'm sure you know the stakes if you should lose?'

She froze, and then Lilith's voice spoke from down near her ankles, thin, raspy and irritated. 'Don't be late!'

'Dammit Lance! Prick. You're not marrying me!'

'You agreed - if I can beat you...'

'Fuck, I don't have time for this!' She had to speak over Lilith's voice, the sibilant rasp getting louder. 'Yes, I'm moving! Just arrange it, and then I'll beat you. I just need to get this sorted.' She stalked away, her body tense, wanting to fight someone. Why couldn't she just have an actual fight for once!

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two: Mile High (Food) Club

After the thick and humid air of the jungle, the inside of the plane was chill and fresh. It was large and luxurious, the windows showing a brilliantly blue sky outside. Helena leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking softly as she moved, sticking to her skin. She should have gotten changed before leaving, but it had been easier to just leave, to get away from Lance. Being flirted with was nice, but he was more the type that flirted at people, without noticing when they didn't reciprocate.

Maybe she should have a shower and clean off? The luxury jet only had a limited water supply, but it was more than enough for a shower, although that could get messy if there was turbulence. She stretched out her legs, feeling the warmth of her footrest, their latex leotard smooth and clean, except for where dirt from Helena's feet had rubbed off against them. Hovering on the edge of her vision was the other one, holding a silver tray, a bottle beaded with condensation.

Helena could see their glimpses at the bottle, - when was the last time she'd let them have more than a sip of water? No more than a day or two, enough that their stamina should hold for a while yet. She took a moment to admire the toned, lean body, the high-cut leotard and latex stockings emphasizing their legs, cut-outs over their breasts and between their legs allowing full access, arms sheathed in more black latex. And a thick metal slave-collar around their necks as well, the control panel showing the current settings, and that it was fully charged. If the girl were to tilt her head, then it would trigger an electrical shock - the same would occur for the one on her knees if she stood. And both the collars were synced, ensuring that both would suffer if either failed.

A mottled bruise, only partially healed, marred a creamy-white thigh, and Helena reached out and poked it, compressing the already-hurt flesh. A shudder went through their body, which they quickly suppressed, warm blue eyes staring fixedly ahead. Their lips were concealed behind a muzzle, the lower half of their face black and shiny-smooth. And without any speech-mode activated. Helena pressed harder, forcing them to inhale through their nose, before relenting and reaching out for the water, cracking it open and drinking it.

It was crisp and cool, the perfect temperature to cool down her body, smoothly flowing down into her stomach. She swigged half of it down, while making herself comfortable, grinding her feet against the back of her footrest. Which one was which? Without feeling them, it was hard to tell - Thing One was slightly lighter than Two, but they looked pretty much the same, especially after the plastic surgery. She had to get her phone, swiping it over the backside of the one stood up until it found the embedded chip - that was Thing Two. The summary showed her original details - "Angelica" had been her name, apparently. Not that anyone would ever call her that ever again! And she was a talented pussy-licker now, given how much she had used to blubber about not being "into women". It was just a case of applying the right leverage in the right places, and people would bend in the desired ways!

She put the water back onto the tray before pressing a button on the armrest. A screen slid down from the ceiling, already showing options to select. It was a long flight, so would could she do to entertain herself? She pulled up some fight videos from previous contests - actual fights this time, rather than the show-fights. What would be a good one? Oh yes, the last time she had made the Things fight. She scrolled through the recordings until she found it.

The video started playing - both the Things in the ring, wearing tight shorts and sports bras, metal collars bright around their necks. They moved lightly and agilely, despite the plugs shoved into their assholes, hands held high to guard themselves, padding around their fists and feet. Their attacks were strong enough that the impacts were audible, especially when one of them spun around into a kick, foot slamming into a thigh. That must have been where the bruise had come from.

As she watched the fight, Helena fiddled with the settings for their collars and plugs - they needed at least some basic speech functionality if she was going to be meeting other people. "Yes", "No" - would they need anything else? Maybe "Mistress Helena is needed"?

Her footrest wriggled slightly, and she raised a leg, dropping it down onto them, before tweaking the slider for the inflation-pads in their collar. There was a faint pneumatic hiss as the pads inflated, pressing against the wearer's neck, restricting the blood and air coming through their neck. That should teach her a lesson! She moved her leg off their back, dropping it to the floor then bringing it up, slamming her foot into their defenseless belly, knocking all air from their lungs.

They gasped through their muzzle, their stance wavering slightly. Helena kicked them again, making them drop down, unable to stay properly on their knees.

'Disappointing. I suppose a little more training is needed.' A shame there wasn't really the space for proper sparring here, having a good training session followed by a good fuck was pleasurable. She hooked her foot around an arm and pulled it towards herself, yanking them off balance, so they tumbled to the floor. Before they could rise, she stood up, standing on their back, grinding her feet into them. Their breath was now coming in short, urgent pants, the restriction of their breathing already having an effect.

'Thing Two, you can help me wash. Thing One, go and wait in the bedroom.'

She stamped down onto Thing One before tapping some orders to the flight crew into her phone, then walking to the bathroom - for all the luxury here, it was fairly plain and utilitarian, but they were on a plane. She stripped off and then stepped into the shower, enjoying the hot water caressing her skin, working up a good lather of suds. Thing Two was watching her, eyes bright, her nipples clearly hard.

Helena gestured at her, signaling her to enter the shower as well. They did so, already reaching for the shower gel, squirting it over her black-sheathed hands. She was skilled, massaging it into Helena's skin, forceful in just the right way. Helena kissed her, or at least pressed her lips against the muzzle, hearing a slight squeak from behind it. She ground herself against their leg, enjoying the little gagged grunts whenever she pressed against their bruise, feeling herself get wet and loose, their latex leotard slippery against her wet skin.

The water sputtered and the flow stopped suddenly, leaving Helena suddenly chill, without the warm water flowing over her. Thing Two immediately stepped away, grabbing a soft and fluffy towel, rubbing it over Helena and drying her.

'Good girl!' She raised her arms, letting herself be dried, and also enjoying the twitch-look of desire within the girl's eyes. It had been several weeks since she had permitted them orgasm - maybe they were due for one? Or one of them, at least.