Chapter 1

 

Ahmed, the small Arab Master of the gigantic Gloria, arrived in style. Le Comte had sent a trustee serving-maid across in the launch to welcome him and when the powerful boat was nosing into the Island's port, Gerda was waiting on the dock to greet him.

It was a boiling hot day and even in her light latex Mistress outfit she was perspiring freely inside her mask, but loving the feel of the warm sweat dripping down slowly inside her suit. Forever vain as a female, she threw back the short rubber cape over her shoulders to reveal her pouting breasts and tightly-cinched waist.

The boat gently nudged the pier and a crew member leapt ashore to secure the lines and run out the gang-plank. Ahmed was dressed in heavy waders and a thick black rubber coat, strapped tightly at the neck. Beads of perspiration rolled down his face, but his beaming smile was as warm as the blinding sun. He clasped Gerda in his arms and she tried not to wince at the blast of garlic.

"I am here, finally. How is my little Gloria, my sweet dove? Does she go well? See, I am dressed suitably to please Le Comte, no? Is very warm, but underneath I wear a mackintosh suit so I not drip. Ahhh. I am most evil, not saying how sexy you look! Lovely, lovely. Be you black and I toss Gloria in the ocean. That is the joke, you understand. I love my sweet little Gloria and would die for her."

Gerda tried to conceal her merriment as they walked up to the chalet, the tiny Arab crackling in his hot heavy rubber. But inwardly she was happy, because she knew Gloria really went for this funny little man, apart from his riches. With her superb figure, Gloria could have become the mistress of any number of rich Americans and ended up with a fortune.

"I'll show you to your chalet, Master Ahmed. I am Mistress Gerda and I have been training your slave. Now, if you agree, I thought it would be a good idea if you unpack, take a bath if you wish, and relax. Then - again if you agree - I will send across a serving-maid with a costume which you might like to put on, because I thought you would appreciate a tour of the grounds before your invitation for drinks with Le Comte at seven."

Ahmed was clearly nonplussed, but determined not to put one foot wrong. "Well, yes, Miss Gerda, but when do I get to see my slave?"

They had reached the large chalet and Gerda handed him the key, her gloved hands briefly caressing his bald head. "Very soon, dear Master Ahmed. Now relax, and in one hour be dressed properly for your ride round the grounds!"

 

***

 

Forty-five minutes later Gerda cast an expert eye over her slave Gloria. The tall Negress had been dressed in a tight heavy latex suit, with gloves, feet and hood attached. The thick mask, with tiny eyeholes and built-in nostril tubes, had been carefully adjusted before Gerda had laced it very tightly down the back. Gloria could see through the small eyeholes and breathe through the inserted nose tubes and at present could also inhale through the round hole at her mouth, which was begging for a gag to be inserted.

Over the heavy latex suit Gloria was wearing shiny black vinyl thigh boots with high heels, towering well over six feet as she jived impudently in front of her Mistress.

"Come on, honey, just admit I'm a one-off puzzle. There's no way you'll break me down permanently, though I admit with that Machine the other evening I was flying and said some stupid things. What's on the agenda, all-powerful Massa?"

Gerda was used to Gloria's unofficial outpourings and her sacrilegious mutterings. She ignored Gloria and turned to the Instructor and the serving-maid.

"I want the full bridle-harness and a severe neck collar, as high as possible. Then the torso-corset, which I ordered several days ago. And the humiliation Rod; that suit has a small entrance hole, but I want a number 8 Rod, with an extra attachment so that the slave cannot sit."

The Instructor shuffled uneasily. "Did you mean a number Eight, Madam? It's very large and normally used only for the final Rod training of a slave, never for a casual weekend. I'd suggest a number Five, quite big and effective-"

"The number Eight Rod," Gerda hissed, "and please stop giving me advice! Now prepare the slave and make sure the carriage is ready outside. You have fifteen minutes."

Within the assigned period Gloria was brought back by the Instructor. She was now encased in a shining black vinyl corset-leotard sheath with her arms folded behind. Over the tightly laced corset she wore a wide steel belt, with attached hooks and metal rings. Over the high collar of the corset a six-inch steel collar had been fitted on and loosely screwed into position. The serving-maid handed a leather bridle- harness to Gerda. She walked behind the slave and felt the huge Rod which was sticking out through the leotard and heavy undersuit.

Gerda stood back and admired the superb figure of the black slave, standing easily on the stilt heels of her high boots. Her arms, strapped up behind her, were invisible under the thick vinyl leotard which was laced tightly from neck to bum and from which twelve inches of heavy Rod extended jauntily with a large ostrich feather curling at the end.

Gerda came up to the armless slave and gently placed the leather harness over the masked head. "Now be good, dear Gloria, your Master has arrived and will be waiting outside in a few minutes. Meanwhile I want you to be properly dressed as a pony-slave. Open your mouth very wide and take in this ball-gag."

The ball-gag was very large and it took several attempts before Gloria eventually took it completely inside her mouth. Gerda fastened the leather harness tightly round her head. The steel bit, attached to the ball-gag and with guiding reins dangling, gave a curious sexual connotation to the scene. On the crown of the harness another feather reared upwards.

Gerda picked up a screwdriver and commenced to tighten the worm-screw of the wide steel collar, gradually closing it over the high neck-bands of the thick latex undersuit. She heard several whimpers from Gloria as the steel band tightened, but short of the three-grunt emergency signal, there was no way she would spare her black slave.

She stood back and surveyed the girl, now ready to meet her Master. Gloria's arms were strapped tightly behind and inside the heavy leather corset and her cheeks were pushed sexily outwards by the sheer size of the gag. The high steel collar locked tightly over the neck of the corset, making it impossible to turn her head or even to look downwards.

An Instructor came up and urgently consulted his wristwatch. Gloria was to be strapped and prepared in four minutes. Gerda stood back and allowed the Instructor and maids to finalise her slave's humiliation.

 

***

 

So it was that Ahmed, thankfully casting off his heavy waders and thick mackintosh (only because of the intense Italian heat) took a cold shower and dressed in the wonderful loose thin rubber robes which Gerda had ordered to be laid out by his serving-maid.

At the appointed time, Gerda knocked at the door of the chalet and led a rustling Ahmed towards the main house. She herself was dressed in a tight silver latex cocktail boot-suit, which she knew Ahmed was eyeing appreciatively. On a sudden impulse, she steered Ahmed across to a wooden bench and they sat down with a whimper of rubber.

"Ahmed, my friend, I'd like to talk frankly with you for a few minutes. Will you listen to what I have to say. Seriously?"

The little Arab had been about to swoop on Gerda as an extra-curricular attraction, but now he calmed down and listened attentively.

Gerda found it difficult to explain what was in her mind.

"Ahmed, you must try to forget the financial angle of your agreement with Gloria. Of course it's important to her future, but I assure you it's not the real reason she is your slave. She loves you and now all she's concerned with is your welfare and pleasure."

"Please, what is 'welfare'?"

Gerda sighed. "Your happiness, let's say. But you must realise this girl is very intelligent and there's no way you can treat her as a harem slave. For some peculiar reason she adores you, but I implore you never to take this for granted."

Then funny little Ahmed bent forward and kissed Gerda's masked head. "I thank you, Mistress Gerda, and your advice is totally correct. I am very aware I have been blessed by Allah in finding my lovely Gloria. I may treat her as a sexual slave, but she will always be an idol I will worship. But not to tell her, no?"

Gerda smiled as they walked across to the main house. She had a happy feeling this strange relationship would work out. She steered Ahmed round to the side of the building, remarking casually: "Your private pony and carriage is ready for your tour of the grounds. But please don't hesitate to whip your mount if she doesn't obey your slightest command."

Ahmed looked pathetically puzzled. "But, please, Madam Gerda, I really not need to see the grounds, I want to see my Gloria. Is it necessary-"

They had turned the corner and Gerda indicated a beautiful antique two-wheeled buggy, very narrow and designed for only one person, its ancient black leather seat polished to gleaming perfection.

Ahmed gave a strangled gasp as he saw the 'pony' fixed between the shafts of the carriage. Tall and proud in her shining thigh boots, Gloria was chained to the wooden shafts by a steel belt round her waist. The smooth and tight leather leotard gave no hint of her arms pinioned inside, and her masked head was held rigidly up by the six-inch metal collar. Over the tightly-laced hood was strapped the leather bridle and harness, with long reins attached to each side of the bit-gag

"Let me help you into the carriage, Master Ahmed. There's a long riding whip in that socket at the side and here are the reins. Your pony has been trained to turn left or right according to how you pull. I suggest you keep her at a good trot and whip her soundly if she gets lazy."

Gerda could almost hear Gloria's furious thoughts and chuckled inwardly as she helped Ahmed into the tiny carriage. "By the way, Ahmed, that long feather at the pony's tail is attached to a very large Rod which is chained into her bottom. I have a feeling your pony is in a very bad temper at the moment, so don't be afraid to punish her."

Ahmed leant out of the buggy and kissed the top of Gerda's mask.

"Fantastic, just fantastic! I salute you, dear Madam Gerda. Will you join us for a drink this evening?"

"I'd love to. Around seven?"

"Perfect. Now will this long whip reach ... ah yes, it does!"

 

***

 

A few minutes after seven that evening, Gerda knocked at the door of Ahmed's chalet. It was opened by a serving-maid, tight and trim in her costume and wearing a heavy gag. Ahmed called from the spacious sitting-room. "Is my friend Gerda? Come on in, we expecting you!"

Ahmed was dressed as an SS Stormtrooper, in crackling black rubber breeches and tunic, and shining boots. He kissed Gerda's silver-masked face and turned to Gloria. "Get your Mistress a drink, you black slut. And you can loosen your gag now and have one yourself."

The gigantic black slave stood up and unstrapped the large ball-gag filling her mouth. She was dressed in tight black latex, with a vicious black leather corset and red leather thigh boots. The fitted bosoms of the latex suit had small holes, through which Gloria's nipples strained out. Red ribbons had been tied tightly round them in a bow. Over her masked head she was wearing a long black wig.

She was covered in chain. From neck to ankle it was wrapped round her body and legs and wherever it crossed a large brass padlock was attached. Gerda had to admit it was a wonderful sight. It was the same idea as the gold chain and tiny padlocks Gloria had worn at the fetish club, but this was heavier, more demanding, more - slave-like, because of the weight of the chain and the size of the padlocks.

Gloria returned from the bar with Gerda's drink. "You can laugh, shitface, but you realise I'm walking around with forty padlocks? I could have a heart attack. Why couldn't I find a nice Jewish man who would treat me with respect?"

Ahmed loved it. "Yes, but what a bore. At least we Arabs say 'please' and 'thank you' when we whip you. Which reminds me, Madam Gerda, is it allowed that I beat my slave? Has she been trained enough? And how many strokes would you recommend?"

Gerda giggled, then realised the little man was serious. He really was shy and much of his sophisticated talk was a cover for his embarrassment. She was about to answer when Gloria clanked across to him, towering over his slight figure in her black rubber and chains. She clasped her latexed hands round his throat.

"Ahmed, dear stupid Master, can you get it into that wizened old nog of yours that I'm a slave? Your slave? You've bought me, but being an honest American lady I must deliver the goods, However, you pie-faced little shit, it just happens I love you, maybe because you're such a square. Now will you realise that I'm here, in heavy rubber -which I adore - and you've spent nearly an hour padlocking me into my chains, which are bloody heavy, incidentally. and I was hopefully looking forward to a sexy weekend where I could really be punished. So to set your tiny Arab mind at rest, my Union insists that I receive a minimum of 500 lashes each day. And while we're at it, you're supposed to screw on steel nipple clamps to my boobs, not these ridiculous ribbons. And I haven't yet had a decent wash-out, don't you know all good slaves must be given an enema at least twice a day ..."

Gerda left shortly after, feeling slightly sorry for Master Ahmed.