Author's Note: Mirkada is a remote city with unusual customs and laws; all women in public places within the city's walls must be restrained; women who are not citizens must also be leashed.

Mark and Sally Frost are a couple of Cambridge academics who are fascinated by the city's culture and history. As a result, they have become regular visitors, enjoying, along with increasing numbers of tourists, the lifestyle implications Mirkada offers. Sally particularly enjoys wearing the traditional Mrikadan costume, the vilisqaz, a garment designed to both restrain and display the female body.

Over the last three years, their visits to the city have had a profound impact on their relationship and, as a result of their travels, they have experimented increasingly with bondage and domination. Sally, particularly enjoys the pleasure of being kept in bondage and, since their last visit has assumed an increasingly submissive role in their relationship. Correspondingly, Mark has been surprised to find himself enjoying an increasingly dominant role, particularly responding to his wife's desire for humiliation.

As Sally and Mark prepare for their next visit to Mirkada, to attend the inauguration of their friends Salaxis and his wife Taiarche as Governor and First Lady of the city, Sally's submissive desires are becoming even more intense, beginning even to enter her dreams.

(If you enjoy this, please note that the earlier visits of Mark and Sally to Mirkada are chronicled in 'When in Rome...' and 'Return to Mirkada' also by HerDarkDesires).


Part 1

Kirsty and I were straining at the leash as Mark came out of college. He had left us leashed by our clit rings, quite appropriately I thought, to hooks in the ancient stonework designed for chaining the pets of the college dons.

We were both harnessed and, due to an earlier indiscretion, muzzled too. Needless to say, he had left us chained a good distance apart so there was no way we could touch each other.

Such discipline is important with pet girls.

Releasing us and reattaching our leads to their collars, remarkably easy when your hands are not locked into bondage mitts, he lead us across the quad, and out onto the meadow where we crawled obediently to heel on the new mown grass, one on each side of him. At the river we crossed the bridge and then followed the riverside path home.

Both of us, I'm not at embarrassed to say, looked magnificent, me lithe and slim in my blue harness, and voluptuous Kirsty in her red one, both on all fours, our breasts swinging freely beneath us, nipples on occasion brushing longer stalks of grass; our bottoms swaying and hence their 'tails' mounted on our butt plugs swishing as the crawled.

Once home, he let us both off the leash, commanding us to kneel up in a very 'human' posture where he cuffed our wrists behind our backs and ensured each ankle cuff was locked to its appropriate thigh cuff to keep us on our knees. Then, with his luscious pets deliciously restrained, he removed our muzzles and allowed us to thank him for taking us out on our walk, a task they we addressed with diligence, lowering our heads and lapping at the leather of his tan boots with our tongues before kissing them respectfully. We were permitted to enjoy this for some time as, no doubt did he, watching us, as we performed our submissive duties.

We were both excited by such enforced submission but after a time, he noticed that our obsequious prostration was as much to allow us to rub their stiffly erect nipples on the carpet as it was to please him. He keeps us harnessed most of the time, our breasts forced through steel rings that are rather too small; our breasts are thus kept in a state of exquisite sensitivity. We were thus, as we groveled, building their own pleasure and, I think, he might have let us cum as a reward for our diligence or, perhaps not noticed until too late, had Kirsty not dropped on to her belly with the obvious intention of rubbing her bare sex on the carpet like the hot bitch she is to increase her pleasure.

On seeing this, he immediately commanded us to roll over which we both did with utter obedience though the look in Kirsty's eyes betrayed her disappointment. Lying on our backs, we both spread our legs as we lay on her bound arms and turned our heads to continue our ministrations to his now thoroughly clean boots. Our bodies including our red and warm breasts and our gaping pink sexes were thus beautifully displayed for his pleasure as we both continued to demonstrate our devotion to our master.

Which girl he was going to choose to pleasure him was going to be a problem.

I was determined it would be me and tried to pose as seductively as I could, displaying my body for his pleasure but Kirsty beat me to it and arched her body, spreading her legs even wider as she ran her tongue over his boots lasciviously.

Thus, much to my consternation, he chose Kirsty. My fellow pet is young, willing and very voluptuous and she has lovely brown eyes; sometimes Mark is swayed by this, though I have my own attributes: not least of which is a slim, athletic body with breasts that are almost as large as Kirsty's, and a wealth of experience in pleasing men, particularly Mark. I have, of course, been with him longer and, despite Kirsty's youthful enthusiasm, I am usually his favourite.

I took comfort from the fact she had been naughty and would probably be punished either before or after pleasuring him to ensure her obedience in future.

At Mark's command I came up to my knees, something I can do with practiced ease even with my arms bound and something which Kirsty struggles with. He picked up my muzzle and I showed my obedience by opening my mouth to accept it without him even asking; as I took the large rubber plug in my mouth I tried to imply that I would rather be taking something else and was rewarded with a wink. Then he commanded me to the cage I share with Kirsty. I thought I saw Kirsty smirk as I turned away and crawled awkwardly inside but I now knew his game and that I would have my revenge. Kirsty might be the first to be fucked now but when she joined me in the cage afterwards, I had a feeling I would be left muzzled and she would thus spend a night of frustration while I would have the pleasure of enjoying her tongue for many hours to come.

After her punishment, I knew she would be willing to please me as she always is; she knows I am Mark's treasured pet and by pleasing me she is pleasing him.

It is a delightful position to be in.

Even so, I knelt with a rather sullen look as Mark had the voluptuous young bitch come to her knees and then bend before him, presenting her bottom for his casual abuse. I could see her pink, wet, pussy lips glistening as he swept her tail aside.

Bitch !

He gave her a good slapping, six strokes to each of her large buttocks turning them from pink to shining red and making her yelp as he completed the final few strokes. Then, before she could recover, he pushed himself inside her, thrusting forward, pushing his body against her plug and groping for her pendulous breasts. When he fucks me like this he nuzzles my neck too but I couldn't help noticing that, even as he enjoyed her he turned to look at me several times as I knelt caged and pressing my body against the steel bars. He took her at length, far too long for my liking, his hands roaming across her flesh, squeezing and kneading, playing with her big heavy breasts and teasing her swollen nipples.

From the noises she was making, it was clear she was thoroughly enjoying it.

Slut !

He even let her cum which, as usual, she did very loudly before thanking him gushingly and offering to lick his cock clean. Unbelievably he let her do it !

I tried not to mewl into my gag in frustration.

Smug whore !

Then he sent her to the cage telling her to make sure I came just as loudly as she had just done. This made me smile behind my muzzle; there was no way I was going to make as much noise as she had done and, with luck, that would earn her another spanking.

If I was lucky, it might earn me one too.

As she entered the cage, I lay back and spread my legs looking up at Mark.

I was about to put on a show for my master and I wanted it to be a good one.

As I emerged from the dream, I struggled to open my eyes until I realised I was hooded; I was restrained too; wrist and ankle cuffs, my collar locked around my throat.

Beside me, I could hear Mark's breathing, deep and regular. Blind and helpless, there was no way of telling what time it was. If I'd been stiff or uncomfortable, I could have woken him and I know he would have released but after nearly two terms as Mark's slave I was very used to sleeping in bondage and it still excited me; besides, I was wet between the legs from my pet-girl dream and was quite happy to simply lay there enjoying the sensation and the warmth of the bed.

Unfortunately, with my wrists cuffed behind my back there wasn't much I could do to satisfy the needs the dream had woken in me; though, without even thinking about it, I realised I was pressing my thighs together, enjoying the slickness with which one slid across the another. Sometimes this pleasure is enough but at that moment I wanted more and, though it might have been 3am, I was just thinking of waking Mark in the hope of sex when I heard the alarm go off and felt him roll over the silence it.

Smiling to myself, I and wriggled towards him, pressing my body against his, nuzzling against him, at least as much as the hood and the ball gag filling my mouth would allow. I felt him roll towards me, taking me in his arms and pulling me towards him, felt his cock stiffen against my thighs and parted them to allow him access to my sex. I might be forty two and Mark is just past fifty but our libidos seem to show no evidence of declining and, in fact, in the nearly three years we have been enjoying regular bondage games I think we've fucked more often than we did in the early part of our marriage, excepting, of course, our honeymoon during which we managed it four times a day and, incidentally, enjoyed our first experience of bondage.

He kissed me around the gag, pressing his lips to mine where they were stretched round the bright red ball in my mouth, just visible I knew against the dark leather of the hood. I enjoyed being kissed like this, there was something deliciously submissive in it and I've read a good few bondage stories suggesting that other girls enjoy it too.

However, this morning I was after a bit more than a kiss so I pushed my body more firmly against his, spreading my thighs further and rubbing my sex rather needily against his shaft. I was rewarded by the sensation of his hand sliding down between our bodies and gripping his cock, before guiding the tip into my pussy. Eagerly, I pushed myself down onto it lifting my knee over his legs and trying to make him roll on top of me so he would go in deeper; however, with my wrists and ankles cuffed it was little more than a gesture and, disappointingly, he didn't oblige, instead delivering a firm slap to my bottom.

I moaned into my gag, pressing myself more urgently on to his shaft, wanting him as deep inside me as he could go. This time he responded but not quite in the way I had expected; instead of rolling on top of me he pulled me on top of him so that I found myself kneeling astride him, impaled deliciously on his stiff shaft and, of course, still helpless in bondage.

This alternative position was absolutely fine by me; in fact it was considerably more than fine and, after driving him as far inside me as I could manage, I began to ride him gently despite my bonds, easing myself up then forcing myself down onto him.

Sex slaves don't usually end up on top so, I think, we had rather neglected this position in the last few months and I'd forgotten just how good it felt and how much access it allowed him to my breasts which he began to grope magnificently, before slapping them from side to side a few times. I was close to orgasm by this point and, when he pinched my nipples there was nothing I could do but throw back my head and howl like the bitch on heat my dream reminded me I had become.

At some point, I'm sure he climaxed too but, rather selfishly, I can't say I really noticed at the time being too busy squeezing his cock with my pelvic floor for all I was worth and pumping him furiously in an attempt to drag every ounce of pleasure from the orgasm that he'd just given me. Its a well known bondage aphorism that deprived of her vision, a hooded girl can't help but concentrate on bodily sensation and it's very true.

Finally, I slumped forward, gasping for breath round my gag and very satisfied.

This wasn't, I thought, a bad way for a sex slave to start her day.

He stroked my bottom as I lay on his chest, panting hard around my gag and still mounted on his cock which showed no signs of flagging. Like his cock, my libido showed no signs of weakening but I was struggling for breath; perhaps it was a sign I needed to do a bit more cardio in the gym or perhaps it was the huge rubber ball filling my mouth. I could feel my heart pounding and I was sweating; the skin of my breasts sliding slickly over his chest.

'Good girl.'

I nuzzled against him hoping that he might fuck me again.

'We do have to go to work.'

I groaned.

'And later I'll have to punish you for coming without permission.'

It was a pretty lame excuse but he is master and I am slave, besides, I'm not averse to a good spanking.

I turned my head and kissed him as best I could feeling his hands came up to undo the strap of my gag. Although I love to be gagged, after a night wearing it, this release was bliss even though, as he carefully eased it out from between my teeth I felt the usual pain in my jaw as I was finally able to close it first time in eight hours.

Actually, it was probably more like seven hours, I'd sucked his cock after we'd gone to bed and he'd gagged me after this.

'Thank you, Sir.' My voice was grating and my mouth dry. Hardly the husky alluring tones of a pleasure slave. I could still taste his cum on my mouth and I licked my lips with my dry tongue as he undid my hood, slackening the laces before pulling it off my head causing a wonderful rush of cool air against my hot, flushed skin.

'Thank you.' I must look a real state when he does this in the morning after I have spent the night hooded but I never see him frown or look disappointed, he always gives me that look that makes me know he loves me.

'Come on.' He pushed me rather unceremoniously off him and sat up, shattering the moment. 'You need a shower.'

He can be so masterful at times !

'Yes, Sir.' I rolled to the edge of the bed and swung my legs down onto the floor. 'But you'll have to give your slave girl a few moments of privacy.'

I stood and began to totter towards the bathroom, naked now except for my collar and, of course my cuffed wrists and ankles.

'Some masters like to watch their slaves squatting to pee.' He called after me.

'Oh, believe me, I need more than a pee.' I turned and flashed him a smile. 'Perhaps if Sir didn't use the butt plug so often...'

I scurried into the bathroom and pulled the door behind me as best I could.

Mark joined me in the shower a few minutes later. With my wrists still cuffed I needed him to help me wash. We've always enjoyed showering together and, quite frequently, as one might expect, this ends up with sex. This morning, however, we'd already used our 'extra time' so while I thoroughly enjoyed him running his hands over my soap covered body and through my hair, it didn't lead to the usual consequence though, needless to say, he once again behaved as if my breasts were the dirtiest part of my body.

Honestly, I can't imagine how a girl would get her nipples quite so filthy.

Out of the shower he dried me, tied my hair back and then lead me back into the bedroom, still cuffed and collared where he told me to kneel. Then he starting strapping me into the body harness he'd bought for me at Christmas.

He said it was for those moments when I couldn't wear my full vilisqaz and, to be fair to him I've worn it pretty frequently since.

Some men are so thoughtful.

This harness has a low collar meaning it can be worn hidden under clothing; from the collar, two leather straps run down over my collar bones to a pair of steel hoops that are just a little too small for my breasts so that after wearing them for a while my breasts start to throb; the rings are linked to steel sprung corset that constricts my waist to twenty inches which, for a girl who's five feet eleven and a thirty six-K chest is quite a tight fit. Needless to say, after he'd bought it, he made me wear it daily for several weeks until he could lace it completely tight. Now he makes me to wear it nearly every day to ensure he can continue to lace it completely tight. I indulge him most days but sometimes a girl just wants to wear so sexy lingerie instead; when I suggest this he doesn't usually refuse. This morning, much to my surprise and his, he couldn't quite get it to full tightness though he was able to slip the little padlock into place at the back so I couldn't take it off even if I wanted to.

As if one padlock is not enough, the harness has a thin leather strap with a looped steel wire sewn into it that runs down the front of my body across the spot where my pubic hair used to be which he padlocks to my clit piercing. There are also two straps from the back of the corset that run diagonally down over my buttocks ending in a ring like the one on my black vilisqaz; these days I barely flinch when he shoves a butt plug inside me and locks it to this ring. He used the short fat one with the larger external flange this morning; I can take it easily now though it was a bit of a struggle when he first used it on me; I do have to be careful when I sit down with this one in place; it has a tendency to push itself quite firmly inside and, if I sit on something hard can make quite a clunk.

The corset has suspenders too which I've used a few times on special occasions but this morning these were clipped to a pair of thigh cuffs.

With the harness in place, he slipped his hands around my lovely slim waist, pulling me against him and kissed me on the side of the neck above the steel collar I wear when I am at home. He bought this the day after I'd pledged my slavery; I hadn't realised such things were available in the market stalls of Cambridge.

As he dressed me, his cock remained stiff and, in fact, had shown little sign of flagging throughout our shower.

He really is in great shape for a man in his fifties.

'I hope you're not going to drool all over me.' I pushed my bottom back against him feeling the tip of his cock slide across my buttock.

'It's quite hard not to.' His hands came up to my breasts, already starting to ache slightly from the rings encircling them.

'We have to go to work.' I smiled, sliding my hands down and giving his cock a squeeze. 'I hope Sir will be as eager later.'

'Oh, I think that's pretty likely.' He pinched my nipples. 'Especially after I've punished you your climaxing without permission.'

'Sometimes a girl just can't control herself.' I played with his balls, aware of the way his cock was drooling over my wrists.

'If you carry on like that, we're both going to need another shower.'

'Is Sir telling me to stop ?'

He was doing delicious things to my nipples.

'Yes, Slave. Master is telling you to stop.'

'Then Slave will obey.' Reluctantly I let go of his cock.

I knew what was coming. I've worn a dildo inside me pretty much every day for the last few months usually locked inside my sex by my labial piercings. Mark has a remote and can activate the vibrator in it at any time. After what he'd been doing to my nipples it slipped in easily and as he locked the chastity bolt in place I could feel how wet I was both inside and out.

'Time for breakfast.'

'Yes, Sir.'

He freed my ankles and, locked into my bondage for the day I was lead downstairs to breakfast with my wrists still cuffed behind my back and the collar around my throat. He likes to feed me cereal in the morning, mostly because he can give it to me in a bowl which I have to kneel over with my wrists cuffed or bound and eat without using my hands. Like much of what we were doing, it had become something of a morning ritual.

So while I crouched over a bowl of flakes, kneeling at his feet trying not to get too much of milk on my face he sat at the table eating his toast and drinking coffee while reading the paper to me.

I'm quite adept at eating like this now but, as usual, he needed to wipe my face when I knelt up; then he freed my wrists and told me to go upstairs and dress.

'Yes, Sir.' I was still on my knees and dropped on to all fours crawling to the stairs as lasciviously as I could before heading upstairs to get ready for the day.

Much as I would have liked to go to work leashed and collared and dressed in nothing but a harness and, perhaps a pair of toe boots, I knew what he wanted me to wear but first there were a few things I needed to do like any girl in the morning. The first thing was to dry my hair, I had grown it this year; every slave girl in literature seems to have a mane of long silken hair down her back and it would be a shame to be an exception to that rule; besides, as a slave girl I'm hardly in a position to refuse a command from my master.

I stood in front of the mirror with the hairdryer for a few minutes, before applying a touch of blusher, a quick swipe of lipstick and some mascara; and then took a moment to enjoy what I saw.

Couldn't I really do it, go to work as a slave girl just once ?

Professor and slave girl would make an interesting Venn diagram. Perhaps this wasn't the right moment; my all over tan from the previous summer had completely gone leaving my skin rather pale but the tall, big breasted slut with the tiny waist and long legs locked into her harness who looked back at me could certainly be defended as 'pale and interesting'. I'm proud of my body and work hard to keep it in shape. I couldn't help posing for a moment, slipping my hands behind my back and pushing out my breasts, dusky now from their constricting rings, and throbbing gently. It really was a shame to hide all the effort of training my waist to this corset, even if it didn't close quite perfectly today, under the grey woolen dress I was about to pull over my body; but while the dress may hide my curves it also is bulky enough to hide the shape of the harness; incidentally, it is also just rough enough to prickle my skin constantly as I move so that the torments of my ringed throbbing breasts, constricted waist and the large plugs inside me are augmented by the constant teasing of the wool brushing against my skin.

There are some days when my nipples seem to be constantly erect; at times they are big enough to be seen through the dress and with no bra to control the swing of my large breasts, I'm pretty sure half the university is watching my chest some days.

I really shouldn't enjoy this but I do. I can't imagine how I've managed to develop such a taste for humiliation.

Ten minutes later I was walking beside the Cam in a pair of shiny red patent leather knee high boots with five inch heels that Mark had bought for me in a sex shop. They might not be toe boots but they simply scream the word 'whore' or perhaps, considering my surroundings I should say 'harlot'. It was a chill March morning and, wearing nothing but the woolen dress and boots I was very aware of the cold air against my bare sex and my skin. At least the chill made the dress slightly less itchy (not that my nipples seemed to have noticed); there had been moments this winter in heat of the senior common room, with its roaring fire where I'd considered peeling off the dress and just having a bloody good scratch.

In my younger days I might have thought this would result in coronaries among the older fellows but I'm old enough now to know many of them are lecherous old bastards who despite their apparent crustiness know more than enough about modern technology to find pornographic websites showing just this sort of thing; so with the safety of my senior colleagues assured, the thought of standing in front of the fire in my harness showing off my body did appeal. Perhaps I could have a pole installed to dance round at faculty events. If I did this, I'd rather do it in my toe boots and collar to give them the full effect; perhaps I could then charge for laying over their knees to receive the spanking I would no doubt deserve. Those senior colleagues who didn't want to throw me over a footstool and roger me senseless would probably be queuing up to grovel at my feet and lick my shiny red boots.

I crossed the Cam towards college, the same bridge I'd crawled across beside Kirsty in my dream. I'd had the pet dream several times recently and I'm sure my friend Anna, our psychology fellow, would tell me it was a representation of my repressed desires if I didn't indulge in that sort of thing anyway.

When I'd pledged to be Mark's sex slave about six months ago we both knew it wasn't as a bribe to stop him releasing the video of me playing sex toy in Mirkada or even to stop him releasing the link of me wanking myself to a bondage orgasm in the bar of the Todos Mundo; it was because we were both as kinky as sin and I wanted to continue enjoying the bondage and submission I'd finally realised on our holiday to Mirkada. Who'd have thought, on that night on our honeymoon when Mark had surprised me in the bedroom while I was still taking off my blouse and fucked me with my arms tangled underneath me that I'd end up walking to college wearing a body harness and a pair of dildos having been kept chained and hooded overnight ? However, that was what had happened. It had taken twenty years and a holiday half way across the world to achieve it but here we were, finally acknowledging the sexual tension that honeymoon fuck had created. Along the way we'd switched roles around though generally he was on top even if he frequently accused me of 'topping from the bottom' but, over that time, our love and our trust had grown and, thus, so had the intensity of our B&D relationship so that it now spilled freely into the world of S&M too.

Being his sex slave and his pet was thus the end of a long and, though it sounds rather soppy to say it, a loving process, something which only a long relationship, in our case a marriage, could allow so that when he dominates and binds me, punishes me and even humiliates me, he does it safe in the knowledge that it is exactly what I want him to do.

He is Master and I am Slave, submissive and obedient, mostly; though I'm not above nudging him in the direction my current fantasy is taking.

So, Anna might have been wrong about repressed fantasies. The lesbian connotation of my dream might, however, need more analysis.

'Are you off to Mirkada next month ?' The vice chancellor was still looking at my nipples as he had been through most of our meeting; the rest of the time he'd been glancing down at my boots or perhaps my legs, probably both.

Of all the things to make me blush from the slight clank of ring on my butt plug as I'd sat down in his office to the tendency of my wool dress to ride up my legs when I crossed them unconsciously, I was surprised to find this was the one that brought colour to my cheeks; or perhaps it was the heat in the room and the almost unbearable need to scratch my nipples.

I knew the VC had been at university with our Mirkadan friend, Salaxis, and that they had kept in touch but had made a point of avoiding the topic when we'd met. My relationship with the VC largely involved flirting with him to obtain bigger research grants for my department; it might not appeal to the feminist within me but then, being a sex slave to my husband was probably a little outside the feminist tradition too. At the end of the day, I was a pragmatist, there were glass ceilings and I doubt I would have the title 'Professor' on my office door if I hadn't used all the weapons in my armoury to obtain it.

However, confirming that I was going to Salaxis's inauguration as governor was equivalent to admitting overtly that I was familiar with Mirkada and had therefore allowed myself to be guided round said city on a leash with my wrists bound and probably that, at the time, I had been dressed in my underwear or, more shocking, the traditional vilisqaz which, even in its most modest form left almost nothing to the imagination.

'Yes, we fly out at the end of term.' My mouth was suddenly dry. I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

I couldn't help glancing nervously at the clock. This was a huge mistake. The VC's earlier meeting had over-run and I saw it was already 10.30am, the time at which I'd told Mark I would be out if the VC's office and fair game for a little sexual teasing.

'Won't you be teaching your second years ?' Mark had asked me.

'I can do that with my hands tied behind my back !' I'd told him, not a little salaciously.

He'd smiled and I'd told him not to get any ideas.

I'd delivered several lectures this year with the gentle buzz of a vibrator bringing colour to my cheeks.

'We have a mutual friend.' The VC's eyes were going between my breasts and my legs, so he hadn't noticed my agitation.

'Salaxis.' I tried to keep my voice steady, to stay in control of the situation. I was a Ciceron professor of history at Cambridge University; I might be sitting in front of my boss dressed like a woman half my age, plugged and locked onto a body harness, but outwardly I had dignity to maintain. On the other hand, I couldn't be too frosty, he hadn't signed the latest cheque he'd promised me yet.

'Yes, charming fellow.' The VC smiled but only lifted his eyes briefly. 'I assume you and Mark are invited to his inauguration too'

Oh, shit ! The VC was going to Mirkada

'Yes.' I forced a smile.

'Splendid. Perhaps we could all have dinner while we are there.'

'That would be lovely.' What else could I say ? I really was fighting to stay in control; I'd expected to wear my new vilisqaz to Salaxis' ceremony, the black patent leather one without the crotch strap, the one that might provide a little decency in the front view, if you ignored the fact that it left my nipples exposed and did nothing to cover my shaved sex while from the back it was nothing but an array of straps that would inflame the passion of any bondage afficionado; in addition to this that I expected to be gagged and leashed and plugged; to find my lecherous boss was going to be there to witness it was more than mildly distressing.

He knew it too.

'Excellent.' He smiled and looked me straight in the eye. 'Now, perhaps I'd better authorise that funding you were after.'

It was at that moment Mark chose to switch me on.

'Thank you, Sir.' I'd said it before I could stop myself and rather more loudly than I should have; I crossed my legs automatically, defensively. I'm old enough to remember Sharon Stone in 'Basic Instinct'; so is the VC.

He smiled in a rather predatory way and I blushed furiously.

I ripped off my dress before the front door had closed behind me; it had rained during my walk home and the chaffing of the wool had become almost unbearable, especially against my stiffly erect nipples. The skin of my breasts was a pale blue and they were aching. I was sure that the rings had felt tighter in the preceding couple of weeks and wondered if the gentle swelling caused by wearing the harness on a daily basis was stretching them. I've gone through life with larger than average breasts, I was too big for DD bra's when I left school and by the time I'd had my two children I could have had a nice career modeling double breasts suits. Surely they couldn't still be growing.

I was pretty sure they were becoming more sensitive.

Unfortunately, Mark had the key to my harness so the rings weren't coming off anytime soon. Having relieved myself of the dress I slipped my collar round my neck and locked it in place. I leave it by the door when I go out; one day I am going to leave the house with it still on.

Suitably attired, for a pleasure slave at least, I went through to kitchen to make some tea. While the kettle boiled I sat down carefully, remembering the butt plug, and pulled off my boots, ruing the fact that under our current domestic arrangements I could not longer coerce Mark to be my boot slave and that I might have to polish them myself once they'd dried out.

The relief on my toes was wonderful and I massaged my feet gently but I was going to Mirkada in less than a fortnight and I needed a little practice on my toe boots so, while the tea was brewing, I forced my feet into the red ankle high ones that came with my first vilisqaz. I smiled as I stood, wavering slightly on the massive heels. Walking in toe boots, though it can be a strain on my feet, gives me quite a buzz; some women struggle with it but ten years of fairly high level ballet gave me quite an advantage; if I hadn't been so tall or, if my breasts hadn't been quite so huge, I might have been a ballerina. I can thus walk fairly easily in toe boots (even leashed and blindfolded) and the flexibility I gained by ballet training has been a distinct advantage when Mark is being particularly strict with my bondage.

Sipping the tea, I went into my study enjoying the feeling that I was displaying my body, almost naked: a brunette Barbie doll in full bondage accessories. I had managed to source a history of Mirkada from a French library; it was in nineteenth century French which was testing my language skills a little but I had been working on it for most of the term and had just reached the reign of Jazirina the Cruel, one of the city's notorious but, surprisingly celebrated rulers and, as far as I could tell, the only queen who exempted herself from the rules around female bondage.

However, if the stories were correct, she certainly didn't apply that exception to the female citizens, least of all her handmaidens who she subjected to all kinds of bondage as well as torments and humiliation. However, one only good thing to come out of her reign was the development of the vilisqaz into an ornate fashion item; the use of the blindfold and gag became more common in her time too.

I have a Mirkadian style cushion in the study along with a low set architect's table that I find very comfortable to work at; it's not just the pleasure of kneeling, it's something about posture too; a slave girl, like a ballerina has to maintain her posture, especially a big breasted one like me. If I was about to be a honoured guest of the city's governor I didn't want to show myself up as a slouch.

I spent a happy two hours switching between the copy of the old manuscript the museum had sent me, my French dictionary and my notes, reinterpreting a passage that suggested Jazirina rarely went out in public without at least of pair of handmaidens crawling leashed on all fours; there was a bit I hadn't understood at first but now realised that the girls were being referred to as 'pets' and, as I read it again, grasped that when the text used the word 'queue' it did actually mean tail. Sadly the text didn't go as far as to suggest how the tails were attached to the girls though it did talk about them being lead 'with humiliation through the streets' and 'made to behave like animals in their habits'.

I thought of my dream and the way, inspired by my first reading of the text, I'd played pet-girl for real a few nights before, crawling round the garden naked save my collar and a muzzle, on my hands and knees with Mark holding my leash.

Yes, he had made me pee on the lawn.

Then he'd subjected me to my favourite punishment, if that is an appropriate phrase. Rather than whip or spank me or even leave me in tight bondage which he knows I would throughly enjoy he has started to leave me on the back porch naked and chained by my clit ring to a ringbolt set in the stonework that I assume must have been set there by the previous owners, presumably to chain up their pets. When he inflicts this on me, Mark usually cuffs my wrists behind my back and chains my ankles; I'm collared, of course. With me kneeling and chained so intimately he then adds to my punishment by clamping my nipples and stretching them with a light chain which he clips round the pillar on the other side of the porch; this forces me to lean forward to reduce the strain on my nipples, I can't move any further forward because of my the chain on my clit; after ten minutes my back is aching and I'm willing to take a little more pain through my throbbing nipples just to ease it. Of course, while suffering all this I'm kneeling on bare stone and it's winter, well, early spring but it's still bloody cold; he first did this to me on an evening with snow on the ground. Needless to say after quite a short time I'm mewling into my muzzle and by the time he comes to release me I'm usually shivering violently, my teeth chattering uncontrollably around my gag.

I do a pretty good line in pleading eyes and fluttering lashes but the bastard usually watches me for a few minutes, usually on a jacket and nursing a brandy, before removing my muzzle and making me beg before finally releasing me and leading me, still on my knees, back into the warmth of the house. By this time I've usually agreed to several demeaning sexual favours and a couple more hours being punished in some other way. It was all worth it though the other night as he drew my wrists and ankles together into a hogtie and let me squirm on the rug in front of the fire warming my naked body. I have to say, it was a divine experience and, once I'd warmed up I thanked him for it by wriggling over to him, licking his boots and generally making a nuisance of myself until he threw me back on the rug and fucked me.

No wonder I have sex filled dreams.



*****************************************************************************************************



It was nearly 6pm when I looked at the clock again, nearly time for Mark to arrive home. If I'm in earlier than him I like to surprise him when he comes through the door and so made my way out into the hall to wait for him.

I buckled my favourite ball gag round my neck and then knelt in the hall before locking my wrists together in front of me. The first time I welcomed him like this I'd actually gagged myself and then cuffed my hands behind my back. He'd certainly appreciated the gesture but I'd soon realised that, although being welcomed home by a drooling helpless sex toy was enjoyable, what he really wanted was a cup of tea and a chat.

We can do vanilla too !

With my wrists cuffed in front of me I could serve him and he could always gag and cuff me properly if he wanted to. Besides, I had a couple of things I wanted to talk to him about.

So, when he came in, I served him tea and knelt beside him like the good sub I enjoy pretending to be listening to his account of the day which had been a lot less sexually charged than mine.

'Did you know the VC is going to Salaxis' inauguration as governor ?' I asked him when he'd had a chance to unwind.

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

'Yes, I know.' I smiled.

'Perhaps he'll put a photo of the ceremony on his office wall.' Mark grinned rather too knowingly and I had one of those moments when I wanted to be the dom again.

'Indeed, Sir.'

'Have you decided what you'd like to wear ?' Mark had been looking forward to seeing me in bondage in public again.

'Actually I don't have to.' I looked up at him trying unsuccessfully to conceal my smile. 'I had a call from Taiarche. She wants me to be one of her handmaidens.'

'Really.' Mark couldn't hide his smile either. 'So is this a little like being a bridesmaid ?'

'Sort of. I get a new vilisqaz.'

'Knowing Taiarche, it will be tasteful.'

'Yes.' I was keeping my tongue firmly in my cheek. It would also likely be very sexy. 'There's one more thing, Sir.'

'Yes ?'

'Taiarche tells me it would suit me a lot better if I got my nipples done before we went.'

'Does she now ?' Mark smiled, somewhat wolfishly, I thought.

I'd been wanting to have my nipples pierced since we'd arrived back from Mirkada at the end of the summer; at least I had, once my pussy had recovered from the rings I'd had put there at the end of the trip. We'd more or less agreed that I would have them done when we next went to Mirkada.

'I was thinking you could do them for me, Sir.'

The look on Mark's face made me laugh. I don't do much these days that completely surprises him though when I asked him to lead me round the garden on all fours he did raise an eyebrow and I think he's still a little surprised just how much I enjoy being humiliated. He quite likes being tied up so he understands my love of bondage; the sadomasochistic part of our relationship is relatively new.

'The vice chancellor will have quite a lot to take in.' Mark grinned. 'I wonder if there are many professors in Cambridge with piercings like yours.'

'The new prof of robotics at Cat's has quite a few. I can't believe they don't extend beyond her face.'

'Really ?' Mark sounded rather too interested.

'She seems to have a penchant for rubber and leather too.'

'Perhaps you could introduce me.' He was way too interested.

'I'm not sure she's your type.' I knew she quite probably was but a girl has to make a stand.

'And what is my type ?' He looked down at me making a point of staring at my semi-naked body.

I felt my nipples stiffen.

'I've always assumed Sir preferred leggy brunettes.' I knelt slightly straighter and pushed out my chest. 'Though of course there was that rather curvaceous photographer you took a shine to in Mirkada last year.'

'Kirsty ?' I saw Mark blush slightly but he recovered well. 'I recall she was rather engaging.'

'Vanoushka is quite a bit bigger than Kirsty.' I called to mind the very buxom new professor.

'And she dresses in rubber ?' Mark leant forward.

'Yes, she wore a latex minidress to that dinner I went to last week.'

'You didn't mention that at the time.'

'You gagged me as I walked though the door and kept me tied to the bed for the next eight hours.'

Mark shrugged. 'You asked for it. That text you sent me was filthy.'

'You'd sent me out plugged and had been reminding me of it all evening. I was so horny it was either come home early and get a good fucking or slip under the table and offer blow jobs to the assembled academics 'til one got down and dirty with me.'

Mark grinned. 'Anyway, this Vanoushka ? A bit like Beth Ditto then ?'

'Yes, but blonde.' I grinned. 'She likes heels too.'

'You're definitely going to have to introduce us.'

'She'd eat you for breakfast.'

'Really ?' He grinned salaciously.

'That wasn't a euphemism.'

He smiled.

'Anyway, back to your nipples.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'If Sir says so.'

After dinner, Mark took me for a walk. This was earlier than our usual nocturnal trysts and, as a consequence of there being more people around I was less obviously restrained. Often when he takes me out I wear full vilisqaz including bridle meaning I am obviously blindfolded and gagged. We have only once been caught out with me like this. I, of course, knew nothing of the approach of our neighbour until Mark grabbed me and pushed me against a wall kissing me forcefully around my gag. I didn't object to being taken like this and wondered how far he would go, though I did briefly struggle in surprise. It was only then I heard footsteps and understood, relaxing in my husbands arms as he pretended we were simply in the throes of a passionate and mutual kiss rather than master and slave enjoying a bizarre sexual fantasy.

This evening he had removed my harness and cuffed my wrists behind me before draping a long coat around my shoulders. He then lead me out into the darkness with me tripping along behind him in my toe boots. I was disappointed not to be leashed but after we'd walked down to the river he produced a pair of nipple clamps from his pocket, undid my coat and proceeded to attach a rather intimate leash to me.

'I thought you'd better get used to it.' He'd said, leading me along the path by my clamped nipples.

It wasn't the first time he'd done this to me but, as before, I thoroughly enjoyed it and it did give us a chance to discuss how and when I wanted him to pierce me.

By the time we were back on the road it was much later and he thus lead me back to the house on the nipple leash with my coat still billowing open to reveal my helpless body still collared and toe booted with a gag hanging round my neck for immediate use. I was hoping for a good fucking at that stage but when we arrived home he took me to the back porch me and installed me into my favourite punishment, finally making use of the gag.

Walking in toe boots is hard work and, even with my coat swinging open, I'd managed to stay warm however, naked and on the porch I was soon shivering.

'So, Slave...' He emerged some ten minutes later to find me shivering uncontrollably. I looked up at him with my usual mix of anger and lust, humiliated that I even contemplated allowing him to do this to me and, at the same time loving the fact I had.

'You will recall I was going to punish you for climaxing this morning. Are you ready to come inside and take what's coming to you ?'

'Nnnnnnnnnggggggg.' I shook my head, teeth chattering around my gag.

'Perhaps another ten minutes then.'

'Nnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggg.' I shook my head.

'Well ?'

'Bleasshhh Shirrr. Bunish mmmggg.'

'I thought six strokes of the crop would be appropriate.'

'Mmmmmmmmmm !' I was hardly in a position to argue.

'Good girl.' He released my nipple clamps.

'Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggssssshhhhhhh !' My chilled nipples swelled with pain.

'Just preparing you.'

Master can be so thoughtful.

At least my clit wasn't clamped.

He unclipped me and I crawled inside behind him. The room felt gloriously warm and I noticed he'd stoked the fire.

Perhaps I was going to get half an hour rolling on the rug in front of it.

'Stand.'

Slave obeyed.

He separated my wrists but very quickly clipped the cuffs to two of the discrete rings we have installed into the beams of our house. I was thus standing facing the fire, my arms spread, wrists just above shoulder height, facing the fire which felt delightful.

I only wished I could turn round to warm my back and bum.

However, Sir had that covered. At least he had plans for my bottom.

'Count !'

He struck me on the buttocks.

'Uuunnn.'

Thwack ! He struck me again.

'Oooohhh.'

A third.

'Dreeee.'

'Good girl.' He ran his hand over my bottom. 'I hope you're warming up nicely.'

I was, front and back !

Bastard.

Why any woman would enjoy being beaten is beyond me but, I do seem to genuinely enjoy it. Not hard, of course, and preferably not with a whip, but I do like to be struck firmly enough to make it hurt and leave a mark. I hoped this whipping wouldn't leave marks that were quite as obvious as the last time he'd used it on me.

A girl at the gym had given me a card with a domestic abuse number on it.

I had been a bit confused and, by the time I understood, she had realised how I'd got them and she'd blushed furiously in that all over crimson way only redheads can. It was at that moment I remembered noticing her looking at my breasts the week before. I was pretty sure from the way she dressed she was gay, and had actually been quite flattered. This made me realised she'd probably been looking at the marks on my breasts from the previous evening when Mark had used a cane on them.

'Oouur !'

The fourth one was quite hard.

'Want me to do your breasts when I've finished ?'

I turned and glared at him.

He held my gaze and, after a moment, I lowered my eyes.

I did want my breasts whipped too.

Besides, I was meeting the redhead, Nicky, at the gym on Friday morning; it would be a good way to start the conversation.

I didn't have to go into college on Friday and am always tempted to ask Mark to leave me in bondage all day when this happens. I've done it several times but after a few hours it does get a bit tedious even for a salacious little sub like me who enjoys being a willing sex toy under complete, albeit remote, sexual control.

However, I did want to meet Nicky and really needed a work out. I'd been running twice in the week (fully plugged, of course) but there is a bit more to staying in shape particularly when I spend so much time in restraints. I do have my posture to think of, something a girl who wears three bras in the gym has to keep her eye on, especially if she wants others to keep an eye on her too.

Mark and I had thus agreed that, after a couple of hours in the gym, I would don my black vilisqaz and text him to say I was ready to be played with. Rather masterfully, he told me he wanted me gagged and with my wrists cuffed in front of me while I worked.

I was hardly going to refuse. My French writer was just getting into his stride around the descriptions of Jazirina the Cruel and the kind of abuse she heaped on her handmaidens; it was clear he had been quite a lecherous old bastard and I suspected may have 'sauced up' the text of his predecessor, the French ambassador who had made the original notes; so kneeling in bondage reading his words was probably going to be a lot of fun.

Over coffee with Nicky I'd enjoyed my first overt lesbian proposition. She was, she told me rather earnestly, quite attracted to my alternative lifestyle and asked me openly if I wanted to 'play' with her. Again, I found myself rather flattered and, with the lesbian dreams I'd been enjoying was the one to blush on this occasion.

'I don't mind sharing you.' She'd countered when I'd politely refused.

She was Norwegian and had the soft Scandinavian accent I've always found appealing. Maybe it was all the A-ha and Abba they played on the radio when I was younger. Combining this with her pale porcelain looks, blue eyes and flaming red hair she was extremely attractive; she was also, I estimated the younger side of twenty five.

The thought of lying spreadeagle on her bed enjoying the attentions of her nubile and extremely fit young body had done nothing to quell the lesbian fantasies running through my brain of late and when she offered to play the sub role instead my fantasies entered all sorts of new realms.

Fortunately, she'd not been upset by my rejection and was more than happy for our relationship to develop along other avenues which currently consisted of me trying emulate her performance in the gym with a body that was rapidly approaching nearly twice her age and handicapped by breasts that required industrial grade lingerie to control.

We parted with a plan to meet next week and I came home for a little bondage fun proud of my self control but undoubtedly frustrated at not being able to explore new horizons.

My latest vilisqaz, the traditional dress-come-restraint of Mirkada, was in black patent leather and designed to display a woman in much the same manner as any other feminine garment though, of course, it does this with rather more overt sexual connotations than the traditional miniskirt, stockings or crop top. After a week of tight metal rings around my breasts and the constriction of Mark's harness which I'm sure had got tighter, the conical leather breast cups and leather waist cincher were actually quite comfortable; I was still plugged, of course, both front and back and was going to have to spend the day in toe boots but even with my wrists cuffed to my clit piercing and my favourite ball gag plugging my mouth, it was preferable to the harness and the rough woolen dress.

By eleven I'd texted Mark to let him know I was home and was kneeling at my desk waiting for the first buzz of pleasure to get my juices flowing freely. It happened just as I got on to a really juicy passage about one of Jazirina's handmaidens who was forced to masturbate herself to orgasm in front of the assembled court on a daily basis using a phallus placed there for just that purpose; the girl it seemed would be made to crawl in on all fours in chains and, usually leashed and muzzled, at Jazirina's heels and then have to back herself onto the phallus and ride it until she climaxed. Kneeling in front of her mistress the girl, it seemed made a handy footstool for the sadistic monarch and provided a pair of buttocks ready for whipping if the queen became displeased or the girl failed to perform. LeCrus, the medieval Frenchman who had witnessed the scene claimed one girl had been made to climax eleven times on one day and when she failed to achieve climax on the twelfth was whipped through the streets and pilloried.

When I say 'one girl' I do so because so because of my poor French; at first I thought such humiliation was a fate shared by all of Jazirina's handmaidens but the text kept referring to 'the peasant girl' and I began to realise the Jazirina the Cruel clearly had her favourites or, perhaps, her favourite victims. As I read more I discovered this particular girl was unlike the high-born maidens who usually comprised Jazirina's handmaidens. She was not of Mirkada by birth and, I gathered was probably adopted into city life from the nomadic tribes who traded with the city from time to time. 'The brunette.' LeCrus commented, 'was of the plains-folk and therefore had the form and function of an animal though it was clear, when her mouth was not stoppered, she spoke well the language of the city and when free of her chains, which was not often, could walk upright like other women of the city.'

LeCrus was clearly a man in need of an equality and diversity course.

Along with Mark's little reminders, and the bondage in which I had placed myself, these little snippets of historic erotica kept me reading avidly until early afternoon aside from a few moments when I couldn't resist crawling round the room on all fours, something that was hampered by having my wrists cuffed to my intimate piercings. When I worked like this, I was allowed a slightly longer chain than the five inch one that Mark used when I was properly confined in my vilisqaz, the one that I had used to bring myself off in the bar of the Todos Mundo. The much 'liked' orgasm that, if it hadn't condemned me to sexual slavery, had at least given me a very good excuse to enter it.

The clit chain, along with the gag, meant lunch wasn't an option; with my hands chained down I couldn't take off the gag; at least it might help my obviously expanding waistline, as I couldn't really believe Mark had done something to reduce the corset.

Unfortunately, by early afternoon, I was ravenous and found myself attempting to quell my hunger by trying to drink some milk from a bowl around my gag. It helped a bit but I then had to spend the next half hour trying to wipe my face clean without the use of my hands while being sexually teased to the point of orgasm three times by my absentee husband. I could quite easily have climaxed and, as I stood in the bathroom panting with lust and drooling milky fluid all over my breasts I wondered if I could manage twelve orgasms in one day.

Perhaps when I was younger.

'You're sure about this ?' Mark put his left hand on my buttock and cupped my breast with his right.

'Yes.' I was now fully restrained in my black vilisqaz, elbows pulled rigidly back behind me, mitted hands straining at the short chain joining them to my clit; it wasn't that I was trying to escape, it was simply that the bondage was so intense my body was stretched to its natural limits. I might be struggling to fit into the corset but I was pleased that Mark had been able to get an extra notch out of my elbow restraint. I've seen the video of me in the Todos Mundo, watched it multiple times actually, and I know this restraint looks as tight as it feels, drawing my shoulders back and forcing my breasts out. Wanting to be lead by the nipples when restrained like this is almost natural; for someone as kinky as me anyway.

It was thus the obvious way to restrain me when piercing my nipples.

'Good girl.' He pulled gently on my jaw turning my head and kissed me on the lips. 'Want me to gag you ?'

'Might be a good idea.' I tried to keep my voice steady. I was glad I was already blindfolded, I didn't want him to see the fear in my eyes.

I felt him clip the bit gag to my bridle and opened my mouth so he could secure it. I'd been a good girl and was horny as hell and, even though my jaw seemed to creak as he pushed to leather covered bit in, I couldn't help but shudder at the thrill of being gagged.

He bent and kissed my right nipple then licked it gently; then he did the same on the other side.

I tipped my head back and bit down on my gag though it was probably a bit early for that.

After watching my piercing in Mirkada and being invited to do my clit,Mark had told me he really wanted him to do my nipples. I wanted it too. We'd talked about using a needle but my nipples are almost an inch across and apparently becoming more sensitive by the day; I'm not sure either of us had the resolve to do it that way, especially not twice; we did need to get them both done tonight.

Hence we had settled on the gun.

'Perhaps you'd better kneel down.'

I nodded dropping to me knees as he guided me onto my cushion.

I felt him undoing the top three straps of my bra, the cones of leather that made my breasts jut out, and felt my nipples stiffen even more than usual as he wiped them with the antiseptic: cold and stinging and, surprisingly stimulating.

'Ready ?'

I nodded and felt him lift my right breast, then the jaw of the piecing gun closing around my nipple. We agreed that the ring would go at the base of the nipple, a strong anchor by which he could lead me.

I couldn't stop a shudder running though my body.

'Are you sure about this ?' He took the gun away.

I nodded, I really was ready.

I'd read about girls being pierced, mostly in fantasy where they seemed to climax when the ring went in but, more recently, I'd read some accounts by girls and women who'd had it done. I was pretty sure I knew what to expect.

Still it would be nice if...

I gasped as Mark turned on my vibrator.

'Thought I'd better get you in the mood.' He let go of my breast and came to stand behind me, tipping my head back and kissing me around the gag.

'Nnnnggggg.' I shook my head slightly knowing that my lips and chin were already wet with my own saliva, something I find delightfully humiliating; I might be a sex slave, subject to the whim of my master but I took on that role on my own terms: 'topping from the bottom' I believe is the expression. Drooling round a bit gag is something I can't control and probably, of all the ignominies of being a slave, the thing I find most humiliating; I can wear a ball gag all day and not drool if I put my mind to it but the bit gag just makes turns me into a dribbling idiot.

'Messy girl.' Mark ran his fingers down under my upturned chin.

I felt myself beginning to blush.

'I can see I'm going to have to train you more thoroughly before we go to Mirkada.' He kissed me again. 'What will the vice chancellor say when he sees you dribbling all over your breasts like an idiot ?'

Drooling in public was probably the least of my worries.

'Let's hope the vilisqaz Taiache choses for you has a ball gag or perhaps a plug. At least you've have some chance of retaining your dignity.'

There really wasn't much chance of that ! I had a feeling the vice chancellor was going to see all he wanted of his Ciceron Professor of history as she was displayed in bondage probably after being lead out by her nipples.

'Posture !' His command was a reminder not to let my mind drift.

I gave him one of my glares, the ones that burn through the blindfold. There was nothing wrong with my posture. In this sort of bondage, slouching wasn't an option.

'Knees wider.'

Still glaring, Slave obeyed.

'And push your breasts out more.'

I glared again but arched forward pushing my breasts out. My elbows were virtually welded together by the cuffs behind my back forcing my breasts forward. The extra notch placed a huge strain on my shoulders and, because the tips of my bondage mitts were locked together in front of me and chained to my clit I was very aware that every movement pulled on my intimate piercings. Adjusting my posture thus reminded me how completely helpless I was.

I would be on display like this in front of my boss in a couple of weeks.

It would be utterly humiliating.

God I wanted to cum !

Mark began to wipe my nipples again.

They really must be filthy.

A bit like me !

The vibrator went up a notch and I gasped making more saliva run down my chin.

'Messy girl !' Mark wiped it off.

The antiseptic on my nipples was making them even more sensitive than usual. I really wanted Mark to play with them.

I'd not had an orgasm for nearly twenty four hours since Mark had tied me to the bed the previous night still in my harness and made me suck him off then left me for an hour before coming back to fuck me.

I thought of the peasant girl in Mirkada and her eleven pubic orgasms.

I guessed that she'd probably be desperate by now too.

'You're dribbling here too.' Mark wiped between my legs, the antiseptic chilling my labia and making them just as sensitive as my nipples.

I shuddered again.

'The VC is going think he's died and gone to heaven.'

Mark cupped my right breast again and I felt the piercing gun once more pressed against my nipple.

I turned my head to look up at Mark, or at least, where I thought he was. My usual ESP seemed to have gone a little haywire.

Snap !

The pain in my nipple was intense and I sucked air in around my gag.

Behind the blindfold my eyes went wide then screwed shut as my jaw clenched reflexively around my gag.

Fuck ! That hurt.

I was dimly aware of Mark hugging me.

Slowly the pain passed to a dull throb in my right nipple.

'You're sweating.'

I nodded still biting down on my gag and breathing hard, my eyes squeezed shut to hold in the tears.

'We could do the other one another time.'

I shook my head.

'Doo iddd !'

I wished I'd thought more about anaesthetic but I'd had two children without pain relief and I had endured more intimate piercings though I was beginning to suspect there had been some local anaesthetic in the antiseptic they had used or perhaps it had been the four glasses of wine I'd had at lunchtime beforehand.

I felt Mark take hold of my left breast and squeeze it then press the gun against my nipple.

I still can't believe I passed out.

I came to lying on a bed.

Someone was removing my bridle.

Kirsty !

She smiled down at me.

What was she doing here and where was Mark ?

Part of my brain tried to tell me Kirsty was a photographer not a nurse but she was definitely wearing a nurse's uniform.

Well, the uniform of a kinky rubber nurse.

Her large breasts seemed barely restrained by the flimsy white latex dress; and the neckline was so plunging I had a feeling that if she bent much further forward I would be able to see her navel ring. That her nipples were pierced was in no doubt, I could see the outline of the rings clearly and when she turned away, bending to put my bridle into a bag I could see how short the skirt was. Her rubber knickers matched the dress, as did her stockings. I risked lifting my head and noted that her heels were at least five inches, the shoes shiny and slutty like the rest of her outfit.

'How are you feeling, Professor ?' Kirsty turned back to me and smiled again.

'I...' I tried to lift my hand but found I couldn't. Looking down, I discovered that I was strapped down, not to a bed but to some sort of medical examination couch, held in place by medical style restraints.

I was also naked.

'These are nice.' Kirsty gently touched my new nipple rings making my nipples throb.

'Thank you.'

'You've become quite the bondage slut since we last met.' Kirsty's smile reminded me of the one on the last video she'd sent us thanking my husband for rubbing suncream into her.

'Yes.' I wasn't quite sure where this was going but the words 'lesbian fantasy' kept appearing in my mind.

'Doctor Nicky will be along shortly.' Kirsty's hand stroked my belly moving down towards my sex.

'I don't think I need a doctor.' I said it way too quickly, too defensively.

'She'll just do a quick physical to make sure everything is in working order.'

'No, I'm ok !' I pulled against the restraints.

'It's important to check you out thoroughly.' A familiar voice came from my left. 'Especially when you take into account all the stresses and strains you're putting that lovely body through at the moment.'

I turned to see Nicky, my gym buddy, dressed in a white coat.

A shiny PVC one, of course.

She was pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

'I just fainted.' I was very aware how vulnerable I was and struggled again but the restraints did their job.

I heard the snap of latex against Nicky's wrist. I was beginning to understand where this was going.

'Nurse, you'd better gag our patient.'

'Of course, doctor.'

I watched as Kirsty slid out of her knickers and balled them up.

'Open wide, Professor.'

'No !' Even as I said it, I knew it was the wrong move; there was nothing I could do; Kirsty simply shoved her latex knickers into my mouth and secured them with surgical tape across my lips.

'That's better.' Nicky faced Kirsty across my helpless body. 'Would you make notes, Nurse ?'

'Of course, Doctor.' Kirsty took up a clipboard, standing very upright, attentive, shoving out those lovely big breasts of hers and then Nicky began to run her latex covered hands over my body.

Needless to say, it was unlike any other medical examination I had previously undergone.

'The subject appears to display highly submissive tendencies appearing quite comfortable to be restrained and naked like this.'

I wasn't sure I agreed with this, not here with two girls.

'I would conjecture that she finds such treatment highly stimulating.' Nicky examined my newly pierced nipples carefully.

I rolled my eyes. I knew now, as much as one can ever know, that I was dreaming.

I decided to lie back an enjoy it.

'From the way she accepted the gag, it is clear she is used to oral penetration.' Nicky smiled suggestively. 'However, her face is wet where she has been drooling suggesting poor oral control.'

I bristled, as much as a helpless gagged naked women can.

'I would recommend she spend some time with the oral trainer.'

'Yes, Doctor.' Nurse Kirsty wrote something on my medical notes; or whatever these were in the metaphor my mind was creating.

Anna, my psychologist friend would be having a field day.

I half expected to find myself in a closet.

'You will observe the subject wears a collar.' Nicky's fingers traced a line across my neck. 'It is important to ensure this remains in place during her therapy so that everyone who sees her will recognise her as the submissive slut she is.'

Therapy ? I thought this was just an examination.

'Her shoulders are abnormally flexible suggesting prolonged and intense restraint with her hands behind her back and a tendency to display her breasts provocatively.' 'Doctor' Nicky looked meaningfully over her glasses at 'Nurse' Kirsty before continuing. 'The breasts themselves are abnormally large and sensitive leading me to suspect she has, in the past played with them frequently; perhaps this is why she now finds it acceptable to spend so much time in restraints.'

When I was younger, I did used to masturbate by playing with my breasts. I had read in a woman's magazine that some girls could climax from just having their nipples played with. I soon found I was one of them.

In fact, when my breasts did start to develop, seriously develop, I did begin to wonder if my sexual teasing was the cause and tried very hard to stop playing with them. This lead me to wonder about ways of keeping my hands off my own nipples and, eureka, my bondage fantasies were born. Before I knew it, I was kneeling in my bedroom with my hands cuffed behind my back rubbing my nipples on the flock wallpaper.

Doctor Nicky looked down at me and smiled.

It was almost as if she knew what I was thinking.

'You will note the marks on her breasts where she has been whipped, something this slut presumably enjoys. The nipples are newly pierced and highly sensitive. She clearly enjoys having others abusing her body but I think she would like to be able to endure more. Perhaps we could condition her with some electrotherapy.'

She was right, I did wish I could take more pain and I looked up at Nurse Kirsty hoping I could have a copy of the doctor's wise words when I woke up.

This was one dream I was hoping not to forget.

'Her waist has previously been trained down to twenty inches though, I think she has rather neglected this aspect of her training recently and I would suggest a prolonged period of corsetting to restore her shape and, perhaps bring her down to nineteen inches.' Nicky smiled down at me.

'I believe the subject thinks of herself as a form of doll; an adult sex doll, of course. She thus wants her body to conform to cultural stereotypes of long hair, broad shoulders, large breasts, slim waist, broad hips and long legs. A sort of 'Brunette Bondage Barbie'

She winked down at me.

Yes, this was definitely a nice dream.

'You will observe the way she shaves her sex to appear younger and appeal to men.'

Watch it, Bitch !

'The piercings in her labia and clitoris and the fact that her sex can be locked shut indicate a subconscious need to curb her promiscuity.'

No, darling, you're way off target there.

She ran her finger up the lips of my sex causing me to arch in my bonds, my eyes widening.

A nice wet dream.

'Soaking !' Doctor Nicky exclaimed scornfully. 'She thinks she is just a toy for her husband but you will observe her response when restrained and played with by two women. She clearly represses her natural homosexual tendencies. I suppose it may represent another form of bondage, 'chastity' might be a better word, constraining her desires and limiting her ability to enjoy all kinds of sexual intercourse.'

I imagined Anna writing a paper on this one.

Nicky pushed her gloved finger into my bottom.

'Her sphincter has been stretched suggesting frequent anal intercourse and the use of training devices to tease and humiliate her.' Nicky pulled her finger out. 'Would you lift her legs, Nurse.'

'Yes, Doctor.' Nurse Kirsty put down her clipboard and bent over, to reach under the bed or to give me a flash of her deep cleavage or perhaps both. When she looked up she saw me looking and gave me a wink.

I felt myself blush.

'Interesting.' Nicky had clearly seen my response.

There was a series of clunks and I felt the bed begin to move; at least the bed under my legs which began to fold lifting my knees and spreading my legs wide. I vaguely remembered this position from when I'd had my children. It had felt pretty undignified then.

'Lovely supple hips.' Doctor Nicky stepped between my spread thighs. 'A perfect little fuck toy.' She held out her hand. 'Would you pass me the probe please, Nurse.'

'Of course, Doctor.' Kirsty bent and picked up a huge, black dildo. 'Do you want some lubricant too ?'

'I don't think that will be necessary, Nurse.' Nicky took the huge ribbed phallus and ran the tip across my drooling sex then she began to push it into my bottom, stretching me as each section entered. It wasn't long before my eyes were bulging and every time I thought I couldn't take any more, she pushed it in another notch.

It seemed impossibly long.

If she didn't stop soon, something down there was going to tear.

'Bleash !' I whimpered, tears in my eyes.

'Oh, I think you can manage on more notch.' Nicky pushed the plug in again and I screamed into my gag, fingers clawing at the air as I strained against my bonds.

'Good girl.' Nicky smiled. 'Size 22. Mark will be pleased.'

I panted through my nose and my vision blurred with tears which Kirsty dabbed away.

I wasn't sure I liked this dream quite so much.

'Time to test her ability to climax.' Doctor Nicky looked down at my pussy. 'Such a shame I won't be able to use my tongue in this case.'

'It would be rather unprofessional, Doctor.' Nurse Kirsty winked at Nicky in a way that suggested plenty of experience in cunnilingus.

'Would you assist me, Nurse.'

Nurse Kirsty stepped behind Doctor Nicky and helped her out of the white PVC coat to reveal lacy black vintage lingerie including suspender belt that was rather beautiful against the redhead's pale skin. I'd seen her in it before, of course, as she was dressing in the gym one night.

'I don't think this test will take very long, Doctor.' Kirsty had again caught me looking, though this time it was at Nicky's small, rather neat breasts.

'I think you're right, Nurse.' Nicky lifted her gloved hands.

'What size would like, Doctor ?'

'A twelve should suffice, we don't want to overdo it.'

Kirsty turned to hang Nicky's coat on the back of the door and when she turned back she was holding a black strap-on that was even larger than the widest part of the plug currently penetrating my bottom. She stepped behind Nicky who held up her hands like a surgeon waiting to operate and allowed Kirsty to strap the device around her hips.

There was a wicked smile on Kirsty's lips as she tightened the crotch strap.

'Careful, Nurse.' Nicky came up onto her toes and flashed me a very saucy expression.

'Sorry, Doctor.' Kirsty's smile was still there.

Nicky advanced on me and I felt the tip of the dildo against my pussy.

'Ready, Nurse ?'

'Yes, Doctor.'

Shouldn't she be asking me ?

Nicky pushed the phallus inside.

It was huge.

Fuck, with this and the butt plug, I felt I was about to be split in half.

Then Nicky began to move back and forth and my whole body shuddered with delight.

'Observe her reactions carefully, Nurse.'

'Yes, Doctor.'

'See how her skin is reddening...and I do believe her nipples are responding...see how the rings are moving.' Nicky was clearly enjoying the show, and why shouldn't she, it was my body performing. 'Note her breathing, confirming how much she enjoys being fucked while tied up.'

I could't to argue with this diagnosis.

To be fair, Nicky's responses looked pretty similar to mine and the way she was biting her lip suggested her own internal fantasy was going on; when I turned my head I noticed that Kirsty had one hand up her skirt as she played with herself.

When she saw me looking, it was Kirsty's turn to blush. 'All us girls together, eh, Professor ?' She winked and licked her lips.

Nicky thrust in a fraction harder and I threw my head back, arching my body up to meet her.

If this was lesbian sex, it was something I could live with.

'I think the subject is sufficiently aroused.' Doctor Nicky regarded me in professional manner.

Not quite sufficient actually ! I moaned into my gag.

'I wish to explore her humiliation fantasy.'

What ?

I watched Nurse Kirsty go to the side of the cubicle and pull back the curtain.

There were a number of people standing just outside the window and, when they saw me, they began to watch, nudging each other and pointing.

I felt myself reddening, but Nicky started my thrust into me again the teasing of the dildo was too much of a distraction. 'The doctor's' chest and face were just as flushed as mine.

She smiled and began to chew her lip again.

'Shall I move to the next level, Doctor ?' Kirsty said.

Nicky looked slightly surprised but nodded as she continued to fuck me.

Kirsty opened the door of the cubicle and a number the voyeurs beyond came in.

I looked up at Nicky who gave me questioning look.

What she was doing to me was delightful and outside the dream, I think I would have climaxed long before.

'Humiliated yet, Sally ?'

I shook my head, grinning behind my gag.

'Nurse.'

Kirsty opened the curtain on the other side and I recognised a few faces, people I knew vaguely, people I passed in the street, a couple of neighbours, the lady who worked in the bookshop in town.

They all looked at me as I lay back being fucked my the lingerie clad Nicky with her fit body and lovely copper hair.

I was rather enjoying it.

'Look ! It's Professor Frost.' One of my postgraduate students had just come in. 'What a slut !'

I looked up at Nicky, a flicker of anxiety creeping in.

'They all know, you know.' Nicky sounded disapproving.

Know what ?

'Oh my God.' Annabelle, a pretty blonde with a nice firm body and a definite steampunk vibe from my second year undergrad class was standing there with her friend, Zainab.

'Gross !'

I looked around suddenly, I was feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Surely this wasn't real.

'Oh, Professor.' The Master of my college was standing beside me. 'What are you doing ?'

It had to be a dream.

I could feel my climax approaching. I was about to have an orgasm in public and everyone was going to know about it.

I could feel myself blushing furiously.

This wasn't fun anymore...

...and it was real...

...and I was about to cum.

I was hot and sweating when I woke up from the dream but somewhat relieved to find it was just that. Mark looked concerned and untied me, refusing to tie me up again that night which, in the end, turned out to be quite fortunate. It was certainly lucky he didn't gag me.

I spent the next morning throwing up.

At least, I reasoned, I had an explanation for fainting; something I've only done three times in my life if you discount the public orgasm in Mirkada.

I had a couple of days off work, slightly anxious that my new piercings might be infected but nothing happened. It was probably just a virus and, to be fair, I'd probably been overdoing it what with work, my Mirkada project, going to the gym and, as Doctor Nicky had said in my dream, I had been putting my forty something body through some pretty intense bondage.

The days off did give me a little time to work on the Mirkadan history translation and I learnt more about the humiliations heaped on Jazirina's peasant girl.

I did make it back to work before the end of term though I did throw up a few times in the morning. Fortunately, I seemed to have recovered by the last day of term and Mark seemed happy to put me back into bondage. I thus got to experience my first walk along the river being lead by my newly pierced nipples. I was in full vilisqaz, bridled and harnessed, shoulders back, elbows welded together, mitted hands chained to my clit ring, tottering on toe boots and suitably penetrated.

Fucking gorgeous !

And I knew there was a roaring fire at home for me to be fucked in front of when we got back.

Heaven !

We did have one unscheduled stop and I felt Mark draw me aside, presumably into cover, when I heard voices. I'm not usually too worried by these close encounters but flashes of my dream came to mind, especially the bit where my undergrad students were watching me being fucked and, before I knew it my heart was pounding in my chest.

I really hoped I didn't faint again. Mark is pretty resourceful but getting me home in this state would be a real challenge. I think he might have been worried too or perhaps he just fancied a quick grope but I felt one hand hold one of the leather straps at the back of my vilisqaz and the other grap my left breast as he pulled me against himself.

Then I heard footsteps, someone running.

It was the last night of term, half the student population of Cambridge would be running round the city drunk; some of them would almost certainly have found their way to the river.

My dream was about to become a real nightmare.

We stood there pressed together. I'm sure we were both holding our breath.

The footsteps were right next to us, throbbing pulses in my ears, almost as loud as my heartbeat.

Then they faded away.

We didn't move for what seemed like ages, standing silent and still, Mark's hand on my breast, his body pressed against me.

I knew we were safe when I felt the pressure of his stiff cock against my thigh.

'You, Mrs Frost, are a very naughty girl.' Mark whispered into my ear.

I pressed myself more firmly against him.

God, I wanted him inside me.

He seemed to know it and pulled me to my knees. I felt his hands fumbling between my legs as he undid the padlock holding my sex shut.

It was dark and it was probably very slippery.

He pulled out my dildo and, bending me forwards, shoved himself inside me.

I tried very hard not to scream with pleasure.

A dildo is nice, a real cock is some much nicer.

Kneeling, bent double with my nipples in the mud, I thrust back onto him, desperate to cum.

We'd barely fucked for a week and I certainly hadn't been in bondage all that time.

His hands cupped my breasts, now slick with mud, fingers going through my nipple rings, rubbing and pinching my nipples as they did so. He really did have and excuse to clean my nipples now.

I really wished I had been wearing a better gag.

I just about held it together as my body exploded into orgasm, biting down on my gag and keeping the noise to no more than a whimper. At some point I felt Mark cum inside me and this made me climax again.

Judge me ! I'm a slut !

I had another dream that night.

After our coupling in the bushes by the river, Mark had lead me home where we had showered, fucked in front of the lovely fire, sponged the remaining mud off my vilisqaz and left it to dry, fucked again and then gone to bed.

Ok, 'dirty slut' might be a better description of me, though, as usual Mark ahd spent a lot of time ensuing my nipples were very clean.

My vilisqaz had been easy to clean. Mark's suit was going to need the dry cleaners or perhaps the bin.

He'd cuffed my wrists and ankles then gagged me before taking me to bed.

It had felt wonderful to be in bed in bondage as I'd drifted off to sleep.

'Professor Frost...you've been a very naughty girl'

I looked up to find Annabelle standing over me.

We were in my office.

I was going to tell her off for not knocking before coming in but I found I couldn't speak and when I lifted my hand to my mouth I found I was gagged.

'I knew you were a bondage slut from the day we met.' She was in full steampunk regalia, long brown leather coat with waistcoat beneath, heavy leather boots, goggles perched on her hat, fingerless leather gloves.

'Hooooowww ?' I reached behind my head fingers fumbling to undo the gag.

'It was the collar.'

I dropped one of my hands to find my collar still locked in place.

I couldn't believe I'd forgotten to remove it before coming to work.

I continued trying to undo the gag.

'Or perhaps it was the nipple rings.'

I looked down to realise I was naked, my bare breasts thrust out as a result of having my hands behind my head.

'Ooouldd oou iind ?' I tried to get her to take my gag out. I couldn't undo the buckle.

'Oh, no, Professor.' Annabelle smiled. 'Naughty girls like you need to be punished.'

Could't it have been one of my male students ? That blonde captain of rugby who is always smiling at me in the corridor.

'You really do need teaching a lesson, Professor.' Annabelle held a whip in her hand.

'Nnnnnnnnggggggg !' I shook my head; the sight of it terrified and excited me.

'Girls !' Annabelle looked at her accomplices, Zainab and Fiona.

The two of them stepped behind me and grabbed my wrists pulling them behind my back. Zainab pulled a pair of handcuffs from her jacket pocket and locked them on me then the two of them pulled me to my feet, before bending me over the desk, Fiona kicking my legs apart.

'Of course the slutty shoes were a bit of a giveaway too.' Annabelle stepped behind me, the step of her boots loud on the wooden floor.

I had a feeling I was wearing the shiny red patent leather heels I'd worn for my professorial interview; the ones with the five inch stilettos.

Annabelle pulled open one of my desk drawers.

'What have we here ?' She lifted a wood, leather and brass contraption out that was way to big to fit in the drawer. It was eighteen inches long and consisted of two parallel wooden bars wrapped in leather about six inches apart connected at each end by some long brass rods, there was some sort of screw mechanism in the centre and two brass rings about an inch across hanging from brass chains.

I had a pretty good idea what it was.

'I assume this is yours.' Annabelle held it up.

I shook my head. It certainly wasn't mine.

Fiona and Zainab lifted me upright again and Annablle guided the breast press over my breasts.

'A perfect fit.' Annabelle leant across the desk began to screw the two bars together squeezing my breasts.

I tried to struggle but Fiona and Zainab held me firmly, hands on my arms and legs hooked around mine holding them apart and pinning the front of my thighs against the desk.

At first, the pressure on my breasts wasn't too bad, all the fun of having them bound but without the inconvenience or the rope burns but then, as Annabelle tightened it further, the sensation become more intense, the flesh of my breasts crushed between the unyielding wood. I'd seen pictures of girl's with their breasts restrained this way, Mark's favourite bondage model, Ashley Renee seems to be designed to model one; I'd noticed they all seemed to be suffering, even the girls in drawings seemed to be biting down on their gags, eyes wide in pain. Now I knew why.

'NNNNNNNGGGGGG !' I shook my head, struggling for all I was worth but Fiona and Zainab seemed unbelievably strong.

'Just one more.' Annabelle looked me in the eyes as she twisted the screw one more revolution.

'Aaaaaaagghhhh !'

Bitch ! Where were Doctor Nicky and sexy Nurse Kirsty when you needed them ?

My breasts were throbbing but Annabelle wasn't done yet. She lifted a brass ring that hung from the press by a chain; it too had a screw mechanism and, inside, a series of tiny spikes.

'Nnnnngggggg !' I shook my head. I knew exactly where this was going.

I could only watch as Annabelle pushed my nipple ring down and slid the brass contraption over my right nipple. Then she began to turn the little screw thread.

'Bleasshhh !' I shook my head again. My breasts were burning, nipples tingling. The spikes digging into my nipple brought tears to my eyes.

It reminded me of being bullied at school; not like this, of course, the bullying was rarely physical, girls are much better at psychological torture, but occasionally it spilled over into physical violence. I'd been held and slapped a few times, ordeals that left tears in my eyes not from the pain or the fear but the frustration of being unable to defend myself despite being way brighter than most of the other girls in my class, probably in my entire year; but, of course, that was why it was happening, that and the fact I wasn't interested in the other stuff they liked too: clothes, make up, boys... 'She must be gay.' They had told me. 'A lessie.'

Was this dream going to be another foray into my subconscious lesbian desires ?

Annabelle started on my left nipple but I barely noticed over the throbbing of my breasts and sense of helpless frustration.

'Perfect.' Annabelle smiled at me arching a heavily painted eyebrow with a look of challenge, disapproval; her face was blurred by my tears. She was quite a pretty young lady with a strong face, lovely curved cheeks, full lips; overly made up, heavy eyeliner and blusher, a nasal piercing; strikingly blue eyes.

'Put her one the punishment frame.'

Fiona and Zainab began to drag me towards the corner of the office. The usual coat rack where I hang my hat and stand my umbrella was gone, replaced by a tripod of wooden stakes bonded together with brass collars and chains; there were brass rings and bolts clearly designed for bondage. With my wrists cuffed and with the five inch stilettos strapped to my feet I could offer no resistance, besides, every struggle made my breasts move against the press and the chains hanging from my nipples swing. I was pushed against frame and my wrists released momentarily before they were lifted above my head and locked in manacles hanging from the top of the tripod; my legs were spread and my ankles locked in place too. Fiona twisted the breast press making me scream and then clipped it in place so that, as well as my wrists and ankles, I was locked to the frame partly hanging by my breasts.

'Well, you are supposed to enjoy this sort of stuff.' Annabelle slipped her hand between my legs, running her finger across my sex.

'And I'd say you were.' She licked her finger and turned away.

I watched her shrug off her leather coat revealing the leather waistcoast tight against her body; she wore leather knickers too which outlined her gently curved figure, the heavy boots went up to her knees and her thighs were bare. She began rummaging through the drawers of my desk pulling out objects seemingly at random: a pair of nipple clamps, a gag, a dildo, a butt plug...

Why was there always a butt plug in my dreams ?

Annabelle held it up.

'Not exactly standard issue for a Cambridge professor.'

I looked at her over my gag. My vision was clearing and my breasts and nipples only throbbing now.

Perhaps I was regaining some control over this dream.

'Ah, this is more like it.' Annabelle held up a bullwhip. 'Quite the Indiana Jones aren't we, Professor Frost ?'

I watched her uncoil it, currents of fear and excitement flowing through me.

Annabelle was right. I did enjoy this sort of stuff; more than enjoyed, I was clearly addicted to it. I loved being in bondage even, now, fairly extreme positions; over the last three years I had become increasingly submissive, in my personal life at least, and I had become more masochistic; this latter journey had been the hardest; I could take the discomfort and cramps of prolonged bondage, endure and enjoy the gentle torment of prolonged nipple torture, breast bondage and tight corsets; the constant itch of the woolen dress Mark liked me to wear; I'd managed to work my way up from spanking to caning, I'd taken the crop occasionally but still wished I could take more pain.

Annabelle flicked her wrist making the tip of the whip snap.

I shook my head but couldn't make myself speak. It wasn't the gag, my throat was suddenly frozen but, more than that, I knew I wanted her to use the whip on me; to test myself.

I shuddered...

Annabelle raised her arm...

...and the whip struck across my naked back.

The pain was intense, unbearable, I screamed into my gag, bucking on the whipping frame, my body arching, straining for all I was worth against the unyielding brass cuffs.

I opened my eyes.

I was lying next to Mark, still cuffed and gagged.

The pain of the whip's kiss burned across my back.

My breasts and nipples were throbbing.

No !

I didn't want to wake up, I wanted more, more punishment from Annabelle, more bondage, more humiliation, more pain...

I closed my eyes and slipped back into sleep.

I was once again hanging from the whipping frame by my wrists and ankles and breasts, someone was pulling my head back by my hair and holding something pungent under my nose; smelling salts; relieved to be back, I inhaled deeply taking the acrid scent down into my lungs; I coughed and tried not to retch around my gag.

'You don't get out of it that easily.'

My head was released and I looked at Annabelle though a mist of tears.

'I think you can take a few more, don't you ?'

I nodded.

I was prepared for the next one, another streak of agony across my back; I bit down onto my gag and tensed my body as the pain spread then, slowly dissipated.

She delivered four more, four more jolts of pain making a half dozen, six of the best, stripes of agony across my helpless body. I was begging by the final one, begging her to stop, sobbing, pleading through my gag for release.

'Bleeeasshh !' I shook my head my vision completely blurred with tears.

'Poor Sally.' Annabelle touched my cheek.

I hung in my bonds, whimpering gently.

'Get her down.'

Fiona unbolted the breast press from the frame and Zainab released my ankles then the two of them unclipped the shackles from the top of the frame and lowered me down. The pain in my breasts was intense and my nipples burned like the stripes across my back.

Even so, I couldn't help but enjoy a momentary thrill at the achievement.

I have no idea why I've become such a submissive slut.

Almost as if I was being rewarded for my endurance, Zainab and Fiona had become Mirkadian handmaidens, their young bodies strapped into corsets, little bustiers lifting their breasts, nipples exposed, sexes bare, necks collared, both wore toe boots.

They both curtseyed to me then they began to bind me again. It was rather like being back in the vilisqaz shop in Mirkada, the hands of other women on my body, dressing me, handling me. They began with a corset, leather and brass, strapped tight.

Nineteen inches.

I could barely breathe.

Then they locked the chain between my manacled wrists to my clit ring and used a strap to pull my elbows behind me, something which made my breasts strain against the press confining them generating fresh bolts of agony as well as stretching my poor clit.

'Excellent.' Annabelle ran the tips of her fingernails over the tingling flesh of my breasts and then down my impossibly tiny waist.

One hand disappeared between my legs again.

'You're still wet.' She sucked the tip of her finger again. 'Ready for the next part of your punishment ?'

I took a deep breath around my gag and nodded.

This was a dream, I could take anything Annabelle or my own subconscious threw at me.

Perhaps I might even get to experience lesbian sex.

'You know you want it.' Annabelle teased as she lead me by my right nipple ring over to what had once been a fire screen but was clearly now some steampunk instrument of bondage or torture judging my the brass fittings and chains attached. She turned it through ninety degrees and I felt the heat of the coals against my bare legs and lower belly.

I hadn't recalled the fire being lit but it certainly was now and whoever had lit is had left two pokers lying in the coals.

I thought this strange but was then distracted as Zainab and Fiona pulled me forwards to straddle what had become a wood and brass punishment horse, locking my ankles to chains on either side of it before engaging the mechanism. Using a set of bellows they lifted the narrow leather covered saddle between my legs where it pressed against my sex and then lifted me onto the very tips of my toes before my feet left the floor entirely and I was balanced astride a wooden bar resting firmly on my sex.

'Lucky girl.' Annabelle regarded me as she unbuttoned the top of her leather waistcoat exposing more creamy cleavage, flushed with more than the heat of the fire.

I wouldn't go quite that far but it was better than being hung up by my breasts.

Annabelle lowered her steampunk goggles so they covered her eyes and then pulled on a pair of heavy leather gloves. I watched her bend down and grasp the two irons in the fire.

Once again, I had a feeling I might know where this was going.

'Are you looking at my arse, Professor Frost ?' Annabelle bent slightly further, deliberately pushing out her full rounded bottom, as she raked the fire with the two irons for a few moments before standing and turning towards me.

I felt the heat of the fire against my thighs and belly.

'You were, weren't you ?'

I could hardly deny I'd been looking at her and I could feel myself blushing; or perhaps it wasn't just the heat of the fire.

I might flirt with the vice chancellor but I'd never do it with a student.

Well, not outside a dream.

Annabelle brandished the glowing pokers, holding their tips up between us. They weren't pokers, they are brands.

I felt myself begin to sweat. I could feel their heat on my face.

'S and M !' Annabelle said.

They were, the letters S and M in red heat.

'I though these were appropriate.' Annabelle smiled. 'S for Sally, S for Slave, S for Slut.' Her smile broadened. 'M for Masochist or Mark's. Perhaps MS for Mark's Slave or just S and M.' She held the glowing tips nearer my face. 'I thought about where to brand you. You told me that thieves and adulterers were branded on the face. I thought that was a little extreme so I thought I might do one on each breast.' She lowered the tips. 'But then I decided one on each thigh. Just above your stocking tops and well below the hem of those ridiculously short skirts you like to wear.' She grinned smugly. 'Everyone will know...'

Annabelle pushed the tips of the brands back in the fire. 'And while they're getting up to temperature, let's see what we can do to get you going, as if you were't already on heat.'

She stood in front of me with her back to the fire and reached up with her leather gloved hands to hold the sides of my face then she pushed herself up onto tiptoe and kissed me full on the lips around the gag. The pressure of her body and breasts against my crushed breasts and clamped nipples should have been unbearable but I barely flinched, barely registered the pain; I simply returned the kiss, wishing I could use my tongue, as my resolve melted away in the ferocity of her assault.

When she pulled away I leant forward, following her, suddenly bereft of the contact between us.

If I wasn't gagged, I would have begged.

'That's pretty good, Professor.' Annabelle smile, blue eyes huge and alluring as she held my lips just out of reach of hers. 'You're learning.'

'Mistress.' Fiona interrupted us.

I'd completely forgotten she and Zainab were there.

I think Annabelle had too.

'It's time.' Zainab added.

Annabelle made a sad face. 'Maybe later, Professor.'

Fiona lowered my feet to the floor and then Zainab bent me over and pushed the butt plug inside me. I didn't argue, I couldn't.

Dirty anal slut that I am.

I hoped I get a dildo too but I didn't.

My ankles were freed and I was lead out of the office by Zainab in a leash clipped to one of my nipple rings, Fiona and Annabelle ensuring I kept up with switches that looked rather like the ones Kirsty had been whipped through the streets with when she was punished for her behaviour in Mirkada. In fact, I couldn't help thinking the whole scene was rather like her punishment and, when we emerged onto the quad there was a crowd there to meet us.

It was clear they were assembled to see me punished and, as I was lead through them, they jeered and booed and called me a slut and a whore.

Then one of them threw something that hit me on the side of the face; something else hit my right breast and exploded over my chest and neck. They were throwing clumps of mud at me, pelting me with filth; another handful hit my shoulder and sprayed up into my face, more hit my buttocks even as Annabelle and Fiona struck them with their canes.

The crowd seemed to grow as we moved through them.

They called me a doxy, a vulgar slattern, a dirty trollop even as they pelted me with filth.

At least I was still in Cambridge.

Then I saw it, the frame, a little like the pillory Kirsty had been locked in during her punishment though this one was more medieval, wood and brass bindings and there was tinder around it.

'Burn her !' Someone shouted. 'Burn the filthy witch !'

I started to struggle but I was helpless and the heels of my shoes dug into the soft earth of the lawn; hands grasped my body and propelled me along even as my tormentors continued to whip me; Zainab jerked at the leash on my nipple and I was dragged to the pyre.

'Nnnnnnnnngggggggg.' I screamed onto my gag and struggled violently as I was lifted into the pillory and it was locked around my neck; my legs were kicked apart and the stocks locked around my ankles. Helpless my body was pulled forward and the breast press locked to the frame.

A few of the crowd were holding flaming torches.

I really hadn't noticed the pitchforks before !

Annabelle looked up at me. She was holding a torch.

'Such a shame...' She shook her head and hurled the burning brand onto the pyre.

The rest of the crowd followed

I struggled as the flames caught and, felt their heat; the acrid smoke of the wood burned my eyes and filled my throat.

'NNNNNNNGGGGGGG !'

'Sally !'

Mark was there suddenly, dressed in Mirkadan robes looking like one of their ancient city guards. He drew his scimitar and shoved his way through the crowd which parted in fear.

He leapt up onto the burning pyre and with a single sweep of his weapon cut the padlock from the pillory and tore it open, wrenching me free and sweeping me into his arms.

'Sally.' He looked down at me for a moment, tenderly, his blue eyes burning with passion and love; Lawrence of Arabia sprung to mind.

Then he leapt down into the crowd.

This was an unexpected turn in the dream but not unwelcome. The was heroine being rescued by the hero though I wondered why my subconscious hadn't summoned up Lucy Lawless dressed as Xena, Warrior Princess.

Either way, it was better than being burned alive though, for a moment I was sorry I'd missed out on the branding...

For some reason Mark suddenly passed me to someone else.

A large man with strong arms and broad shoulders who looked at me rather quizzically took me in his arms and began to climb down a ladder.

Away from the flames, it was suddenly very cold and it seemed to have started raining.

I shivered as we reached the ground trying to work out what was happening around me.

It was dark, night, punctuated by flashes of blue light.

I was coughing around my gag.

The man holding me looked down, concerned, smiling reassuringly while he lowered me to my feet then steadied me as I stood barefoot on our front lawn naked and gagged with my wrists cuffed behind my back and my ankles chained together.

I looked up to see Mark following me down the ladder in his dressing gown.

I could see and hear flames just like in my dream.

There was a crowd too, our neighbours, looking at me as I stood naked and shivering in chains.

A blanket was, thankfully, put around my shoulders and Mark held me in his arms as we stood and watched our burning house.

The fireman who had carried me down the ladder returned with a set of bolt cutters and and the same rather surprised expression. He freed my wrists and ankles and Mark removed my gag.

There wasn't much we could do but stand with our neighbours and watch as the flames gutted our house and consumed everything we owned; well, nearly everything, Mark had at least had the presence of mind to throw our cases out of the window while he waited for the fireman to carry me to safety.

For a moment, I hoped this was part of the dream but it all felt very real.

I guessed the neighbours had probably noticed the state in which I was rescued.

That was probably going to take some explaining.

I shifted my position slightly enjoying the way the two big dildos inside me moved and the pull of my nipple pendants as they swung gently. I was kneeling, Mirkadian style, on a cushion in the bar of the Todos Mundo, dressed and thus, of course, tightly restrained in my old red vilisqaz; arms sheathed tightly behind me, breasts jutting in their conical array of straps, waist cinched and legs decorated with a dozen straps ending in toe boots. I was waiting patiently for Mark who was, I felt sure, sitting at the bar watching me, in no hurry to return with the cocktails he had promised. I couldn't help smiling at the memory of the display I had put on for him (and the other patrons of the bar) last time we were here.

There would be no repeat; the hotel had posted some very obvious signs requesting that patrons not conduct with themselves in a 'sexual manner' in the bar or other public areas. Smart phones had to be left in rooms or handed to the concierge when drinking or dining in public areas.

Nobody was going to be filming me this time. I'd been rather embarrassed about the possibility of my image turning up somewhere after returning from Mirkada for the first time ; anxious that I might be identified wearing my then new red vilisqaz, the one I wore now, but had, to be fair actively played for the camera on my second visit here when I'd performed unashamedly for the crowd dressed in my ridiculously kinky black patent leather vilisqaz a year later.

Sadly, I would never see my black vilisqaz again or, actually, quite a number of our treasured possessions. The old adage about being left with only the clothes you are standing in pretty much held true: in my case my birthday suit and my collar. I hadn't noticed the collar until Mark and I had been taken to hospital for assessment; at least I hadn't been harnessed and plugged or, worse still, presented to the emergency room with the dildo locked inside me by my piercings. Nevertheless my capacity for humiliation had, for the moment been fully sated; like the fireman, the doctor who examined me had raised and eyebrow but not commented on my obvious sadomasochistic leanings.

We did, of course have the suitcases which Mark had tossed out of the bedroom window, which in his case left him with a decent suit, some shoes and a few changes of underclothes. Unfortunately, in my case, this had translated into a very brief sundress; a selection of lingerie, mostly vintage though some more modern and some in shiny pink rubber; several pairs of stockings; some killer heels (in shocking to pink to match the rubber underwear) and my old vilisqaz complete with toe boots. Between us we'd also packed a few sex toys.

We had briefly thought about canceling the trip to sort things out but when we returned to the house we found almost nothing left, apparently our collections of manuscripts and books and the half timbered wall were enough to ensure the fire did a thorough job. We thus stood disconsolately in the rain for all of two minutes with me shivering in the sundress that exposed more of my body than it covered and a pair of stilettos that sunk way too easily into the lawn before climbing back into the taxi dropping our keys (for what it was worth) in the post to our insurance company and heading for the airport.

Being in this situation did give me the opportunity to shop at the airport. Although, I had suddenly found myself rather dependent on my husband; he'd managed to save his wallet and phone but mine were downstairs and now lost forever. Still, it felt good to be spending his money at the airport even if it did give him final veto on the plunge of my neckline, brevity of my skirt and height of my heels. (You can probably guess in which direction these were applied). He also bought me a rather sexy and very transparent nightdress.

If he carried on in this vein, I'd be calling him 'Daddy' rather than 'Master'.

However, I suspected the spending spree was now over and that his credit cards would take a while to recover; it was quite possibly another reason why he was keeping me restrained, leashed and bridled as much as he could during our stay at the Todos Mundo. When he did finally remove my bridle and wiped the saliva from my chin, I was a little surprised to find I was one of some two dozen women in vilisqaz. In fact, the tableau of a man sitting at a table with a vilisqaz clad woman kneeling beside him was, it appeared, the norm for the Todos Mundo these days. As my gaze swept over the other women taking in their faces and bodies, doing that thing that women do almost subconsciously, ranking ourselves, I was somewhat disappointed to discover I was probably the oldest among them by a good ten years. I consoled myself with the fact that my posture was better than most of them and, if I was really feeling competitive, my breasts were easily the biggest in the room even allowing for the fact that at least three of the women I could see, had clearly had implants.

I might have my feminist leanings but I'm a pragmatic feminist. A woman needs to use all the weapons in her arsenal.

From the way number of the men and quite a few of the women, those at least that weren't still bridled, were openly appraising at me I gathered I had made a reasonable entrance despite my old and clearly well worn vilisqaz and, when we all turned to see the next contestant on the runway, I knew that I looked far better than her when I walked in the toe boots and bondage that made up the delightful Mirkadan garment. She was quite a pretty girl, as far as I could see, perhaps in her late twenties but she hadn't quite mastered the boots of her vilisqaz and, by the time I and my sisters in bondage had watched her kneel somewhat awkwardly our menfolk had clearly lost interest.

Mark lifted my glass and I leant forward, my dildos and nipple weights doing their stuff beautifully as I did so. I took a sip, enjoying the sweet taste of the cool liquid on my tongue and then the warmth in my throat as it slid down into my belly. Despite all our troubles we were here and I was on public display in bondage in the Todos Mundo. Mark might have needed to leave a couple of straps around my waist slightly looser than before but I was looking good as I sat back on my heels. Perhaps I wasn't entirely sated with humiliation but then this wasn't humiliation.

It was at that moment I caught the eye of pretty blonde, Scandinavian, I was sure of it, white-blonde hair and a honey tan; about my age too, perhaps a little older. I hadn't noticed her because she had been kneeling behind a couple who had just left, a gay couple: slim redhead in bondage, busty brunette holding her leash. The blonde smiled at me, her gaze returning to me after clearly following the two girls from the room; her smile was knowing, confident, deliciously cool. Her vilisqaz was in soft blue, strappy and clearly well worn in like mine, possibly more so; the blonde had small breasts but the bustier of her vilisqaz displayed them invitingly, the nipples large and dark brown; she was clearly a woman who, even with today's health scares enjoyed the sun on her body, all of her body. A ball gag, also in pale blue, hung around her neck but there was no evidence of a blindfold; her arms were drawn behind her back in, from what I could make out, something approaching a reverse prayer tie that pushed her little breasts enticingly forward. Intriguingly, she wore a little leather skirt or, perhaps, apron might be a better term though underneath I was sure I could see piercings like my own; clearly an aficionado then. Like me she had straps around her thighs and, from what I could see, knee high boots.

However, it was her eyes that drew my attention, cool and blue and appraising me with as much interest as I was appraising her.

I started to blush and saw her smile, her interest bringing to mind my dreams of late.

I looked away hastily, blushing more and asked Mark for a sip of my drink to hide my embarrassment.

When I dared to look back she was leaving, standing elegantly with her gag now back in place; she was tall and slim and walked on toe boots as if she had always done it. As she left, following the tall broad shouldered man accompanying her I tried not to watch but she was totally irresistible; she passed close to us and though I tried to keep my head down, I couldn't stop myself looking up at her deliciously athletic body, taking in her long muscular legs and tight buttocks, completely exposed though, disappointingly, not decorated with red stripes. She paused in front of me for a moment, an unseen, undetectable agreement with her 'handler'; that was the only term I could think to describe him; though she was in bondage, she was utterly in control. She nodded to me and winked and then was gone, her toes planting themselves in a perfect line like a catwalk model, hips and buttocks swaying, heels lifting in the way one had to when walking in toe boots; shoulders and head erect.

I suddenly realised how much I was staring, I'm sure I was drooling even without my gag. My pussy was soaking and my nipples were jutting out, their stiffness unmissable, beacons displaying my lust. Flustered I looked up at Mark desperately trying to think of a way to hide my embarrassment.

Fortunately, he was watching her too, equally open mouthed.

'Eyes front, Mr Frost.' I couldn't resist it.

He looked down at me blushing slightly, the dominant master that I had been worshipping letting slip his human side. 'You told me window shopping was allowed.'

'Just don't let me catch you offering to rub sun cream on her tits.'

'I'm not sure she needs it.' He held out my drink and I took a grateful sip. 'Anyway, I prefer something that's a bit more of a handful. Fancy a walk ?'

I thought of our last tryst, in the darkness along the banks of the Cam and our need to be concealed in the bushes, of me on my knees and Mark's cock inside me. I'm sure we weren't the only couple doing it in the bushes that night but were probably the only members of the university faculty and probably the only ones enjoying bondage.

'Just don't drag me into a doorway and take me from behind again.'

'I don't recall you objecting last night.' He swallowed the last of the cocktail. 'Anyway, you told me you enjoyed a bit of humiliation.'

'That was before half the neighbourhood saw me naked and found out how what I wear for bed.'

He grinned. 'Yes, let's hope nobody had their smart phones out for that little performance.'

'I'm sure they'll all have forgotten by the Chirstmas dinner dance.' It was the Easter vacation and wasn't at all sure they would forget but I was hoping they might.

'Come on, we're on holiday.' He picked up my bridle. 'And if I can't parade my wife naked and in bondage on holiday where can I do it ? Open up.'

'Yes, Sir.' I opened my mouth to take the gag.

'Want me to leave the blindfold off ?'

I nodded.

There's no point in being on holiday and spending the whole time blindfolded; besides, if I was lucky I might see the blonde again.

We stepped out onto the streets of the capital.

It was a lot warmer than Cambridge in April.

Even arriving we'd seen couples in Mirkadan dress and at this time of night there were several dozen strolling through Lus Plazieras, mixing with the locals and tourists who chose not to enjoy the Mirkadan approach to fashion and female restraint. Things really had changed in the last three years since we had first come here. On our first visit Mirkada had been a remote city an uncomfortable six hour bus ride away where the guidebook warned of unusual local practices particularly around female dress codes and behavior. I had visited historical sites across the world, I was used to covering my head, my shoulders or my legs and sometimes all three but stripping to my underwear and having my arms bound had been a new experience - in public anyway. An experience which I'd soon found myself enjoying; and one I had happily relived after our return home. In fact, once back in the UK I had found myself wearing my vilisqaz with increasing frequency and not just for the pleasure of my husband who was more than happy to help me dress in it. It had taken a couple of months before we'd both admitted openly that we were clearly both obviously kinky and a lot more into bondage than we'd previously thought. The rest, as they say, is history, which I mean in all senses of the word, including our internet history that faithfully recorded our purchases of an increasingly extreme collection of bondage gear.

And now, thanks to kinky visitors like us, and probably some rather naughty scenes on social media, the influence of Mirkada was spreading.

I soon spotted the lesbian couple from the bar, perhaps, I thought they were just friends, practicing for a day out in Mirkada but then I saw the brunette slip a hand into the redheads lush hair and pull her gagged lips to her own. The two held a long and passionate kiss despite the fact that one of them was helpless and gagged. I saw the brunette's hands slip into the straps over her lover's buttocks and, using them to draw the helpless redhead more firmly against her, whisper something in her ear. The helpless girl nuzzled her lover and then I saw her stiffen, clearly subject now to the attentions of a vibrator pressed strategically against her sex or even inside it or, perhaps, tantalisingly near it. The couple walked on, the brunette using the leash to keep the squirming redhead as close to her body as she was able.

The Todos Mundo had once been the only place from which one could book a trip to Mirkada but now there were several tour operators all offering a smooth ride in an air-conditioned bus along the new highway; there was even a company offering the trip by helicopter with a notice that the airport in Mirkada was under construction. All the stalls and shops showed pictures of the city clearly emphasising the 'cultural' opportunities usually in the form of women in various forms of undress and bondage from the visitors' custom of classic lingerie to the full vilisqaz. Between the tour operators many of the shops claimed to sell 'genuine' vilisqaz; there were a number on display, mostly strapped to mannequins posed in garishly lit windows so that the effect was rather like the red light district of Amsterdam. Many of the shops and stalls sold restraints too, ranging from handcuffs to full single sleeves and even heavy manacles often advertised as 'genuine souvenirs'; some strayed beyond this pretense, adverting and selling 'high quality S&M paraphernalia'. Despite the obvious sexual overtones, there was no overt evidence of prostitution but I suspected it lurked in the darker alleyways off the main pedestrian drag. There was an 'S&M Club' too advertising 'B&D Dancing' and 'Slav-Play'. Mark lead me past this and the harness clad promotors touting their business in the doorway to one of the Lus Plazieras' squares where street performers vied for attention from the crowd.

Again there were couples with one partner in bondage and usually in a limited state of dress. I thought I even spotted a couple who might be genuine Mirkadans: sandy haired, him in the city's traditional robes and her in an immaculate vilisqaz complete with gag and blindfold. I suspected, if they were citizens, he would be describing the scene to her.

We listened to a street band and then drifted on to watch a juggler until we were distracted by some stilt walking dancers. There was even an escapologist and, as we stood watching her being locked in chains wearing little more than a skimpy bikini I couldn't help wondering if she would escape easily from a vilisqaz or why indeed she might want to escape.

Dotted around the square were the usual living statues that seem to be found in every capital city, their flesh and clothes sprayed gold or silver; one, not surprisingly was a woman in fully Mirkadan dress, gold skin and gold vilisqaz mounted on a small plinth, arms strapped to her sides, legs straight and strapped tightly together, she was bridled and a rope stretched from the top of this up to where it was apparently wrapped around a tree branch that appeared suspended in space though clearly the rope was stiff and supporting the branch; however, it did give the impression that she was forced into an upright posture; made difficult by her blindfold and the toe boots that were part of her vilisqaz. Other than a little titillation, I wondered what this achieved, there were over two dozen real women in vilisqaz; living, walking, animated women; but then I noticed that the 'statue' had pierced nipples with cords tied to the nipple rings also tied to the branch above her head. I was interested to note that these were rather tighter than they needed to be and the woman's little gold breasts were thus pulled up by the nipple. Also, the tips of her toe boots were balanced, not on the plinth but on a ball just a little above the plinth; no woman could possibly balance like this and, when I looked carefully I could see a steel pole running up between the girl's legs to which she was tightly strapped. I couldn't help wondering if it went all the way. Looking more closely it was clear she suffered more torments, as well as her bondage and that her mouth was clearly stuffed to capacity with a huge gag that could only be a form of phallic plug. A sign clipped to her upturned nipples and swaying as she wobbled slightly proclaimed 'Hourishina, the peasant girl, plaything of Jazirina the Cruel. Pay to make her dance...'

There was a wide metal post up to about her waist height beside her and when I looked carefully I could see a wire running from it to the foot of the girl's plinth. On the top of the pole was a bucket and, as Mark and I stood examining the helpless girl a man walked past and tossed a coin into it. A moment later the girl started to writhe on her pedestal, the base beginning to tilt as if she was wobbling on the ball; then, suddenly there was a slap as a leather thong whipped out of the pillar and struck the girl quite forcefully on the buttocks; she gave a cry through her huge gag and wobbled further for another thirty seconds until her movements ceased and she was left, upright and still again, the only evidence of her exertions being her rapid breathing and the swinging of the sign hanging from her nipples.

It was tawdry titillation but I was curious, mainly because of the reference to Jazirina the Cruel and her much tormented peasant girl. I thought rather wistfully about my now lost translation; in exchange I might now have a name for the queen's unfortunate victim. Whether Jazirina had inflicted such a torment as this on the helpless girl I didn't know, I suspected the current set up was one designed to appeal to the S&M enthusiasts passing through the city on their way to Mirkada.

We were about to turn away when I spotted the blonde from the bar, tall and slender and achingly gorgeous. As she walked past us looking totally in control and utterly submissive at the same time, her partner tossed a coin into the bucket beside the Hourishini tribute act and the helpless girl danced for us again under the whip.

Gord would, no doubt, have been quite jealous.

As the girl stilled, Mark turned and lead me away. At another time, he might have activated my vibrator but sadly, though I was fully plugged, the remote to the device had been lost in the fire. I did, however, have the pleasure of watching the blonde's deliciously tight bottom and ridiculously long legs swaying in front of me as we walked back to the hotel and couldn't help trying to imitate her gait which did all kinds of things to the dildos filling my lower orifices. By the time Mark and I were in the lift I was pressing myself rather urgently against him and making it very clear that I wanted a good fucking before he even considered untying me.

In the bedroom, it was clear he'd understood me and even as we entered he snapped his fingers, pointing to the floor in an unmistakable command for me to get on my knees. My dominant master had clearly returned and I obeyed, of course, what else would a self respecting slave girl do but spread her knees, thrust her tits out and hope her master was feeling as randy as her ?

Mark was clearly feeling randy and as I knelt pouting and wondering if the blonde was kneeling in the same position a couple of rooms away, he pulled off his shirt and picked up our riding crop. My pulse quickened and I felt my chest beginning to flush, my nipples, still supporting the nipple pendants in front of my new piercings, jutting out like the proverbial bullets.

'I saw you.' Mark stood in front of me with the crop.

I looked up in surprise, my eyes wide and my mouth a perfect 'O' around the huge ball gag.

'That blonde.' Was he excited by the idea of me looking at another woman ?

I raised an eyebrow, making sure I drooled at that moment, the bead of saliva running over my very red lips and down onto my chin.

I knew it would work. I saw his cock twitch. Even after all this time and all our kinky games, Mark loves to see me drool.

'Don't try to distract me.'

Maybe it hadn't worked.

'You've become a real slut. Flaunting yourself like that blonde !'

Perhaps, he didn't think I was a lesbian, just a fashion victim.

I love it when he talks dirty.

'Though it does look very sexy.' He grinned. 'And I expect you to continue to walk like that.'

I smiled up at him and drooled again; then he brought the whip down on my breasts.

'Uuuggghhhh !' My nipple pendants danced

'So is this Hourishini that girl you read about in the text ?'

I nodded and he whipped my breasts again.

'Unnnnggg.'

'I'm guessing you'd like to be there in the square like that living statue.'

I shook my head.

'Liar !'

I shook my head again. I was thinking of our neighbours.

He whipped me twice more for good measure.

Fuck !

'Bed !' He really was becoming deliciously dominant.

I crawled to the bed and climbed up onto it lying back on my bound arms and spreading my legs wide. All he had to do was undo my crotch strap and remove the dildo.

'You're not getting off that easily.'

Easily ? What did he mean ? I'd just lost almost all my possessions in a fire and been paraded naked and in bondage in front of the the neighbours. I didn't call that getting off likely.

On the other hand my breasts were throbbing deliciously and a similar feeling in my bottom would be nice.

I wondered if I should tell him about my lesbian dreams. That would probably earn me a few extra strokes.

I rolled onto my belly so he could whip my bottom.

Six more strokes.

I deserved to be punished for all those sordid lesbian fantasies my mind was clearly toying with.

It was wonderful.

With his slave suitably chastened, Master undid my crotch strap and pulled my bottom up so I was kneeling with my head down then he teased my pussy with the tip of his cock until I was screaming into my gag for him to fuck me. From my point of view, the teasing went on way too long but finally he did give me what I wanted, sliding inside me and banging his belly against my butt plug so that it was like being fucked in harmony.

Better than wonderful.

I came before I could do anything about it and then, because I was going to be punished anyway I came again twice more until he shot his load inside me.

I spent the night in bondage. A punishment for my unsanctioned climaxes and then, after another bout of sex - we were on holiday after all - Mark lead me down to breakfast by a leash clipped to my nipple rings; I was still in my vilisqaz, unwashed and unshowered. I could still feel him cum sliding down my thighs.

'Dirty girl.' He had called me.

I had given him one of my stares but more recently his increasing dominance had led him to develop a rather irritating ability to shrug off my attempts to top from the bottom.

There were times when this was welcome and others when it was not. It was deliciously frustrating and not a little humiliating.

The dining room now had a Mirkadan section so I knelt in front of him: a grimy, used slut; my hair disheveled and smelling of sex.

Needless to say the blonde came in about ten minutes after we had started looking just as perfect as she had the night before. Mark had just spilled some milk on my breasts and it was dripping off my right nipple.

'Goot morning.' The blonde stopped beside me and smiled down.

That accent again, similar to Nicky's though Swedish I thought this time. As well as the accent, there was her voice: rich and deep and as intoxicating as her body.

'Good morning.' Mark smiled up at her then looked at me with a wry smile. 'You may speak, darling.'

If looks could kill !

I blushed intensely, feeling my cheeks burn.

'Good morning.' I tried, a little unsuccessfully, to keep my voice steady. 'I'm Sally.'

'And I'm Mark, Sally's husband.' He said it rather quickly.

Was he jealous ?

I blushed even more.

'I am very pleased to meet you both.' The blonde turned to me giving me a full blast of those intense blue eyes and I felt rather like a swooning schoolgirl. 'I was observing you out in the square last night.' She smiled. 'You are most elegant in your vilisqaz.'

'Thank you.' I looked down slightly under the intensity of her gaze trying not to look too closely at her soft pink shaded lips and then realised I was looking at her breasts. Her nipples were decorated with sapphire teardrops and behind these, each nipple was pierced with a tiny silver ring.

'I assume you are here to witness the governor's inauguration ?'

'Yes.' I smiled. 'We're traveling to Mirkada this morning.'

'Then I hope to see you there.' She smiled and nodded, her nipple pendants swinging and sparkling in the lights. Her gaze seemed to linger on me rather longer than I would have expected and I was sure she was looking at my breasts; perhaps my only assets that outshone her, not that I'm competitive in such things; however, when I followed her gaze down, I noticed the red stripes Mark had decorated my chest with the previous night, clearly visible between the straps of my vilisqaz; I guessed I probably had similar marks across my bottom and that these were rather more obvious.

I was, the human equivalent of Tracey Emin's unmade bed, disheveled and stinking of sex, still wearing last night's outfit and displaying to the world what a submissive slut I was.

My face went from crimson to scarlet and my pussy flooded. I didn't dare look to see if I was drooling on the cushion.

I was still blushing as she turned away and I tried very hard not to look at her bottom or her very long legs but I did and, when she looked back, I know she saw me looking.

I distracted myself by glaring at Mark.

'You...'

'Sir !' He interjected, looking at me sternly.

'You, Sir !.' I emphasised the word, but not in a good way. 'Are getting a little carried away with this master-slave thing !'

He looked at me, his eyes taking in my body, my breasts, my gold nipple pendants, my bondage. 'And you, Slave, are going to be traveling to Mirkada with the baggage.'

Mark finally released me back in the room. I'd been in the single sleeve for over twelve hours which was a personal record. I could barely move my arms after he freed them and he had to massage them back to life. Then the bastard made me crawl to the shower and wash myself in front of him, kneeling; he even made me play with myself, something I really don't do very often these days on account of being someone else's sex toy, getting so much sex so I rarely need to and spending much of my 'free' time in bondage so that I can't.

Being able to access my voracious little clit was thus something of an unfamiliar pleasure, as was the experience of doing it in front of someone else; but if we can't enjoy new experiences on holiday, where can we enjoy them ?

Unfamiliar as such a performance might be, I was the big breasted brunette from the Todos Mundo who'd given the punters a spectacular floor show; I'm not exaggerating, I've seen the video on You Tube and it got over a million likes before it was taken down. A little private dancing for my dominant husband was not going to be a problem.

I closed my eyes and started with my breasts, rubbing shower gel over them and making sure I washed my nipples to Master's exacting standards, then let my hands slide down my body across my belly to my thighs and then round to my buttocks as I leaned forward, rising slightly off my haunches to ensure Mark had a really good view of my large breasts hanging beneath my body with the water running over my skin and dripping off my nipples. I then went back up to my breasts and across my shoulders hugging myself before letting my hand run down to my nipple rings and playing with them.

My piercings were also unfamiliar territory to my own fingers; my nipple rings were obviously new but I'd had my clit and labia done about eight months before on our previous visit to Mirkada. However, that had been the start of my descent from kinky bondage girl to submissive sex slave and while I had, of course touched myself and, on more than one occasion wanked myself to orgasm with my new sexy accessories, it suddenly felt as if I was doing it legitimately for the first time, as if the other occasions had been fleeting moments of disobedience.

I thus had a lot of catching up to do.

Not surprisingly, I thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of teasing my nipples with their new piercings and given time could almost certainly have climaxed this way but I made myself leave them alone and started to soap myself between the legs. Playing down here was a little more familiar but for Mark's benefit I came right up onto my knees and pushed my hips forward, arching back so, short of lying back and spreading my thighs, he had the best view possible as I flicked the ring in my clit back and forwards trying not to climax too quickly then ran my fingers along my labia teasing myself with the six little rings that he uses to lock my sex.

I could easily have cum at that moment but forewent that pleasure, leaving myself hanging and panting rather hard, for few moments at least, to wash my hair. I know men enjoy watching women play with their hair, running their fingers through it and I hadn't spent eight months growing it half way down my back for nothing. There were a few knots in it and I had a feeling that some of them were cum from the night before.

Slave loves to be used by Master.

Shit ! How could I think like that ?

I shampooed and conditioned gyrating and wiggling and then went back to my body, writhing as I touched myself before dropping back and sliding my fingers into my pussy as I worked my soap covered body into a complete lather.

I'd had my eyes shut for most of my performance but risked a look at this stage, giving him my best wanton sex slut impression hoping he might fuck me or better still put his cock in my mouth so I could suck him off and swallow his salty cum.

Fuck ! I really do need to get a grip.

He was ready to cum, standing over me with his drooling cock out playing with it as he watched me.

Then he came all over me.

Bastard ! I was going to have to wash my hair again.

I closed my eyes and continued to wank myself, climaxing for him while thinking about the blonde.

When I opened my eyes again, he was washing his cock in the sink so I lay there for a moment enjoying the warm afterglow before rinsing myself off by which time, Mark was standing there with a lovely big towel.

He dried me off which, if we hadn't had to leave for Mirkada might have lead to more sex.

When I was dry he strapped me back into my vilisqaz and I followed him meekly down to reception where he paid the bill before leading me out into the street.

After a night in the sleeve, my shoulders were already stiff but there wasn't much I could do about it at that stage; I was afterall gagged and restrained.

I soon discovered he hadn't been lying about riding with the baggage.

I wasn't bound and gagged in the boot - a fantasy we haven't yet enacted - but this car was fitted with a well adjacent to the rear seat equipped with various rings and straps so that a woman in vilisqaz could kneel Mirkadan style and still be securely belted up.

I thus knelt with the top of my bridle strapped to the roof of the car and four straps running from my vilisqaz, two at the front and two at the back fanning out to the corners of the well and holding my upper body steady; a strap from the bottom of my corset was connected to the floor and there were straps over my ankles and thighs also holding me down.

The bag was placed beside me, Mark fitted my blindfold and I spent the next four hours kneeling in silence enjoying the swing of my nipple pendants and the thrust of my plugs while enduring the driver's dreadful taste in popular music.

After an hour, the music became a torture; I'd rather have been whipped for the entire journey.

At least Mark had been reunited with his phone and could use it to keep me amused if my attention ever wandered.

Unfortunately, my attention did keep wandering and I spent rather more time than I should have thinking about the blonde, especially when my vibrator was working.

When I climbed out of the car four hours later I was even more stiff but also excited and not just by the prospect of seeing Mirkada again, assuming my dominant husband deigned to remove my blindfold.

I'm glad to say he did and, when I finally overcame the stabbing brightness of the midday sun, I was able to make out Taiarche and her youngest son, Briga. Taiarche was, of course restrained in a vilisqaz; tall and slim and elegant and as beautiful as ever with the dark eyes and lustrous dark hair of her middle eastern origin. Her vilisqaz was not unlike my own, though in black; parallel straps tightened round her body though they were thinner than the ones on mine and more in keeping with the briefer styles of vilisqaz I had observed on my last visit; on her slender form the multiple straps made tiny indentations in her flesh emphasising the exquisite tone of her body and, I knew, her submission to her husband. She wore toe boots too, of course, ankle high and concentric breast straps, her nipples exposed, rings glinting in the sun; her arms were restrained tightly behind her in a single sleeve. She kissed me, brushing her cheeks to each of mine even though I was still gagged. Briga did the same; meeting women in various states of undress and restraint was normal for him when at home in Mirkada.

'I see you are enjoying the full Mirkada experience.' Taiarche nodded to the car, with its specially adapted seat, a knowing tone in her voice.

Still gagged I nodded and looked towards Mark in the hope that he might do the gentlemanly thing and allow me to speak but he appeared already to be deep in conversation with Briga and I was thus forced to stand like a dribbling idiot while Taiarche conducted a rather one-sided conversation with me.

From the way she spoke, she was clearly used to this situation, asking me 'yes and no' type questions about my journey until the men finally realised what was happening and Mark came to my rescue.

'Thank you, darling.' I said rather pointedly as he pulled the large ball from my mouth and I tried not to dribble any more saliva onto my already wet breasts.

'Master.' He corrected pointedly drawing a slightly surprised glance from Taiarche followed by a knowing smile.

I might have responded less indulgently but Briga cut me off.

'Shall we proceed ?' He gestured towards the city, indicating to one of the servants he had brought with him to take our rather battered looking suitcases.

Mark took up my leash and we followed our hosts towards the gates.

A step behind Taiarche, I took a moment to watch the sway of her hips and the straightness of her back, reminding myself to bring my toes a little more to the centre line as I had seen the blonde do back in the capital. As we walked to the city gate, I was aware we were being watched; Taiarche was a woman who naturally commanded attention by virtue of her beauty and grace and now she was the governor elect's wife too. I had learnt to conduct myself in Mirkadan style by emulating her and, now I appeared to be part of her retinue, I didn't want any unfavourable comparisons.

As we passed one of the stalls selling restraints I took a brief glance at the mirror, checking my posture and my gait.

I smiled.

I looked good, my body upright, shoulders forced back, breasts thrust out, head up, my long hair now hanging to the small of my back, swaying like Taiarche's as I walked; my bottom was tight too, the crotch strap disappearing between my buttocks, my sessions in the gym were clearly paying off; my legs were nearly legs straight and the extra little swing as I brought my toes across to walk like a model helped me radiate confidence.

I imagined myself a permanent part of Taiarche's retinue, a confident, a handmaiden, a slave girl...

I shuddered despite the heat, remembering when Mark had first collared me, here, outside the city nearly three years ago.

It felt like coming home.

Briga lead us through the gate, the guards snapping to attention as he and his mother passed and when we emerged from the tunnel the throng in the market were already parted, held back by the guards to allow us free passage so that we passed between two crowds who cheered us, waving to the first lady of their city.

Taiarche nodded, smiling at 'her people' and Briga waved, feigning a slightly awkward manner under such scrutiny but I knew him from our previous visit and expected he was enjoying the attention as much as anyone.

We proceeded up the hill towards the city's main square, the crowds following us, not held back as they had been in the market but allowed to move freely with us. Mirkada had its crime but there was little and the people were gracious and friendly although I did recall that the last time I'd seen a procession through the streets here, it had involved a young journalist being whipped as a punishment for breaking the city's strict laws regarding the need for women to be restrained in public and foreign women requiring a leash. I remembered my dream and wondered how Kirsty had felt as she was subjected to that ordeal.

I shuddered again.

The main square was hung with banners and workmen were putting the finishing touches to a platform in front of the governor's residence. There were guards in the square, all armed and the crowds stopped on the threshold so that we passed alone across a startlingly empty square entering the magnificent building by a small side door.

Salaxis appeared almost immediately shaking Mark's hand kissing me on the cheeks.

'Would you mind, darling.' Taiarche spoke still in English, turning her back to Salaxis as one might when asking one's husband to unzip a gown. Salaxis undid the straps at his wife's elbows and wrists and then unzipped the single sleeve before unclipping the shoulder straps and sliding it off her arms. I watched her slightly enviously as she shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her arms. Since my arrival in the country my arms had barely been free of the single sleeve.

She stayed in the rest of her vilisqaz, tall and elegant on her toe boots.

Mark made no offer to release me.

'And how are you ?' The pleasantries completed, Salaxis looked concerned, we had emailed him about the fire. 'I was so sorry. It is a tragedy to lose many of the things one holds dear.'

'You are welcome to stay with us as long as you like.' Taiarche put her arm around my shoulders.

'Thank you.' Her sincerity brought tears to my eyes, reminding me again of what we had lost and, not a little about the manner of my rescue.

'Shall we take coffee ?' Salaxis asked. 'You have had a long journey.'

It was past lunchtime and I could hear my stomach growling. For the last few weeks I seemed to have been perpetually hungry. I recalled the incident with the milk. Unfortunately, I knew the Mirkadan's liked to dine in the cool of the evening and coffee and a pastry was all I was likely to get. Kneeling at breakfast having to be fed like the family pet usually means a girl doesn't get very much to eat, or drink for that matter; though this can have its advantage in terms of keeping in shape, besides having to pee in full vilisqaz is not easy.

'No time for that, husband.' Taiarche grinned, her lovely dark eyes flashing with excitement or, perhaps it was mischief. 'Sally and I have too much to do.'

And with that she picked up my leash and drew me into motion behind her. It was clear I wasn't about to get the use of my arms back. Strictly speaking, if this was Taiarche's home and I was her guest, she could have released me; in fact it would have been good Mirkadan hospitality to offer; however, I reasoned, it was also a public building. It was rather unusual to be lead by a woman; in Mirkada, it is usually men who lead their womenfolk though, the authorities seemed to tolerate the gay couples we had seen assuming they made some sort of attempt to adopt the local rules. I glanced briefly at Mark who simply winked as he watched Taiarche set off, me following obediently.

'I'm fascinated by your history, Sally.' She told me as we turned into a long gallery. 'You are obviously very interested in Jazirina the Cruel.'

'I think it was LeCrus, the French ambassador to her court was the one who was fascinated.' I'd forgotten I'd sent her a copy. 'He obviously left very detailed notes for my nineteenth century French historian.' I couldn't help smiling at the thought of getting this little bit of my work back. 'They both clearly enjoyed the city's traditions and LeCrus ensured his wife did too.'

The notes of this medieval French aristocrat, transcribed (and probably embellished) by my unnamed French historian contained details of having the servants strap his wife into bondage clearly showing the relish with which he'd engaged with his posting to Mirkada. I supposed, for her, it wasn't a lot more that the tight corsets and heavy gowns she might have worn in the French court. One of his fruitier comments suggested she had transferred her clothing to the bedroom with considerable enthusiasm. Although, of course, my training reminded me that any of this might have been the result of later interpretations. LeCrus clearly enjoyed bondage and the nineteenth century writer did too and presumably would have been aware of de Sade's work.

'I hope you will be able to finish it.'

'I might ask you to send me the file back and I will need to get another copy in the original French.'

'I'm sure there must be one in the library here.'

I might have lost half of my life and my dignity but, somehow, the safety of my translation provided me with some comfort.

After the long car ride, it felt good to be up on my feet despite the obvious difficulties of the toe boots; the cool dimness of the ancient building was a relief after the heat of the streets too. Furthermore, walking behind Taiarche gave me another opportunity to work on my deportment as well as a chance to see a bit more of the former palace.

We had visited the building as tourists in our first trip to Mirkada and I remembered the illicit thrill of being lead around in my underwear with my arms restrained tightly behind my back as they were now. We had only seen the public spaces then, of course, and the garden.

The governor's residence and former rulers' (including Jazirina's) palace was also the heart of Mirkada's government and I wondered if there were many places in the world where a stranger, albeit the guest of the new governor's wife, would be allowed such easy access to this sort of sensitive area; but then I suppose, it wasn't as if I could get up to very much in my current state and there weren't many places I could conceal a weapon.

We passed a number of civil servants, mostly male who nodded politely to my guide apparently unconcerned that her charge was dressed in little more than a red leather body harness, walking on toe boots and with her arms strapped tightly behind her back. This was, after all, the norm for Mirkada. The few women we passed were clad in vilisqaz but simply had their hands cuffed together by short chains in front of them, sometimes connected to a collar or waist belt. Their presence suggested that Mirkada was very slowly moving towards emancipation; their bonds confirmed my thoughts that this was a public space.

I resolved to ask Taiarche why she could go about unrestrained when we were alone.

As she lead me through the palace, Taiarche gave a running commentary on some of the more important pieces of art on display, stopping occasionally to show me a painting of a particular ruler or a statue.

Were I not acquainted with the city's custom of having women restrained in public, I might have thought these works were the record of some ancient brothel that specialised in S&M pleasures; many of the kings held their queens on leashes and some queens even knelt beside their husband's thrones fully restrained, in some cases gagged and blindfolded; courtiers displayed their wives similarly and, as today, there had clearly been considerable competition among the ladies of court to outdo each other in terms of finery, the vilisqaz they wore changing over time along with the robes of their husbands.

Although the painting styles changed, the plethora of slender female bodies packaged in tight straps, eyes bulging over mouths stuffed with huge gags made me wonder of the bondage artist Robert Bishop had ever visited Mirkada. Like his tightly bound and tormented beauties, some appeared wide eyed and fearful and some resigned but many seemed to relish their bondage as they posed, presumably for days at a time for the artist.

Just like ancient Rome, the colour of status was purple and many of the rulers were depicted in purple robes which were similar to the robes of modern day Mirkadans, long and flowing and belted at the waist.

Gags and blindfolds had become more widely used during the time of Jazirina; a ruse in the great machinations of court that allowed her to silence potential enemies. Some of these were clearly quite cruel and this was reflected in some of the paintings; pretty young girls standing in bondage with their mouths forced wide around balls and bars and even hung with what my French aristocrat described as 'codpieces'; something that was, to all intents and purposes, a 'penis gag'. I wondered that the fashion for humiliating gags had not been dropped on Jazirina's death; but then, of course, having vocal women silenced has been a long-standing tradition in many societies.

For all its modern explanations of tradition and the reverence shown to women in Mirkada, the fact was that, as usual, women were subjugated; although, of course, some women were entirely content to walk around the city semi-naked and in bondage.

Once through the public spaces we were suddenly alone again, the points of our boots echoing from the marble in a large room clearly set out for banquets.

'We are nearly there, Sally.' Taiarche smiled back at me as she lead me past a huge table adorned with candlabras, plates and cutlery. 'The banquet will be held here the night before Salaxis' inauguration. You and Mark will, of course, be guests of honour.'

'And will your be restrained for the evening ?' My question came out a little more forcefully than I meant it to; my shoulders really were very stiff.

She looked back at me and grinned. 'Of course. As will you and Astrid.'

'You aren't at the moment.'

She stopped and gave me a mischievous smile. 'As first lady of the city, I may go about unbound.'

'How ? I thought the laws were very strict.'

'Jazirina.' Taiarche gestured to a huge painting at the far end of the room. Jazirina was portrayed as beautiful as well as a woman of power; long straw-coloured hair, braided and wound with jewels; fine features that I recognised as typical of Mirkadan citizens and certainly those of the vilisqaz wearing classes; she was exquisitely made up in a way that accentuated her eyes and reminded me of an ancient Egyptian queen. She was portrayed in a purple bodice that supported her breasts but left her nipples bare; her sex was bare too and, if the ancient artist was to be believed, she was a natural blonde; the artist had also painted a lithe and beautifully toned body, firmly defined breasts, graceful if slightly muscular limbs; she could have been one of Mirkada's warrior queens and, probably that was the image she had wanted though she carried a coiled whip rather than a sword. Like the bodice, the straps of her vilisqaz were purple, a broad high collar set with jewels around her throat and broad straps around her limbs; she wore toe boots too, court refinement, not warrior's footwear.

A veritable medieval dominatrix.

There were two women standing beside her, both restrained and I knew these to be Jazirina's handmaidens, the two favoured ones at least. They were both collared and, in her left hand, Jazirina held their leashes. The one on the right, with honey blonde hair shaved away at the sides of her scalp and darker skin was gagged and blindfolded, a 'codpiece' with a bell on jutting from her mouth; drawing back slightly as if reluctant and again I thought of Robert Bishop. The other girl had more strawberry blonde hair, again shaved at the sides of her head, and a more Mirkadan face; she was looking at her queen with unmistakeable lust. Both girls wore vilisqaz made of steel bands and both were pierced in multiple places, nipples navels, face and clearly both had rings between their thighs; light chains from these ran around their bodies, part of their clothing yet also a mark of their bondage. The skins of both girls was decorated with body paint, floral patterns, leafy stems coiling around their limbs, flowers blooming across their breasts and bellies. If the queen's handmaidens were a sign of her wealth and power then why should she not adorn and decorate them ?

I wondered for a moment what had become of Hourishina and then I spotted her in the background. The peasant girl was in a cage, kneeling, forced to bend forward, her arms restrained behind her, eyes wide, her teeth clamped onto a metal bar through her cage that both gagged and further immobilised her; the cage was barely large enough to contain her and reminded me of the infamous tiger cages that captive soldiers were kept in when when taken by oriental forces.

'You and Astrid will play Engara and Rohinia.' Taiarche looked at me. 'Unless, of course, you'd rather play Houri ?'

I felt myself blush.

'I will show you her cage later.' She winked. 'You can try it if you like.'

I looked again at the helpless girl wondering what it might be like to be kept like that, caged like and animal and a familiar shiver ran through my body,

Although I had enjoyed sex the night before and wanked myself off for Mark's pleasure that morning I had been in bondage for the whole morning subject to the whim of Mark and his phone app and I was still plugged both back and front.

A jerk on my leash set me in motion again and I followed Taiarche obediently out of the banqueting hall and up two flights of stairs into what were clearly her private apartments.

'And how are things with Mark ?' Taiarche began as she lead me down a short corridor with a carpeted floor.

'Fine.'

'You know what I mean.' She turned and looked at me. 'The sex.'

I smiled back. 'Rather good actually.'

'It seems to me that you and Mark are at it like rabbits.' She smiled at her use of idiom stopping in front of another door. 'You said in your email that you were enjoying the role of sex slave.'

I blushed. I'd probably had a few glasses of wine when I'd sent that one.

'Mark does seem to have become rather dominant of late.' I told her.

'And do you call him, Master ?' She had clearly heard Mark's comment outside the city.

'Usually 'Sir.' I paused, unsure if I should say more, but then, if I couldn't talk to Taiarche about my BDSM lifestyle who could I talk to ? 'I'm surprised how much I enjoy being dominated.'

She had her back to me so I couldn't see her reaction.

'You seem excited by humiliation too.' She lead me into a lavishly furnished sitting room hung with heavy tapestries..

I couldn't suppress a grin. 'Yes, though being carried from my house by a fireman naked and handcuffed was a little too much even for me.'

Taiarche turned and raised an eyebrow, making a show of looking me up and down. 'Lucky fireman.'

I quite enjoyed a little humiliation, I just wished it didn't make me blush so much. I'm sure I didn't used to.

'Does Mark whip you ?' Her questioning was almost becoming an interrogation.

'Sometimes.'

'I let Salaxis whip me sometimes too.' Taiarche stopped and smiled. 'It makes him think he is in control.'

I frowned. There had once been a time when I thought like that too. Now I was less sure.

'And do you enjoy the whip ?' Taiarche had her back to me, leading me across the room, and hadn't noticed my frown.

I hesitated. 'Not really...sometimes...I quite like to be spanked.'

'Quite like ?' Taiarche stopped, turned.

My blush spread further. Perhaps it was a sign of the impending menopause.

Forty two ! Surely not, but I hadn't had a period for two months.

'I quite like to be caned too.' I could feel myself starting to sweat as she regarded me.

'But the whip is too much ?' Her dark eyes flashed and I knew she shared my pain and pleasure.

'It excites him and he doesn't do it too hard. Besides, I've recently found I want to push my limits.'

'It is funny what we do for love.' Taiarche looked at me carefully. ' Or, perhaps for lust.' She raised her hand and lifted my right nipple ring making it stand out. 'These are nice. They look good on you. Did Mark do them ?'

'Yes.' I was a little surprised by her intimate touch though considering she had just lead me through the building on a leash, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised at her taking advantage of my helpless state. Needless to say, my nipple swelled more than it already was. God, it was hot in here ! My other nipple responded too, the ring apparently moving by itself.

'I'm surprised Mark doesn't clip your leash to one of them.'

'Oh, he does.' I thought of my walk on the riverside path in the darkness, of him forcing me down in the mud and fucking me from behind, of how I'd thoroughly enjoying his cock ramming inside me as I squirmed in my bondage in the filth of the riverside mud, while he took me like a whore; of how dirty I was when he lead me home, as filthy on the outside as on the inside.

Taiarche unclipped the leash from my collar and attached it to my right nipple ring then she opened the door in front of her and lead me through.

Kneeling in the bare walled room we entered was the blonde from the Todos Mundo.

She looked up at me and smiled, her blue eyes shining with pleasure.

'Hello again.' She said it with that lovely Nordic accent.

'You know each other ?' Taiarche was surprised.

'We met briefly in the Todos Mundo...' The blonde told her then looked at me. 'I assume you have permission from your husband to speak or it will be a rather tedious afternoon.'

Taiarche looked puzzled.

'We met at breakfast.' I told her. 'Mark thought he'd embarrass me.' I knew I was still blushing from my conversation with Taiarche and felt flustered to meet the blonde once again in my flustered state. She looked so demure, gorgeous, kneeling submissively, Mirkadan style: back straight and chest thrust out, knees apart. She was collared and her arms seemed to be chained or cuffed in the small of her back so her elbows stuck out.

'I am Astrid Lungstraand.' The blonde smiled warmly, lips slightly parted. 'You must excuse me if I don't get up but Masia has me chained to the floor by my clitoris. She tells me it is the only way to hold me still.'

'And it is.' A girl entered from a side room, Mirkadan, sandy hair and freckled skin, naked aside from a chain halter that ringed her small breasts and disappeared between her legs. She carried a tray of what looked like paints and reminded me of the girls that had fitted me for my vilisqaz. 'Mistress Lungstraand is impossibly ticklish.'

'Perhaps you need to restrain me a little more tightly, my dear.' The blonde pouted looking at the young women. 'If you are free later I could give you some instruction.'

I looked around. The room provided a beautiful view over the garden and one of the better districts of the city though, ominously, the window as barred and looking around at the bare walls it seemed as if it was designed for bondage, or perhaps, given its age, torture; rings were set in the wall and several steel posts like scaffolding poles. There were rings bolted into the floor too.

'Astrid is my other handmaiden.' Taiarche informed me. 'She is also the Swedish consul here in Mirkada.'

The blonde looked up at me and nodded. 'It is certainly an unusual and, rather enjoyable posting. Mrs...'

I was once again left floundering.

'Frost...Professor...er...Mrs Frost...Sally.' I felt my face reddening even more.

Why did I feel like this ?

'It is a pleasure to meet you, Professor Frost.' Astrid smiled beautifully. 'I am hoping you don't mind if I call you Sally.'

'Of course not.' I tried my best to recover. 'All my friends do.'

It wasn't good but Taiarche and Astrid were both speaking English as a second language and I probably got away with the clumsy wording.

'Masia and Sasha are going to do your body paint.' Taiarche told me.

I didn't remember agreeing to this but then, I didn't remember being asked. Perhaps she had assumed I'd known. I think I did know they did this sometimes for bridesmaids...

I now understood Taiarche's comment about us being Engara and Rohinia and wondered if Taiarche was setting herself up as Jazirina.

'A Mirkadan handmaiden is traditionally decorated from head to toe.' Astrid informed me. 'I had the pleasure to be a handmaiden at Taia's wedding.'

'That's when I discovered she was so ticklish.' Taiarche added with a grin.

'The girl who painted my skin was drunk ! Anyway you found out I was ticklish long before then, if I recall.' Astrid looked up at the brunette with a slightly impish expression and I was sure Taiarche blushed though she turned away slightly and I could not be sure.

'Anyway, Sally, it means you and I have to kneel here for the next two days in bondage while the lovely Masia and Sasha handle us freely and extremely intimately.' Astrid said it with a degree of relish. Once again I felt off balance, ignorant in the presence of these two women.

'Are you ticklish, Sally ?' Astrid looked up at me and I reminded myself she was chained to the floor on her knees.

'Not overly but then, it's a while since...' I realised that Mark hadn't inflicted his on me in bondage yet...

Another young women appeared carrying a tray of paints and wearing a similar chain garment to Masia. Sasha was slightly slimmer than the other artist and I noticed her nipples were pierced. Taiarche used her entrance to bid us goodbye rather abruptly.

Helpless and restrained, I watched Sasha bend elegantly (her labia were pierced too) and place the tray down then without a word she began to undress me.

I could hardly resist and realised how completely vulnerable I was, restrained and leashed by my nipple in a hidden room in a palace half way round the world from what remained of my home home. It usddenly felt remarkably liberating ?

Sasha removed my vilisqaz except, of course the single sleeve then she gestured to a ring in the floor. I knew what I had to do.

I knelt and Sasha locked me into position.

'I'm not that ticklish.' I told her.

'It is traditional. Masia said quickly. 'A lady would not want her handmaidens running off and leaving her. Especially, not if they were to take her future husband with them.'

'Does that happen often ?' I was beginning feel more confident, anchored one might say.

'Not in Mirkada.' Masia laughed and nodded towards Sasha. 'Sasha will not say much, she is embarrassed by her poor English.'

I watched Sasha pick up my vilisqaz and take it out of the room.

I had been stripped and chained and my clothing was now being taken away. This was the start of a white slavery fantasy.

And that's when I saw it, in the corner of the room: Hourishini's cage.

'You appear to be a very submissive lady, Sally.'

I turned to look at Astrid, my face suddenly burning; how could she know what I had been looking at or that I was again wondering what it might be like to be kept caged like an animal; kept thus by another of my sex, used as a plaything; wondering what task such a slave be required to perform ?

There was no reason why I should be so embarrassed; I might have become a submissive little minx over the last year but Astrid was kneeling beside, equally compromised. It was just that she just seemed so much more in control.

Perhaps I was tired from my journey and all the other events that had recently occurred in my life.

Get a hold of yourself Sally Frost !

'Yes...' I looked at Astrid, looked at those cool blue eyes forcing myself to hold her gaze, wavering only to glance down at those soft lips, suddenly finding myself imagining they would be cool to touch, tender. 'I am...quite submissive.'

'I prefer to dominate.' Astrid said it quite matter of factly and I couldn't help powering my eyes.

'Well, I swing both ways.' She smiled watching me, and my reaction to her and to Sasha's ministrations. The artist was beginning to paint outlines for more detailed work on my body, her brush arranging flowers on my skin sketching in leaves, petals, carpels and stamens.

I had been so flustered I had barely noticed.

'Actually I swing all ways.' She gave me a knowing look. 'Sub, dom, straight, gay.'

I noticed and emphasis on the last word and thought about my submissive lesbian dreams.

'The man you were with this morning ?' I tried to impose order on the chaos of my mind.

'Oh, Sven is my husband.' She smiled and I sensed there was something else.

'How do you know Taiarche ?' I knew I was evading the obvious.

'University.' Astrid smiled, accepting my change of subject. 'We were at Oxford together.'

There was a few moments silence and I looked down to watch Sasha's brush as she drew something that resembled a carnation on my right breast. I heard Astrid giggle and looked over to see her squirming in her bonds as Masia painted her nipple black. I was relieved I didn't find Sasha's brush ticklish; the control it made me feel I had over my body made me feel a little more comfortable; to be forced squirm like a fidgety schoolgirl would have been more than I could bear.

'Taiarche tells me you met while on holiday here ?' Astrid was doing polite conversation now too and I found myself rather disappointed.

'Yes.' It was quite a revelation. I smiled at the memories. 'Coming to Mirkada, I mean.'

'I don't expect you ever thought you would end up as the evening floor show in the Todos Mundo ?' Astrid had us right back on topic.

I turned to look at her in horror, any chance I had of presenting myself as a woman of substance, a woman in control evaporating in an instant. My face, my whole body turned scarlet. I suddenly wanted to flee the room but I was chained down by my clitoris; I would have to face it like a big girl.

'Taiarche showed me.' Astrid winked. 'It was a very accomplished show. I am wishing I had been there.'

I became aware of a commotion beside me, a stream of rapid Mirkadan.

'Sasha thinks you are having an allergic reaction to her paints. She is very worried.' Astrid told me.

I looked at the Mirkadan girl who was staring at me with wide eyes.

'I'm fine.' I tried to smile reassuringly.

I heard Astrid and Masia reassuring her in Mirkadan.

'You are a very talented woman, Professor.' Astrid continued as if nothing had happened. 'In all aspects of your life.'

'Thank you.' My mouth was dry as I dared a quick glance towards her.

'You are also very attractive.'

I looked at her, hoping she was humouring me.

'Have you ever been with another woman ?' Astrid Lungstraand did not do small talk.

'No !' I suddenly sounded very English, shocked..

'But you have thought about it ?' Astrid must have known she had me against the ropes.

'Occasionally.' I tried to sound non-committal though my pulse was suddenly racing.

'I find it hard to imagine that a woman would not be attracted to another of her sex.' Astrid spoke matter-of-factly. 'I grew up on an island in Stockholm harbour. In the summer we all swam naked, girls and boys. Watching a girl's body is so much more appealing.' She smiled at the memories.

I tried not to think about a teenage Astrid cavorting naked in blue water sunshine, her skin tanned by the sun, water dripping from her hair, droplets sparkling on her bare skin, running over her small, neat breasts.

'Taiarche was my first you know.' Astrid had me where she wanted me. 'On the beach of our island.'

I tried not to think of it, two of the most beautiful women I knew making love, naked on a beach in the sunshine.

'She was kinky even then.' Astrid grinned knowing that she had my complete attention. 'One night I tied her spreadeagle between four trees. I kept her there all night.' Astrid licked her lips.

I was aware of Sasha's brush flowing again across my skin. It was, perhaps, unfortunate that she was marking out a design on my areoles as Astrid was describing her night time outdoor bondage marathon with Taiarche, reliving the touch of her tongue, the arch of her body, her cries of lust... It was definitely unfortunate that Mark chose that moment to remind me he was thinking of me.

The teasing strokes across my nipples, the graphic images Astrid's words conjoured up and the buzz of the vibrator simple collided with the turmoil of emotions I was feeling.

Most women classify orgasms into four types, five in some cases.

A level one orgasm is the little thrill of pleasure a girl gets during foreplay, if she is lucky; or when a loving husband teases her with a vibrator that he's locked inside her pussy before sending her out to work; it's the feeling that produces a little smile but can be entirely hidden if a girl chooses, which is just as well because over the last few months I've had quite a lot of these in public, some in front of my students and several in the senior common room.

The next level causes a gasp and a little shudder, a girl can usually hide this too if she needs to, though probably not from another woman, especially not one who knows her and probably not from a lover who knows her well. A girl who allows herself to be distracted when she's got a vibrator buzzing diligently inside her might be caught out by a level two. It definitely causes a girl to blush.

A level three is a girl's standard orgasm in bed, produced by a mix of physical pleasure and emotional stimulation, it's the point in sex where a girl grabs her lover and aches her back unless, of course, she's in bondage in which case she strains against her bonds. Such an orgasm can't be concealed but, because of the emotional element a girl is unlikely to be caught out in public, unless, of course, she genuinely gets off from being taken in a public place or because of bondage is forced to endure enough stimulation.

A type four is what women strive for and, sadly, some fail to achieve, its the multiple orgasm that makes a girl bite her pillow or her lover or her gag, one that makes her rake her nails over a lover's back or thrash around and jerk violently and repeatedly in bondage, essentially it's what bondage is made for: to stop a girl raking her nails across her lover's back or taking a bite out of his (or her) shoulder. Mark is a skilled lover and, over the years I've had a good number of these; Mark has scars on his back to prove it; over the last year I've had a lot more of these but being in bondage most of the time when they happen means Mark's back has been relatively spared. Being a bondage slut sex-slave seems to have freed me from a number of inhibitions and allowed me to enjoy sexual pleasure in a way that I had not realised was possible. There are some days when I find myself constantly aroused, unable to stop those little smiles and finding places where I can produce gasps without being noticed. It's on those days that I love to be strapped tightly into bondage and fucked senseless after a lot of teasing.

I'm ashamed to realise how easily I can be made to beg; it's humiliating and that seems to excite me even more.

Which brings me to the semi-mythical category five, like the one I had when I was pierced and had my second vilisqaz fitted; when, after being kept in bondage all afternoon being handled intimately in front of my husband, having my pussy shaved and pierced and then being paraded like some sex toy in tight bondage, anally plugged and with a vibrator in my pussy I lost of consciousness and bladder control.

It wasn't too surprising then that, as I knelt beside Astrid having my nipples teased with a brush by a semi-naked young woman listening to my companion tell me how Taiarche had got her revenge on the blonde using a good deal of rope and a goose feather that I found myself completely unable to suppress a type two orgasm; my skin flushing again though this time it didn't alarm Sasha so much.

Still breathing rather hard and flushed, I couldn't help glancing at my companion, finding myself surprisingly eager to see the lovely blonde's reaction but I think she was a little lost in her memories.

'...and I was screaming so loudly all of the night.' She concluded as she described what was clearly a classic type four followed by a prolonged series of threes. Astrid had wet herself, twice, but I put that down to the tickling. 'Of course, Taia did try to gag me using her knickers but they were so brief it didn't make any difference; which was fortunate and it meant I could use my tongue on her pussy.'

I wished I'd been there to watch.

I smiled to myself - the vibrator was still going inside me and silently enjoyed a type one.

'In the morning, though, my body was covered in rope burns. There was no hiding them, they were everywhere, across my neck, my belly, my breasts, between me legs.' Astrid grinned at me. 'It was really sore...and I only had a bikini to go back to the house in.'

'How humiliating.' I looked at Astrid with as much challenge as I could and was pleased to see her taken aback. Then she grinned.

'Do not tell me you are enjoying the humiliation too.'

'God, yes.' I laughed and suddenly found myself relaxing.

'And I am assuming your husband is currently teasing you with the vibrator that is locked inside you.'

'Yes.' I grinned.

'And are you wearing this a lot.'

'Pretty much every day; two or three days a month I have something less interesting in there.'

'You really are a very appealing woman, Sally Frost.'

Taiarche returned for us late and I felt my jaw drop as I saw what she was wearing.

The beautiful brunette was dressed as a dominatrix; there were Mirkadan adaptations of course but the style was clear, a studded leather collar and a series of belts criss-crossing her body, down across her breasts and diagonally across her belly; her boots sported gleaming buckles like the belts and came up to the thigh and there was a riding crop tucked into the top of the right one.

There was a woman with her, a servant presumably, who carried a bag slung across her shoulders. The woman was gagged and her hands were clearly cuffed behind her back. She wore a steel collar and nothing more than a series of chains that hung from it clipped to her nipple and genital piercings.

'Thank you, Kashimana.' Tairche relieved her of the bag and the girl bowed and turned to leave. I was surprised to see her wrists were cuffed high behind her back, held up by a short chain from her collar.

Since my introduction to B&D I had thought increasingly what it might be like to be a slave, subject completely to the whim of another; it seemed a logical conclusion of a submissive journey although true enslavement was clearly a far more extreme than most submissives desired. However, now I was playing slave girl to Mark, my fantasies had grown a little darker, and I found myself imagining a world where I was truly a slave, a world where I was kept in bondage with no control over what was done to me.

I suddenly had the distinct impression that I was beginning to experience it - at least the submissive sexual slavery I found I increasingly desired.

I had knelt in bondage all afternoon at the command of this woman, been kept naked, handled intimately. Along with my fellow slave I had been permitted to drink, a cup held to my lips as I knelt, helpless, then been released briefly to pee, the two of us forced to squat side by side as we relived ourselves then chained back down by our temporary mistresses so they could resume their work on our bodies.

Could I really want to be treated like this ?

Through the afternoon my eyes had been drawn to the cage, wondering what it might be like, at the end of the day to be locked inside it. I had found myself wondering, too, what would happen if I were chained in a cage with Astrid, my sister in bondage, my fellow slave; I remembered the dream in which Kirsty and I were Mark's pets, caged together at night, helpless chattel, forced to pleasure each other.

I couldn't help dropping my head a little as Taiarche inspected us, a 'mistress' inspecting her slaves. Our torsos were more or less finished, breasts and bellies adorned with flowers climbing around our bodies, stretching up to our necks, coiling across the tops of our arms and plunging between our thighs. The girl in the painting had been decorated like this; I couldn't help wondering what she thought about it; presumably it had been done against her will; had she resented this abuse of her body, or had she enjoyed being adorned like this, a sparkling accessory to her mistress' wardrobe ?

After dismissing the artists, Taiarche admired us a little more closely, especially Astrid, deliberately it seemed touching her, tracing the patterns across her skin, lifting her small breasts to look beneath them even though it wasn't necessary.

I was ridiculously jealous.

Although she didn't touch me as she did Astrid, Taiarche hadn't forgotten me. She had brought me one of her old vilisqaz.

'You can't wear the same one all week.' She insisted as she reached between my legs and freed me from the chain clipped to my clit ring. 'Stand.'

Without thinking I obeyed, blushing as I caught the smile exchanged between Taiarche and Astrid.

My arms were still restrained behind me in the single sleeve. They had been there so long, I wondered if I would remember how to use them when I was finally released. They had long since gone numb.

The vilisqaz was in black reminding me of the one I had lost in the fire; possibly I thought ruefully, the one that had started the fire; this one was in heavy rubber. It had a huge collar, four inches at least, with a lip top and bottom that rolled out beneath my jaw and across the top of my shoulders. It was more a neck corset than a collar; I had seen similar designs in Skin Two and Marquis. There was a matching corset which Taiarche spent some time tightening.

I wasn't quite as slim as her but it didn't stop her trying to get my waist down to what must have been nineteen inches.

'I think I may need some help with this.' She gave me a slight smile. 'Kneel.'

I made myself pause this time, trying to show I wasn't quite so eager to please.

'I can always put you in the cage you know if you are too disobedient.'

I looked up at her open mouthed.

'Don't pretend you're not enjoying this, Sally Frost.' Taiarche looked down at me. 'I know what's going on in the incredible mind of yours.' She drew the crop out of her boot and held it to my mouth. 'Hold this.'

I looked at her in shock then I took the whip in my teeth and bowed my head like a good little slave girl.

Once again the room seemed to be getting rather warm.

Taiarche released Astrid, seemingly taking rather a long time to release the blondes clit ring. From the corner of my eye I watched my fellow slave stand, her wrists still cuffed behind her attached to her collar by a chain down her back; watched and waited as our 'Mistress' examined her blonde slave once again; this one was no cursory review; this time Taiarche's hands roamed freely over Astrid's body as the blonde stood, legs slightly apart, elbows out, wrists cuffed in the small of her back. I'm sure she was pushing her hips and breasts forward as if inviting Taiarche to touch them, tease them.

Slut !

I recalled the stories Astrid had told me of her relationship with Taiarche and tried to distract myself by wondering what Salaxis and Sven might think of their ongoing intimacy; but it was no use, the longer it continued the stronger the desire to be handled like that grew inside me until it was all I could think about. I'd seen enough S&M films to know that a slave who drops a whip will feel it's kiss. Frankly, I didn't care. I now knew why children were naughty even if they would be punished; I wanted Taiarche's attention.

I was about to drop it but when I heard Astrid gasp.

'Good girl.' Taiarche's voice was breathy.

I glanced up. Astrid and 'Mistress' were standing very close, their bodies touching; their lips no more than a finger-breadth apart; Taiarche's fingers were between Astrid's legs.

'Shall we tighten Sally's corset ?' Taiarche's stepped back.

'Yes, Mistress.' Astrid was breathing hard.

Taiarche freed Astrid and I watched the blonde stretch.

'Thank you, Mistress.' Astrid pressed herself against the brunette her lips seeking Taiarche's but was pushed her away.

'I may have to spank you later.' Taiarche smiled and swatted Astrid's bottom as the blonde turned away in disappointment.

The pair set to work on my corset, drawing it tighter and tighter until I felt I could barely breathe. I was sure I could hear the rubber creak each time I took a breath.

Breast rings came next. There was nothing I could do as Taiarche and Astrid squeezed my breasts into the steel bands. I had been fitted for two vilisqaz and was not completely new to my body being handled like this by other women, women who had done far more intimate things to my body than handle my breasts, but the way they touched me was very different to the dressers in the Mirkadan clothes shop, it was different to the careful way that Sasha had just handled me; Tairche and Astrid clearly enjoyed touching my breasts, cupping and squeezing them and tweaking my nipples as they forced me into rings which were designed for Taiarche's breasts and therefore way too small for mine. They were essentially binding my breasts and they took their time over it so that by the end, with my orbs bulging obscenely beyond the tight rings and beginning to throb dully I was panting and flushed.

Needless to say the vilisqaz didn't come with anything that resembled knickers though there were straps that went down to my clit ring and hung behind to hold a butt plug.

'I thought you might enjoy this one.' Taiarche held up a plug that was clearly bigger than mine and was obviously designed to protrude, with a large base; at least I hoped the whole thing wasn't going to end up inside me.

Fortunately it didn't, though I'm sure my eyes bulged as Taiarche pushed it home and locked it onto place.

Eat your heart out Robert Bishop.

Four other straps hanging down from the corset connected to heavy rubber thigh cuffs which my two 'dressers' attached then padlocked shut.

Then Taiarche produced a leash; not a typical leash, this one split into two separate chains about a foot before the end and I knew exactly where it was going.

Taiarche clipped one of the chains to each of my nipple rings.

'Why don't you hold her still while I free her arms.' Taiarche passed the leash to Astrid then disappeared behind me.

I had no idea how late it was but I guessed I'd been in the single sleeve for about thirty six hours less a thirty minute break for my floor show in the shower. The desire to have it removed was suddenly almost overwhelming and as Taiarche loosened the straps the relief was so intense it was actually painful and when she had loosened the straps sufficiently to slide the restraint from my arms I gave a short gasp of pain as the blood began to flow back into my constricted skin and muscles.

Astrid reached out and stroked my breast gently.

'Poor Sally.' Astrid played with my nipple ring.

If I could have moved my arms I might have pushed her hand away.

Might have.

However, I couldn't move them.

I was vaguely aware of Taiarche massaging my right arm and, a moment later Astrid was doing the some to my left, trying to rub life back into them. After a few moments the ability to move my fingers slowly started to return and as I began to wiggle them both girls, apparently without any prior agreement lifted my arms and each placed my lifeless hands on one of their breasts, holding them in place as then continued to rub the muscles of my arms.

'They are rather cold.' Taiarche told me by way of explanation.

As the feeling returned I gradually began to feel their nipples, ringed and hard against my palm, I couldn't help flexing my fingers, groping their breasts almost unwittingly.

Almost.

'Tempting, isn't it ?' Astrid looked meaningfully down at where my fingers were gently kneading her small breast.

I tried to pull my hand away but I wasn't yet strong enough.

Taiarche slipped a heavy rubber cuff around my right wrist and locked it in place then passed its fellow to Astrid who locked it around my left wrist.

'Can't have you getting up to mischief.' Taiarche locked my wrist to my thigh cuff and then took my leash from Astrid who secured my left hand.

'A good handmaiden is humble.' Taiarache took her whip out of my mouth and pressed it gently down on my breasts making them tingle. She was holding my leash tightly.

I looked at her with just a little rebellion then acquiesced. 'Yes, Mistress.' I followed Astrid's early lead.

'Good girl.' Taiarche smiled as I dropped to my knees.

Then the two girls took hold of my shoulders and lowered me onto my back. Taiarche pulled two balls of rubber from her bag and passed one to Astrid. These turned out to be rubber stockings and the two girls began to unroll them down my legs, smoothing them and tucking them beneath my thigh cuffs before clipping them into place.

Toe boots followed, and more locks.

'It looks to my like you've not been entirely diligent, Sally.' Taiarche was looking down at my pussy. 'You've missed a bit.'

She reached down and stroked the offending hair as I blushed furiously.

'Would you like us to shave you ?'

I looked up at them, my eyes wide, fear making my mouth suddenly dry.

I shook my head not trusting myself to speak.

I wanted nothing more than to have them shave me, my body craved it, but I feared the consequences; I knew I was close enough to orgasm that any messing about down there was going to make me climax, unmistakably.

At least a type three.

And I wasn't ready for that to happen.

I was lifted back to my knees. Taiarche passed Astrid a large rubber plug gag and the blonde stepped behind me.

I didn't even need to be told, I just opened my mouth and took it.

Then I knelt like a perfect little rubberised lesbian sex slave trying not to cum as I watched Taiarche strap Astrid into her vilisqaz.

I enjoyed Marks reaction as Astrid and I were lead into dinner by Taiarche.

I watched his jaw drop and his eyes widen.

I was pretty sure I saw his cock stiffen too.

It was another private room in the governor-elect's wing, the table laid for five. It seemed the hunky Sven was not invited. My husband and Salaxis were enjoying a drink together as they waited for us.

Both were dressed in Mirkadan robes and stood as we entered; Mark a little too hastily.

It was definitely his cock !

Astrid and I were sharing the nipple leash, her right and my left and, when Tairche made no move to release us we were forced to kneel in unison like kinky Siamese twins.

Taiarche clipped our leash to the table and Mark sat back down beside me. There was no doubt he was ogling my body. It was, of course, his first view of my body paint but I think it was my new vilisqaz that caught his eye and there was no doubt his gaze was following my breasts as they bobbed like balloons in their tight steel bondage.

I was in for a seriously good fucking later...and hopefully a type four or at least a couple of threes.

I sat back with as much of a smug grin as a girl with a huge rubber cock in her mouth can and then gave a squeal.

For a moment I thought Mark had switched on my vibrator again but then I reaslised the sensation wasn't coming from my pussy.

I heard Taiache giggle and looked up. She was just removing Astrid's gag.

'Taia, you are a naughty girl.' Astrid was grinning.

Salaxis looked at his wife disapprovingly. 'Taiarche !'

'I'm sorry, Master.' Taiarche clearly wasn't.

Astrid turned her head and whispered in my ear. 'The butt plug vibrates when you sit on it.'

I knelt up slightly and the buzzing stopped.

Salaxis might have disapproved of what his wife had done but he didn't make her do anything about it.

Mark didn't either though to be fair I'm not sure he knew exactly what was going on and with true English reserve refrained from asking.

'Darling.' Salaxis held up a black leather single sleeve.

'Yes, Master.' Taiarche grinned as she turned her back to her husband, presenting her arms for binding with surprising enthusiasm, clearly enjoying being watched as he strapped her arms tightly together.

The dominatrix was, for the moment at least, declawed.

I knelt slightly awkwardly trying to rearrange my legs so I could sit back and eat without the steel intruder dancing inside me. I found that by leaning to the side I could rest one buttock more firmly on my calf and with my left nipple chained to Astrid's it pretty much had to be my left side meaning that I was about to spend the rest of the evening snuggling up to the gorgeous blonde in full view of my husband.

I've seen enough porn on the internet to know that men enjoy lesbian fantasies and occasionally Mark's mentioned something that makes me think he has a secret love for this too. I was about to find out.

Taiarche, once again secured in bondage, knelt opposite Astrid with the men at the end of the table.

I looked at Mark hoping he might remove my gag but as he didn't seem in any rush to do so I was forced to kneel listening as Taiarche introduced Astrid to Mark and told him a little about the designs on our bodies. At one point in the discussion, he ran his finger over my right breast, tracing one of the designs; by this time I was drooling like and idiot around my gag and I thought he made rather an unnecessary show of wiping his finger.

Drinks came and Mark still left me gagged.

'You really should release your wife.' Salaxis gestured towards me.

'Oh, she enjoys this sort of thing.' Mark grinned. 'A little longer I think.'

My companions laughed as I glared it him.

There was a time when glaring at him would have been enough for him to release me but tonight he simply ignored me; perhaps it was the neck corset which meant when I turned to look at him, I had to turn my body as much as my neck and the corset round my waist meant even that was hard work. My movements were also limited by my rather intimate nipple bondage to Astrid. I sat back with a slightly sullen expression only to be reminded to sit forward, very aware as I moved that any pull on my left nipple was felt by Astrid.

There was, of course, a time when I wouldn't have enjoyed being treated like this.

Eventually the food came and Mark finally removed the big rubber plug from my mouth. I'm quite used to being gagged but this was a big one, a real 'jawbreaker' as the old bondage magazines used to say. I worked my jaw and the Mark gave me a sip of wine.

'Thank you, Darling.' I said it rather pointedly.

'Shouldn't she call you, Master ?' Salaxis struggled to suppress a smirk.

'I'll spank her later.' Mark grinned, clearly enjoying himself.

I glared again but the whole situation was so deliciously humiliating that if he'd put me over his knee then and there I probably would have cum loudly and obviously (level three) and then asked him to do it again.

As was customary, Salaxis offered the first mouthful to Astrid. Whether by chance or design he held it just a little further from her mouth than was needed thus forcing her to stretch for it and, as her nipple-twin I was forced to follow. My breasts were really throbbing from the tight rings and my nipples were unbelievably sensitive. I was just glad for once I wasn't wearing nipple pendants.

Mark fed me next and it was clear both men new exactly what they were doing, making the two of us lean from side to side, as our linked nipples were stretched; and with the neck corset making it difficult to turn my head much I had to turn my body too, thereby increasing the chance of pulling Astrid with me. Astrid, of course, didn't have the distraction of a vibrating butt plug to be aware of and laughed as loudly as the rest each time I sat back a little too far and was reminded to kneel up.

After a few mouthfuls we were both offered a drink at the same time causing us to draw apart and then quickly together. Then, by mutual consent, Astrid followed as I leant towards Mark.

'Darling.' Taiarche chided. 'You can't make Astrid wait for her drink. What if the poor darling is thirsty.'

'Of, course, my love.' Salaxis leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

Then he picked up a bowl from the table and poured her wine into it.

I looked at Mark knowing what was coming.

For grown men in their fifties, they were behaving like sniggering schoolboys.

Two days before his investiture as governor, Salaxis appeared to have spent his afternoon plotting with my husband ways to titillate his guests.

I watched Mark pour my wine into a similar bowl and then, by an unspoken agreement, Astrid and I bent forward and began to lap at our wine with our tongues.

Much of the meal passed in similar vein, Astrid and I, me in particular the butt of most of the jokes.

I was going to need a damn good fuck later and I was expecting at least a level four !

When desert came the 'gentlemen' adjourned to the balcony for a cigar. A clear sign to me that Mark had been spending some serious quality time with Salaxis. This left the ladies to take desert and coffee alone.

Salaxis gallantly removed Taiarche's single sleeve before he left probably meaning I was demoted once again from dinner guest to handmaiden and, if I was lucky, sex slave. Taiarche had thoroughly enjoyed watching us being fed in bondage, especially, I thought when we were both forced to bend forward together to lap at our wine bowls. At one point she had suggested we be fed a stew from bowls similar to those that contained our wine to prevent too much sauce dripping onto our breasts.

So thoughtful.

Mark had thoroughly enjoyed wiping the sauce from my face though, I suspect he'd have been even happier to have licked it off my breasts.

Now Taiarche took it upon herself to feed us our desert offering a spoonful to each in turn. She was once again kneeling across the table from us though now free and, very much, back in dominatrix mode. Needless to say, Astrid and I both had to stretch across to table together to accept each mouthful. It didn't take long before she dropped a large blob of cream that was en route to my mouth.

We all watched it slide down my breast and start to drip off my nipple.

'Oh, Sally. How careless of me.'

Wasn't it !

I watched her reach for a napkin, pretty confident that it was just a ruse to fondle my breasts again and guessed I was going to have quite a lot of food smeared across my body over the next few minutes. However, before Taiarche could reach out, Astrid leaned down and licked the cream off. When she lifted her head and shook out her hair she was grinning at me like, well, like the cat that got the cream.

'You've missed a bit.' Taiarche pointed my a bead of cream on my nipple.

Oh God !

I hadn't been ready the first time.

This time I was determined to enjoy Astrid's attentions to the full.

'It is only a tiny drop !' Astrid shrugged apparently uninterested in a second mouthful.

Lick me you bitch !

Taiarche took it in her stride, deliberately scooping up a huge spoonful of cream and dropping it very deliberately onto my cleavage and then smearing it across both my breasts.

'Mistress is waiting.' Taiarche looked at Astrid.

Astrid grinned. 'I do have my figure to watch.'

Lick me, now !

'Then perhaps we should both do it.' Taiarche put down her spoon and leant across the table, raking her tongue over my left nipple which was probably the cleanest part of my breasts before moving across to make room for her blonde slave.

Astrid needed no further prompting.

I knelt in shock, wonder and awe, then did what every British women abroad would have done in such a compromising situation; I thrust out my ample bosom, sat back on my vibrating butt plug and enjoyed a couple of good orgasms that I made absolutely no attempt to hide.

Needless to say, as I was howling like a vixen, Mark came back in along with Salaxis.

I didn't care. in fact, it made the whole experience even more delicious.

If I ever lost my job and I knew where to find a club dirty enough to have me, I could earn a living and thoroughly enjoy myself doing a perverted floor show every night. Perhaps I should learn to fire ping-pong balls out of my pussy as a back up act.

'You seemed to enjoy dinner.' Mark was guiding me back to our room by the nipple leash, now clipped to both my own breasts.

I glared at him over my gag but the effect was spoiled as I wobbled slightly on my heels on the stairs; I'd been pretty abstemious at dinner but Taiarche had insisted on a nightcap of Mirkadan spiced wine which she had more or less poured down my throat before Mark had replaced my gag and lead my off to bed.

'It will ensure you have pleasant dreams.' She had said with a smile that told me 'pleasant' might have an interesting definition in this context.

I was still wet between the legs. In fact I was pretty sure I was wet all the way down my legs. I could imagine the rubber of my stockings glistening with the secretions that were probably flowing down my thighs like a river.

'Astrid seems nice.'

I knew he was trying to provoke me.

He was succeeding and doing nothing to remove the memory of Astrid's tongue running over my breasts.

We climbed the second flight of steps, a very taxing but very erotic experience for a girl in toe boots but well worth it for bringing those internal plugs to life; I was breathless with more than the exertion by the time we stood outside the door to our room. Mark gave a knowing look as he opened it, gallantly stepping back to allow me through first.

He's such a gentleman !

The room was beautiful, way beyond the presidential suite at the Todos Mundo; marble floor, thick rugs, a huge four-poster bed hung with silks; the walls were decorated with tapestries and paintings and where the night breeze carried in the scent of the city, silk curtains billowed.

He closed the door behind him and I turned to face him.

'I trust this meets with madam's approval.'

Hell yes !

If I'm going to be a sex slave, it may as well be to a king.

I nodded, noticing among all the riches that the stiffness of my king's cock under his robes was unmistakeable; if I hadn't been gagged I'd have teased him about it just before I'd have told him I wanted it inside me.

Now !

It's good to know I can still communicate by female telepathy.

Or perhaps he was feeling as randy as me; afterall, I had put on a bloody good show at dinner.

He pulled his robes off almost immediately. It seemed Mirkadan males didn't do underwear; bit of an error if you ask me, they are constantly surrounded by women in bondage and must walk round with permanent erections. Mark certainly seemed to be doing it. His cock was glistening.

A moment later he picked me up and threw me back onto the bed.

The butt plug went wild and I opened my legs certain of a level four in the next few minutes.

Fuck ! It came out as 'Ssshhuuggg !'

My sex was still locked shut which was hugely frustrating though do did get the chance to watch him crouching naked on the floor, with his cock bobbing madly as he scrabbled frantically through the robes for the key to my pussy lock.

Hardly masterful behaviour but it was some consolation for me after all the indignities he'd heaped on me at dinner; even if I was squirming in frustration and sitting with all my weight on my vibrating butt plug.

Eventually he found it an unlocked my captive pussy.

A second later he was thrusting inside me. There was no foreplay but then he is master and I am slave; anyway, I'd been indulging in foreplay for the last twelve hours and, if he'd have stopped to play with my pussy I'd have screamed at him.

It was a level four.

A bloody good one too !

We lay gasping on the bed for some time, Mark still stiff inside me, the sweat of our exertions cooling on our bodies in the gently breeze and the scent of our coupling filling the air.

God it felt good.

Eventually, Mark lifted himself up, a very satisfied smile on his face.

'Good girl.'

I smiled back around my gag. I could tell my cheeks and chin were covered with saliva; the gag was clearly designed with the purpose of making a girl drool as much as silencing her; and probably, given its shape, for a bit of humiliation too.

That's when we realised that Taiarche had the keys to my bonds.

It appeared I was going to spend the night as a rubberised sex toy.

We all have our crosses to bear.

Mark undid the strap around my elbows and took out my gag but there really wasn't much more he could do. He couldn't even take out the butt plug. So he lead me to the bathroom (still in my toe boots), watched me pee and then cleaned my teeth. Then he lead me back to bed. He did at least remove the leash from my nipple rings.

We eventually worked out that, with a pillow under my back, I could lay down without activating the butt plug, albeit rather rigidly with my neck and waist corsets and so I lay beside him feeling (and smelling) rather like a used rubber sex doll as he played with my nipples and told me about his day with Salaxis and his little chat with Sven.

I listened for a while, trying with some success, to focus on what he was saying but it had been a very long day for a little rubber sex toy and at some point I must have drifted off to sleep.


Author's Note: Cambridge Academics, Sally and Mark Frost have once again returned to Mirkada to attend the inauguration of the city's new governor, Salaxis. As Sally undergoes preparations to serve as handmaiden to the governor's wife, Taiarche, she finds herself discovering more about the city and its ancient laws that require women to submit to bondage in public. She also finds herself enduring prolonged and intense bondage alongside Taiarche's one-time lover, Astrid, her fellow handmaiden for the ceremony. Almost overwhelmed by the realisation of her deeply submissive nature and, wrestling with increasing thoughts of lesbian desire, Sally's finds herself dreaming of the time when the city was ruled by Jazirina the Cruel.

Part 2 (added: 2018/03/17)

'Houri ?'

I opened my eyes.

A man's face hovered above me.

Salaxis ?

No, but like him, Mirkadan.

'Houri ?' The man looked concerned. 'Are you alright ?'

I tried to speak but realised I was gagged.

I nodded.

I felt ok. In fact, I felt surprisingly well.

The man helped me up.

My arms were strapped to my sides, my wrists cuffed to my thighs, some sort of harness around my body pinning my arms. I tottered slightly unsteadily on my toe boots.

It almost felt like my body wasn't used to this sort of treatment.

'She fainted.' The man turned away as he spoke, speaking to a women who entered the room wiping her hands on a cloth.

'All girls do that when they first wear the vilisqaz.' The women looked rather like Taiarche. 'Usually because their father's strap them in too tight.'

The man scowled and began to brush dust from my body, his hands brushing over my bare skin. Then he stopped suddenly.

'I'm sorry, Houri.' He drew his hands back sharply, embarrassed by the intimate contact.

'Oh Pidrax, stop fussing.' The woman bustled in and began to dust my skin off by shaking her cloth.' She was wearing something that looked like a vilisqaz, a collar, breast rings, a corset; she was, of course, not bound. 'Now go to the market as your father instructed and buy those peaches for dinner.' She opened the door and ushered me out into the street , swatting my bottom with the cloth as I hurried through the door, tottering slightly on my toe boots.

In the street I stopped, almost turning my ankle as I tried to get my bearings.

I was definitely in Mirkada, the architecture was unmistakable and, from the look of the buildings it was one of the poorer quarters. I stood for a moment trying to work out which way to go, uphill towards the palace or down towards the walls.

I chose down and after a dozen paces turned the corner though an arch only to be confronted by a wrought iron gate. It wasn't locked but my hands were cuffed to me thighs and I couldn't reach the latch. I tried stretching up and then bending down and trying to use my chin.

'Houri !' I heard a man's voice behind me and turned quickly, straightening. I could tell immediately by his eyes that he had been looking at my bottom as I was bending over; now he was looking at my breasts. 'Off to the market to buy peaches ?'

I wondered how he could have known.

He reached past me and undid the latch of the gate, allowing me out into the street.

This one was larger than the little alley from which I had emerged and was crowded with people, men and women, mostly poor, the men in robes that were little more than belted blankets, the women almost naked, strips of leather and cloth tied around their throats and waists, wrists tied behind their backs with leather thongs; most were barefoot thought some wore sandals.

They parted for me as I walked among them, some nodding respectfully.

I passed a woman in a vilisqaz, black leather, a tight corset around her waist and a high collar, her arms were strapped behind her back; she was gagged like me and walked on her toes. She nodded to me, lips drawing back into a smile around her gag.

I tried to smile back feeling awkward in my bonds and the boots; I knew I was drooling around my gag. As she passed, I turned to look at her, watching the rock of her hips and the way she swung her legs, lifting her feet and keeping her thighs tight.

I stumbled.

Fortunately, hands caught me and lifted me back onto the tips of my boots.

'Houri.' It was a young man, eighteen perhaps, slim dark haired and dark skinned. He grinned as I looked at him. His hands were still on my shoulders where he had steadied me; he had been trying to help but I felt suddenly frightened by his touch and tried to draw away.

Again, I nearly fell.

'Houri.' The boy steadied me again but then let his hands drop.

He was very handsome and he had been helpful but I felt an irresistible urge to make him leave me alone so that when he stepped forward I turned away, deliberately turning my shoulder towards him and my face away.

'Houri.' His voice was imploring...needy.

I looked back to ensure he really was upset my rejection and then walked away remembering how the woman I had just passed had walked, how her hips had rocked, her bottom swaying as her heels lifted, her back upright.

I knew the dark haired boy would be watching me.

I walked past a bronze door, polished and shining in the sun. I could see my body, tall and slim and elegant, arms strapped to my sides, head up, my small breasts thrust forward, the curve of my bottom pushed backwards; my eyes were dark, my face so young and pretty over the gag.

I looked back to see the boy still watching me giving him a smile around my gag enjoying the look of excitement that I had finally acknowledged him.

Whoa !

There were all kinds of sensations detonating in my body.

I was going to buy peaches. This is what a girl did when she came of age in Mirkada, venturing out into the street for the first time in the restraints that all women wore in the city.

There was a cloth bag hanging from my shoulder and a purse around my neck.

Still strutting my stuff I sashayed in to the market square passing a very handsome city guard; he was lean and muscular and looked dashing in his oiled leather breastplate and Greek style skirt; he winked at me as I passed and I redoubled my efforts to make my bottom sway.

I could almost feel the hormones raging through my body.

It felt wonderful to be eighteen again.

There was a market stall ahead of me selling fruit and I went up to it wondering how I would ask for the peaches with the gag in my mouth.

I needn't have worried.

'Houri.' There was a woman behind the stall, steel cuffs on her wrists linked together and by a long chain to a chair on which a man sat watching her work. 'You look beautiful, my darling.' She broke into a smile as she appraised me.

I nodded my thanks blushing slightly at her attention; she was old, at least thirty.

Her husband was giving me an entirely different sort of look and I blushed even more turning away to find the handsome guard staring at me as I bent over the stall to let the woman in the manacles take my bag and begin to fill it with peaches.

I arched my back slightly more and pushed my chest out trying to emphasise my small breasts, then turned my head away making sure he knew I'd seen him looking but wasn't going to acknowledge his attention.

I probably should have been concentrating on what was going on around me but I was way to busy flirting with the guard and enjoying being eighteen again.

To be honest, it was quite nice having smaller breasts though it would have liked a bit more to flash at the guard as I walked out of the square again.

The woman behind the stall placed the last peach in the bag, took the money out of my purse and hung the bag and purse back on my body. After her earlier welcome I thought she was rather brusque as she shooed me away from the stall; perhaps she was jealous of the young guard's attention.

I was still flirting as I turned and was nearly knocked down.

I just about saved myself but it was probably the wrong thing to do.

Still staggering on my toe boots I looked up into the face of Jazirina the Cruel.

Jazirina was sitting on a palanquin borne on the shoulders of six powerfully built men. It was one of them I had collided with as I'd stepped away from the stall.

Princess Jazirina was even more beautiful in the flesh; beautiful and terrifying. She wore a steel vilisqaz, a collar with chains hanging over her breasts, arching to cuffs around her upper arms and others running down to some sort of steel corset; more chains ran to thigh cuffs and others disappeared between her shapely legs. Her arms were chained behind her back, not tightly but enough to force her little breasts forward, the nipples poking out between the chains across her breasts.

Another woman sat beside her, not as beautiful, but still striking; a strawberry blonde, high born Mirkadan maiden, collared and leashed, the chain from her collar locked to a ring in the centre of the palanquin. Chains ran from her collar to jeweled clips on her nipples and more from there down to a steel belt. She was gagged, kneeling, hands behind her back, thighs spread; moisture glistened on her sex. She was about my age and, apparently, just as horny.

'Down !' Jazirina gave the command with complete authority and, as one, the bearers lowered the palanquin to the floor.

I watched Jazirina stand.

Her movements were graceful and her body stunning. Perhaps Astrid or Taiarche had looked this good when they were younger.

Perhaps I had in my dancing days.

Then I realised she had been talking to me too.

All around me my fellow plebs knelt before their princess, soon to be queen.

'Seize her.' Jazirina was restrained, her wrists chained behind her, but a princess didn't need to use her hands.

Two palace guards took hold of my arms as Jazirina regarded me cooly.

I still couldn't believe how beautiful she was, even close up, perfect; far more than the painter had rendered on the canvas that hung in the banqueting hall in the palace; some of the details were right, the eyes, certainly, steely blue, the lashes and lids dark, decorated with coal dust; her nose was fine, her lips perhaps a fraction too thin to be classically beautiful by European standards but the overall effect was as mesmerising as the jewels flashing in her braided hair.

I could see why Rohinia, the handmaiden on the palanquin was so besotted with her.

'Remove her gag.'

I heard a muted gasp. This was a violation but then, she would one day be queen.

One of the guards held me and the other removed my gag, pulling it out with a gush of saliva.

'What is your name, girl ?' Jazirina glared at me.

'Hourishini.' I glared back.

'Pretty name.' Jazirina smiled with her mouth.

And then she kicked me.

The fully weight of her toe boot in my belly; I doubled over and her boot came down on my back, knocking me to the ground where I lay on my belly gasping. Her third kick was to the face and I rolled onto my back, tasting blood in my mouth.

She stood astride me, her booted feet on either side of my head.

Even at this point, as I lay, gasping looking up at her towering above me, I couldn't stop myself thinking how desirable she was, how strong and beautiful.

I saw her smile, suddenly terrible and cruel.

Watched her squat.

I could see her sex and the chain dividing it.

She was clearly still a virgin, she wore nothing inside her.

And then suddenly she began to relieve herself onto my face, her hot piss washing over me, spraying into my mouth and nose, running into my eyes.

With my arms strapped to my sides I couldn't roll free and with her booted feet on other side of my head I could barely turn away; all I could do was to shut my mouth and screw my eyes tight as she emptied her bladder over me. Eventually, I had to breathe, had to inhale the filthy stream, drawing the bitter liquid into my throat, my lungs.

I retched violently, the humiliation seeming to go on forever, the heat and the stinging liquid violating me; and through it all I could only think of the young guard seeing me treated like this.

Finally the stream stopped and I opened my eyes, still raw where the hot urine had splashed into them.

Jazirina stepped away looking down at me with contempt.

'You seem to have splashed something on my boot, peasant girl !' She looked at the drops of urine spattered across the leather of her boots. 'Come here and lick it off.'

I looked up at her, terrified but there was no compassion, no concern, just the raw force of ultimate power.

There was only one thing I could do.

With an effort, I rolled onto my belly and squirmed towards her, groveling through the dust of the square.

Then, lying on my belly in front of the crowd, in front of the young soldier who had looked at me with desire, I licked her boots clean, my tongue running obediently over the shiny black leather, up the huge slender heel.

And then she was gone. Mounting the palanquin, Rohinia gazing at her in awe and at me with...

Was she jealous ?

I lay on my belly and my breasts and hoped the ground would swallow me up.

It was the city guard who helped me up.

Even when Jazirina and her retinue had gone the other citizens stepped over me like I was dirt in the street.

He helped me to sit up and let me wash out my mouth with water from his canteen. I spat blood but the pain was nothing compared to the humiliation of it. I sat numbly, shivering despite the heat of the sun, watching as he collected up what was left of my peaches and put them back in my bag. Then, once he was sure I could stand her helped me over to the water trough where I knelt and he rinsed my hair and body.

'What is you name ?' He asked as he cupped his hands and poured the clear water over my breasts.

'Hourishini.' I told him. 'Houri for short.'

'You are a not a Mirkadan.'

'I am of the peasants.' I told him. 'My parents left me by the city gate when I was a baby.'

It was common practice among the poor people that lived beyond the walls. A foundling was likely to be given a loving home in the city, a security and a life that would not be possible for those that dwelt beyond.

There were, however, some in the city who disapproved of the practice.

'I am Marco.' He told me, flashing that smile.

I had to smile back though my lip hurt.

The hormones made me.

'Stay here a moment.'

I watched him stand, noticing suddenly how tall he was. I was taller than most Mirkadan's, he was almost my height even with my toe boots. He went back to the fruit seller and bought three more peaches.

'These will replace the two that were spoiled.' He put two in my bag. 'And this is for us to share.'

He pulled out a knife and sliced the peach into segments, tossing the stone into the gutter. Then he held one of the segments to my mouth.

'Thank you, Marco.' I took a bite, the flavour of the fruit bursting in my mouth, immediately washing away sourness that had been there the moment before.

He ate a piece too, and licked the juice from his lips with a smile.

Was he blushing as I looked at him ?

The sun was bright, and the day was hot, it was difficult to tell.

Then he gave me the third piece. Even as I bit into it, I felt the juice run down my chin and onto my chest.

With my hands restrained there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Marco knew that too.

He watched it run to the top of my breast and then, in a deft movement wiped it from my skin.

The hormones surged within me causing all sorts of responses in my sexually naive body.

The lust I felt was almost terrifying.

Had it really felt like this to be eighteen ?

'I really should be going.' I struggled to rise to my feet but in the confines of the vilisqaz and the unfamiliar shoes I stumbled, nearly falling headlong.

Marco saved me again and as his hands brushed my breast and crotch strap of my vilisqaz rubbed against my body I experienced another rush of sensation.

It was my turn to blush.

He guided me to my feet.

'Let me escort you home.'

I tried very hard to say no.

I managed it twenty yards from the gate, turning to bid him farewell. Smiling, pouting slightly then I turned away and, without looking back walked away on the points of my toes, crossing them as I did so, to make my hips swing. I prayed I wouldn't fall.

I didn't.

Fortunately the gate was open but, as I disappeared inside with a tiny backward glance I nearly walked into my mother.

'What happened to you, Houri.' She stared in horror at my bruised face and cut lip.

'I fell.'

'Is that it ?'

I wanted to say more but I couldn't; for all those hours my adoptive mother had spent caring for me, I couldn't even bring myself to be civil to her.

I did what every teenager would do in the circumstances, I pushed past her and fled to my room.

The dream faded and I was Sally, the rubber sex toy, again.

I opened my eyes, finding myself still restrained, locked in the rubber corset, my breasts squeezed through the steel rings and my bottom still firmly plugged and, because Mark couldn't release me from my bonds, I was lead into breakfast once again smelling like a used condom. Then, after a quick bowl of Mirkadan gruel I was once again gagged and lead back to the studio where Astrid and I were shackled, each of us held between two of the upright poles facing each other.

Once we were secure, Masia removed Astrid's vilisqaz and Sasha removed my boots and stockings but I was left in the collar and corset and the butt plug. The girls also, mercifully, removed the rings from my breasts which, judging from the difficulty they had in doing so, had swollen overnight so that having my poor squeezed orbs touched was quite painful and when the blood was finally allowed to flow more freely back into them made them throb in much the same way as my nipples do when clamps or pendants are removed; only on a much larger scale.

'Did you sleep well ?' Astrid asked looking up at the cuff on her right wrist and pulling at it.

Still gagged, I shrugged, the effort making my breasts jiggle and start to throb all over again.

'Did the spiced wine affect your dreams ?'

I shrugged again, more carefully this time. Even if I had not been gagged, I wasn't sure I was quite ready to share my encounter with Jazirina the Cruel.

Astrid smiled knowingly.

Masia and Sasha then went to back to work, decorating our limbs with stems and leaves and flowers. Masia's touch soon had Astrid squirming in her bonds giggling uncontrollably as the brush skimmed across her thighs and calves and the arches of her feet. I began to wonder if Taiarche had chosen to put us through this purely to enjoy the pleasure of having her former lover squirming in bondage. After a few expletives and some threats about what the helpless blonde was going to do to her tormentress when she was finally freed, Astrid ended up gagged too which made the morning rather more tedious than the previous afternoon had been: although there were some distractions including being kept in bondage while being handled freely by a pretty young girl and forced to look at a stunning blonde enduring three hours of tickling.

It would have made a fabulous porn film particularly if the girls had thought to stretch nipple clamps between us so that as Astrid squirmed my nipples could share some of her torment.

If only I hadn't been gagged I could have suggested it.

As it was, my only real hardship was a growing pressure in my bladder which, by lunchtime was becoming almost unbearable, particularly when, in a violent fit of laughter and struggling Astrid wet herself, earning a few sharp slaps on the bottom from Masia in the process.

Fortunately, it didn't affect her body paint as the artist was working on Astrid's arms at the time.

Luckily, this did signal an end to the morning and I was allowed to squat and pee with Astrid watching me slightly enviously. This wasn't a complete solution though, the butt plug was still inside me and that was going to have to come out soon.

'Dominatrix' Taiarche brought us lunch, some pastries and a cup of spiced wine, feeding us by hand and holding the wine goblets to our lips. Astrid was still shackled to the poles and Taiarche made no attempt to conceal the way she handled the helpless blonde, making Astrid lick her's fingers which by the end were covered in a mixture of oil, wine and the blonde's juices. In between her ministrations to Astrid, Taiarche fed me as I knelt beside her. Neither of them seemed to realise my hands were free but like a good girl I tucked them behind my back as if I was still restrained and thanked my mistress for feeding her obedient slave.

I licked her fingers too.

Then Sasha and Masia shackled me back in my frame, this time putting in a crossbar at the level of my thighs and bending me over it with my arms stretched up behind me in a delicious strappado. Then they got on with the afternoon's work.

First they shaved me, well, they started with my pussy. I'd done the front the night before we left, the night of our walk along the river. I had known Mark had something planned and had wanted to look my best as his little bondage doll. However, as Taiarche had pointed out the night before, I'd obviously not done a very good job down below.

After my morning's experiences and playing slave to Taiarche, having my pussy lips shaved caused a degree of excitement and at least a couple of type one orgasms.

I'm sure Astrid noticed and the girls probably did too.

I just didn't care anymore.

I then had the pleasure of watching my companion being shaved: landing strip and undercarriage.

Astrid giggled though most of this too but, whether by telepathy or previous experience, the girls used clover clamps on her nipples to keep her very still.

Then the problem of the butt plug was addressed.

By this time, Astrid and I were bent over facing each other, arms shackled up behind our backs, legs apart; both gagged again and both entirely at the girls' mercy. Astrid's nipples were still clamped and now tied to a ring in the floor but a short cord.

I was only a little jealous of the extra attention.

'You are going to have to wear the special vilisqaz until the day after tomorrow. We need to make sure you are cleared out.' Masia giggled slightly as she told me.

I'm sure some laxatives would have done the job or perhaps they could have just let us do it naturally.

I hadn't realsied Taiarche was such a control freak; I could imagine her grin and she'd planned it.

The vibrating butt plug was finally removed, to be replaced almost immediately by another metal plug.

And then the enema was run in.

I'd never really understood the sexual appeal of enemas, but then some people aren't turned on by bondage or humiliation. I'd certainly never thought to try one, except for medical reasons, I suppose.

However, it wasn't as unpleasant as I might have thought. The liquid was warm and slightly irritant, there were some cramps but the fullness in my belly was quite nice at first. It got a bit uncomfortable after a while but the relief when it was let out was almost worth the pain; a little like being caned, but not nearly as painful; more enjoyable after the event.

Astrid didn't seem to enjoy it quite so much, whimpering into her gag almost immediately the fluid was run in and squirming in her bonds as her belly swelled. With the neck stock on it was difficult to see exactly what was happening but when she lifted her head to look at me, her blue eyes were wide and bright and her face pale, a sheen of sweat visible on her skin.

Since we'd met, I'd never seen her drool around her gag but she was doing it then.

Her sigh as the enema was released was audible.

We endured two more and by the end I could see tears in Astrid's eyes and she was shaking in her bonds.

We were then given a full thirty minutes to drain before the plugs were removed.

By this time Astrid seemed more composed and she even endeavoured to smile at me around her gag though I could see a pain in her eyes that implied more than prolonged bondage and tightly clamped nipples.

Taiarche returned, still sporting the dominatrix look, as Astrid and I were being stood up in our frames to face one another again. I saw the brunette smile at the glare the helpless blonde gave her.

'Too much for you, darling ?' Taiarche stroked the side of Astrid's neck, her fingers running down to the helpless girl's breast.

Astrid growled something unintelligible but obviously rude around her gag.

'Well, there's no need to be rude.' Taiarche hooked a finger in the chain hanging from Astrid's nipple clamps and pulled gently.

Astrid continued to glare as her nipples were stretched.

'I might not be able to whip you as much as I'd like to before the ceremony but I can do it all I want afterward.' Taiarche jerked on the chain and Astrid whimpered, the chains restraining her clicking and her body straining against the frame as she tried to ease the pressure on her stretched nipples.

'So there was a little too much chilli in the enema then ?' Taiarche's voice was playful.

Astrid nodded.

'I'm sorry.' The brunette clearly was.

Astrid's face softened.

'Don't get complacent, darling, when you're done being my handmaiden, I am going to whip your arse so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week.'

Astrid smiled around her gag, her eyes full of challenge.

As they looked at each other I tried to work out their relationship; I knew about their early bondage games in Sweden but had also witnessed Astrid's apparent obedience to her husband as she followed him on the leash; then there was her comment about preferring to dominate: I'd even imagined, albeit briefly, kneeling in bondage as her slave. Now here she was, submitting to Taiarche's will, enduring what was clearly far more bondage than was strictly necessary to prepare her as the lovely brunette's handmaiden. As for Taiarche, this again was confusing; she had always been submissive to her husband, at least sexually, though I knew there was more to their relationship than that. I had occasionally enjoyed binding and dominating Mark and I suspected Taiarche might well take the dominant role with Salaxis from time to time. I wondered what he thought of his wife's apparently sexually charged relationship with Astrid.

'These have to come off, you know.' Taiarche jerked the nipple clamps.

Astrid shook her head.

'A little later then.' Taiarche dropped the chain back on to Astrid's chest and turned to me. 'I hope you're not feeling too neglected, Sally. Astrid and I go back a long way and it's not often I get to play with her like this.' She lifted her hand and played with one of my nipple rings. 'You can have some clover clamps too, if you like.'

I looked at her a little unsure how to react. The thought of her teasing my nipples and then gently placing clamps on them was very appealing. Perhaps she might even tie mine to Astrid's as I'd fantasised earlier.

'Well ?' Taairche continued to toy with my nipple ring.

I nodded.

'Good girl.' She bent and picked up a pair of clamps like those Astrid wore. 'It might take your mind off the piercing.'

She closed the clamps together on my nipples, sadly with no more foreplay.

I gave a gasp but I wasn't sure if it was because of what was happening to my nipples or the shock that I was about to acquire another piercing.

I soon discovered that my nasal septum was the next part of my increasingly violated and submissive body that was about to yield it's virginity.

Masia and Sasha finally did use a cord between my nipple clamps and Astrid's to keep us very still; the neck corset helped too. It was just as well I didn't object as I couldn't have done anything to prevent it. Even before I'd had a chance to think about it Sasha had rubbed something into my nose and then Masia had done the deed. My eyes were still watering (and my nipples still recovering - I had reflexively leant backwards) when Masia held up a mirror and showed me a fine silver ring hanging from my down in front of my upper lip.

Now that would be a hard one to explain away in the senior common room.

Some people come home from holiday with tattoos...

Astrid didn't quite get the same treatment; I gathered she was already pierced there and the girl's therefore just had to replace her ring. Even so, she jerked back almost as much as I did and, without any distraction, I took the full brunt of the nipple stretch this time.

Then the razors came out again.

I couldn't really think where else I had left to shave.

Surely not.

I remembered the painting.

It didn't take them long, cutting off my long hair and then shaving the sides of my head so I had what might be called a Mohican or, perhaps as it was so long, a scalp-lock; a mane of hair, literally, in a four inch wide strip across my scalp from front to back and then hanging down behind me and, on either side a glistening bare scalp.

Well, I imagined myself saying in the senior common room, it was like this...

As well as losing my hair, I also managed to lose the high collar meaning I could move my neck again for the first time in eighteen hours. For the first few moments, my head felt rather unsteady but I soon got used to it again. Having the heavy rubber corset taken away was pure bliss, my waist expanding once again to its natural size; again, I felt suddenly vulnerable, particularly as the breeze, warm as it was, moved across my newly exposed, sweat-soaked skin.

It was at this point, as I noticed that the body paint hadn't been affected that I began to wonder how long it would stay on my skin. Would it need a long soak in the bath and a bit of scrubbing or was that something else I was going to have to explain away.

I remembered the children's game.

I went to Mirkada and I got a piercing...I went to Mirkada and I got a piercing and a shave...I went to Mirkada and I got a piercing and a shave and a tattoo...

Once again that Venn diagram came to mind, the intersection of professor of history and bondage slut; I added a third circle: skin art model.

I barely noticed that Astrid was being shaved and was brought back to reality by my nipple clamps being removed; it didn't hurt me much but, if Astrid hadn't been so effectively gagged, I think I would have learnt some choice Swedish curses.

Next we were washed, Sasha finally removing the smell of sex and rubber from my body as she washed me very thoroughly and intimately. I probably wouldn't tell Mark all that had gone on during the fitting but I had a feeling I might tell him about this bit, if for no other reason than to remind him that if he didn't keep his slave clean, others might end up doing it for him.

He has a bit of a thing about me in the shower, I expected it would make him jealous.

The new vilisqaz were steel, like the ones in the painting but far more ornate.

Under Taiarche's direction, Masia and Sasha began with Astrid, locking a steel collar round her throat; it was a beautiful polished thing, shiny and smooth, padded on the inside; a slave could wear it for a very long time, perhaps permanently. Then came a steel corset, articulated, scalloped, designed to fit to the curve of Astrid's waist, nipping it gently but with undeniable firmness; again it was lined and locked on, a garment designed to be worn perhaps for days at a time. Matching thigh cuffs followed. Masia and Sasha then began to decorate the spaces between the collar, corset and thigh cuffs with an intricate web of fine chains that might have been silver and were certainly decorated with sparkling stones that glittered in the light; they hung from her collar, sculpted into swags and swathes across her breasts, linked to her nipple rings and draped below her breasts where they attached to the top of the corset; then they moved below the corset and repeated the process clipping chains to the bottom of the corset so they ran down to her thigh cuffs and curved between her legs to her various intimate piercings, multiple shimmering threads, each designed to connect to one of the seven rings that pierced her sex; they draped chains over her buttocks too, connecting them to a butt plug set with a huge gem at the base which Masia pushed inside her charge, locking it in place with a twist and a click that made Astrid gasp and seemed to make her eyes bulge. More chains ran down her legs, twisting across her thighs and calfs; the boots were part leather and part steel, almost like bizarrely kinky ballet pumps, they even had ribbons of steel that laced up her legs; the heels were eight inch stilettos so that, once wearing them she towered above me. The bridle matched this theme, a headband of leather with articulated steel plates placed around her forehead, with straps and chains running across her cheeks and a chain passed over her head to be plaited into the remains of her hair.

I could imagine any pony fetishists climaxing at the sight of her.

Her gag was removed to be replaced by a leather covered steel bit; it seemed we were going to be drooling uncontrollably for the duration of our service as handmaidens. More fine chains were draped across her cheek and then a chain was connected from her nose ring to the piercings in her ears so that she appeared to wear a shimmering veil; silver blinkers that reflected the light were then clipped into place; these were designed to restricted her vision but also to reflect light onto her face and illuminated her eyes so they seemed to outshine the sparkling gems around them.

Next her arms were pulled behind her back and locked in steel cuffs, again lined ones so that I was left wondering how long a slave so restrained might be kept in bondage if it was not too strict. Might a girl almost forget the use of her arms if kept like this, displayed as such an ornament, there purely to strut and pose and be admired, worshipped, lusted after ?

The bondage of her arms was not strict, not at first anyway; her wrists joined by a single link, her elbows by two and her upper arms by three; for a woman used to being kept in the stringent bondage of a single sleeve, forced to have her elbows touching, her forearms all but welded together, it was light bondage; it was, however enough to force Astrid's shoulders back and make her firm little breasts jut out; there were two additions to her arm bondage: steel balls for her hands to keep them safely locked away and two short steel rods with chain links on each end that kept her wrists firmly behind her, locked to her butt plug and her elbows locked to the back of her steel corset; perhaps it was a way to make her even more dependent; I knew from experience how much I could accomplish when left at home in bondage, the ability to bend my arms to the side even in a tight single sleeve, but this arrangement gave no such freedom; Astrid was a pretty ornament dangling on a chain who could be paraded for everyone's amusement.

And soon, I'd be one too.

I could hardly wait.

I briefly wondered what had happened to all my feminist credentials.

Astrid's eyes were shining as her bondage was completed, the beautiful blonde was now locked into bondage for the next two days. There were just two more additions, well, three really but one could hardly put a pendant on one nipple and not the other. I watched as Taiarche teased out Astrid's swollen and clearly very sensitive nubs from where they nestled among the shining strands of chain; the brunette then fitted Astrid with a special clamp that tightened around each nipple, a ring of jewels like a sparking areole. I know Astrid enjoyed this because her eyes lost focus. It was probably a level one.

Then Taiarche produced a large metal phallus, twice the size of the one that had just been pushed into the helpless blonde's bottom. Astrid's eyes quickly regained focus as her former and, quite probably, current lover held it up.

I was sure I heard some sort of metallic clunk but it might have been Astrid moving slightly in her bondage.

'Pity nobody will see it.' Taiarche told her. 'But we'll know it's there, won't we ?'

She reached between Astrid's legs and slid the huge shaft inside her.

Again, there was a clunk.

Astrid's eyes shone even more brightly and she came strongly; she was still trembling slightly as Masia handed Taiarche the jeweled lock to ensure the dildo didn't fall out.

Astrid climaxed again as she she was secured.

'And now, my dear, Sally.' Taiarche turned to me with a predatory look. 'It's your turn.'

I must have been holding my breath.

I can't believe I fainted again.

I didn't want to be there but I could hardly tell my parents why.

Princess Jazirina was choosing a new handmaiden and all the eligible girls in the city were assembled in the great hall of the palace. There must have been five hundred; nubile young women in tight bondage, leashed, shaved and waxed and most with nipple pendants swinging tantalisingly from their sensitive little buds.

I was wearing mine too, a gift from Marco.

I had stolen out of the house three times to meet him since our first encounter, not a bad feat considering I could only go when I was restrained.

On our third tryst he had given me the little rose clusters that now circled my adolescent nipples. I can recall the sensation as he had placed them, gently, almost reverently. I recalled how I had blushed furiously as my nipples had stiffened under is touch. For my European sensitivities, the placement of nipple jewelry by a new boyfriend was a rather intimate, not to say forward action; but by Mirkaden standards it was acceptable, a ring on the finger of a girl who's hands were usually bound in public was rather superfluous; a necklace might have been nice but then, in a society where a man collar's his wife at their wedding, it was rather too symbolic.

Mirkadans are not quite so precious about having their nipples touched as European girls.

My mother had smiled when I came home with them, my father had frowned.

I had gone to my bedroom, still bound and tried to rekindle the sensations that his touch had engendered.

My earlier encounter when he had helped me up, tightening the crotch strap of my vilisqaz in the process had been quite a lesson in the canon of my nubile young body and I soon found that nipples with jewelry clipped to them were similarly sensitive.

I was glad I was still gagged. The response as I sat astride a narrow stool and rubbed my nipples on the tapestry hanging in my bedroom opened my mind to all sorts of new pleasures.

I was still flushed when my mother came in.

Hopefully she didn't notice the wet stain on the stool as she released me from the vilisqaz.

Marco's nipple flowers were rather simple in present company, they certainly didn't stand out even if I did with my dark hair and more tanned skin, clearly showing evidence of the straps of my vilisqaz when I took it off.

There was a fanfare and Jazirina entered, flanked this time by two handmaidens, the two from the painting that would one day hang in the small banqueting hall: Engara and Rohinia. They were both gagged and blindfolded and Jazirina lead them both by their nipples, neither had been pierced yet so they wore clover style clamps making them very obedient to the leash that guided them. I could see that the manner of their entry made many of the girls around me nervous; it was clear now that I was not the only one who didn't want to be there. To be one of Jazirina's handmaidens was, of course, an honour and might win a family influence, a handmaiden might, reasonably, whisper a secret or suggestion in the princess' ear, the ear of a future queen but it came at a price. The chosen girl would spend her life as a plaything, a toy, a beautiful trinket to be regarded, enjoyed and, at some stage, quite probably, cast aside.

What does one give to the princess who has everything ?

I watched her walk up and down the lines of expectant girls, her toys in tow, stopping occasionally to look more closely at a potential candidate; she clearly liked slim girls with larger breasts and I watched her reach out a dozen times to cup a girl here or tweak a nipple there.

Mine weren't huge but they had definitely grown since I was last in this body.

Several girls had fainted either before or after their royal caress.

I wasn't going to be one of them.

And then, there she was in front of me; as beautiful and terrifying as before, utterly powerful.

When she stared at me with her intensely blue eyes I stared back at her.

I should have bowed my head, I should have learned from my first encounter, but something prevented me: perhaps it was her beauty, perhaps something inside me.

We stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like and eternity.

A battle of wills that I could only lose.

'This one.' She said it without shifting her gaze.

Only then did I bow my head.

I've only seen Mark lost for words once before; it was that day we'd been punting on the river; he must have known I wasn't wearing any underwear under my summer dress but when I took it off his jaw dropped. My breasts were smaller then too !

When I was lead into the governor's reception that night was the second time. I knew I looked good, I'd seen myself in the mirrored door of the grand reception hall; a shimmering mass of semi-naked desire; part harem girl, part bondage fantasy. I felt good too, it had taken two days to present me like this; what girl wouldn't dream of such pampering ?

The fact I was in bondage in public was exciting too, not skulking in the bushes or hiding my desires but overtly strutting my sexual fantasy in public, leashed and restrained.

And plugged !

I soon discovered the reason for the metallic clunks made by Astrid's dildo, mine made them too; some sort of weight within the shaft that constantly shifted as I moved, humping me gently and persistently. This was an ancient solution to a modern problem: how to keep your female sex slave constantly excited; I'd enjoyed remote controlled vibrators; I'd read about various coatings for dildos, leather, rubber cilia that teased constantly, I'd never come across this before.

Simple but very effective.

Of course, it helped that I was still horny from being kept in bondage more or less since my arrival in Mirkada, helped that I'd been teased frequently and regularly, touched intimately, plugged, clamped, gagged and been forced to endure this in the company of a luscious blonde who, if it was possible, might be even more kinky and horny than me.

And, of course, there had been the dreams, like flashbacks to the life of Hourishini, the peasant girl.

I wanted more of that spiced wine.

The room had fallen silent as we entered, Taiarche and her slave girls; I struggled to use the term handmaidens any more.

I watched Salaxis approach us, approach Taiarche in her purple vilisqaz, standing proudly holding her leashed slaves; a conquering queen where once she had portrayed the devoted wife; she still had the short crop in her boot but she also had a long whip hanging, coiled at her hip. She bowed low to her husband, a gesture that showed of the tight curves of her bottom and scantness off her garments.

No woman of fifty had any right to look that perfect !

It also showed the plug in her bottom and the one in her sex, bulging against the rings that kept them in place; a woman who had given herself obediently to her husband. He helped her to rise and she kissed him gently on the lips, her free hand reaching up to touch his face, a demonstration to all that she was the only free women in the room.

And she hadn't even been invested as the first lady of Mirkada yet.

I sensed someone beside me and turned my head to see past the blinkers that restricted my vision, the chains from my steel veil pulling on my nipples,

Mark was standing there with a look of wonder on his face, that same one I'd seen all those years ago when I'd decided he was the one I wanted to marry and worn nothing under my dress.

'I love you !' He mouthed it rather than said it.

I tried to smile coyly but I couldn't control my feelings and as I lifted my head there was another pull on my nipples; I very nearly climaxed for him.

Now that would make me a very good slave girl, or a very naughty one.

I wonder if many woman can cum just because her husband looks at them.

I was going to have to work on that.

My head was still spinning when the vice chancellor appeared at Mark's shoulder.

I think it took him a moment to recognise me.

His reaction was almost as intense as Mark's.

'Sally !'

If my hands had been free I'd have lifted his jaw shut; but they weren't, I was a helpless slave girl, restrained and displayed for the pleasure of men (and a few of the women).

I did what slave girls are supposed to do.

I smiled with pleasure around my gag and sparkled.

'You are a very lucky man, Mark.' The VC clapped a hand on Mark's shoulder. 'But then, so am I tonight.' The VC remembered his manners quickly and drew his date forward.

'May I present Vanoushka ?'

Mark almost made the rookie mistake of reaching to shake her hand as the VC introduced him to her.

Vanoushka Vasnikova, Professor of Robotics at Catherine's college was dressed in a black rubber dress that stretched wetly over her voluptuous form: a tight high collar with an oval of white flesh beneath bordering deep cleavage that was way larger than mine; the rubber swelled over her breasts, parting for her big nipples pierced with multiple rings which looked as if they had burst through; the dress parted beneath her bust, drawn in only at her ankles where it tucked into her toe boots so that it hung around her like and open cape, exposing her belly and thighs; she wore rubber knickers that stretched over her sex displaying what the American's rather vulgarly call her 'camel toe', complete with her piercings though only one ring was visible. Her arms were strapped behind her back in a heavy duty single sleeve. She was heavily made up: pale face, with heavy black eyebrows and thick eyeliner, lips a glossy black, as I noticed were her nipples.

Behind the multiple facial piercings she was a very attractive and very curvaceous women.

'Dr Frost.' She nodded to Mark.

'And this is his wife Sally.' The VC gestured towards me and Vanoushka studied me as I had just studied her.

'Ciceron Professor of History.' She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. 'I have heard a lot about you.' She looked at the VC, perhaps with slight disapproval.

Still gagged and likely to remain so for the foreseeable future I nodded, aware that the blinkers and veil emphasised my eyes and this was the best chance I had at communication with the outside world.

'Perhaps the two of you will get a chance to talk later.' The VC said conversationally.

'Perhaps.' Vanoushka smiled and nodded.

And then Taiarche moved off arm in arm with her husband and her helpless slave, like her fellow was compelled to follow obediently by her nipple leash.

I was very aware I was being watched and very aware I needed to put on a good show. It wasn't difficult, I had been the main attraction in the Todos Mundo, I just had to make sure I didn't fall over.

We walked in step. We'd rehearsed this on the way to the hall, leading with the left foot like soldiers, swinging our hips and Taiarche had encouraged us to lift our heels more to emphaise our grace. The steel vilisqaz was heavy, the chains of the veil were partly supported by the bridle but some hung from my nose ring and others from my ear piercings, they were clipped to my nipple rings too. I wore what looked like little clusters of diamonds on my nipples, clipped to them and these snagged on the chains so that with every movement my nipples were teased and jerked. There seemed to be a similar arrangement moving constantly across my sex too, teasing my labia and gently pulling on my clit; combined with the internal movements of the dildo this was almost unbearably arousing - by which I mean that having to prevent myself from climaxing every few paces was the unbearable part. Then there was the butt plug; I've been plugged often enough but I've never had such stimulation from it before; I suspected the plug had been coated in something and the fact that it was locked to my chained wrists meant that when my arms moved, the plug moved.

I was pretty sure Astrid had climaxed at least twice as we had walked to the banquet.

Slut !

Dinner proved remarkably long.

I was locked behind a steel veil and ring gagged.

By the end I could practically hear my stomach growling.

I was given a bowl of spiced wine and every now and then I bent forward, poking my tongue out through the ring and the veil to lap at my drink.

It wasn't a very effective way of drinking and it took me the whole meal to down two bowls.

However, it was quite strong and, without any food, it went very quickly to my head.

I'm aware that a number of my decisions in Mirkada have been made after a glass of wine or two (up to five, actually). I'm not saying they are bad, just that I have not always made them with sober consideration and they usually involve me getting into increasingly severe bondage; enduring some sort of humiliation and, latterly ending up with various parts of my body pierced; these decisions have also been responsible for the changes in our lifestyle over the last couple of years, something about which I have absolutely no regrets; they have also lead to some wonderfully intense orgasms.

As I was on display, I was trying to be careful but I was bored, especially by the speeches in Mirkadan, and I was horny and I was slightly tipsy.

It wasn't too surprising therefore that I began gently teasing myself to the point of orgasm with all the various forms of stimulation to which my body was currently subject. It probably wasn't surprising either that, on a couple of occasions, I went too far, enjoying little ripples of pleasure surging between my nipples and my clit and pretty much any other erogenous zone I was currently thinking about.

They were mostly type ones, small and easy to hide though I think some of the women at the table were, like me a little bored and looking for sources of amusement. They probably noticed something. There were some men watching me too; they were, I think, looking at me for a completely different reason.

I was quite flattered, particularly when they had Taiarche and Astrid to look at too.

We were all sitting together and they might have been looking at them, but a girl is usually pretty sure when a man checks her out.

That's probably why I went a little bit too far.

In my defense, it wasn't just me. I heard a little noise from the other side of Taiarche, a sort of gasp, the sort that comes out when a girl tries to stifle a moan by biting down on a bit gag.

Half those gathered round the table turned to look at us and I leant forward, risking a sideways look round Tairache at my fellow slave.

Astrid was positively glowing.

She sensed me looking at her and turned her head slowly; the look on her face, the flush of her cheeks and the way her eyes shone told me everything I needed to know; she had clearly been amusing herself in the same way as me. She lifted those lovely blue eyes to look at me winked so suggestively that, in my current state, I puled back quickly.

It was all too much for my captive body, the look, the wink, the three hours of uninterrupted masturbation.

I was ready for the gentle pull of the chains on my nipples and clit but I leant back slightly too far and the dildo twitched inside me making me buck slightly, my arms moved and the butt plug rammed home, I leant forward reflexively and all those sensations repeated.

Our vilizqaz were a little different, Astrid's had a small ball for each of her hands, mine had a single metal oval with my fists locked around an internal bar; Astrid's had blue gems, mine were mostly white; I had chains around the bases of my breasts which once again were just a little too tight; but, at this moment the main difference that mattered was that I wore a ring gag. Astrid's orgasm would have been far more obvious if she hadn't bitten down hard when it took her, I had no such luxury, my ring gag positively encouraged me to make a noise.

I did.

Astrid had attracted attention from half the table.

I got it all.

The orgasm certainly wasn't anything like the one I'd had in the clothing shop after my intimate piercings, it was probably only a type three, though it was a good one. It was just loud.

Fortunately, it came just as a speech ended and, after a long and very embarrassing pause, there was a round of applause that was probably for the speaker but, from the way the guests were looking at me, was probably also feedback on my performance..

As I blushed crimson Taiarche leaned over. 'I'm keeping count, you know.'

I looked up at her.

'You're a very naughty girl.'

I looked down and smiled around my gag.

I knelt beside Taiarche's bed wondering if I had made the right decision.

Astrid and I were keeping vigil on Taiarche.

This currently involved the blonde whimpering loudly and squirming in her bonds as Taiarche toyed with her helpless body and me enacting most of the vigil part.

It was dark so I couldn't see exactly what was happening but from the shadows I thought I could make out Taiarche on all fours in very unladylike pose licking at the blonde's pussy.

Astrid climaxed again.

'You can still join us if you want to Sally.'

I really did want to but I couldn't.

Yes, I found Astrid intensely attractive. Yes, I'd enjoyed being handled while my body was decorated.

But I was married to Mark.

Taiarche and Salaxis might have an open marriage, as Astrid and Sven appeared to but I had sworn to love, honour and obey, forsaking all others. I wasn't particularly religious and wasn't really bothered that I had done it before God but I had made a promise.

'Nnnnngggggggg.' I shook my head again, reminding my overstimulated body that it was in serious need of release.

'Suit yourself.' Taiarche knelt up and pulled Astrid towards her. 'Better do a good job, Slut !'

I watched her lower herself over Astrid's mouth.

As far as I knew the blonde was still gagged but I guessed the way Taiarche was feeling it really wouldn't take much to push her over the edge.

'Oh ! Good girl.' Taiarche arched her back and began to play with her own breasts.

I closed my eyes trying to tell myself I wasn't being ridiculous.

'And don't think I've forgotten your little outburst at dinner, Sally.' Taiarche's voice was tense with arousal.

I really needed to cum too.

'Up !'

I must have dozed off; I'd been forced to kneel beside Jazirina's bed all night for some minor disappointment that I'd either forgotten or Jazirina had made up or, probably, just because she could make me do it. She'd put clamps on my nipples too, toothed ones and though she'd taken them off in the morning, my nips were sore and bruised.

Besides, it was warm in the bath-house.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been kneeling there on the hard floor waiting as Jazirina and her other handmaidens, her proper handmaidens, frolicked in the spa.

I climbed to my feet and Jazirina clipped my leash to my collar - mercifully not to my nipples.

Jazirina was naked; I could, perhaps use the term 'gloriously naked'. Cruel she might be but I continued to think of her as exquisitely beautiful and her body was without compare. Even though she despised me and practiced her cruelty on me at every opportunity, I couldn't help but enjoy the sight of her.

Engara and Rohinia were with her, both completely naked too watching the princess as she lead me towards the door to the garden. She had clearly devised a new punishment or humiliation for me and was expecting my fellow handmaidens to join her as my tormentors.

On the first day of my service they had staked my out in the garden leaving me in the heat of the sun so that my skin had burned so badly it had blistered.

Jazirina's father had been furious and had punished her and her co-conspiritors.

Since then, her torments had been more subtle: depriving me of sleep, making me crawl with my hands bound on spilled rice, picking it up with my teeth, placing heavy clamps on my nipples so they were constantly bruised and sore.

They could not go out into the garden, especially not Engara and Rohinia, not with their hands free, though Jazirina could probably get away with it.

Jazirina removed the leash from my collar and clipped it to the ring at the end of my single sleeve, the then reached up and hooked the wrist loop over a bracket that was designed to hold a birdcage. I was forced to bend forward, my bottom and the backs of my thighs an open target. I was dressed in a vilisqaz made of fine chains, tight on my body, ringing my breasts, snug between my legs; Jazirina seemed to like me in this; she liked the others in chains too; I might be a handmaiden on paper but, to all intents and purposes, I was a slave and, though she might pamper them more, Engara and Rohinia were slaves too.

I looked up at my tormentress wondering what she might be planning. I had been gagged since the previous evening and I was thirsty. Kneeling in the hot bath-house had made me sweat.

I saw Jazirina whisper to Rohinia who giggled, her eyes wide. Rohinia was Jazirina's first confident and clearly worshipped the ground on which her princess walked. Engara was more reserved and, on occasions had even defended me when Jazirina had suggested something too extreme.

As a consequence, Engara was sometimes punished along with me.

I watched Rohinia wrap a towel around her loins and creep up to the door; she peered out then turned back for reassurance.

'Go on, Roh !' Jazirina encouraged her .

Rohinia quietly opened the door and, looking round again to make sure she wasn't being observed, crept out into the garden.

Jazirina turned her attention back to me, running her long nails gently along my side.

'I have such a surprise for you, Houri.'

I couldn't wait.

Engara joined her, running her hand along my back and over my bottom.

'How are your nipples, Houri ?' Jazirina reached down and groped my right breast, sliding her fingers down and pinching my nipple.

I tried not to react.

'They must be quite sore.' Jazirina pinched my nipple harder and twisted it.

Again I tried not to react.

'Poor Houri.' Engara stroked my bottom gently.

'She's a filthy peasant !' Jazirina reprimanded her. 'Little more than an animal.'

Jazirina usually became angry when Engara took my side.

'If you're not careful, Engara, I'll string you up beside her.'

Engara's hand stopped stroking me though I knew Engara enjoyed it when Jazirina humiliated her.

The door to the bath-house opened and Rohinia came back inside, clearly flushed with excitement.

She was now naked and carried a handful of nettles wrapped in the towel.

The girls took one each.

'Go on, Engara.' Jazirina goaded. 'You start.'

It was a test of loyalty and Engara passed with flying colours, the first stripe of pain a moment later, flaring across my bottom. Jazirina followed, carefully drawing the nettle across my back to inflict maximum damage. Rohinia followed.

There was nothing I could do. Even if I had not been gagged there would have been no point in crying out or even pleading for them to stop.

Ten minutes later my back and legs were a burning mass of pain.

'Are you enjoying our little game, Houri ?' Jazirina put her fist in my hair and lifted my head.

I looked up at her as defiantly as I could.

'I asked you a question, peasant girl.' I could see the anger in her face. 'Or don't you understand Mirkadan ?'

I continued to glare at her.

She let go of my hair and used the towel to crush the nettle she was holding, then she pushed it into my face. Pain prickled at my cheeks and across my lips.

'Mistress !' Engara was shocked.

'Shut up, Engie or I'l do it to you.'

She lifted my head again and rubbed the nettle into my left breast.

I looked at her, feeling my face burning and then, a moment later, my breast prickling. She rubbed my other breast with the crushed nettle; fortunately, it had almost lost it's sting.

'Want me to stop, Houri ?' She had entered tormentress mode, enjoying the full orgy of cruelty, there was nothing I could do.

I did want her to stop but I wouldn't admit it.

I sometimes can't believe how stubborn I am.

'Rohi. Whip her between the legs.'

'Mistress !' It was Engara again.

Rohinia didn't have any such qualms and I felt the nettle brush against the inside of my thighs before it found its mark against my sex. Jazirina caught the end in her bare hand and I had the brief satisfaction of enjoying her reaction as it stung her hand; then she pulled it hard, dragging it across my sex. She must have grabbed the other end too from Rohinia and she stood for a few moment rubbing my sex with the nettle.

'Aaaaaaggggggghhh !' I couldn't stop myself crying out.

Jazirina dropped the nettle to the floor and turned away from me in triumph.

'Come on, girls, let's go for another swim.'

'Sally ?'

I must have dozed off. I was still kneeling beside Taiarche's bed.

The light was on and I could see Astrid lying on her side on the bed looking at me; her lovely blue eyes showed a dreamy satisfaction. I noticed her veil had been unclipped and her gag had been removed.

I'd clearly missed the show.

'If you won't join us then you may as well have some fun tonight.' Taiarche clipped a leash to my collar.

'Up !'

I rocked onto my heels, coming up into a squat and then standing.

'You are so elegant, Sally.' Taiarche smiled. 'I wish I could move like you.'

I saw Astrid smile at me. 'She never says that about me.' She blew me a kiss and winked.

Slightly stunned, I turned away as Taiarche lead me out of the bedroom and across the hall.

I knew where we were going and a moment later we were standing outside the door to the private room in which Astrid and I had spent the last two days.

'Salaxis brings me here sometimes at night.' Taiarche confided. 'Sometimes he leaves me here.'

She lead me inside.

A moment later we stood by Hourishini's cage.

I knew what I was meant to do.

I dropped to my knees.

'Mark does have you well trained.' Taiarche opened the cage and I crawled inside.

She closed and locked the cage door.

'The cage has some interesting features.'

Taiarche reached through the bars and unclipped my veil and then eased the large ring out of my mouth.

I bit down on the bar wondering how many other women had done this before me.

I currently knew of two.

Taiarche clipped my bridle to the bar.

I wished I'd known if came off so easily, I could have enjoyed the banquet; but then perhaps Taiarche wanted me to drink spiced wine on an empty stomach.

Perhaps she was punishing me.

Then, still crouching, she reached in and clipped two short chains fixed to the floor of the cage to my nipple rings. My breasts were obviously larger than hers and the chains were not tight but then I felt her fiddle with them, adjusting them so there was a gently pull on my breasts.

'I want you to enjoy the full experience.'

I gave a gentle grunt of appreciation into my gag.

She moved further down my side and unlocked the chains holding my arms to the back of my steel corset and the butt plug, then she locked my wrists to the roof of the cage. Then she strapped my knees and ankles to the sides of the cage, pulling my legs apart.

Finally she clipped a chain to my clit ring and stretched it to the cage door.

'Comfortable.'

I couldn't move. It was delicious.

'Have fun darling.'

'Uuuuuuuggghhhhh.'

'Oh, don't worry, there are still a few surprises in store yet.'

Taiarche switched off the light and I was left in darkness, a helpless prisoner in Houri's cage.

A woke to a sharp pain in my side.

I was still in the cage.

Naked.

'Comfortable ?' It was Jazirina.

Queen Jazirina her face more heavily painted now, black coal mascara, black lip paste, her nipples a glossy black too.

She reached in and released the strap holding my jaw around the gag bar and then she unlocked my wrists from the roof of the cage and freed my ankles. Finally she opened the door of the cage, commanding me out. I crawled backwards, slowly, awkwardly and then knelt up, my arms still locked behind me and thrust my chest out as I knew Jazirina liked especially now my breasts had grown.

Engara and Rohinia were there too, shackled to the frames Jazirina used when punishing us.

Since the death of her father she had become uncontrollably vindictive, her punishments more severe and devious.

My fellow handmaids, or slaves, she even used that term now sometimes, stood facing each other, linked by their intimate piercings: nipples to nipples, clit to clit, their nasal septums linked too. I had watched from the corner of my eye and listened to their cries, their screams as she had whipped them until her arms grew tired. Jazirina carried the whip with her wherever she went now, tucked into her boot to be drawn and used at her whim.

From what I had observed, nobody was safe.

She had passed the law allowing her to go about freely less than two days after her father had died and nobody had opposed her.

Who would have ?

She enjoyed using the short crop, especially on Rohinia, when she wasn't using it on me. She had a bullwhip too which she used for her special punishments and I could see the stripes of its kiss across Rohinia's back overlying the tattoos that were creeping slowly across her flesh under Jazirina's direction.

They had spent the night here in the punishment room as I had.

Rohinia's head lolled onto her chest, her breasts moving evenly in the blissful release of sleep; Engara held her head forward to relieve the strain on her nasal piercing, watching Jazirina with her blue eyes.

Engara seemed more willing to endure Jazirina's torments. Rohinia, however, clearly did not enjoy her new station of slave and whipping girl and constantly strove to please our vicious mistress in the hope that her torment would stop. She had always been Jazirina's favourite, always worshipped her and so found her current treatment unbearable, crying pitifully when she was punished; at night I would hear her sobbing. Engara's attitude was different. She was accepting, stoical in the face of our mistress' brutality even offering herself in Rohinia's stead. She clearly adored Jazirina too but in a different way; perhaps she understood the queen's needs and offered herself as the submissive plaything she thought Jazirina wanted.

In both cases, Jazirina tormented them by punishing the whining Rohinia and showing mercy to Engara.

I was different again. Any sane girl would have despised such a cruel mistress but I took her torments, endured, not with the stoicism of Engara but because there was something about the way she treated me, something about her brutality that I enjoyed.

When she punished her favourite pets, I was insanely jealous.

She had pierced them shortly after she had become queen; done it in this very room. I had listened to them scream through their gags as hot needles had been forced through their most sensitive parts.

And I had bitten down on the gag bar of my cage wishing she would do it to me too.

Today, though, I was get have my wish granted.

I was naked; we were all kept this way most of the time now; Rohinia because Jazirina was implementing the slow torment of decorating her body, her beautiful, flawless skin with ink; and Engara and I because...well, I suppose she could punish us more easily.

I thus wore five steel bands; a collar and cuffs welded around my wrists and ankles.

Jazirina reached behind my back and freed my wrists from each other then commanded me up on to the heave wooden table onto which she had strapped Rohinia and Engara when she had pierced them and continued to use for Rohinia's tattooing sessions.

I suppose I could have tried to overcome her; it would have been me against her; she was, I knew, a skilled fighter but I could have used my desperation, I might have prevailed.

I would never have escaped the palace alive but I would have ended my torments and if I had killed her, spared the city from her terrible will.

I didn't. Much as I feared her, I loved her too, loved her terrible beauty, loved the power she had over me, loved that she punished me.

She was my Mistress.

I climbed meekly onto the table and spread my arms and legs so she could shackle me in place, then she started to apply the straps, binding me down tightly, straps across my arms and shoulders, my forehead and neck, my chest, my belly and my thighs.

Then she gagged me, locking two parallel bars across my open mouth, wedging my jaw wide open.

A brazier glowed in the corner.

I knew what it contained.

Strange, I thought, that Jazirina was going to do the deed herself. She had only watched as others had done Rohinia and Engara.

Perhaps she was more confident to do what she willed now.

Perhaps this was the next step for her, the physical, visceral infliction of that pain, the marking of another as her own.

I felt her hands on my breast, stroking my nipple which responded as she touched it. The warmth of arousal spreading through my body creating sensations that it still did not fully understand. As a result of my captivity I was still a virgin; as far as I was aware Rohinia and Engara were too.

I felt fairly sure that Jazirina wasn't.

She was powerful and beautiful and could have anything she wanted.

I thought fleetingly of Marco, of him decorating my nipples with the rosettes. He was a guard in the palace now. I saw him occasionally and he still smiled at me though it was several years since that day in the square.

Jazirina pinched my nipple and I gasped.

'Your nipples are very sensitive.' Jazirina rubbed it between her fingers. 'Do you like having them touched, Houri ?' She stroked it. 'Does it make your little cunny wet ?'

I tried to keep quiet but I couldn't.

My nipples had always been sensitive. With the treatment they had endured over the many months of my servitude one might have thought they would become less so but they hadn't.

Her touch was making my little cunny wet.

I looked up at her feeling myself start to blush, a redness like the heat of the brazier spreading across my skin.

'You are a filthy peasant, slut !' Jazirina slapped my breast.

I cried out through my gag.

I hoped she'd do it again.

Please. My tongue moved but I made no sound.

'Lick my fingers.' She shoved them into my mouth through the gag and I obeyed.

Eagerly.

Then she began to stroke my nipple again, making it slick and wet. She moved to its fellow.

My body responded obediently to her touch.

'Filthy slut !'

Yes, Mistress, I am.

Use me.

I watched her walk away, bereft of her touch. I couldn't turn my head though I strained desperately to do so.

When she returned she held tongs and a needle. I watched her reach down, felt the tongs on my nipple, felt it pull and then looking into her eyes I felt the pain at the needle entered my flesh.

I should have been writhing, bucking, screaming; should have felt compelled to squeeze my eyes shut; should have retched as the scent of burning flesh filled my nostrils; but I did none of these, even as the pain washed though my body in a nauseating rush making my flesh pale and sweat, I looked up at her enduring an eternity of pain that seemed over in a mere instant.

Thank you, Mistress. I even tried to say it.

And then she bent and kissed my nipple.

It was perhaps the first act of kindness or compassion she had even shown me.

I think she even smiled but my vision was cloudy with tears.

'How is your little clitty, Houri ?' Jazirina's hand strayed between my legs toying with ring that was now welded in place thorough my clitoral hood.

My body responded as it always did now, my loins warming, my nipples tingling. Queen Jazirina had just released me from my cage and I knelt obediently with my hands behind my back and my breasts thrust out.

'You're very wet.' It wasn't quite an accusation.

Yes, Mistress.

With the rings in my nipples and clit she now had even more control over me; could keep me even more helplessly immobilised when she locked me up at night using new restraints that were now fitted to the cage, clipping them to my nipple and clit rings. However, she was developing another form of control that was far more intense. Each night as she chained me she would tease me, stroking my nipples until they became stiff and then move on to my pussy, finding always wet.

The nights in my cage had thus become more of a torment than stiff muscles and aching joints; the needs her touch aroused in my body cried out to be satisfied and I would often spend hours squirming in frustration, the gentle tugs on my intimate piercings driving me wild with frustration.

She would do the same as she unlocked me in the morning and then I would be forced to crawl beside her, my needs intense, urgent, inflamed by the presence of her beauty and dominance as I was paraded through the palace, naked and pierced and obedient.

Her willing pet, her slave.

Sometimes, when she wasn't looking and my hands were free, I would touch myself, try to satisfy the needs that she aroused in me but the opportunities were infrequent and left me even more frustrated.

Jazirina knew this.

My needs were, I think, compounded by the fact that the queen had taken a lover; the whole palace, even I, knew from gossip even if the presence of a phallus bulging through the sweet lips of her sex hadn't made it obvious. In Mirkada, when a woman lost her virginity, she wore such a sign. This was followed a few weeks later by the appearance of a butt plug.

'You're still a virgin, aren't you, Houri.' She asked as she clipped a leash to my nasal ring.

'Yes, Mistress.' I spoke so rarely, even when I wasn't gagged.

I saw the look of surprise in her face at the words I'd used.

Her subjects had suffered beatings and worse for not addressing her as 'Your Majesty' but I saw her lips curl into a smile before she stood and turned away, jerking on my leash as I dropped to all fours and crawled to heel beside her.

I grunted into my gag as I climaxed, my thighs straining, pumping hard as I rode the huge phallus on which I was impaled; pleasure flooded though my body, for a moment, driving out any thought of the humiliation I was enduring.

And then, gasping, I opened my eyes to take in the horror of my situation.

I was squatting in the bath-house, impaled, balanced on the tips of toe boots, my arms strapped behind my back, held there, in a heavy leather harness, my fingertips touching my shoulders; there were heavy leather straps around my thighs and my ankles preventing me from rising; a huge leather plug filled my mouth.

I had bells clipped to my nipple rings.

Jazirina clapped in a lazy fashion and the others joined in too. Rohinia and Engara were there and Brigandis, the queen's lover. There were other courtiers too lounging on cushions or enjoying the steaming water. Most of the men were looking at me hungrily and I could see that their cocks were rigid, some drooling as a result of the humiliating show I had just provided for them.

Enlightened by her own sexual fulfillment, Jazirina had clearly known exactly what she was doing when she touched me, arousing me, igniting my lust, kindling a low flame that burned inside me but never allowing it to catch. She had made me a sexual time-bomb, primed and ready to explode; and now she had lit the fuse for her own cruel pleasure and the entertainment of others.

Another demonstration of her power.

With my body still throbbing, I watched her stand, walk across to me. She was naked, comfortable in her body and achingly beautiful. She crouched before me and ran her hand between my thighs.

I watched her lift her fingers, stained red with the blood of my newly opened sex.

Then she wiped it across my face and my breasts.

She wiped her hand on my hair.

'Do it again, Houri.'

I looked at her for a moment, pleading but she gave no quarter.

I glanced at Engara and Rohinia but they watched impassively. Rohinia I knew would once have been shocked at this display Jazirina had created, before her body had been so abused, marked, before she had learnt how little she or any other meant to the women she had once adored and perhaps still did.

I briefly wondered if Engara was jealous.

And then I started to fuck myself again.

Riding up and down the phallus, my thighs burning, my pussy stretched, already sore.

I did it because my queen, had told me to, because I had to obey her, but als because I wanted to obey my Mistress and I also did it because, after so long, I could.

I lost my anal virginity next, bent over one of the frames in Jazirina's playroom, legs splayed, arms up between my shoulders. I was given an enema first, a little colder than the one Sally had experienced. Then Jazirina let her lover take me.

Brigandis was a big man, in all ways and when he forced his cock inside me, I thought I was going to be split in half that I might be left torn and bleeding as I had when the phallus in the bath house had taken my hymen. As he fucked me from behind, Jazirina was clearly holding him, touching him, sharing him with me. I could feel his hands on my breasts, kneading them, his fingers pushing through my nipple rings and rubbing my swollen sensitive nubs; her hands, when they weren't on his body were on mine, stroking my thighs and, at one point, sliding between my legs and playing with my clit ring,

Her touch proved too much for my helpless and abused body and I climaxed loudly pushing myself back against Brigandis' thrusts and enjoying the sound of him crying out as he spurted his semen inside me.

Judging by her tone as she lead him away, Jazirina was not best pleased by the pleasure her lover had taken from his orgasm. She must have left me, sore but very satisfied, on the frame for several hours and when she returned she wore a frown. She also carried her whip and, after telling me I was a bad girl, proceeded to give me a good thrashing, raining down blows on my exposed buttocks until I begged her to stop.

I emerged from the punishment room on all fours, crawling at Jazirina's side, her leash clipped to my collar. After losing my virginity, twice, I wore the badges of my achievement, vaginal and rectal plugs, strapped in place by a steel chastity belt that Jazirina had added to my cuffs and collar; the plugs slid through it and locked in place.

I had become something of a celebrity in the palace, something more than the poor little peasant girl that Jazirina like to abuse. The whole court knew of my sexual abuse and how I responded to it; they looked at me differently, the men with unhidden lust, the women with something like envy.

I loved it.

She lead me down the corridor, Jazirina the all powerful queen and her slave, crawling beside her like an animal. I kept my head down and my shoulders up, my back curved more than necessary, making my bottom stand out, flaunting the evidence of my violation.

At the entrance to the great hall, she stopped.

'Houri.'

I looked up. 'Yes, Mistress ?'

Marco, the young guard stood in front of me.

'Pleasure him.'

I looked up in surprise and then down at my chastity belt. Jazirina held the keys to my plugs.

'Use your mouth you stupid slut.'

I must have looked shocked.

'Don't be such a prude, Houri. The guardsman here knows you're a slut.'

I assumed Brigandis had initiated Jazirina into another sexual fetish.

I looked up at Marco who was blushing crimson then I crawled towards him and lifted the hem of his tunic.

I could see his cock staining against his loincloth and when I released it, it leapt towards me, the tip glistening and already wet.

I'd never done this before, of rather Hourishini had nover done this before.

Sally Frost was an expert and usually didn't have the advantage of using her hands.

I was going to enjoy thanking him for his kindness and the love her had declared for me, but not as much as he was.

Holding him firmly, I ran my tongue down his shaft. He was already drooling.

I licked the other side of his cock and then I slipped it into my mouth.

I didn't need my hands from this point so I slipped them behind my back, pretending I was restrained and began to tease him with my lips and tongue.

I can't resist commenting that my favourite guardsman was standing rigidly to attention.

He was clearly eager, but neither Houri nor Sally were in any sort of hurry.

It wasn't that we wanted to humiliate him, it was simply that we truly wanted to thank him and, by this stage, we were both enjoying this sort of humiliation and wanted to make it last.

At one point, as I knelt a little closer and took his balls in my mouth, I looked up to see Jazirinia watching closely.

Watch and learn bitch !

Marco's cock was deep in my throat when he came and I had no difficulty swallowing all of his cum though by this time I already had quite a lot of secretions plastered across my cheeks.

I looked up at him as I gulped it down, pushing out my chest and spreading my legs like a good little pleasure slave.

He looked so shocked, I thought he might faint.

Then I looked up at Jazirina and licked my lips.

I started to replace his loin cloth but she dragged me away into the great hall.

From the basis of a relative innocent, Jazirina had rapidly learned an awful lot about sex and the power it provided. Brigandis was no longer her only lover; in fact, she barely saw him at all these days. However, her liaisons were usually limited to the younger better looking men of the court. She had no such boundaries when it came to me and, realising my popularity, Jazirina sought to exploit it. I was thus regularly made to perform floor shows, not only in the bath house, but also in the great hall.

The days of look but don't touch had gone too. I became a way of bestowing favours on courtiers or visiting ambassadors; the degree of Jazirina's gift denoting the status of the individual; I could be given with one, two or, sometimes three plugs in place. A favoured individual might thus use any of my three orifices freely, a less important individual might find one or two plugged; sometimes I was given gagged and in chastity so that my temporary owner might cum on my naked, helpless body or perhaps between my breasts but not enjoy the full pleasures that might otherwise be available.

If I didn't perform, I was sent to the barracks where I would be chained naked in the centre of the sleeping quarters, the chain to my collar long enough for me to be taken to any of the bunks; I would have my arms chained behind my back and my mouth would be wedged open around a ring gag.

I would be kept like this for a week.

It was not as bad as one might think, if one didn't mind being raped thirty to forty times a day, more on holidays and weekends. I was rarely abused physically aside from the constant sexual degradation of my helpless and, if I'm honest, surprisingly willing body. Jazirina and her nobles might subjugate the women of the court, binding them in increasingly complex vilisqaz, stoppering their mouths with humiliating gags, keeping them blind and helpless but the citizens of Mirkada generally treated their womenfolk well. In the barracks I was watered though not fed due to the gag and, in those rare moments when I was not warming the bed of another, I was always given a blanket.

They gave me presents too, a bell to hang from my nipples, a bow for my hair, a ribbon tied to my clit ring.

I don't ever recall being beaten there, unlike my time in the palace.

I was sometimes even given wine which, not surprisingly, in my starved state rapidly went to my head. This usually happened at the start of a meal so I could lap it up while the men were eating leaving me more than ready to entertain them after their meal when they called for me to dance as a warm up to what was to follow. The dancing wasn't quite what Sally was used to and holding a line with my arms wasn't possible, but I found it very easy to shake my booty to the traditional music the men played in what I might classify as bondage lap dancing with a folk-classical twist.

This is not to say that I was spared any kind of sexual violation and I did seem to have developed a reputation for giving fellatio despite the inconvenience of the gag. My breasts had grown too, my dream mimicking real life so that, when tired of my available orifices, a number of my regulars enjoyed sitting on my chest and squeezing my breasts together or tying a thong between my nipple rings as they pumped between my bounteous globes, ejaculating over my face and, even competing with one another to get as much in my mouth as possible.

By the end of the week I was invariably sore and stiff, my arms almost useless behind my back, my jaw aching and my tongue raw. I was also filthy, my body covered in the sweat and dirt of others, my skin painted with a layer of dried semen, my hair matted with it and my lips so coated that I could not begin to lick them clean with my dry tongue.

In this state and, usually plugged once again, I was forced to crawl through the streets to the palace where I was scrubbed down before being taken to the bath house to be washed properly. Once suitably prepared I was put back in my cage for Jazirina's use again.

A woke to a sharp pain in my side.

I was still in the cage.

Adorned in my new steel vilisqaz.

Plugged and utterly helpless..

'Comfortable ?' It was Taiarche..

The soon to be first lady of the city smiled at me as I glanced sideways. Her face was more heavily painted than usual; eyes and lashes black, her lips purple, her nipples the same colour. She was dressed in purple too, a high collar, studded with gems, a thick harness, a heavily stitched half cup bra that thrust her little breasts out; her waist was tightly corsetted, reducing her already slim figure to a slender hour-glass; she wore a little leather skirt and thigh boots too.

I noticed that Astrid was already firmly locked to her frame, bent at the waist, her hands still in their steel mitts stretched above her head.

I waited as Taiarche unclipped my nipples and clit and freed my wrists and ankles then I crawled out and knelt up with my head bowed and my breasts thrust out.

'Aren't we the perfect little slave-slut this morning ?'

I looked up, surprised at her use of language.

She laughed.

'Oh, come on. Don't tell me you haven;t spent the night enjoying one of your slavegirl fantasies. With that spiced wine inside you I wouldn't be surprised if you dreamed of being Hourishini.'

I bowed my head to cover my blush.

'You missed a good night by the way.' She crouched in front of me with a creak of leather. 'I can assure you, Astrid's is as capable in bed as in every other aspect of her life.'

I looked up again.

'I've seen the way you look at her. You've been trying to walk like her too.' She grinned and toyed with my right nipple ring. 'I'm sure you've thought about trying to do other things like her too.'

I kept silent.

'Well, if you're not going to talk to me, I may as well gag you.' She reached out and lifted the veil aside and then pushed the gag back between my teeth. It took her a few minutes to secure it in the correct position then she clipped my veil in place.

I guessed breakfast was out of the question.

'You'd better pee.' Taiarche straightened and gestured to a drain in the corner. 'There may not be a chance later.'

I wondered if Salaxis made her do this for him.

Dutifully, I crawled over to it reacquainting myself with the dildo that had presumably been partying in my pussy all night, and squatted, relieving myself like a good girl, very aware I was being watched.

Then Taiarche clipped a leash to my collar and lead me to my waiting frame.

In a few moments I was bent over facing Astrid, an almost mirror image of her, my body held down by clips on my nipple rings and my arms in a strict strappado; my ankles shackled apart. The blonde lifted her head and smiled at me.

There was a satisfaction radiating from her lovely blue eyes.

She smelt of sex.

Or perhaps that was me.

I'd been dreaming about being fucked from every angle all night; I was pretty sure I'd been drooling down my thighs again.

Taiarche left us to the care of Masia and Sasha and we endured another enema.

I was beginning to get used to them.

Astrid didn't mind hers either though I suspected that Taiarche had spared her the chillies this morning.

Suitably flushed we were freed and, with our butt plugs back in place and our wrists clipped to them we were allowed to kneel for a drink.

Spiced wine, of course !

I was going to end up with a serious hangover at some stage.

For the moment, I lapped it up and stood eagerly, if unsteadily when commanded to my feet.

An hour later, Astrid and I knelt side by side waiting for our mistress.

We had started off a few inches apart but then I'd noticed the blonde sliding slowly towards me. She couldn't do anything, of course, and neither could I.

However, our knees were now touching and, a moment later, I felt her shoulder brush against mine.

I turned to look at her and saw her smiling at me, her eyes shining like the jewels that decorated her body, her usual mask of composure gone.

We were about to step onto the world stage.

Dressed as sparkly sex toys.

There would be no videos discretely taken down or secret links here. This was a world news story. I'd seen them setting up cameras in the square.

I felt my mouth go dry.

Perhaps she needed some reassurance too.

I leant against her, turning slightly, feeling my breast touch hers.

It didn't go any further...it couldn't...but all those feeling came flooding back.

And that's how Taiarche found us, snuggled together as far as we were able.

She was accompanied by Masia and Sasha, still clad in their chains, however, these must have been removed at some point as their bodies were both painted entirely silver, even their hair had been dyed; they were restrained too, hands cuffed in front of them.

Astrid and I tried to separate but our vilisqaz were entangled and Sasha had to free us.

'If I didn't have somewhere to be, I would spank you both.' Taiarche was laughing as she said it. Even if she'd wanted to do it then she wouldn't have been able to, she was once again restrained, her arms strapped behind her in a single sleeve.

'Ready, Madam ?' Masia held up a purple ball gag.

'Better get it over with.' Taiarche opened her mouth and I watched at Masia gagged her.

Then Masia and Sasha took up our leashes and we followed Taiarche out on to the balcony overlooking the square.

Astrid's proximity had helped settle the butterflies, Taiarche's confidant walk helped. The fact that she looked so stunning from behind helped too.

Nobody would be looking at me.

However, I wasn't prepared for the scene that greeted me.

There must have been five thousand people in packed into the square, standing on the ground or seated in the galleries, every window in every building was filled with faces and they peered down at us from rooftops.

It was late morning and the sun was already hot, a welcome feeling after the chill of the palace and the cold hard marble floor on which we had been kneeling.

As the sun and heat hit us, so did the noise, the voices of the throng cheering their new first lady and her retinue.

I watched Taiarche in front of me, tall and effortlessly graceful on the points of her toes (her ballet teacher would have been proud), her slim figure exquisite, the skirt lifted slightly on her bottom, teasingly allowing a view of her buttocks and the hint of metal that could only be her butt plug. Her dark hair was piled on her head in luscious coils, tresses cascading down, a veritable goddess among us.

A very sexy bondage goddess.

Salaxis was there looking splendid in his purple robes. It made kneeling at his feet remarkable easy. We all did, though when he invited Taiarche to stand her slaves remained on their knees.

Yes, it was definitely a butt plug; jewel encrusted, of course.

As we knelt in adoration, Taiarche took up position beside her husband and the head of Mirkada's council began a long speech.

Having overcome the initial shock to my senses, I had the opportunity to take in my surroundings more fully, to appreciate the little details. We are all part of history, it is happening all around us all of the time but it is not often a historian has the opportunity to witness events like this first hand.

I looked out onto the crowd, the sea of faces resolving into individuals, men and women, some children even, standing in the heat of the sun looking up the spectacle unfolding above. Most of the men wore robes or, in some cases European dress; the women were almost all in vilisqaz, there must have been over an acre of bare skin: shoulders and breasts exposed, nipples hung with jewelry sparkling in the sun. Some of the visiting women had chosen the European style of vintage lingerie and from where I was kneeling I could look down the cleavages of bustiers and between the twin cones of bullet bras. I couldn't tell how many had adopted other, more intimate Mirkadan traditions but from the way some of the women stood in the hot sun, shifting their stances slightly, a self-satisfied expression on their faces, I had a pretty shrewd idea who they were.

I could see the dignitaries too, many nations represented. Some of these women were, it seemed, too senior or important enough not to be restrained or perhaps they were protected by diplomatic immunity. Others had adopted the local customs, some in lingerie and some in vilisqaz; at one stage my eyes fell on a beautiful oriental girl in a stunning green vilisqaz decorated with jade stones, she knelt, Mirkadan style beside her husband a serene expression on her face; beside her knelt another oriental woman in what looked like a form of kimono that was drawn together below her breasts, her pierced nipples hung with silver pendants, her thighs were spread wide and though I couldn't see into the darkness between her thighs, the leash that her husband held was clearly clipped to something between her legs; to her right was a tutonic looking women, large and buxom, in a leather bra and briefs, a leash clipped to one of her huge nipples, she was collared and, unlike most of the other dignitaries, was actually gagged, her husband sat beside her and as I watched him reach out and stroked her hair, she turned and smiled warmly at him around her gag.

It took me a while to find Mark looking rather splendid in his Mirkadan robes. I hadn't seen him because he was only a few seats behind Salaxis.

Perhaps I wasn't the only favoured academic.

I was the hottest though !

Then I noticed he sat beside Mirkada's only women judge, the women that had sentenced our film crew to be whipped through the streets and pilloried for flouting the cities strict restraints laws. She was kneeling Mirkadan style and my husband appeared to be holding her leash.

I felt a rush of jealousy and a fleeting feeling of missed opportunity when I thought that my night of self imposed abstinence might have been overly austere but then he spotted me and smiled.

Its amazing how much reassurance even the most self-confident woman needs when she's paraded on a leash, semi-naked, gagged and in bondage in front of the world's media.

I managed to get through the ceremony without fainting (my biggest fear), wetting myself or climaxing (which I wasn't so worried about) and after three hours kneeling in the sun I was finally helped to my feet and guided down down the stone steps for our procession through the crowd. I remembered my pleasure at the interest I'd received on my arrival in Mirkada but this took the red carpet treatment to a whole new level.

As we processed though the square, Salaxis leading Taiarche, we followed our mistress at a respectful distance. Salaxis might be a new figure on the world stage, albeit with a bit part, but he was a very accessible one, as was his new first lady. Salaxis shook hands, posed for photos, signed autographs and his wife, where possible joined him though signing autographs and shaking hands was very much out of the question. It seemed everybody wanted to touch him.

They wanted to touch Taiarche too.

And by extension they wanted to touch me and Astrid too (and our young, pert handlers).

There was nothing sinister, hands brushing us, placing kisses on our skin, a few more intimate, a number of things were hooked onto my nipple rings including a bell. If they were supposed to protect us, Masia and Sasha didn't do a very good job, but if I'm honest, I didn't ever feel threatened. There was security, the armed men we'd seen on our arrival, in the square but I didn't feel they would be needed. The only real anxiety was whether I'd make it back to the palace without a very obvious public orgasm; as before, with every step, the dildo inside me flip-flopped back and forth and every time someone patted me on the back and my arms moved making the butt plug twitch inside me.

I might have got through the ceremony without any self-gratification but by the time I made it back to the front steps of the palace I was very hot and flushed, something which had very little to do with the heat of the sun.

An hour later, we strolled through the festivities, Mark holding my leash which, to my surprise, he had removed from my collar and clipped to my clit ring. I walking at his side sparkling and utterly forgetting my feminist credentials. Even though we were no longer in the procession people made way for us, shook Mark's hand and touched me as they gave us the Mirkadan blessing of a prosperous and fulfilling life; a few continued to attach ribbons and other adornments to my vilisqaz. As the women were all restrained it was, of course, the men who did this.

For some reason Mark seemed oblivious to the fact that strangers were taking liberties with my helpless body. Sometimes I heard the phrase 'Ziarch trodos', one of the phrases I picked up on our first visit and part of my very limited Mirkadan vocabulary; it means 'they are so big' and it was used in the same context as when I was fitted for my first vilisqaz. The comment was often accompanied by a slight snigger and occasionally a gentle squeeze of my bejeweled and freely swinging globes.

It was probably all good natured and, at least, nobody tried to clip anything to my clit ring even though my nipples were positively groaning under the weight of good luck gifts.

The crowd had thinned and tables had been set out in the square and down the adjoining streets, many shaded by awnings. Men sat and women knelt, chatting, eating and drinking. Children, unfettered by adult restrictions, the girls too young for the vilisqaz, ran between tables dexterously avoiding promenading couples like little boats dodging between ocean liners. This was a family event and I found myself thinking of my children when they were young.

I wondered what they would make of Mirkada.

They'd probably be horrified at my outfit.

Why are children so shocked by their parents as sexual beings ?

I saw a couple of pregnant women, more galleons than ocean liners walking together in full vilisqaz or, at least what was clearly the Mirakadan equivalent of the maternity dress: straps encircled their swollen bellies and full breasts, stretching across their loins and disappearing between their thighs. I thought perhaps there might be some laxness in the bondage of their arms but these were as tightly laced behind their backs as any other woman here; I vaguely remembered that joints and ligaments relax in pregnancy so perhaps their bondage could be even more severe.

We passed a table at which knelt a woman, carrying and infant in a sling. I saw her husband lift the infant's head to her breast where it began to suckle. The husband leant in as she fed her child, his arm around his wife's shoulder. They looked a very happy couple, both staring contentedly at their child. I stopped for a moment to watch, feeling for a moment a pang of jealousy at their contentment and as I did so, a young child came up to the table carrying a plate of sweets. He asked to be allowed to feed his mother and when she and his father nodded, offered sweet which his mother took in her mouth. The boy kissed his mother and then ran off to play.

I had a sudden sensation of wanting to be part of this world, of wanting to live my life again, raise a family here. Perhaps I might be a better mother spending time with my family instead of my academic work. For the second time that day I had a distinct feeling I'd missed out on something good. It was probably the atmosphere and the fact we were thousands of miles from home on holiday, away from our usual cares. I had spiced wine in my belly too. This place must have its problems, I reasoned, but maybe they are simpler. In a world where mothers are sometimes unable to help, perhaps children learn to more responsible; perhaps they are forced to be more caring; perhaps they learn independence faster too.

A table nearby cleared and Mark lead me to it. It was shaded and I knelt gratefully suddenly realising how tired I was and how thirsty.

Mark seemed to read my mind, catching a passing waiter and relieving him of a water jug.

He put it on the table and removed my gag.

'Thank you, Sir.' My voice sounded dry, my throat and tongue were parched.

Mark smiled. 'You look beautiful.'

'Thank you, Sir.' I looked longingly at the water, hoping he would hold a cupful to my lips or even pour it into a bowl so I could lap it up.

'Do you ever think of staying ?'

I looked at him. Had he been having the same thoughts as me. We had joked about it a few times.

'It's very appealing but what would we do ?' I was trying to be pragmatic.

'Salaxis is expanding the university.' Mark smiled. 'Hoping to attract foreign students.'

'Perhaps we could lecture in Bondage Studies ?' I teased.

Mark laughed as he poured the water into a cup and held it to my lips.

I drank thirstily.

'Thank you, Sir.'

'Perhaps I could teach dominance.' He refilled the cup.

'Do you think you're up to it ?' I raised an eyebrow showing my skepticism.

'I'm very dominant when you tell me to be.' He told me.

He pulled a skeptical face and we both laughed.

'Mark, Sally.' It was Salaxis, Taiarche in tow like a good Mirkadan wife.

Not on a clit leash I noticed.

'Governor.' Mark stood easily and extended his hand while I struggled to my feet, the butt plug and dildo reminding me very firmly of their presence as I did do.

'Congratulations, Governor.' I curtseyed before him feeling my intruders move again, my movements limited by the fact I was leashed to the table by my clitoral piercing; however, Salaxis guided me up and kissed me warmly and then they joined us at the table.

'You are drinking water on today of all days.' He looked at me in surprise.

'Before I start the real celebrating.' I glanced at Taiarche. She knew what I had endured.

She smiled and winked as Salaxis commanded champagne.

I was relieved it wasn't more spiced wine.

I didn't mind the dreams but my body needed a break.

'Salaxis. Don't keep them waiting.' There was a tone or reproach in Taiarche's voice.

Salaxis might be governor and master in the bedroom but Taiarche clearly knew how to wear the trousers.

'What my beloved wife it telling me to say is that I would like to confirm the offer of posts to you both at the university.' He looked at me. 'I did discuss it with Mark earlier but I dare say he has had little opportunity to discuss it with you.'

I looked at Mark. He clearly knew something more.

Salaxis sighed slightly and I sensed a but...

'There would have to be a slight change in roles.' The governor sounded cautious, perhaps practicing his diplomacy. 'That is to say that I have appointed Lady Justice Zafrina as chancellor and I do not feel that Mirkada is yet ready to accept a female vice-chancellor too.' He licked his lips. 'I would therefore plan to offer the post to Mark.'

Mark looked slightly sheepish and I couldn't help thinking of my relationship with my current vice-chancellor. An image of me on my knees offering sexual favours in return for research grants flashed into my mind; Mark would want a little more than a flash of cleavage.

'And you, Sally, would of course be Master...perhaps I mean Mistress of History.'

'Professor would be fine.' I told him without thinking.

'Then you accept ?' It was the new governor's turn to look surprised.

I looked at Mark.

'We'd need to discuss it.' I told him as I mastered all my self restraint and tried not to offer him my body in return for his offer.

'Indeed.' Mark smiled.

'If it helps.' Taiarche leant forward and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. 'My husband did mention it to your vice-chancellor and in view of your current home situation, he was willing to allow a year's sabbatical to you both while you made up your mind about whether to stay long term.'

Salaxis looked slightly annoyed at his wife's lapse in etiquette and I suspected she would be enjoying a good spanking later if the party ever finished.

'The appointments come with some very generous allowances including the chancellor's residence, travel...'

'There had better be a clothes allowance too.' Taiarche prompted. 'Sally cannot go about in a borrowed vilisqaz for the next year.'

'There will be a clothing allowance.' Salaxis held up his hand for silence and I Imagined the number of strokes in Taiarche's punishment had just increased.

The party did finish but we left around two in the morning.

I could hardly keep my eyes open, a problem made worse by an encounter with Astrid and another glass of spiced wine.

'You seem very fond of each other.' Mark chided as he lead me into our room.

I grinned. 'Taiarche's vigil was...interesting.'

'Really ?' His curiosity was clearly peaked. 'Are you going to tell me more ?'

'No.'

'Salaxis tells me that the lovely Swedish consul and Taiarche were once an item.'

'Really ?' I tried to hide my smile.

'In fact he told me they would probably be spending the night of the vigil remaking their intimate acquaintances.'

I tried not to be too shocked at what appeared to be common knowledge in the modern day Mirkadan court.

'Have you been indulging in lesbian fantasies while I left you alone ?' I chided.

'No.' Mark started to undress then looked at me. 'Were you tempted to join in ?'

My mouth went as dry as it had done earlier.

'And...if I had ?'

He shrugged. 'I'm sure you wouldn't have.'

'I didn't.' I probably said it a bit too quickly. 'I mean, yes, they did...er...spend the night together but I was...locked in Houri's cage.'

I saw him smile. In one of the brief moments we'd had together I had mentioned the cage.

'And who locked you in there ?'

'Taiarche.' I looked at him.

'On your own ?' He looked at me.

'It's quite a small cage.' I reminded him.

Mark smiled and finished undressing.

'Are you going to release me ?'

'Do you want me to ?'

'Much as I want you to roger me senseless like this, I do need to get out of...' I stopped as I suddenly wondered where the keys were to my bonds.

Of fuck !

Despite my love of bondage I wasn't sure I was up to another night in the chain vilisqaz.

'We'll be needing these then.' He held up the keys and then went to work on my bondage.

'I knew I kept you around for a reason.' I couldn't keep the relief out of my voice.

It took him nearly half an hour to free me; he also had to undo a number of ribbons that had been tied to my vilisqaz during the afternoon; and unburden my nipples.

As he worked, I heard a little about the way he'd past the time without me.

Apparently, he'd become quite good friends with Astrid's husband, Sven.

'From what he says, I'm a bit surprised Astrid rolls over and lets Taiarche play queen bee.'

'What makes you think she does ?' I thought of Astrid stretched out on Taiarche's bed, helpless in bondage, a smile of contentment on her lips.

'You did say it was Taiarche who locked you in the cage.' He reminded me. 'I understand there's a bit of rivalry between them. I'm guessing that if Taiarche had Astrid where she wanted her, she'd hardly have let that slip.'

'I'm sworn to secrecy.'

'Even to me ?' Mark looked at me with his stern expression then looked down as he began to unlock my pussy.

'Especially from you, Sir.' I rolled my neck, shrugged my shoulders and massaged my arms.

It felt wonderful.

'Fuck !' Further discussion of the matter was curtailed when Mark realised the size and weight of the dildo I had been wearing for the last day and half. He was particularly startled by the way it moved.

I can't begin to say what a relief it was to get the butt plug out then go to the bathroom all by myself.

Then we climbed into bed together both naked and, in my case, free for almost the first time in seventy two hours.

'Were you tempted though ?' He held me in his arms and I could feel the swell of his cock against my thigh.

'By what ?'

'A little lesbian encounter with Mistress Taiarche or the lovely consul ?'

'I'm a respectable married woman. I behaved impeccable.' I kissed him.

Though being chained up in a cage had helped.

'That's not what I asked.' Mark could be persistent.

'But it is my answer.' I kissed him again, luxuriating my freedom. 'Now, Sir, are you going to fuck me or do I have to go and get that big piece of metal and do it myself ?'

'This is a four-poster bed.'

'And...?' I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

It seems a shame not to tie you to it.

'Couldn't we just pretend ?' I lay back spread my arms and legs.

Mark didn't want to pretend and, to be fair, the bed was fitted with shackles.

In a few moments I was back to being a helpless sex toy; a spread-eagled and very vulnerable one.

Somehow it all seemed normal now; I just lay back and thought of...England...and Mirkada.

I'm a submissive slut !

Spank me.

I was strapped to the wooden table in Jazirina's punishment room, the one I had been bound to when I was pierced; I was again gagged, my jaw held wide by the two steel bars that allowed my mouth to be freely violated; helpless, squirming as Jazirina's fingers traced patterns over my naked skin.

We were alone again, Engara was chained to Count Forixin's bed, like me now another pawn in the queen's court games; Rohinia was in the barracks, being punished.

The queen was naked; she held her whip.

As I got used to Houri's body again I realised shouldn't have had that spiced wine or thought about being tied spreadeagle to our bed.

'Your breasts are huge.' Jazirina squeezed my right breast and played with the nipple lifting it by the piercing ring.

I might be in Houri's body but it now had Sally's breasts.

'Do you think a woman can ever please another woman ?'

The gag choked back my cry of surprise.

'With her mouth, I mean, or her fingers.' Jazirina's continue to hold up my breast as her other hand slid down my body to my open sex.

Houri would have been shocked. Sally knew the answer. Both of us were gagged.

Jazirina stroked my sex and I shivered. I suspected she might know the answer too now.

'One might even imagine a women would be better at physical pleasure.' Jazirina smiled saucily. 'After all, she might have a better idea about what she is doing.'

Jazirina slid her ringer into my clit ring and pulled gently upwards. I tried to arch up following her but the straps across my belly and thighs prevented much movement.

'Uuuuuuugggghhhhh.'

'Pleasure and pain.' Jazirina released my clit but kept hold of my nipple. 'Both are so important in sex.'

She bent and licked my belly then brought her whip down on it.

'Nnnnnngggghhhhhh.'

'You must have pleased so many men by now.' Jazirina began to climb up onto the table seeming to tower above me, displaying the curve of her body and the swell of her breasts. Her nipples were stiff with arousal. 'Do you not wonder what it is like to please a woman ?'

She straddled me, her hands on my breasts, kneading them and I was intensely aware of her perfume and her scent.

'Women's bodies are so much more attractive than mens', don't you think ?' She slipped her fingers into my nipple rings and continued to work my breasts.

I nearly came.

'You must have thought about this.' Jazirina smiled knowingly.

She leant forward, her hands still grasping my breasts and kissed me on the mouth.

Her lipstick had a tang of liquorice.

'Oooohhhhhhh.'

Jazirina's tongue slipped into my mouth, her fingers playing with my nipples.

I climaxed almost immediately.

'Good girl.' The queen sat up smiling in satisfaction. 'My turn.'

No ! I'd barely begun. I wanted more.

She slid forwards along my body, across my shoulders until she knelt over my gagged mouth.

Then she lowered her sex over my mouth.

I tasted salt and caught the scent of her sex.

Houri didn't have a clue but Sally had a pretty good idea even if she hadn't ever done it before.

Tongue the labia, tongue a little deeper then move on to the clit.

That's what Mark usually did and it worked for me.

There was a bit of tongue thrusting after that and maybe even a little nibble.

'Mmmmmmmm.' Jazirina adjusted her bottom on my face and lowered herself a little more.

'Nnnnnnccccccgggg.' I was being smothered.

Her fingers traced across my nipples, and I imagined her exquisite body arched back slightly, her little breasts thrust forward, nipples jutting.

Kneeling.

A slave to her sexual needs just like the rest of us, albeit, a very beautiful one.

'Ohhhhhhhhhhh !' Jazirina was close to orgasm and I tried to imagine the look on her face, the curve of her lips, the soft warmth of arousal in her eyes.

Was that what Rohinia fantasised about ?

Jazirina arched up and I gasped in air before she sat back down again.

'You're doing such a good job down there, Houri, my little whore.'

I thrust my tongue in and sucked her clit and she gasped again reaching back further this time, her fingers stretching between my spread thighs.

I could understand why men enjoyed lesbian porn.

Women's bodies are so much sexier.

She climaxed hard, crying out as I pumped my tongue in and out of her wet slit until I almost passed out.

God it felt good.

Finally she sat back and lifted her hips and I gasped for breath.

'Good girl, Houri.' She lifted her hands to her breasts and then up the side of her neck to run her fingers through her long hair. 'You're so enthusiastic. I can see why you're so popular in the barracks.'

She eased herself back across my breasts to straddle my belly.

'Such a good girl.' She leant forwards arching, displaying her breasts. 'I might leave Rohinia in the barracks for another week so I can watch more of your floor shows.'

She licked her lips.

'You have no idea how much they excite me.'

I was beginning to understand.

Was this a whim or had she been planning it ? Jazirina was a meticulous planner, a control freak.

'How many times do you think you can cum for me, Houri ?'

If she touched me in the right place she would find out.

As if reading my thoughts (she was, after all in my dream) she turned round and gathered her long hair into one hand then she bent forward and licked me between the legs.

I might have refused real life cunnilingus but there was no way I was going to stop myself dreaming about it.

Besides, I was strapped down.

You'd better do a good job I told her in my dream.

She did and I came when she told me to, like a good little slave slut.

'Does that spiced wine give you vivid dreams ?' Mark was lacing me into the tan leather single sleeve he'd bought me on our first visit to the city.

I'd foregone the pleasure of a vilisqaz in favour of firm fitting lingerie.

There is only so much hedonism a girl can take; besides my aging body was feeling the effects of being bound and chained so intensely.

'I have had a few dreams since I've been here.' I responded cautiously.

'Sexy ones ?' He jerked the strap across my shoulders and despite my stiffness, the simple pleasure of being bound washed through me.

'Is Sir ordering my to reveal my intimate secrets ?'

'Always.'

'I've had vivid dreams about being in the court of Jazirina the Cruel.'

'Me too.' He buckled my collar in place. 'Salaxis said that spiced wine was used to induce group hallucinations in the past. I wondered if we'd connected.'

'Sounds like mumbo-jumbo to me.' I didn't hold with all this vague hippy stuff. 'But may Slave ask if Sir had sexy dreams ?'

'It's very forward of you, Slave but, yes, some of them were.' He ran his hands over the leather sleeve smoothing it. 'In one your little peasant girl gave me a fabulous blow job.'

'Sir must have enjoyed that.' I managed to keep my voice level. I knew it was a coincidence.

'Oh, Sir did.' Mark clipped a leash to my collar. 'She did it just like you do.'

'Should I be flattered at your praise of my technique or upset by your infidelity ?'

'I can't control what I dream.'

'Really.' I grinned. 'I thought Sir had control over everything.'

'Not everything.' He took up my leash. 'She was cute though. Looked a bit like you actually in your younger days. I first met her when I saw her on the way to market to buy peaches.'

'Really.' I followed him obediently, demure slave slut that I am.

'And, aside from a bit of oral gratification, did this relationship lead anywhere ?'

'No, she was too busy performing floor shows and being fucked by everyone else.'

'So you were dreaming I was a whore too.' I tried to sound irritated.

'You or she didn't have much choice in the matter.' Mark lead me down the corridor towards breakfast. 'Anyway, what did you dream about ?'

'Oh, the usual girl stuff.'

'Lesbian fantasies ?'

'What is it about men an lesbian fantasies ?'

'You are tempted though, aren't you ?' Mark persisted.

'Since you ask, yes, I am.' I knew he meant the dream.

'I thought so.' He grinned.

'And, if I indulged, would you be offended ?'

He stopped and looked at me. He knew what I was asking him.

I thought of Jazirina, her tongue on my pussy, of how I'd cum at her command.

Brunch wasn't going to satisfy all my hunger.

Brunch, well, late lunch actually, was interesting and not just because, after a good night's sleep and no sex for twelve hours (well, none in the real world) I was as horny as hell.

I found the vice-chancellor and Vanoushka hunched over an ipad; the UK papers had picked up on Salaxis' investiture; there were photos of the ceremony, lots of photos. The tabloids had clearly enjoyed the spectacle and it was a little like a trip back to the last century with full page spreads of vilisqaz wearing women; breasts, thighs and buttocks on clearly on display; a mix of post colonial indulgence, outrage and titillation.

One of the pictures was of me, a full page of my seminaked, bejeweled and chained body splashed across the front page of the Sun. I was in pretty good shape.

I was almost disappointed it wasn't page three.

The Times had a similar picture but had tastefully airbrushed out my nipples.

The whole thing was trending.

It's amazing how many people there are with a passing interest in BDSM.

Some with more than a passing interest.

It was this that had brought Mark and I to Mirkada in the first place, our first visit opening our eyes to the pleasures of bondage, giving us the impetus to experiment and in doing so develop our relationship; not that we planned this like some grand expedition, we just enjoyed the sex. However, in the process we had grown to know each other more; like all young couples, we had enjoyed sex and even after more than twenty years of marriage and two children we had maintained a reasonably active sex life; but Mirkada had rekindled something, a new joy to life that went beyond the great sex we suddenly found ourselves enjoying. We found new facets of each other's characters to explore and discovered the pleasures of dominance and submission; sharing them initially although, slowly, I had become more submissive and Mark, surprisingly more dominant. This had been an interesting journey; we were both high achievers but, in our academic work, I had always eclipsed Mark and our personal life I was frequently the one who lead; thus, although I was often the one who was usually bound, I was mostly in control at first. This might seem logical, to anyone who knows anything about the BDSM lifestyle, the submissive being in ultimate control, even though they turn authority for the period to their submission over to the dominant.

There is no doubt that, after our first trip to Mirkada, I dominated, 'topping from the bottom', I think is the expression. After the second this changed. I'm not really sure why but I came back from Mirkada with a desire to be truly submissive, to give myself without reserve or limits and, although it is a rather hackneyed cliche, it gave me a kind of freedom.

I had almost thrown myself into the role of sex slave but it wasn't just a change in me, Mark had grown to become more dominant and I loved him for it.

As I grew more comfortable with his increased dominance and found myself becoming more submissive; humiliation had been a natural progression.

I was about to get all I wanted and more.

Marks phone pinged and I saw Mark look at it, his eyes widening.

Then he looked at me.

I thought something terrible had happened.

It had.

Someone had clearly recognised me.

I heard a gasp and looked at the VCs news feed.

It wasn't long until I was trending for the second time in my life.

'Darling, why don't you take Mark to that little bar in Sergei Strasse ?' Astrid was a woman in control in her own house even though, like me, she was bound and kneeling.

I shivered slightly. After the heat of the day, Astrid's home was surprisingly cool.

We had visited at her invitation on the short journey from our rooms in the palace to our new home, the chancellor's residence. It seemed Lady Justice Zafrina had her own pad meaning Mark and I got a very nice place of our own; palace of our own might have been a better description.

There was just one more thing that needed resolving.

I watched Mark and Sven stand. They had clearly enjoyed each other's company while I had been gradually transformed into an almost lesbian sex slave and, subsequently outed as the bondage slut I was.

We had decided to stay in Mirkada for a variety of reasons but the deciding factor had been the news.

The next day's headline had read 'BA Hons: (that's Bondage Assplugged)'; I also saw 'Prof of Kink.'. My neighbours hadn't helped; there was a photo of a naked Sally Frost outside her burning house; you couldn't miss the gag or the collar or the handcuffs. Their expressions of shock and indignation were, I hoped exaggerated but they revealed there had clearly been 'something going on'.

If I'd had a reputation as a respected academic and a feminist, I'd definitely lost one of those accolades. Somehow, bizarrely, it didn't matter.

Something more important had come up.

Perhaps it was the strange self-contained bubble of Mirkada or perhaps it was the holiday feeling, that detachment from reality we all feel when away from our usual daily lives.

On the positive side, circumstances had made the decision to stay in Mirkada pretty straightforward.

'Will you two be alright ?' Mark had been concerned since the pictures started appearing; more so since I had been named.

Some of the comments from my colleagues had been cutting though, on the whole, most of my students had posted messages of support.

The vice chancellor had tweeted his full support.

'We'll be fine.' Astrid reassured him. 'It's not as if we can get into any mischief.' The blonde pulled theatrically at her bonds. She was in a blue vilisqaz with her hands restrained at he waist, a set-up that actually gave her quite a degree of freedom.

Mark bent to kiss me.

I almost begged him to stay.

'I'll just leave this for you.' Mark placed a small leather bag on the low table between us.

I knew what it was.

Astrid and I knelt in silence for a few moments, the blonde looking at me with those intense blue eyes.

'So, Mrs Frost...' Her voice was softer than it had been a few moments before. 'Sally...'

My mouth went dry and I swallowed uncomfortably.

'I'm so glad you and Mark are to stay in Mirkada.'

'Thank you.' My voice was barely a whisper, a small frightened squeak.

I was trembling.

Surely it wasn't that cold.

Astrid smiled shaking out her hair. 'We will be able to see a lot more of each other.'

'I'm glad.' I was.

I watched Astrid climb elegantly to her feet, stretching her shoulders with a creak of leather.

She was so graceful; so beautiful, honeyed skin over toned flesh, dimpled by the straps of her bonds; utterly magnificent standing there in her toe boots looking down at me as I knelt helpless, restrained.

Vulnerable.

I wanted to flee but was fastened to the table by my leash. Mark seemed to have taken a liking to using my clitoral piercing as an anchor point.

'You are a very submissive woman, Sally.' Astrid took a step towards me.

I nodded meekly.

'Obedient.' Another step.

'Yes.' I felt rather like a schoolgirl up before the principal.

'And very beautiful.' Astrid dropped to her knees beside me, the outside of our thighs just touching. Her touch felt enticingly warm as if her body radiated heat and I felt a strong desire to lean in closer to her. She looked at me, her fingers lightly stroking the top of my thigh as she regarded me intensely. I could smell her perfume, and the faint scent of her make up, feel the heat of her breath. Then she leant in, her warm breast touching mine, her shoulder, the side of her chest; her fingers starting to trace along the patterns that still decorated the flesh of my thigh.

I tried to look away, tried very hard not to want what she was offering.

Then her finger reached the top of my thigh and I turned and took the full force of those blue eyes. Our lips met in a hot, passionate collision, locking together as our bodies sought to touch, fighting against our bondage.

I remembered Jazirina's kiss, the heat of her mouth, the taste of her lip gloss, Astrid's had the tang of fruit: peaches ?

When our lips parted she was smiling, suddenly cool where I was panting and flushed.

I felt her fingers slip down between my legs seeking my sex and in knew she would find it soaking. With my hands sheathed behind me and, again locked to my butt plug, something to which Mark seemed to have taken a liking, I would have been unable to stop her even if I wanted to.

Aside from the single sleeve, I was dressed in a chain vilisqaz that consisted of a collar with a chain running to each of my nipple rings and then down to my clit ring, another chain ran down my back to my butt plug; these were crossed by a chain encircling my waist and another running around my back between my nipple rings; these two chains were locked around my single sleeve.

Aside form my toe boots and arm sheath, I was essentially naked. Needless today Taiarche had given it to me to wear. It was the sort of garment that a Mirkadan woman might wear in the bedroom if she wanted to please her husband.

It certainly wasn't the sort of thing one wore to tea at the Swedish consul's residence but like a good girl I had let her and Mark dress me in it then he had lead me through the streets in it with a leash clipped to my clit.

Some girls would have got a new dress for such an occasion.

Astrid had clearly approved of me dressing so provocatively as she had greeted me then, as she had knelt across the table from me, she had taken on a predatory expression.

Now she was moving in for the kill.

'Please.' I didn't know if I was asking her to stop or to satisfy me.

The tip of her finger brushed my clit ring and I saw her smile.

'So submissive.' She pulled gently on the leash and I shuddered then she stretched slightly in her bonds, kneeling up, pushing her breasts forward.

'Please...' I tried again, my voice a whisper even as I lowered my head and took her nipple into my mouth, touching the piercing ring with my tongue.

Astrid sighed and I felt her nipple swell.

'Are you sure you haven't done this before ?' She was almost purring as she pushed her breast deeper into my mouth and I suckled her gently. I might not have had a girls breast in my mouth before but I knew exactly what I liked done to my nipples

'Don't forget to do the other side.'

'Yes, Mistress.' It seemed so natural to call her this as I knelt before her offering myself as prey to this sexual huntress.

I leaned over and kissed her left nipple before taking the piercing with my tongue and drawing it into my mouth.

'Good girl.' She kissed the top of my head and then I felt her fingers running up my belly and touching the underside of my breasts.

'I wish I had breasts like these.' She straightened and I lifted my head keeping my mouth around her nipple.

Her fingers brushed my own nipple and she managed to hook my nipple ring as she strained against her bonds.

She pulled it and I gasped then, as she released it, she leant against me again, her shoulder pressing against mine.

I yielded, submissively dropping backwards, lying on my bound arms, my bottom resting on my heels, my legs apart.

'So submissive.' Her hands were on my leash and I felt her unclip it from my piercing.

'Yes, Mistress.'

I waited as she crawled round to kneel between my legs then, shaking her hair she bent forward.

I almost cried out as her breath fell on my pussy.

Then her tongue touched me and I jerked in my bonds.

My sex was locked shut and she ran her tongue over the rings.

I fought down the urge to climax.

'Such a shame.' She played with the rings.

'Yes, Mistress.' I was going to cum if she didn't stop teasing me like this.

Her tongue probed trying to part my labia and I squirmed whimpering as I climaxed.

'The table...' I couldn't stop myself. 'It's in the bag on the table.'

Astrid stopped, knelt up, turned.

I knew the key to my chastity lock was in the bag on the table. The key to sexual release, a way to remove the bolt that slid through the six rings in my labia, fastening them together then locked to my clit.

If I was going to be unfaithful to my husband, I was going to do it properly.

I lifted my head and watched her crawl to the table picking up the little leather bag and dropping the key onto the table. It bounced to the floor and I watched as she strained to retrieve it.

'You, Sally, are a very naughty girl.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I wanted her to put me across her knee and spank me. 'I'm sorry, Mistress.'

If only she wasn't bound...

She stood and walked across the room.

'Kneel up and take your punishment.' Her voice was so dominant.

By the time I was kneeling up she was holding a whip, a short riding crop. She couldn't use it properly but she didn't need to. She stood beside me and brought the crop down on my breasts with a delicious thwack. Even with the chains draped over them, the pain in my breasts was beautiful, intense, sharp and I felt them bounce in response, felt my nipples tugging against the chains clipped to my piercing rings.

Perhaps if I stayed in Mirkada, Mark would let her do this to me every day.

As she struck me a second time I came again, a level two. Astrid noticed immediately.

'A very naughty girl.' She whipped me again and again and I had one orgasm after another, all low level but my breasts were so sensitive and I was so fucking horny I couldn't stop.

'Please, Mistress.'

'What do you want, Slave ?' Astrid seemed utterly dominant and I was completely lost in subspace in a way I don't think I had ever been before.

But I could't possibly ask her to do what I wanted.

'I asked you a question, Slave.' She brought the whip down harder and my breasts bounced, jerking my nipples.

I came again.

'What do you want from your mistress ?'

'Lick me.' I was desperate. 'Put your tongue on my pussy, in my pussy.'

I'd never had a lesbian encounter before, I didn't know what else to ask.

'Please, Mistress.' I squirmed in my bonds. 'Fuck me.'

I saw her smile in triumph.

Had Jazirina looked like this when I'd brought her to orgasm with my tongue.

She pushed me back and knelt down. I felt her fumbling with the lock on my pussy and I nearly came again as I fought to control it, fought to save myself for her tongue.

Then the lock was free and my pussy sprang open, I felt her breath on my labia, felt her tongue probe me, her lips press against my sex as she used her teeth to pull out the heavy dildo I had been plugged with almost constantly for the last week; without it I was somehow empty but then her tongue filled the void and I was back in sexual nirvana writhing, my head thrashing from side to side, begging and screaming as her tongue raked hotly over my pussy making every nerve in my body pulse with lust.

My climax was intense and prolonged and utterly fulfilling.

Not quite a level five but damn close.

Finally, I was left spent and barely conscious, lying with my eyes shut listening to my own ragged breathing, my chest was heaving.

'Thank you.' I whispered. I couldn't even summon the effort to call her Mistress.

Perhaps I hoped she'd punish me again.

Finally I opened my eyes to see her standing above me, once again holding the whip, so utterly dominant.

'My turn.' She straddled me and squatted. Presenting the buckle of her crotch strap to my mouth. I fumbled with my tongue as I tried to open it.

'You need a little more practice.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I pulled the strap free and tugged on the buckle.

'Next time your Master brings you I will begin your training.'

I pulled the buckle free.

'But this time, let's just have some fun.'

I didn't really know what she was talking about but at that moment I didn't really care.

'Yes, Mistress.' I could see the ring on the bottom of her dildo and took it in my teeth, easing it out, watching as it slid, glistening, from her pussy.

'I will very much enjoying training you.'

I loved the way she was talking to me, making me feel like a real slave girl.

'Yes, Mistress.' I tossed the dildo aside and lifted my head, plunging my tongue into her pussy.

'Gently.'

'Sorry, Mistress.' I felt myself blush at my eagerness to please her.

She squatted lower and I relaxed, running my tongue over her sex, as the salt taste of her filled my mouth.

'Better.' There was a purr in her tone.

I smiled and continued to tease her, slowly increasing her arousal, flicking her clit ring with my tongue and then taking it in my teeth, using it to pull her down so I could reach her more easily, push my tongue inside now I was ready.

She climaxed surprisingly quickly, a deep sound like a howl escaping her throat.

Then she stood.

'Good girl.' She smiled down at me and I was stunned to see the flush in her cheeks and across her chest. This was not the cool, sophisticated Astrid I knew, this was a women who had just had sex, good sex probably, hopefully; her hair, the remains of it after our medieval makeover was tousled and her lipstick was smudged; I could see my lipstick smeared on her face too, and her nipples; there was more than lipstick plastered across her face.

I guessed I probably looked the same, probably worse, she had sat astride me, drooling over my face as well as into my mouth; Astrid was, to use the vernacular from the pornographic literature, a 'squirter' and, when she had climaxed had 'ejaculated' liberally over my face, into my nose and mouth and probably across the carpet too.

Her lips curved into a smile.

'We'd better get this place cleaned up.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I struggled back up onto my knees and looked at our discarded dildos, the whip lying on the floor beside my chastity bar. Without the use of our hands this was going to be difficult and even if we did manage it, there was still our appearance.

The image of Houri on her knees clearing up spilled rice with her mouth came to me and I smiled at the thought of using my mouth to push Astrid's dildo back in. It was something I'd be very happy to attempt; I might even manage to get her crotch strap done up again.

'I think you'd better undo my wrists.' Astrid stood beside me, presenting the buckle of her wrist cuff to my mouth.

I looked up in surprise.

'It is my house.' She grinned. 'I don't have to be bound.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I took the buckle in my teeth and pulled out the end of the strap then I tugged on it and managed to free the tine. Astrid pulled her wrist free and then released her other arm. She rubbed her wrists and then bent to pick up the whip.

'You've been a very naughty girl, Sally.'

Once again, I must have looked surprised.

'What will Mark say ?' She tucked the whip onto a strap of her vilisqaz and bent to retrieve her dildo, slipping it inside her almost casually and rebuckling her crotch strap.

I felt disappointed.

'Infidelity in Mirkada is punishably by public humiliation.' Her voice was serious suddenly. 'If he pressed charges I expect you'd get a whipping though the streets and a day in the pillory.'

'But...' I was shocked.

She grinned rather smugly. 'Diplomatic immunity.'

'You...?'

'You fanatasise about being whipped though the streets and pilloried, don't you ?'

My mouth moved but no words came out.

Mark had clearly wanted this to happen but surely this wasn't some ploy to humiliate me here as I had been humiliated elsehwere.

The whip came down across my breasts.

'Mistress asked you a question, Slave.'

I looked up at her in fear but unable to suppress a twinge of excitement.

Could she know I'd laid awake at night thinking about going onto the streets of Mirkada unbound so that I could be punished as Priya and Kirsty had been punished ?

'Yes, Mistress.' My reply was a a whisper.

'I can't hear you, Slave.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

'Yes, what ?'

'Slave would enjoy being whipped though the streets and humiliated in the pillory.'

Astrid smiled and tucked the whip back into her vilisqaz then she picked up my dildo and chastity restraint.

'Kneel up.'

I obeyed and she bent over me, pushing the tip of the huge metal phallus against my pussy then gently shoving it inside.

'Are you always this wet ?'

'I do seem to be a lot of the time, Mistress.'

I think she smiled. Then she locked my sex shut and reattached my clit leash, tethering me to to table.

When Astrid came back into the room, it was as the sophisticated diplomat; her face once again beautifully made up, all traces of my lipstick cleared from her face and nipples; the remains of her hair brushed and plaited.

I think she had probably showered.

She was certainly wearing a fresh vilisqaz in studded black leather.

An exquisite dominatrix !

She frowned as she looked at me. I still smelt of sex and had her juices and lipstick smeared across my body.

'Well, I'm not sure there's much we can do for you before your husband gets back but perhaps we'll just touch up your lipstick.' She drew out a stick and bent towards me then ran the glossy red paste around my mouth, applying far more than I would normally use.

'There.' She smiled. 'Much better. You look like one of the street whores outside Stockholm railway station.'

My jaw dropped.

'Actually, I think you need a little more.' She lifted my right breast and rouged my nipple then did the same to my left.

'Much better. I assume you've read the Story of O.'

My mind was still reeling from the way she was treating me but a sharp blow of the crop to my breasts brought my attention back.

'Yes, Mistress.'

'Then you will know the way she was trained to behave, expected to be available to all who wanted to use her, the way she was expected to dress, the way she was randomly punished.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I was struggling to take in all that she was saying.

Surely...

I heard the door open and looked up to see Mark come in, saw him stop and look at me kneeling in bondage, my face smeared with another woman's juices, a lesbian whore; a promiscuous slut caught indulging in her fantasies of being owned, dominated; a woman who a moment ago had thought again about going into the streets of Mirkada intending to break the law deliberately so that she might suffer a public flogging.

I blushed, my face and body burning like never before, my skin glowing, heat radiating through the marks still decorating my body, making me feel I like I might suddenly burst into flame. I knew now it wasn't the hormones, though the might have accounted for some of my actions in the last few weeks.

Sweat pricking my skin as I squirmed ignominiously in my bonds.

'Has she been a good girl ?' Mark was asking Astrid.

'Not bad but she is in need of training.' Astrid turned to Mark. 'I fear you've been rather indulgent with her but I've made a start.'

I looked up at Mark and Astrid, my mouth hanging open, my face aflame.

'Sir...' I wasn't sure what I was going to say.

Thank you for letting me a submissive lesbian whore ?

'From now on I expect you to call me Master.' Mark's voice was firm and I noticed Astrid nod slightly in approval.

'Yes, Master.' I bowed my head again feeling myself begin to shiver slightly.

'Mistress Astrid has kindly agreed to train you.'

I looked up, my mouth opened again but I didn't speak. I think Mark was trying to remain stern despite my shocked expression.

'You will obey her completely and without question. You will find that Mistress Astrid is a skilled dominatrix.'

I knelt, listening. Shocked.

Thrilled.

'In return for training you as my sex slave, she will have complete use of your body, the freedom to enjoy it in any way she chooses. She also has full authority to punish and reward you as she sees fit. I'm sure you will soon find she demands complete obedience.'

I looked at Astrid noticing she once again held the whip.

She smiled down at me, suddenly very predatory. I shuddered, thinking of O.

'Darling.' Astrid turned to Sven. 'Why don't you show this new slave how much submission I demand.'

'Yes, Mistress.' Sven unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a thin steel collar with chains running down to his pierced nipples and as he slipped the shirt off he turned round to show a back covered in welts and bruises that were clearly made by whips.

'All of it, Slave.'

'Yes, Mistress.' Sven undid his trousers, opening the fly to reveal his cock was held in a tight restraint, there were straps around his balls and, as he lowered his trousers, I could see he wore a full chastity belt. He removed his shoes and trousers fully before slipping his hands behind his back.

'I will send you here every day for discipline and training.' Mark continued.

'Yes, Master.' My voice was a whisper.

Astrid stroked her male slave's shoulders, running her hands over the rippling muscles. 'How long is it since you have cum, Slave ?'

'Forty two days, Mistress.' Sven kept his head bowed.

She reached down and squeezed his balls. 'I bet these are really sore.'

Sven groaned. 'Yes, Mistress.'

'Would you like to cum, Slave ?'

'Yes, Mistress.' Sven looked up hopefully and Mistress Astrid produced a key.

I watched as she unlocked his cock restraint.

'Slave !' Mistress Astrid looked at me. 'Come here.'

I looked at Mark.

'Now, Slave.' Mistress Astrid's tone left no room for argument.

I crawled towards her and, towards Sven, her waiting slave. Sven's cock was huge and stiff, already drooling.

I knew exactly what she was going to tell me to do. As Houri I had done it hundreds of times.

Surely Mark wouldn't let her.

'Pleasure him.'

I looked up at Mark.

No !

I leant forward and opened my mouth.

'Stop.' Mark pushed my head away.

'Looks like it isn't your day slave.' Mistress Astrid slipped Sven's cock restraint back in place and locked it.

'You'd have done it, wouldn't you ?' Mark was leading me along by my clit leash.

'Yes, Master.' We were going home, home to our new house, the chancellor's residence.

We passed a shopfront and I saw my reflection in the glass, my hair was still tousled, and I could feel Astrid's juices, dry now on my face. In my 'bedroom' vilisqaz and bright lipstick I must have looked as much of a slut as the people of Cambridge now knew me to be.

I really didn't care.

Those around me didn't seem to either.

My body paint, which Taiarche had assured me would fade over time marked me out as one of her handmaidens; the dark haired one. I'd already heard the locals muttering 'Hourishini' as I passed.

They all smiled at me and showed respect.

Apparently a good sex life was an important part of Mirkadan society and everyone now seemed to know about mine.

I was a sex slave and my body tingled at the thought, or perhaps it was the rings in my nipples and the huge dildo rocking backwards and forwards inside me.

A sex slave to my Master and, now, to a beautiful Mistress too.

We reached our new home.

It was beautiful, built later than the palace but to a similar style though on a less grand scale; it even; it certainly beat our little cottage in Cambridge, even before it burned down.

It even had a tower and I was already thinking of ways I might be imprisoned there; I really wanted a cage.

Mark stopped me on the threshold the swept me up into his arms.

'Isn't Master going to make his slave crawl across the threshold ?'

'You're still my wife.' He kissed me. 'There's plenty of time for humiliation.'

I smiled happily snuggling against him as he stepped inside.

We had seen it before but this was different, we were now home.

Mark put me down and I dropped to my knees.

'Master ?' I had once been Professor Sally Frost, Ciceron Professor of History as Cambridge University and, in time I might be again.

Mark looked down at me.

'Yes ?'

'May Slave speak ?' I was now Slave, perhaps I should adopt a Mirkardan name.

Hourishini seemed nice.

Master smiled. 'Yes.'

'Master.' I took a breath. 'Slave wants to thank you for...understanding...her needs.'

Master smiled.

'Slave also needs to tell Master one more thing.' I looked up at him.

The man I loved, my Master.

'Slave is pregnant.' I had done the test with the help of Taiarche the previous day.

I saw Mark smile with pure delight, then he bent and kissed me then he and commanded me to bed.