The slave girl Read online

  "You can't tell me you couldn't walk out into the street."

  "I can do that alright. But I don't want the consequences. And please don't ask me about those consequences. You'll pick'em up as you go along. One more drink?"

  "You mean I'll be more amenable when drunk?"

  "Of course."

  Corey took the refill and looked the naked English girl straight in the eye as she drank it. Defiantly, she avowed: "That won't take me over the brink, and it's the last."

  Audrey Cotswold nodded brightly and took the empty glass. "I put something in that one."

  "To knock me out?"

  "Heavens no! That would spoil things." The naked girl giggled. "I've never tried the stuff. If it does half of what it's supposed to you'll be a happy girl – and lucky!"

  Corey Gibson found herself laughing at the absurdity of things. This girl was nice, she would make love adorable.

  "You've got the loveliest breasts, Audrey." She said warmly. "And the bushiest bush…"

  "They are nice, aren't they! I like them too." Audrey Cotswold glowed with pride. "But I bet yours… Mmmmmm!"

  It was remarkable how a handcuffed girl could be so deft. Corey looked down interestedly at the bright metal and the hands it joined. She had supposed that once someone was handcuffed that was the end for them. But Audrey's fingers were free in feminine wisdom about zippers and clips and where to look…! It was amusing how the expensive creations fell in small cascades to the floor at her feet. It was not until linked hands touched and caressed her breasts that Corey Gibson realized the clothes were her own, and that she was naked.

  "Now there's two of us." Corey refused to giggle or be coy. To remove her hands from the temptation to cover something she put them behind her back. "Am I a nice nude?" She enquired hopefully.

  "You're as close to perfection as us girls come." Audrey stood back, making a sober and honest evaluation of something lovely. "I don't know what Aslam's done to deserve us both. You are just slightly breathtaking, Miss Corey Gibson.

  Corey glowed. It was strange to be naked in a business office and not feel naked at all. She was exploring Audrey Cotswold's left nipple when something was pressed into her hand. Her exclamation was one of pleased surprise. "Audrey, it's a key, a tiny little key."

  "I can do it myself." Miss Cotswold admitted. "But it's so much easier if you do it."

  It was fun. Two naked girls sharing chuckles as an erratic key sought an equally erratic keyhole. "Seems like you turn it the wrong way, dear, not too hard." The English girl turned her locked wrists to Miss Corey Gibson's best advantage.

  Miss Corey Gibson herself was utterly absorbed. She was imbued with an exiting sense of kinship with this nude beauty whose handcuffs she was fumblingly striving to unlock. The task was no more remarkable than helping with tight gloves or a recalcitrant bra. Corey felt real pride as the first cuff opened and fell away from the slender wrist it had snugly held.

  "There! Aren't I clever -!"

  Before the daughter of the Planet Corporation could say or do more, she was enveloped by two bare fervid arms. The loose cuff dangled at her back and beat a small rhythm on her skin as she was hugged and hugged again.

  "I've wanted to do that since I first saw you." Audrey sighed. "Let's rub breasts and nipples."

  When the frictioning of vibrant flesh began to take Miss Corey Gibson into a roseate world of heavy perfumed breathing she was thrust gently from the communion of four hard scarlet buds. This time the handcuffs were pendent from a single wrist.

  "One more, Corey…"

  In shared delight the two naked girls watched the probing key and the slowly opened cuff. "They aren't ugly at all, Audrey. I can see that now. They looked expensively right on you." In a pleasant glow, Corey looked down to watch her companion catch the freed chrome and playfully clasp it once again upon a feminine wrist. That the wrist felt like her own was a matter for hilarity. Laughingly, she informed: "I think that's me you've locked it on."

  "You?" Audrey Cotswold cocked a surprised eye. "Surely I…? Just turn a minute, dear, and we'll see…"

  It was absurd. It was sweet. It was fun. Corey felt she was one up. To prove it she turned.

  "Golly, Miss Gibson, I think you're right. Just hold still."

  Please call me Corey. I don't want to be a Miss Gibson to you."

  "You're so sweet." A series of clicks made a metallic punctuation. "There! All fixed. You can turn back…"

  "Are you sure, Audrey?" Corey turned slowly to face her smiling mentor, her arms busily exploring something odd behind her back, her features puzzled. "I think you've done it wrong again."

  "No. Love, just as it should be."

  Corey wished she could stop giggling. "It's not, y'know. Now you've got both my wrists…?"

  "That's right, dear. You were so terribly slow."

  Miss Corey Gibson was hazily aware of something out of focus, something not as it should be. She worked her newly imprisoned hands against the metal circlets snugly round her wrists. In sudden relief, she exclaimed: "I know what's wrong. You've handcuffed me behind my back. Girls wear handcuffs in front, just as you did."

  Audrey kissed a rampant nipple. "There's no law about it, dear. I prefer you like you are. You look entrancingly innocent… and you can't stop me doing this." Wicked fingers rose to vulnerable breasts.

  "I don't want to stop you."

  "And I can do what I like with this little treasure down here." Audrey's hand found the warm moist slit between the heated thighs.

  "That's nice. Don't keep stopping…"

  "See What I mean about handcuffs?"

  "I do now. They're absolutely… Mmmmmmmm!"

  "You're quite helpless, y'know."

  "Yes." Captive hands tugged and squirmed to make sure.

  "Isn't it fun?"

  "I expect it's time to go."

  "Oh yes…" Corey tried hard to remember. "There was some sort of hurry about me going somewhere." She looked down admiringly at her own nudity.

  "Seems like I'm all ready."

  It was all erotically exciting. Corey realized the drinks had produced exactly the right degree of euphoria, and it seemed only proper to share Audrey's nakedness. For some strange reason it was equally in keeping to lose her hands. It was thrilling to tug at the metal bands from which there was no escape. They made her seem so much a part of this English girl and do what Audrey said. There was a lingering memory about becoming a slave…

  The idea was hilarious. When Audrey's lips found her's and lingered long, and then upon the softness of her eyes… It was all pure bliss. It took Corey a deliciously sleepy minute to realize she was alone.

  "You are more beautiful than I hoped." Said Assef Aslam.

  It took Miss Corey Gibson several moments to adjust. She felt a need to clutch at bits of herself which appeared to have gone astray and were hovering just beyond reach. It was those segments out there which were feeling guilt, anger, outrage, shocked modesty. She herself felt only an intrigued curiosity pleasantly spiced with sex. "Hello, Mr. Aslam." She said brightly. "You're a lot better looking than I thought you were too."

  "Thank you. You are…. comfortable?"

  "Oh, yes. I'm naked. Hadn't you noticed…?"

  "I'm glad you mentioned it." Aslam said drily. "And your arms…?"

  Corey wanted him to share the giggle. "They're handcuffed… behind my back. Audrey did it."

  "Charming, isn't she? Please turn."

  The male interest flattered. Corey wanted to share everything. Without thought of exposure, she stepped up to the dark deep eyes, turned her back and flapped her hands.

  "You see?" She exclaimed with a strange triumph. "I can't possibly get loose. I've tried."

  Aslam tested her locked bonds so pertly presented for his attention. "You are right." He said gravely. "They are snug. You can never free yourself. You may resume your position."

  Stepping away, it seemed to Corey only polite to relieve her host of embarrassment. "I don't mind
a bit your seeing me naked, Mr. Aslam." She said with naive innocence. "And please go on giving special attention to my pubic hair and breasts. I'll stand at attention and spread my legs a bit…"

  Assef Aslam sighed. He accepted this cornucopia of riches in silent reverence. His eyes drank deep.

  "Audrey mentioned slavery, Mr. Aslam. Should I kneel, or something?"

  "Yes, kneel. Back on your heels, head bowed."

  She was sure she was very beautiful. She heard his indrawn breath and felt an ecstasy of power in being female. Head bowed in submission she knew a strange triumph. Her hands had ceased to work against their bonds.

  "Am I supposed to call you Master now?" She asked without moving.

  "I prefer the title of `sir`. It has its own spontaneous subservience. More humiliating. Don't you agree?"

  The naked girl savored it and found him right. "It is more humiliating to me, sir." She agreed without resentment. For good measure, Corey blandly asked. "Do you wish to have intercourse with me now?"

  "You find the prospect agreeable?"

  "Yes, sir. Your slave is honored."

  "Isn't that a hackneyed line, Miss Gibson?"

  "I thought so too, sir." The humbled nudity wriggled shyly. "But I'm afraid they're going to pop up if you want me totally obedient." In a burst of candor, she added. "Audrey's told me about being whipped. I don't want to be whipped."

  "Do you know what it means to service a man, Miss Gibson?"

  "Only because I've read about it, sir."

  "Service me. Kneeling."

  It was like being a child again, to walk on her knees. Corey wished Mr. Aslam would share her laughter as she worked at coping with his zipper. It was such fun having no hands, like an old time parlor game. It took her lips, her teeth and her tongue…! Even at that he had to help a little.

  "I am pleased, Miss Gibson. Even discounting the potion…!"

  Miss Gibson diluted shock at the sudden emergence of her new owner's male organ by looking up, dewey eyed, and suggesting shyly: "Why don't you call me Corey, Mr. Aslam? I don't want you to call me Miss Gibson any more."

  She grinned ruefully. "I think Miss Gibson's disappeared."

  Assef nodded, his hands stroking her hair. "Yes, Miss Gibson has gone."

  "So why not give me a new name?" Her eyes sparkled. "Give me a slave name appropriate to wherever it is you're taking me?"

  "It shall be as you wish. And now…?"

  "Yes, sir. Do I take it all in my mouth at once? I suck it, don't I? And some other things I read…?"

  "Just follow the book." Said Assef Aslam kindly.

  Miss Corey Gibson was still savoring the salty taste of semen when the cape was clasped at her neck. It was light, and reached below her pubic hair. No one would see her handcuffs. She kicked her feet back into her own discarded shoes and was ready for her journey. There were waves of disapproval and frantic warnings from those disassociated portions of herself in space but she tolerantly dismissed their naivete in amusement at their absurd concern. With Assef's hand upon her captive arm, and a femininely complacent smile upon her lips, she walked through a now open door into a new life.

  The private elevator was privacy deluxe. A foolish girl seeking escape or help would have found neither. In the underground garage they passed a man alone and a single couple. None vouchsafed a second glance. The waiting limousine and its impassive driver absorbed them both in hushed discretion. Settling with Mr. Aslam into the back seat, Corey wriggled deliciously back against her fastened arms. As at a sudden discovery, she exclaimed. "I'm kidnapped! I'm a kidnapped heiress." Her eyes twinkled at her companion. "Gosh, this sure is exciting."

  Wealth paved their way to the private jet. Abstractedly, the kidnapped girl realized how little the cape was needed. There was never a chance for that other girl who just might have wanted to run. In the plane it was Audrey Cotswold who took away the cape and shoes.

  "Happy, Corey?"

  "Oh, yes!" The affirmative was breathless.

  "You don't hate me?"

  "Audrey, I love you…!"

  "Sit down, darling, there's a belt…"

  The belt went round her waist. Tight! There was a visible padlock which snapped with an emphatic click. "Lean forward, dear, I'm going to change your cuffs."

  It was fun to see her hands again. Everything was fun. Corey glowed at her English friend as her wrists were joined above her lap. Considering the belt, she was now more helpless than she had ever been. It was a truly extraordinary game she was privileged to play. In the spirit of the game she tugged at her padlock.

  Audrey held up two keys. "Amuse yourself, dear. That's what I used to do:"

  "It's a lovely feeling." Corey was fingering the belt, the lock, she held up her linked hands and admired her bracelets. "It's warm and secure…" She tittered happily. "And there's no way I can get loose. I say, Audrey, am I drunk?"

  "Just enough to be happy:"

  "Can I have another drink? I want so much to stay like this."

  "Oh, you'll stay like that, my naked beauty!" Audrey teased. "I've sat there myself, and a girl just simply doesn't get up. And yes, I'll give you another drink." It was lovely to hold up the glass in both her prisoned hands. Corey admired the translucence of whatever it was she was drinking. "This is better than first class." She said thoughtfully. "Have you got this one doctored too?"

  "Just a little. Damn remarkable stuff, eh?"

  "I know I'm drugged, Audrey." The captive shook her head as though lost for words. Her eyes were soft. "I want to say something corny and sincere. It isn't much. Just `thank you`. I know what you've done for me. You've made the impossible possible."

  "I wish I'd had some in my time. It's ruddy miraculous."

  "and the things Mr. Aslam and I got up to…! Wow! And I don't feel a bit different. In fact, I feel nicer. Just like you said."

  "you're a lot nicer, dear." Audrey's lips were soft.

  Corey leant back and went to sleep.

  Corey Gibson wept. Her tears welled from every emotion save love. "The dirty bastards! The dirty bastards…!" She reiterated the epithet over and over again beneath her breath. "They didn't need to tie me like this. They didn't need…!" Painfully, she rolled over on the bare boards of the narrow bunk. But nothing helped. Nothing! The pain from her bound elbows was a steady torment.

  The waking up had ben bad enough. She was stiff from sleeping on the unyielding wood. The discomfort left her ill disposed in her effort to recall. She saw pictures she was unwilling to believe. Impossible outrageous visions of herself doing and saying things to which the daughter of Clifford Gibson would never stoop. She wished them nightmares but knew they were not. Pushing herself from the boards she discovered she was naked, and that she was free.

  Her nakedness could not be ignored. It was stark and total. She had been naked in the visions. Sitting up and absorbing her absence of covering she discovered also a flaw in her freedom. There was an uncomfortable weight on her neck, and a trailing chain…! Her fingers explored a metal collar and the considerable length of links attaching her to a ringbolt in the stone wall. It was a debasing way to be constrained, like a dog! She remembered something about being shamed.

  The drink or the drug had left her hazy. It was a couple of minutes before her prison came into focus. It was a square cell. Three walls of stone, one of bars, a barred window high and out of reach. The barred door was a part of the wall which left Corey's nakedness free to examine by any interested passer by who cared to peer through the bars. Beyond the bars was a view of a sizable courtyard, a lot of sand or dust and a couple of discouraged trees. The air was warm and owed nothing to artificial heat.

  There had been a plane… and a journey, and a promise of far away! This was the foreign place. Corey guessed North Africa or the middle East. But what did it matter? What mattered was her condition. Groggily, she got slowly to her feet and went to the bars, glad to clutch them for support. Behind her the chain from her neck trailed obligingly, hindering no
thing, save that now she was erect its penal load dragged more heavily on her throat. Holding tight from bar to bar the nude prisoner edged sideways to the door and was sardonically flattered to find she was valued to the extent of three padlocks, top, bottom and centre. The door was very solid indeed. Shaking it, she became aware of her tether as motion brought it into contact with her skin. In fury she saw it would permit her to traverse her cell as though untrammeled by such indignity. The collar round her neck was therefore punitive, a punishment, a reminder of whatever it was she had become.

  Escape! The word would hammer constantly. She viewed it now. On the face of it, escape was hopeless. A chained neck plus three padlocks made a mockery… but still! Bribery with promised cash or the barter of her body was probably her only weapon. Corey Gibson returned to sit on the bench and to remember bitterly the plush offices of the Planet Corporation's Office Complex.