G2-Story-038-Gemma-Pt-8

Ten days had passed since Gemma's re-training, but she had forgotten nothing of the lessons she had been taught so forcibly, and remembered vividly the stinging bite of Devil's Palms on her cowering flesh requiring absolute obedience. Nor had the memories of her enforced pleasuring of the Masters and her Mistress faded from her mind and those recollections invariably brought a warm, moist glow to her sex and a tinge of pink to her cheeks. She remembered how completely she had been made to surrender ... particularly to the unknown Master whose almost-savage plundering of her body had made her face the reality of enslavement and the soaring, irreplaceable pleasure his subjugation freed her to enjoy.

Once more sealed inside a transport crate, Gemma had been taken from wherever she had been re-trained, to Roxwell's country mansion and the familiar surroundings of his underground slave quarters. From the moment of her release from the crate, she put her whole being to the task of being the perfect slave girl as there was no way she dared risk being found unsatisfactory a second time. The mere thought of being sent back for another round of discipline at the hands of Axel and Lydia set her trembling and sweating with dread.

Leashed to an iron ring set into the floor beneath her bed by a steel chain locked to her collar, Gemma leapt to her feet when bolts of the door to her cell rattled and by the time it swung open, she stood motionless in the pose Roxwell preferred and had ordered her to assume when in his presence. Standing upright, legs widely spread, her spine hollowed to present her breasts and belly to best advantage, with her fingers interlaced behind her neck and her head tilted back, she looked up at the ceiling from between her bent elbows, framing her face. In this position, as Gemma knew from experience, she was beautifully displayed to his gaze, but quite unable to see him until he was very close. It made her very vulnerable to any caress he chose to award and, not by any means for the first time, the heavy little bells locked through her nipple rings tinkled softly as the firm globes of her breasts quivered in anticipation of his touch. Her toes curled and she gulped anxiously when a thin, cool and all too recognisable presence made itself felt between her thighs.

The flexible, leather-covered cane slid between her labia, tracing delicately up and down the length of her defenceless sex and Gemma gritted her teeth, fighting to maintain her pose and avoid the penalty that any movement would bring. The crop tapped firmly against the exquisitely sensitive bud of her clitoris and Gemma snorted aloud, almost giving in to the temptation to bend forward and trap the tormenting cane, but just managing, by an almost superhuman effort to stay in position.

"Very good, slave girl." Roxwell's tone was half mocking, half admiring. "Excellently disciplined, I'm glad to see. Just as you should be. All right, you can relax ... for now."

Gemma eased her stretched muscles and lowered her cuffed wrists to the small of her back, crossing them and waiting passively to be bound, but Roxwell didn't bother; content that the leash was more than adequate to hold her.

"No, Master." she replied at last. "I know it seems like a long time, but no, I don't know how long."

"Yes, I expect it does seem like a long time, slave girl." he said. "You have come a very long way since I first saw you in bondage in the back of that van, haven't you?"

Gemma felt her face redden, the memory of that meeting vivid in her brain; the first time that she, naked, gagged and tightly bound, had learned that she was to become a slave, and that he, Roxwell, was to be her Master. Shakily, she whispered that she did remember and Roxwell nodded.

"That was almost a year ago." he said slowly and watched the expressions chasing across Gemma's face.

"Mmmm, that's right." he continued, "My contract with your business partner, Mr Bowyer, is almost up. In fact, it expires at midnight tonight."

Her jaw dropped and she gaped foolishly at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"But ... You mean ... that I'm-I'm to be freed, Master? This isn't a trick, or-or ..? You really mean it?"

"Of course. The contract expires at midnight and I told you that first day that a deal is a deal. Your partner and I agreed that you would become my slave for a year in return for a financial investment. The year is now nearly over and as far as I am concerned, at one second past midnight, so is the contract."

Gemma's disbelief evaporated as he spoke and her spirits zoomed skyward when she finally accepted that he really meant what he said and that her time as a slave was nearly over. Then, oddly, her face fell and her elation vanished as if it had never been, when she understood what that meant. For a whole year, she had been constantly subject to the will of others with no freedom, no responsibility, no decisions to make, and no concerns other than to obey and be pleasing to her Masters. Everything had been taken care of for her. Now, suddenly, she was faced with the prospect of returning to the outside world; a world with demands, responsibilities and decisions she was no longer sure she was capable of dealing with. Worse though, it was a world which would never understand her submission to the dominance of others, never understand or accept the rewards or the sheer, overpowering ecstasy, of absolute and, eventually, willing subjugation.

It was an ordinary world, full of men and women who had never, would never, or could never experience the shattering pleasure of a Master or Mistress's hands and lips on their bodies. They would never know what it was to climax helplessly at the bidding of an all-powerful Master, or feel the thrill of steel on their nude flesh as he, or she bound them into submission to receive pleasure or punishment. Roxwell saw the torment on her face and spoke softly.

"I-I don't know if I can, Master. Be free again, that is. I thought I could, but now ... I just don't know. I wear a slave's collar and ... and cuffs on my limbs and r-r-rings in my n-nipples and I've been tr-trained to resp-respond as a slave girl. What if ... people find out?" Gemma whispered sadly, "I don't know if I can even remember h-how to be free!"

Her shoulders shook with fear of freedom and despair at what she had become, then for a long time there was silence in the room, until at last Gemma sniffed and raised her reddened eyes to her Master and gave a weak smile.

"That is the sort of question only a true slave would ask." he replied severely.

"You were a satisfactory slave," he told her harshly, then added, "and sometimes, you were superb."

Her whole body glowed with pleasure when she heard his answer and his thin lips curved into a wide smile, noting the reaction to his praise.

"I should have made your contract for life, rather than just one year." he stated and Gemma's belly kicked visibly when she imagined a lifetime of slavery. She sank to her knees before him, displaying her body in the graceful pose of a slave girl's submission.

"Oh, you still will, slave girl!" he told her firmly, "Your contract does not expire until midnight and I have plans for the next hours."

"Then, Master, may a willing slave girl be allowed to please her Master?" she asked humbly.

"Leave this room, turn right and enter the last room on the left. There, you will find your shoes and a large gag. Put them on and then go over to the right hand wall. Place your back to it and spread your arms and legs, locating them into the manacles built into the brickwork. They will close automatically, securing you as I desire. I will join when I am ready. Go."

"Yes, Master." she said as firmly as her dry lips would allow, "I will obey exactly." and rose gracefully to her feet, went to the door and turned right, leaving him alone.

Thoughts of escape never entered her head and upon reaching the last door on the left, she went in without hesitating, her belly churning with a delicious heat. The square room contained nothing but the items he had told her would be waiting and Gemma did her best to ignore the shining steel rings to her right, concentrating on obeying his instructions to the letter. The shoes and gag lay on the tiled floor and her arousal increased when she knelt on one knee to fit the first gleaming, patent leather shoe, its needle sharp, impossibly high, six inch heel warning her that standing, let alone walking, would be extremely uncomfortable and the buckled strap passing underneath the arch of her foot, indicating that removal of the shoe would be impossible without the use of her fingers. Her fingers would be kept well away from the buckles of course.

It took Gemma several minutes to fit the shoes to her feet then when she stood, she wobbled alarmingly atop the towering heels, forced to stand exaggeratedly upright and move with the utmost care. Slowly and cautiously, she bent to pick up the gag and gave a little gasp when she appreciated its size and solidity. It was huge: a hard, dense mass of black leather on a broad strap, shaped to fit snugly over her entire lower face; passing just under her nose, cupping her chin, and passing fully around her cheeks. She knew at once that whatever else she might be doing, she was not going to be making any intelligible sounds doing it. Inch by inch she raised it to her lips, savouring the smell and texture of the heavy leather and the wonderfully submissive knowledge that she was about to gag herself on the orders of a Master who was not even present in the same room.

Her jaws opened wide, then wider still, but even then, she had to prod and squeeze the giant, formed mouth filler to get it past her teeth and all the way into her mouth. The mouth pad filled every inch of space within her mouth, bulging her cheeks and lodging solidly in an immovable mass behind her teeth. Despite its size there was an shallow groove in the bottom that allowed her tongue to rest comfortably, not forced to the back of her mouth and thus allow long-term wear. Her fingers fumbled at the heavy buckle behind her neck and when she tugged, the shaped leather strap began to compress her cheeks. One notch, two, then three moulded the strap to her face and Gemma quivered with excitement to the uncompromising grip of tight leather from her chin to her nose.

Gagged, and gagged extremely effectively, she experimented for a few moments to see if any, speech could be managed, finding to her secret satisfaction, that she was now completely mute and the only sound now possible was a faint, wordless hum of no practical use whatsoever. Pleased with herself, Gemma tottered to the wall and gazed at the sets of shiny manacles embedded in the stonework. Ten hoops, leather lined, hung hinged open to receive her body, glittering in the subdued light and she felt her nipples stiffen when she saw that eight of the hoops formed a large X, clearly-designed to hold their captive spread-eagled, while the ninth and tenth were for the neck and waist and would prevent even minimal movement of their hapless victim.

Once in the grasp of those self-locking hoops, there would be no hope of escape and when Gemma visualised her body as her Master would see it, held brutally open and defenceless; freely available for any torments ... or pleasures ... he cared to inflict. Her sex oozed with desire, instinctively preparing her for the pillaging to come and she delayed no longer, turning around and easing her ankles, knees and waist back into the waiting restraints. When her flesh pressed against the leather-lined metal, there was a soft hiss of compressed air and the hoops swung closed, confining her firmly.

Gemma stared down at her hugely spread legs and swallowed convulsively, but it was already too late to change her mind, even if she had wanted to. She sucked in a deep breath and raised her arms. Again there came a soft hiss and she twisted her head to left and right when her wrists and elbows became clamped in inescapable steel. There only remained her neck, for the moment held forward uncomfortably and Gemma saw little point in resisting the inevitable. With a wry chuckle into her gag, she raised her chin proudly and thrust her head back against the wall behind, then heard the brief hiss when the snugly fitting, final hoop closed, completing her bondage. She was spread like a human starfish, her naked body pinned immovably to the cellar wall by bands of steel, Gemma was as completely helpless as it was possible to be; intensely vulnerable. When she tested her bonds she found, as expected, that she could move no part of her body except her fingers. There was, quite literally, nothing she could do to protect or defend herself and her sex glistened with juices of arousal while she waited in delicious anticipation for the moment her Master would arrive to sate his lusts in her so-available body.

She did not have to wait very long, but it would have made little difference to Gemma how long it was, for the deep, visceral excitement of binding herself into such utter helplessness stoked the fires of her lusts into a blazing inferno which grew steadily fiercer and hotter and her taut breasts throbbed while her belly seethed and ripples of desire fluttered her sleek skin. Every one of the millions of nerve endings in her entire body became acutely sensitised and she moaned in a frustrated, aroused dementia, writhing against her obdurate steel restraints.

Roxwell strode into the room and Gemma whimpered into the massive gag, her belly kicking hugely once he stood directly in front of her. His hot eyes drank in every inch of her displayed nakedness without making any attempt to touch her and then at last, he nodded.

"Yes! Very satisfactory, slave girl." but then he turned and walked out of the door!

Gemma couldn't believe it. After all her efforts, all her hopes, he had not caressed her even onCe! He must know how she felt, how wildly aroused she was, yet he had deliberately chosen to ignore her. In her brain and belly, resentment fought with arousal, anger with submissive lust, until she trembled with frustration and her eyes sparkled with tears then these soon overflowed to trail down her face and over the thick leather gag. Then, with Gemma at her lowest ebb, he returned and the roller coaster of her emotions zoomed skyward once more. In his arms he carried a tall, rectangular mirror, covered with a dust-sheet and set it down directly opposite, then moved to one side.

With a theatrical flourish, he whipped the sheet away and Gemma gaped numbly at the image before her; her belly beginning to churn with overwhelming excitement. Could the woman in the mirror really be her? Those soft, pleading eyes, those slim, firmly muscled limbs, those tautly thrusting breasts, those sensually flared hips and thighs, those coffee-coloured, erect nipples with their barbarically erotic piercing's, those delicate pink folds of flesh between her straddled legs, all glistening with the juices of arousal ... was that what Masters saw when they looked at her?

The woman in the mirror was beautiful. Far more so than Gemma had ever dreamed of being, the gleaming steel on her limbs and throat and the black gag hiding the lower half of her face contrasted dramatically with her creamy flesh. Yet, strangely, it all complemented and enhanced her beauty to create an indelible image of a woman delighting in her captivity, revelling in her bondage, and willingly accepting with grateful thanks, the helplessness which set her free to live the life which she so clearly desired.

Gemma stared at the woman in the mirror ... at herself ... and her belly jolted violently as she climaxed to the power of the reflected truth she saw there. As one, she and her reflection spasmed and pulsed with an orgasm, fingers clawing at the empty air, sleek muscles flexing vainly against inescapable steel fetters when scalding waves of love juices crashed and surged into her belly and sex, spattering her thighs and pubic hair with droplets of the silvery outpourings of her body's surrender.

The climax, powerful as it was, served only to intensify Gemma's white-hot need and she raised her eyes in mute, impassioned appeal to her Master. Roxwell knew the proper moment had arrived and tore his clothes from his body, then moved forward and plunged his long, rigid maleness deep into Gemma's receptive warmth, wringing a quavering shriek of rapturous welcome from her throat. Her belly instinctively sucked his shaft into the very core of her being and surrounded him, then squeezed his maleness to extract explosive pulses of heated juices even while she hurtled into a second tremendous orgasm.

Helpless to assist in her own ravishing, Gemma bit into the huge pad in her mouth, trying to scream with ecstasy when his lunges increased in speed and power. Her body shuddered to the hammer blows of his lust while he built towards his peak and her eyes widened in anguish when his now talon-like fingers captured her nipples, rolling them into rampant erectness of throbbing buds then tweaking her rings to add still more painfully pleasurable stimulation to the tornado already engulfing her body. Shuddering in pleasure, her brain swamped with ecstatic sensations, Gemma's belly once again convulsed in gigantic contractions as Roxwell's deeply-embedded shaft twitched mightily and jetted his seed into her. That alone sent yet another devastating climax tearing and raging through her pinioned body in response to this ultimate expression of his Mastery.

Racked by the near-continuous mini-explosions in her belly, Gemma sagged limply into her bonds, her exhausted body hanging from her manacles when Roxwell, drained, withdrew from her and dressed himself.

"Thank you, slave girl. That was quite delightful. Now, if you would just lift your head? Good."

He slowly extracted the gag from her mouth, but left it to dangle from its strap around her neck while she worked the stiffness from her jaws, then when she gazed at him, he made great play of consulting his expensive gold wristwatch.

"Hmm. Not long to go now, slave girl," he told her, "Just over an hour in fact, until my contract for you expires."

"Master?” she called out desperately, “Master, please don't leave me like this?"

"As you have pleased me, slave girl," he grinned, "I shall be lenient and not punish you for addressing me without permission." Then his grin widened at the sudden alarm which flashed across Gemma's face. "Don't look so worried, slave girl. Someone will be along at midnight for you."

He walked through the door and she heard its bolts grate closed, locking her in and leaving her to stare numbly at the closed portal, hardly able to credit that she was still a prisoner. Not only was she locked in a cell, but helplessly spread eagled and stained with the sweat and love juices of her numerous orgasms. Her eyes went back to the opposite mirror and she gulped, seeing the damning evidence of her submission all too clearly.

Just over an hour Roxwell had told her and she took a deep, calming breath, telling herself that she had been a bondage slave for a whole year and so another hour couldn't possibly matter. It must be his way of honouring the contract, she supposed. He had made it for a full year and a full year it was going to be ... to the very second. Gemma relaxed as best she could, resigning herself to the wait and trying to imagine how it would feel to be free again. Once released, she would be able to go to the Police and have Mike, her ex-partner, arrested ... or would she? If she did, it would mean explaining exactly what had been done to her and she wasn't at all sure she could face that. As well, it would mean revealing Roxwell and the other participants of The Consortium.

‘Damn!’ she thought, ‘There must be a way to get revenge on Mike without involving the Police or her Masters. But what was it?’

Gemma was still puzzling over the problem when the bolts slid back and the door opened then a tall figure walked in, a Devil's Palm dangling from his left hand. The instant Gemma saw his face she froze in stunned shock, her brain racing madly.

The familiar voice cut through her paralysis like a knife and the horrified brunette wrenched wildly at the steel manacles securing her, frantic to cover her exposed nudity.

"Aren't you pleased to see me? I'm very pleased to see you again ... and there is so much of you to see, isn't there?"

The whimsical tone of the question sent a chill of horror down Gemma's spine and she ceased her futile struggles to stare at his smiling face.

"Mike?" she whispered, "Mike, is that really you? What-what are you doing here?"

Mike Bowyer, her former lover and business partner, the man who had contracted with Roxwell to deliver Gemma as a bondage slave, nodded and chuckled softly.

"Oh yes, Gemma. It's me all right and the reason I'm here is that my ... ah ... contract with Roxwell expired at midnight. About three minutes ago."

"Then ... I'm free?" Gemma whispered. "You're here to let me go? To take me away? Oh, quickly, Mike, please release me and let's get out of here."

His eyes swept over her spread eagled nudity, noting the damp stains between her thighs and coming to rest on the rings piercing her nipples. Gemma flushed deeply and spoke much more sharply than she intended.

His eyes glinted dangerously and she couldn't hide the shiver of fear that rippled up her spine when he slapped the Devil's Palm against his leg in irritation.

"Please, Mike?" she whispered much more humbly, "I'm-I'm ashamed for you to see me like this."

"You're a slave girl." he stated cruelly. "You're trained to display your body for men's pleasure."

Gemma fought for breath, her anxiety congealing into a cold lump of horrible doubt in the pit of her stomach and before she could put her fears into words, he spoke again.

"You weren't so shy and demure the last time I saw you." he went on, "In fact, I recall that you were extremely eager to please. Perhaps you'd prefer it if I wore a hood again ..."

Gemma screamed in appalled misery when the identity of the unknown stranger who had made her submit to him and had forced her to lick her own love juices from his fingers became clear.

"Oh my God!" she cried, distraught. "That was you!! And I-I ..." she couldn't go on, her brain reeling with the horror of it.

"Yes!" he confirmed, "It was. And you enjoyed it as much as I did, Gemma! So don't try to act all coy and virginal with me. I know what you are."

"But I was a slave girl, then. I-I had to be pleasing or I'd have been wh-whipped. I wasn't free, then and I had no choice."

Mike's voice held a silky menace that set Gemma's body trembling and her breast bells tinkling.

"But-but ... the contract. It-it's after midnight and the c-contract has expired!"

"You're quite right, Gemma. My contract with Roxwell has expired and you are no longer his slave girl ... but ..." He paused, allowing the suspense to build until Gemma gasped.

"You are far too noisy for a slave." he said abruptly and with a swift movement, seized the gag from below her chin and forced it against her lips. With no way to resist, Gemma had to open her mouth and allow him to cram the massive pad between her jaws then seat it inside her mouth. Silenced, she could only stare mutely at him as he buckled the strap tightly then resumed his place before her.

"That's much better." he mocked, "Now then, where was I? Oh yes, I remember. Well, no doubt you remember that our company, or rather, my company as it now is, after your sudden ... ah ... emigration to Australia, needed a cash injection to keep it going. You, of course, were the price that Roxwell demanded to give me that money, but I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear that it worked perfectly. Your ... ah ... selfless sacrifice allowed me to turn the company around and made me an extremely rich man, my love."

He smiled down at Gemma's gag-distorted features and stared deep into her bulging eyes while she tried to come to terms with the news that, as far as her friends and colleagues were aware, she was now living on the other side of the world and that, therefore, her disappearance had rung no alarm bells.

"Rich enough, in fact, to mix socially with Roxwell and his friends." he smiled again.

Gemma shivered, an icy lump of fear filling her whole body with a nameless dread.

"We get on very well." he continued. "So well in fact that they invited me to join The Consortium. Needless to say I accepted and so naturally, when I was invited to assist with your re-training, I was delighted. It really opened my eyes, I must say. Not only did I fully understand for the first time, the level of obedience and discipline demanded from a genuine submissive, but I saw for myself, thanks to you, the depths of a real slave girl's need. It was an exquisite pleasure to discover that such a slave can give to a Master." He chuckled reminiscently.

"Even when we were lovers and I tied you up, it was never anything like that. I wouldn't have believed you had it in you."

Gemma, at first horrified by the scale of his duplicity and the success it had brought him, couldn't help but feel the first stirring of unwanted arousal when she remembered how, unknowingly, she had responded to his caresses during her re-training, then submitted utterly as a slave girl to him when he had taken her. Now, he was a full member of The Consortium, a Master in his own right ... and showed no sign of releasing her. Mike reached forward and his palm stroked her cheek tenderly.

"I don't know how Roxwell knew that you'd make such a hot and pleasing slave girl, my sweet, but somehow he did, and he wasn't wrong, was he, eh Gemma? I only realised it when I saw you and took you that night, and that was when I decided to keep you as my own personal slave girl."

The impact of his simple statement, although not entirely unexpected after what had gone before, had an effect out of all proportion to his words. Gemma gave a muffled squeal of agonized despair and a spray of glistening love juices spattered over her gaping thighs when a totally unexpected and quite uncontrollable orgasm erupted in her quaking belly.

Mike's face was a picture when she climaxed and his astonishment was no greater than Gemma's own, because the instantaneous surrender of her body came as a complete surprise to her. A rosy flush suffused her cheeks and she closed her eyes to try to blot out the humiliating and shamefully obvious betrayal of her traitorous body, but she could not escape the pulsing of her belly, nor the intensely vivid images which filled her brain ... images of her collared, chained nudity, kneeling submissively at his feet; of her body arching to meet his hands and lips, of his crop striping her buttocks for infractions of his harsh discipline, and of her belly enfolding him as he took her with all the power and authority of a true Master.

Gemma opened her eyes when his fingers pulled the gag past her lips, then bowed her head, unable to meet his determined gaze.

"Look at me, slave!" he ordered, his voice authoritative. Gemma obeyed instantly, aware that she was in the presence of a man who knew himself to be her Master ... just as she knew it to be true.

"Your reaction proves that you are a true and full slave girl." he stated flatly and Gemma shivered, knowing it was the truth.

"Yes, M-M-Master." she whispered weakly, her voice barely audible as, for the very first time, she gave him the honorary title that any slave girl must use when answering any Master.

"Master ..." he repeated slowly, relishing the sound of the word. "I like the way you say that, slave girl. Say it again."

Gemma's belly gave a mighty kick of arousal when she heard the deep satisfaction in his voice and she instantly understood that any faint hopes she might have harboured that he would, perhaps, be more gentle and lenient with her than her other Masters had been, would not be realised.

She arched her spine as much as her bonds would permit and held her head erect, her body presented and eyes glowing with the submissive pride of a slave who knows she is beautiful and desired by Masters.

"Indeed I am." he agreed firmly. "As of this moment, I enslave you as my personal property to do with as I choose."

Gemma sucked in a deep, quivering breath knowing that her contract with this man, her one true Master, took no account of dates, time, or legal niceties. Her enslavement was to be total, unbreakable ... and for life. Her lips opened.

"Yes, my Master." she declared in clear, steady tones, "I, Gemma, am your slave girl and submit myself willingly to you as my Master."

Her submission given and knowing herself to be once again owned, Gemma surrendered to the waves of flaring slave heat which radiated outward from her belly to set her flesh quivering and the heavy silver bells locked to her ringed nipples tinkling musically when his strong fingers once again thrust the huge pad back into her mouth and buckled, then locked its strap. Gagged by her Master, pinioned by his steel restraints, spread eagled for his pleasure, Gemma's vulnerable body juddered and writhed, contorting to his casual touch while he explored every soft curve and shadowed recess of his new and intensely responsive slave girl.

Propelled into one explosive orgasm after another by his hands at her breasts, her belly, her clitoris, her buttocks and her labia, Gemma's belly pulsed and throbbed with a ferocious heat while love juices flooded into her engorged and excruciatingly sensitive sex then trickled in slow, silver snakes down her flexing thighs. They were an enforced tribute to his skilful and merciless arousal. Screaming into her gag for mercy, she knew it would never be shown. As a truly submissive slave girl, she did not really want him to show any and so Gemma writhed helplessly in her uncompromising bondage when he set the Devil's Palm to flicking across her defenceless thighs, belly and breasts. Her tender flesh smarted and tingled and her brain reeled while he exerted his absolute authority over her, whipping her for no other reason than his own pleasure ... and her own ...

Lost in the throes of her passion, Gemma pressed forward against her bonds, offering herself to the leather which brought such exquisitely pleasurable pain; willingly abdicating all responsibility over her own body when she sank into a sensual, luxurious, erotic haze of absolute sexual subjugation. She could not help herself from responding frantically to every caress and touch to her inflamed flesh while the combination of his hands and the Devil's Palm drove her far beyond her previous limits. Her brain and body utterly unable ... and now unwilling to exert the smallest measure of self-control.

The touch of lips between her thighs sent her arousal zooming to even higher levels of frantic urgency and when his tongue speared deep into the liquid heat of her palpitating sex, then his lips nibbled at the hardened nub of her clitoris, Gemma hurtled headlong into the most gigantic and devastating climax of them all. Her orgasm erupted like a volcano, spewing hot love juices into the boiling, bubbling cauldron of her belly and her labia parted like the petals of a flower, opening the way to the innermost centre of her femininity, stripping Gemma of her last fragile protection and offering him the most secret, most intimate and most absolute surrender it was possible for a slave girl, or any woman, to give.

Shaken from her near-stupor by the exquisite sensations of her Master's lips invading her sex, Gemma shrieked in ecstatic despair when her ultimate defences were breached and his tongue lapped and sucked at the very essence of her being. Gemma’s belly shuddered and vibrated with awesome, frightening power when he forced her to plumb the uttermost depths of her submissive passions, and, betrayed by her own body, delivered even further into her Master's clutches by the intensity of her own needs, Gemma whimpered brokenly into her gag when he finally withdrew his lips from her spasming body. She knew without a shadow of doubt that she had displayed such slave heat, such blazing desire, such uncontrollable passion, that never again would he or any other Master, permit her to retain even the tiniest shred of control over her responses. Gemma knew that she would be compelled to serve her Masters as a full and genuine slave girl with the helpless desperation of one who knows that anything less than complete submission on her part ... and complete satisfaction on that of her Masters ... would not be tolerated. She knew too, as her belly continued to seethe and burn with unabated lust, that she could not, now, ever return to the freedom she once dreamt of.

Her duty ... and her delight ... was to wear the chains and collar of slavery and devote herself to the pleasure of Masters who knew exactly what she was and what she desired far more than mere freedom. They were strong enough and, yes, she admitted to herself, ruthless enough to impose their dominance upon her and force her into the unquestioning submission that they demanded ... and which she now so loved to give. Helpless in her deliciously secure bondage and understanding that she was to remain forever subject to the inflexible discipline of her cruel, demanding, adored love-Master, Gemma stared pleadingly at the dark-haired dominant, hoping that he would take her again to seal her permanent and irreversible submission to his will and Mastery. Or, if not, that he might, perhaps, offer her to one of the other members of The Consortium to enjoy.

Behind her gag, Gemma smiled in joyful acceptance of her fate for she knew she was a hot, beautiful, enticing bondage slave and was entirely confident that she would not be made to wait very long for her obedience and willing submission to be put to the ultimate test ...

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