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PostPosted: Tue Jan 22, 2013 2:00 pm 
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A TIGRESS TAMED (Book One) by Victor Bruno

Ira and Janina were lingering over a light breakfast on the patio. A cringingly servile Sandra was attending them. It was always a nerve-racking experience to be in close proximity to the two girls. Anything might happen at any time.
“More orange juice,” said Janina. Sandra served it.
“Segment this melon,” said Ira. Sandra did so, with great care. Ira pinched her bottom. “Enjoy yourself yesterday afternoon, did you?” Sandra shuddered.
“N-No ... Mistress ...” she whispered.
“Oh?” Ira sounded surprised. “Well, let me tell you that was just a foretaste of things to come.
“To come, seems appropriate,” said Janina. Both girls laughed.
“Yes, those big cocks will have them coming like crazy, I guess.” Sandra shuddered again. She had awful dreams the previous night, all featuring rapacious negroes.
Miranda came hurrying onto the patio and knelt respectively. “A letter has just been delivered, Mistress,” she said. At once, Ira smashed a palm across the girl’s cheek. “Don’t speak until you are spoken to, slave!” she rasped.
Miranda recoiled. “I ... ahh I b-beg pardon, Mistress,” she said humbly. It would have been a very grave error to show any resentment over that slap. It she had, she would now have her bottom in the air and be getting a cane, or worse, across it. Instruments of correction were always at hand. A cane and a quirt lay across the circular table. Ira snatched the letter from Miranda. “Ah-ha ...” she said, “this could be good news. It’s from Marcos, my agent in the Ministry of Security.” She slit open the envelope and pulled out a small sheet of notepaper. Having read it, she passed it, smiling, across to Janina.
‘Goods you ordered have now been packaged and are in transit’
“That means Virginia’s on her way,” said Ira.
“Super!” Janina clapped her hands together. She felt a tremendous surge of pleasure. Her first raw material.
“At this moment,” said Ira, “she’ll be drugged, trussed and gagged in a crate. She will be delivered by one of the launches. Probably this afternoon.” Ira smiled gleefully. “A whole new way of life awaits her.”
“If such it can be called,” said Janina.
“What do you mean, darling?”
“I should have thought existence would have been a more appropriate word.”
“You’re right, of course.” Ira slapped Miranda’s face again. “Back to work,” she ordered.
“Yes, Mistress.” The girl sprang to her feet and hurried off, her neatly rounded white bottom bouncing. Later in the week, Gus the Gorilla will be enjoying that, thought Janina.
Ira sighed happily. “I’m going to take this one very, very slowly,” she said. “Inch by inch, foot by foot, step by step. No hurry. Just the teeniest bit more submission every day.”
“Sounds fun. So there’ll be no clips, no goads to begin with?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. They will be held in reserve for much later. Perhaps we’ll start with a few good smacked-bottoms. The boys will enjoy giving them to her. Very undignified for ‘Miss Uppity’. But, of course, whenever necessary, she’ll feel something considerably more painful.
“I should hope so!” laughed Janina.
“For a type like her, humiliation is the name of the game,” said Ira. She beckoned to Sandra. “Come here, girl.” Sandra came to her. “Bend over, legs astride.” Sandra obeyed. “Do you feel humiliated?” There was a short pause.
“No, Mistress,” answered Sandra. Ira smiled.
“But you did once upon a time, didn’t you, Miss Games Mistress?”
There came the sound of something like a sob. “Y-Yes ... oh ... yes, Mistress.”
“It’s just that you get acclimatised to displaying your cunt, after a while.”
“Y-Yer ... ess ... Mistress ... I suppose so ...”
Ira picked up the piece of melon rind which was on her plate. She thrust about four inches of it up Sandra’s anus, the remaining four inches projecting. Janina giggled.
“Do you feel humiliated now, Miss Games Mistress?”
“Yes ... a little, Mistress ...” answered Sandra meekly
“So you should,” said Ira, rising from the table. “It’s quite undignified for a young lady to have a piece of melon sticking out of her arse. You will keep it there all morning.”
“Yes, Mistress ...” Sandra’s despairing eyes watched the two women stride happily off the patio.
There was murder in her heart.


“We’ll have to deal with those birchings I promised them,” said Ira,
“You mean Hilary, Teresa and Kirsten?”
“Right. Can’t have disobedience, can we? Whatever the circumstances?”
“Sure can’t.”
“Midday suit you?”
“Fine. I’ll meet you in the Punishment Chamber.”
“Great.” The girls went their separate ways.

PostPosted: Tue Jan 22, 2013 2:01 pm 
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Janina, in fact, arrived in the Punishment Chamber about twenty minutes early. She studied the Punishment Centre ... that cleverly constructed contrivance whose steel rods and manacles could pivot and twist a girl’s body into a wide variety of postures, simply by pressing buttons on a control panel. There’s modern science for you, she thought. It had been designed and produced in Germany and was a far cry from the old-fashioned wood and leather Punishment Block. Not, she reflected, that there was anything wrong with those, though they did rather restrict one’s attentions to the buttocks and backs of the thighs.
Janina fingered the metal rods and the manacles, trying to imagine what it must be like to be fastened helpless on such a hideous contraption. It scarcely bore thinking about. Yet all Ira’s slaves had been on it plenty of times. She strolled over and examined some of the punishing implements. There were heavy straps, single, double and triple thonged; there were canes of varying lengths and thicknesses, some of willow, some of whalebone; there were leathern martinets, four thonged, five thonged, six thonged; there were a variety of whips; and, in canisters nearby were the birches. They were always kept in brine water to ensure both hardness and suppleness. There were also quite a number of canes floating in the water, for the same reason. She took out one of the birches, examining the thin, green twigs. There were nine in number. She couldn’t suppress a little shudder at the thought of those falling across her own flesh. Fortunately, there was no chance of that!
At ten minutes to midday, the three culprits were led in by Manuel, each on a collar and chain. They looked pale and distraught, eyes wide with terror. Kirsten and Teresa were crying. Manuel, having removed the chains, was dismissed.
“Kneel,” ordered Janina, “backsides towards me.” They obeyed at once and Janina looked upon the soft white flesh which would soon be so severely lacerated. Teresa’s flesh seemed to be quivering infinitesimally, like a light breeze rippling a pond. It was mute evidence of her dread.
Ira arrived dead on time, giving Janina a generous smile. Then she addressed the three kneeling figures. “As slaves,” she said, “you’ll all know the seriousness of disobedience. It has been drummed into you again and again. Indeed, it is about the most serious crime a slave can commit. And, yesterday, all three of you committed it.” Janina noted that Kirsten’s bottom-flesh had not started to quiver and there was the occasional convulsive twitch from Hilary’s buttocks, which were considerably larger that those of the other two girls. “I have come to a decision,” said Ira. The tension in that chamber could almost be felt. “Teresa and Kirsten will each receive 24 strokes of the birch ...” There were sobbing groans. “ ... and, since she is more senior and experienced, and thus should know better, will receive 36 strokes of the birch.” There was a despairing moan from Hilary. Ira turned to Janina. “I would like you to punish both Teresa and Kirsten. I shall deal with Hilary personally. Alright?”
“Fine by me,” said Janina. Her nerves were tingling with pleasurable anticipation.
“Kirsten first, I think. You other two kneel erect.” It would be good for them to have to watch proceedings, she thought. “Kirsten, position yourself.” Now weeping more uncontrollably, Kirsten got on to the contrivance and the central steel band was clamped tight about her waist. Then her wrists and ankles were fastened securely to the manacles. She was pinioned immobile. Janina went to fetch a birch from one of the troughs.
“Mercy ... mercy ...” whimpered Kirsten, shaking her blonde head.
“Would you like to begin with the thighs?” enquired Ira.
“I guess so,” replied Janina.
“I suggest six on the inside of each thigh. Then the final twelve all on the buttocks.”
“Whatever you say, my dear.”
Ira went to the control panel and pressed a button. Kirsten was immediately inverted, her hair trailing down. Another button and she was positioned so that she was slightly sloping towards Janina. A third button and her limbs were splayed wide. Very wide. One could see the straining of the muscles under the soft white flesh.
“No ... oh no ... NO ... NO ... OOOOO!” The terrified girl was crying out.
“This, slave,” said Ira loudly, “will teach you that disobedience is not tolerated. Carry on please, Janina.”
Janina’s heart was pounding. How completely helpless this girl was! And how she was going to make her suffer! Now ... in a matter of seconds. She measured the lowest part of the left thigh. Then she raised the birch high and slashed it down with all her strength. The twigs spread out as the birch descended and nine thin red weals erupted over the tender flesh. There was a great sucking intake of air, then a piercing cry of pain from Kirsten. She could not writhe for she was held so immobile. But the whole of the flesh of that thigh quivered and quaked uncontrollably. Janina aimed a little further up the thigh and brought down the birch again. Nine more encircling weals, another awful shriek of pain.
Lovely to see, lovely to hear.
This girl would think more than twice about disobeying in the future.
Remorselessly, Janina marched the thin red weals up that right thigh. Though they were actually going up the thigh, from Janina’s point of view they were being placed lower each time.
There was only the smallest piece of flesh unmarked, at the thigh top. With cruel precision, Janina placed the sixth stroke over that flesh and also over part of the sex flesh. Kirsten’s scream was quite demented.
Janina now turned her attention to the left thigh ... and the procedure was repeated. The chamber was filled with awful sounds, frantic pleas intermingling with screams of torment. Those sounds, thought Janina, must have been quite terrifying for the two awaiting punishment. The inner thigh flesh was quivering and twitching incessantly. There was scarcely a strip of white to be seen.
“Excellent,” said Ira. “You’re becoming quite an expert, my dear.”
“Thanks,” said Janina. How nice to get such a compliment!
Ira went back to the control panel again ... and now Kirsten’s thighs closed again and then they came down and round, thrusting out her hindquarters and pulling the flesh as taut as possible, whilst her head and shoulders came up to the horizontal. An added piece of cruelty was that, a victim in this position, could see herself at that moment. She was blind with tears.
“Just a moment, Janina,” said Ira. “A little precaution, I think.” She advanced with a syringe which she jabbed into Kirsten’s arm. The she pushed a bottle of smelling salts under the girl’s nose. There were heaving, choking sounds. “Don’t want her to miss anything, do we?” she smiled.
“Certainly not,” agreed Janina. She knew that the injection Kirsten had just received would almost certainly enable the girl to withstand the remaining twelve strokes she was about to receive without fainting. She might pray to faint ... she might pray to die, but she wouldn’t.
Janina looked at the tight-curving bottom before her, the cleft pulled wide, everything revealed. How white the skin was, it was hers to lacerate as she wished. To change from white to striped red. How should she proceed? She could lay strokes from left and right, directly across the buttocks, or, by standing behind the hindquarters, she could lay them on alternately on each cheek, in a more diagonal direction. She decided on the latter course. Janina caught a glimpse of Kirsten’s face in the mirror. Those pretty features were contorted into ugliness. Tears cascaded on the floor.
Then she resumed the flogging, slashing the multiple twigs across each buttock cheek in turn, using full force.
Ssllaasshh! The right cheek.
A five second wait while the awful gasping shrieking went on.
Ssllaasshh! The left cheek.
The thin weals were long and spreading, curling round the flanks, leaping the wide cleft of the buttocks.
And again.
Soon weals began to overlay weals, turning them from red to purple. How long before the skin breaks, I wonder, Janina asked herself?
And again ...
Six more to go. Janina saw Ira pushing the smelling salts under Kirsten’s nose again. A wise precaution. The girl must escape nothing.
Teeth gritted. Janina laid on the final six strokes with all the force at her command. The skin seemed to break in several places. Kirsten’s voice cracked under her ear-splitting screams. And, despite the injection and the smelling salts, the girl was virtually senseless when Janina had finished with her.
“Well done,” said Ira. “The disobedient wretch will know she’s had a good flogging. Won’t disobey again in a hurry, I reckon.”
“I think you’re right.” Janina felt her cheeks hot; her pulses were throbbing fast. It had been a memorable experience to flog a girl so severely. And there was still Teresa to come.
Released from the contrivance, Kirsten was shackled in chains to a side wall, where she hung, moaning.
Teresa was ordered forward.

PostPosted: Tue Jan 22, 2013 2:02 pm 
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Teresa’s birching was more or less a carbon copy of Kirsten’s But that did not detract from Janina’s pleasure. In fact, that this girl was her own personal slave only added to it. How often, when she had been on Colonel Garcia’s slave ranch, she had wanted to punish Teresa herself. But Judith Somerton, the Chief Overseer, would not have it. Guests were not allowed to punish, only she. Janina had had to content herself with sending Teresa for punishment. Quite frequently.
But now it was SHE who was punishing.
Truly punishing!
Birching the skin of Teresa’s inner thighs and her buttocks.
As with Kirsten, Ira administered an injection halfway through and made use of the smelling salts. All the same, Teresa was, in the end, in the same condition as her young companion in misfortune. Along side her in chains, she hung weeping and moaning.
How could such cruelty be?
Yet it was, it WAS!
Now only Hilary remained.


Hilary was secured to the contrivance, with her superb big breasts thrusting out invitingly. So vulnerable. For Ira had decided to adopt a different procedure with her. There were 36 strokes to be handed out. 12 would fall on Hilary’s breasts, 24 over her buttocks. It was a savage punishment indeed. But the streak of Scottish Manse which remained in Hilary, Ira had decided, must be eradicated. She thought the look of terror and despair on her victim’s face quite fascinating. She had had a lot of fun with this woman ... and there was still plenty more to be had.
She tweaked Hilary’s nose playfully.
“I have noticed in you, Miss Prim,” she said, “a reluctance to suck cocks. It took a long while for you to get those of Manuel and Jose into your mouth, didn’t it?”
“Yes, Mistress,” groaned Hilary.
“But you did it finally. After a lot of anguish.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“After all, the mouth is just another orifice in a slave. Why shouldn’t it be used?”
“Mmmmfff ... mmmmfff ... uuughhhh ... uuuughhh ...” Hilary’s breasts were heaving up and down as she sobbed. “H-Have m-mercy, Mistress ... oh please ... just this ... once ... I ... I’ll never d-disobey a-again ... mmmfff ... mmmfff ... mmmfff ....”
“I wonder,” mused Ira. “When I tell you to take Buster’s cock in your mouth and suck him to a happy conclusion, I wonder if you will?”
“Yes ... sss ... oh ... yes ... Mistress ... mmmfff ... I swear I will ...”
“Yes, you probably will, slave. After the flogging I am now going to give you. It will live in your memory.”
“MERCEEE ... I S-SWEAR ...” Hilary’s words were cut short as the birch slashed across both breasts simultaneously. The words changed into a choking scream. Hilary’s eyes rolled back, her mouth gaped. The stripes ran vividly over the tenderest of flesh.
“As you’ve been told, by Buster, I think, you’ve got good tits, girl. It’s a pity they have to be treated in this way ...”
Ira’s teeth were bared in sadistic relish. She loved dealing with a woman’s breasts, knowing how exceedingly sensitive they must be. A cane was good, but a birch was even better. A red tracery had already appeared over the madly juddering flesh.
Hilary’s mouth gaped wider; her eyes rolled back again, The pain was unbelievable. It could not be endured.
The plea would have reached anyone without a heart of stone. Ira and Janina were unreachable. Their supreme delight was to inflict suffering. Their whole existence was devoted to it.
Nine more stripes across Hilary’s breasts, which instantly went again into a mad frenzy of swinging and bouncing. Janina found it an incredible sight, fully evoking the awful torment the girl was enduring. Dimly she tried to imagine what it must be like, but her mind sheered away from it. Too, too awful!
How those supple twigs whipped! How they bit into the softest and most tender of flesh! No wonder Hilary howled, her mouth wide, her pink tongue flickering. How could she endure it? How could she? She had no option.
The sixth cruel stroke fell and Hilary’s breasts went into another frenzy of juddering as she screamed uninhibitedly.
“Nice,” said Janina.
“Yes, it was rather.” smiled Ira. “She deserves it, of course.”
“Of course she does.” agreed Janina complacently. “I cannot abide a disobedient slave.”
“Now we will change the target,” said Ira, “to a rather larger one.” She went to her control panel and positioned Hilary with her sumptuous hindquarters thrusting to the maximum.
“A target you can hardly miss,” said Janina with a giggle.
“Too true,” smiled Ira.
Then, with merciless venom, she began to flay Hilary’s buttocks. She started from the right hand side, then, after six strokes, attacked her from the left. Hilary screeched and bellowed like a wounded animal.. Her big white buttocks were soon a mass of pink-red stripes. Thin stripes, yet each one an agony. After twelve strokes there were already 108 such stripes across her bottom. And there were still the same number to come again.
At the half way point, Hilary was injected and Janina gave her a strong dose of smelling salts. Things were going well. Hilary was learning a lesson of a lifetime.
Relaxed and smiling sadistically, Ira resumed her attack.
“Yyyaaaaghhhhhhhhhhhhh! Oooghh ... for pity’s s-sake ... no more ... NO MORE!”
Ira was really beginning to enjoy herself. Here was a woman being sent into ‘extremis’. Enduring pain beyond all normal possibility. On account of the special stimulants she had received.
Exultantly, Ira delivered the final six strokes with all the power she could summon up. Well before she had finished. the skin had broken and trickles of blood were seeping down. Despite everything, Hilary was a near insensible as made no difference.
“A very good flogging,” said Janina.
“Yes,” nodded Ira. “I think she’ll remember it. But don’t forget, I haven’t quite finished. The last six on her tits again.
“I hadn’t forgotten,” said Janina.
Hilary was swivelled round again so that her breasts thrust forward. She was in a kind of delirium but smelling salts, provided by Janina, brought to some level of coherence and sensitivity.
Ira proceeded to flay her breasts with vicious ferocity. No let up. No mercy. As she had said, disobedience was NOT tolerated.


Janina sipped from a cut glass tumbler. It contained brandy and ice.
“My God, that was fantastic ...”
“Wasn’t it just!” said Ira. She too was drinking brandy. The face of each girl was flushed.
“I almost had an orgasm.”
“Me, too. When I was giving Hilary that second dose on her tits. She didn’t like that one little bit.”
“I’m not surprised. Do you know she got 108 stripes over those boobies?”
“I guess so. Hadn’t thought of it like that. Still, it might overcome the aversion to black cocks.”
“I hope so, for her sake.” She emptied her glass and Sandra came quickly to her side with a carafe. Janina nodded and her glass was refilled. “More ice.” The ice tinkled in. “Cheers!”

PostPosted: Tue Jan 22, 2013 2:03 pm 
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A TIGRESS TAMED (Book One) by Victor Bruno

“Well, there she is.”
The wooden crate stood in the centre of a small, bare room. It had been brought in from one of the launches by Manuel and Jose. They were curious but naturally asked no questions. Ira and Janina walked round the crate. The excitement was evident in both.
“Shall we have it opened up?” asked Janina.
Why not?” Ira signalled to the two male slaves who went to work with heavy chisels. The top of the crate was lifted off ... and the two girls peered in. Virginia Faversham, wearing a dress of pale blue and white, which had ridden up to expose long, bare thighs, lay there trussed and gagged. Her arms were behind her back, wrists corded to her ankles. She seemed to be still unconscious.
“Take her out,” ordered Ira. Manuel and Jose did so. The rich auburn hair floated down as they did so. Instantly they were aware that here was a woman with a superb body. The aquiline features, high cheekboned, were pale; she scarcely seemed to be breathing. “Put her in those chains.”
Two heavy chains hung from a beam, terminating in manacles. Virginia’s wrists were locked into them, her feet, which were bare, just about touching the floor. She hung there, arms fully stretched.
“Get out.” Manuel and Jose both bowed and left at once. Though they were mere slaves, they were not at all displeased by this new arrival, sensing they would have a definite part to play in her training.
“Do you know who she reminds me of?” asked Janina.
“No, who?”
“You remember that film star, famous in the fifties, Ava Gardner? She’s very like her when she was in her prime.”
“Yes ... you’re right. Colouring’s different though.”
“True. But she’s got the same sort of features and the same sort of fulsome figure.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing that.”
“Me too. When?”
“No hurry. You must be patient, Janina. As I told you I’m not hurrying this one.”
“Oh, I’m with you on that ...”
“I’m going to have Buster come in here. He won’t be bollock naked but wear a tight white pouch. The pleasure of seeing his cock will come to her later. When she comes round, it’s him she’ll see first. Make her think, I reckon!”
“I’ll say!”
“Buster has instructions not to speak a word, whatever she says. Just stand there, arms folded, looking at her.”
“Should put the wind up her.”
“Too true. Later, when she’s nicely worked up, we’ll come in ... and give her the facts.”
Leaving Virginia swinging slightly in her chains, the two girls left the room.


“Oh God ... where am I ... ohhh ... what is happening? You there ... tell me ... say something ... get me out of these manacles ... you ... nigger ... do as I say! Oh God ... my arms ... oh how they hurt ... let me out ... let me out!”
Virginia’s green eyes aree dilating. The sight of the massive, near nude negro revolts her, yet he seems her only hope of release.
“Let me out ... out ... I can’t stand this!”
Buster is utterly impassive. He likes the look of this new arrival. His pouch, already bulging menacingly, bulges a little more.
“I’ll pay you ... whoever you are. I will! Just let me out of these things.”
Virginia’s breasts heave up and down. How can this be happening to me, she asks herself. Have I gone crazy? This must be an awful dream. I’ll wake soon. Yes ... yes ... surely it is a dream. Yet the pain in the muscles of her arms is real enough.
“Speak ... speak ... nigger ... tell me where I am! Why ... why has this been done to me ... speak?”
Stony black features. Whites of big eyes very white.
“Speak I say!”
She is very full of herself, thinks Buster. Surely a very big come down awaits this one. The mouth is wide, the lips are full. A mouth made for sucking. One day ...
“I can’t stand this ... I can’t ... I can’t! Go and get someone to get me out ...”
“I CAN’T be treated like this!”
“I can’t be ... I won’t be!
“Do you know who I am?”
“Someone is going to pay dearly for this! Oh yes ... oh yes!”
“Oh my arms, my arms. Oh won’t someone help me?”
A muscular coal-black body that glistens faintly with oil. It revolts Virginia. She tears her eyes away from that bulging white pouch. It is obscene that she should have to look upon such a thing.
“Help! Help someone ... help!” There is panic in Virginia’s cries.
“Let me out ... ooooh ... let me out!
“HELP ... HELP ... HELP!”

PostPosted: Tue Jan 22, 2013 2:08 pm 
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Ira and Janina were dressed alike, except that the leather of Ira’s outfit was black and that of Janina, red. They wore calf-length boots, short pleated skirts and a bolero. Celia had recently had the job of lacing up Janina’s boots and, in the latters opinion, had not made a very good job of it. As a result, before Janina left, Celia had gone over the back of an armchair to receive a twelve stroke caning. The wretched woman was weeping bitterly when the door closed. It was all so unjust!
When the two girls entered the small room, Virginia let out a cry. “Oh thank God someone’s come! I’ve been hanging here in front of this awful nigger. Oh thank God ... please undo these manacles as quickly as possible.”
Ira advanced smiling pleasantly. A quirt of black plaited leather dangled from her right wrist. Janina, alongside her, had a quirt of red leather.
“Welcome to Hirondelles, Miss Faversham,” said Ira.
“Who are you? Let me out of this. How can you see a woman treated like this?”
“Very easily.”
Virginia’s eyes widened in shock. “Who are you? Don’t I know you? I think I’ve seen you before.”
“You have, but you don’t know me. Not yet. But you will. My name is Ira Fuestenberg ...”
“Ah yes ... I know of the Fuestenbergs. A fine family.”
“Oh yes ... fine.”
“Well then, let me out of these things and tell me what this is all about. Is it some kind of practical joke?”
“No joke, Miss Faversham, I’m afraid. This is for real.”
The green eyes widened again. “Have I been kidnapped?”
“You have. But you are not being held for ransom.”
“What then?”
“You are going to be kept here.”
“KEPT here?”
“That’s right. You see Miss Faversham - but perhaps I should call you Virginia - you have been abducted and are now my slave.”
Virginia’s jaw dropped. “Slave? SLAVE? SLAVE?
Ira smiled sweetly. “That’s right. My slave. I now own you.”
The chains rattled as Virginia jerked in them. “Are you out of your mind? Let me out of these things at once. I’ve had enough. Out, I say, OUT!”
“Slaves do not make demands, Virginia. They take orders.”
“Stop this ... stop it ... it’s all crazy! If you let me go now, I promise I’ll say nothing about it. It’s just a joke that’s gone too far.”
“No joke, Virginia. I told you. Of course, I realise it’s difficult to grasp at first. All my slaves were the same.”
“Yes, slaves. I’ve got half a dozen or more. You’ll be meeting some of them shortly.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Please yourself. Oh, by the way, this is my friend Janina Casals. You are also her slave.” Virginia looked at Janina in a bewildered way.
“Help me ... help me ... please ... don’t let her say such things ... don’t let her do this to me ...”
“You don’t seem to have grasped the point yet,” said Janina.
“Of course not! It’s too absurd! Let me go ... I won’t have this!”
“Quite a tigress, isn’t she?” smiled Janina, watching virginia’s heaving breasts, seeing her teeth bared in fury.
“Tigresses can be tamed,” said Ira.
“Oh yes ... oh yes indeed!”
“Stop this ... stop this you two. I won’t have it!” If Virginia had been able to stamp a foot it was certain she would have done so. “You’ll pay for this ... my God you’ll pay for this!”
“I don’t think so ...”
“My father ...”
“Oh the Bart. I’m afraid he’s not going to be able to help you. Those days of wine and roses are over. From now on it’s more like water and the whip.”
For the first time fear tinged Virginia’s outraged eyes. “You’re kinky ... both of you ... KINKY!” Ira considered striking the girl but refrained. Plenty of time for that.
“Whatever we are,” said Ira calmly, “it would be wise for you to get a grasp of the situation quickly. Your are now held captive with no means of escape ... and you are a slave. A slave who is going to be trained into complete submission.”
Virginia uttered a harsh kind of laugh. “Now I KNOW you’re crazy,” she said. “Otherwise, how could you possibly say anything so ridiculous?”
Ira looked at Janina and shrugged. “She’ll just have to learn the hard way, I suppose.”
“Just like they all do,” said Janina.
Ira approached closer to Virginia’s agitated features. There was fear in them, yet still more fury than fear.
“I’m going to change your name,” said Ira. “I’m going to call you Virgin, not Virginia. You’re not a virgin, I suppose?”
“What’s that to do with you?” screeched Virginia. Then she spat in Ira’s face. Ira had been expecting it and, by a swift jerk of her head avoided the spittle.
“Dear me ... dear me ... I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for that later. Very naughty.”
“Very,” agreed Janina.
“And you still haven’t answered my question. Are you a virgin?”
“I’m not answering your disgusting questions.”
“Well, it wouldn’t take long to find out, of course. Buster here, could take a look.”
Virginia blanched and recoiled. “H-How ... c-can you say such m-monstrous things?” she croaked.
“How? Oh, very easily. You see, I mean them, Virgin. I am in full control of you now. Body and soul. If I want Buster to look at your cunt, I shall have him do so.”
Virginia flinched at the crude word. “You ... you’re filthy,” she said. “A filthy Argie bitch. Not fit to live.”
“Matter of opinion,” smiled Ira. She was enjoying herself exceedingly, and this was but the tiniest tip of the iceberg. “Do you accept that you are a slave, Virgin?”
“Of course I don’t!” Utter outrage! “And don’t call me Virgin.”
This time Ira did slap Virginia’s face and she slapped it hard. Left and right. The first blows that Virginia had probably received in her life. She jerked back crying out disbelievingly.
“Don’t tell me what to do, SLAVE!”
“How dare you strike me! You ... you’re a monster!”
“Yes, you’re not far wrong, Virgin. As you’re soon going to discover. What do you think, Janina?”
“Yes, darling, I reckon you’re a monster. A nice one though.”
“Well, Virgin, have you accepted your new name?” enquired Ira.
“Of ... of course not ... how dare you ...”
Virginia’s head jerked left and right as two more stinging slaps fell. She cried out, eyes wide with shock. “Aaaaghh ... oooghh ... sto ... opp ... st ... oppp ... you can’t ...”
“I can,” laughed Ira as Virginia cried out again. Her cheeks had become a bright red. Ira went closer again. “Well, have you accepted your new name?”
This time there was silence. The wide mouth was tight in a stubborn line.
Still silence.
Virginia’s shocked cries echoed round the small room. She could not believe this was happening to her. Her head was ringing like a belfry, her cheeks seemed to be on fire. If her hands had been free she would have strangled this vicious young bitch in front of her. But her hands were not free.
“I will repeat my question,” said Ira. “Have you accepted your new name?”
Silence. Fury and fear in green eyes. Still silence.
“She IS stubborn, isn’t she?” said Janina.
“So much the better,” smiled Ira viciously.
Then she began to slap Virginia’s face with relentless vigour, blow after blow, hardly a moment between them, left, right, left right, left, right. On and on it went, with Virginia reeling back, shrieking with pain and terror.
Then suddenly, it stopped. Virginia slumped forward, sobbing and sobbing. She was half senseless. Trying to comprehend the horrors being heaped upon her. Had she died and gone to hell? She felt her head pulled up by her hair. A pair of flint-like hazel eyes gazed into hers.
“Have you accepted your new name, Virgin?”
Virginia was proud and stubborn; on the other hand she had some commonsense. She was aware that the little vixen in front of her could go on slapping her face indefinitely. It was a moment for compromise.
“Al-alright then ... if ... if ... that’s what you want ...”
“You accept?” It was the first small inch of submission. A sheer delight in itself.
“Yes ...” replied Virginia sullenly.
“Yes, MISTRESS,” said Ira. Virginia’s mouth clamped. “Yes, Mistress,” repeated Ira. Still no word.
Relentlessly, Ira began the face-slapping again. It was something she loved to do.
“Aaaghhh ... stooo ... opp ... st ... opp ... aaaaghhh ... stooo ... opppp!”
Ira stopped. “Yes, Mistress,” she said again.
Virginia was sobbing. “Urrrff ... uuurfff ...” Her brain felt addled. She must stop this cruel slapping, no matter what. She must compromise again. “U-Urrrfff ...” To give way was so against her nature. It filled her with boiling fury. Yet she didn’t want any more slapping. One day, she told herself, I’ll get my own back for this. “Y-Yes ... M-Mistress ...” she said in a low, small voice.
“That’s better,” said Ira brightly. “And, Virgin, from now on, you will always address me as Mistress. And you will address Miss Janina as Miss. I hope that is understood. Any omissions will be punished. Is that quite clear?”
Virginia’s aristocratic face twitched convulsively. She was wild with rage and would have loved to rip this girl’s face to ribbons. But there was no way.
“Answer, SLAVE!”
Virginia tried to clear her ringing head. This onslaught could not go on. She had to submit to this bitch, for the time being anyway.
“Yes ...” she answered.
“Aaaaghh ... uuurfff ... aaaaghhhhh ...” It had to stop. “Y-Yer ... esss ... urff ... urff ... yes ... M-Mistress ...”
Ira smiled indulgently. “Don’t forget in future, Virgin. Otherwise you’re liable to find yourself getting a cane across your bottom.”
Virginia’s eyes widened in disbelieving horror; her mouth twitched. “H-How ... how ... can you even s-say such a thing ...”
“Mistress!” cried Virginia in desperation.
“Because I am now your owner,” replied Ira complacently. “And, right now, I am going to demonstrate that it happens here. Frequently.” She operated the small control panel which hung from her belt. “Celia!” she barked, “I want you down in Room 14. On the double.” She smiled at Virginia. “You are about to see my first and most senior slave, Celia. She used to be the wife of the British Consul here.”
Virginia’s eyes widened again, her mouth sagged. “C-Celia ... Celia Fordyce?”
“Right in one, Virgin.”
“But ... but ... she was drowned ... while out sailing ...”
“That was the story,” smiled Ira. “In fact, she became one of my slaves. Over a year ago.” There was a look of amazed disbelief on Virginia’s face. Now strong fear in her eyes, too. What was this horror world she had somehow arrived in?
The door opened and Celia came rushing in, breasts bouncing. She went down, nose to floor at Ira’s feet, thrusting up her hindquarters to the maximum. Virginia cried out in shock.
“No ... No ... NO ... OOOOO!” Her mouth was wide, her eyes bulging. Even in those few seconds, she had recognised Celia Fordyce, once a charming and generous hostess in the Embassy.
“Kneel up, slave.” Celia knelt erect. “Look behind you. Do you recognise the young lady?”
“I ... I’m n-not sure, Mistress. I think I have seen her ...”
“It matters not. She is now going to become another of my slaves. Her name is Virgin. Nice, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mistress ...”
“Stop this ... stop it ... this can’t go on ... it can’t oh God no ... it can’t ... stop it. stop it ...” Virginia was babbling.
“Show Virgin your backside again, slave.” Celia got her hindquarters high again. “Look at that nice plump arse, Virgin ... look at it ... and what do you see?” Virginia was looking aghast at Celia’s naked hindquarters so immodestly presented. She saw the twin-tracked cane weals and gasped.
“She ... she’s b-been b-beaten,” said Virginia disbelievingly.
“Mistress!” bellowed Ira. “I won’t warn you again.”
“M-Mistress ...” whimpered Virginia, her eyes still disbelievingly on that striped flesh. “No ... oh ... no ... no ... no ...”
“I should explain, Virgin,” said Janina, getting in on the act, “that, before I came down here, I got Celia to lace up my boots. I did not consider she did that very satisfactorily, so I gave her a dozen with the cane across her backside. That is nothing unusual, is it slave?”
“No, Miss,” answered Celia. She had just remembered who Virginia was. She felt sorry for her; but even sorrier for herself.
Virginia was shaking her head incredulously. How could this be? How could these horrors be taking place before her? The world had gone quite mad. Yet this WAS Celia Fordyce and she was naked and kneeling, her behind striped with weals. It was not possible, yet there it was. Factual, visual. Could what she had just been told be true? That this was no charade but true? That she had been abducted and was to be held captive?
Virginia shuddered and shivered uncontrollably in awful dread.
Ira raised her quirt and cracked it down over the top of Celia’s rump. Virginia cried out in protest. Celia merely whimpered.
“Go and kiss your black Master’s feet,” ordered Ira. She watched the ex-Consul’s wife crawl across the floor and do so. “I expect you’d like to kiss something else, but that’s not allowed today, slave.” Ira smiled mirthlessly. She turned back to Virginia. “Now, Virgin,” she said, “are you beginning to believe what I have told you is all true?”
Virginia shook her head, still in disbelief. But she could see Celia kissing those revolting black feet. So it must be true. It must be. She felt suddenly sick and shivered all over as if with a fever. It was too terrible to contemplate.
“Are you?” Ira’s hand was raised ready to strike.
“Y-yes ... Yes ... I suppose ... I m-must ...” The palm smashed across her mouth. “A-A-Agghhhh ... yes ... Mistress ...” she added. Ira smiled with satisfaction. Those small inches of submission were so delightful!
“Alright Celia, you can get your arse out of here. Get back to work.”
“Y-Yes, Mistress.” Celia got to her feet and hurried thankfully from the room.
“You did recognise her, I suppose?” said Ira.
“Yes,” nodded Virginia dumbly.
“Aghhhhooooh ... aaaghhh ... yes ... Mistress ...” gasped Virginia.
“I shall start using a cane soon,” warned Ira. Oh how she was looking forward to that! “So you see what well-bred ladies, like yourself can be reduced to. See what you are going to be reduced to?”
“No ... no ... no ... no ...” Virginia was whimpering, shaking her head from side to side with incredulous dismay. How could this all be happening to her? To her above all people? She’d been having such a super life. Privilege, power, pomp. Power particularly over men, whom she secretly despised, and loved to frustrate. More satisfaction from a man denied than a love-affair consummated. Oh it had been wonderful! And now this.
Yet, deep down, Virginia Faversham knew it was not. The chill of terror began to creep into her vitals like iced water. She trembled everywhere and lost control of her features.
“I really do think she is beginning to believe me,” said Ira to Janina.
“She should do,” smiled Janina, “the sight of Celia’s arse must have been quite a contributary factor.”
“Indeed,” nodded Ira. “What is your name, girl?” enquired Ira of Virginia.
“V-Virginia ... V-Virginia ... F-Faversham ...”
“It is Virgin, slave!”
“Aaaaghh ... aaaaghhh ... Virgin ... Virgin.” Then she remembered. “M-Mistress,” she added.
“That’s right, Virgin. But not for too long, I reckon.” Ira strolled over to Buster and squeezed the rampant penis under his pouch. “Like the look of it, do you Buster?”
“Sure do, Ma’am,” grinned the negro.
At that point Virgin fainted.
“Surprised she lasted out so long without an injection,” said Janina. “I mean, the sight of Buster alone is enough to give one the vapours.”
“Too true. So we’ll give her an injection now. And put on the pressure a bit.”
“Fine.” It was Janina who handled the syringe. She was getting into the swing of things. No longer a novice.
Virginia soon came round. Though she did not realise it, she was now filled with a stimulant which gave her something like three times her normal powers of endurance. Certainly an unwanted benefit! Eyelids flickered, the green eyes looked out again.
Ira took hold of Virginia’s auburn tresses and pushed her head back. “What are you?” she demanded.
“Stop ... stop ... you’re hurting me ...”
“Really? What are you?” she repeated.
“I ... I am ...” She was about to say Virginia Faversham when she remembered. “I ... I am V-Virgin ...”
“Virgin ... Mistress ...” Oh when would she remember? Her cheeks were blazing from those slaps, her brain felt like scrambled eggs.
“Well, Virgin, I am going to show you something. It is Buster’s cock. You will not, I am afraid, be able to enjoy it yet awhile. That is something for the future. Still, I think you ought to look at it.”
“My, my, she does go on,” laughed Janina.
“Take that pouch off, Buster, a young lady wants to see what you’ve got.”
Grinning, Buster removed the pouch. He was already nearly in full erection and came to immediately he was freed. Virginia screamed and turned her head away. Ira took a tighter grip on her hair, twisting her head back.
“Look ... look ...” she commanded. Virginia had no option but to look. She heaved and shuddered. The sight of that massive black organ was by far the most hideous thing she had ever seen in her life.
“Ooohh ... stop ... you can’t do this ... it it’s obscene ... inhuman ... stop ... for God’s sake, stop ... ooooohhhhh ... stoooopppp ...”
“Don’t you like a nice big prick, Virgin?”
“STOOOPPP ... STTTO ... OPPPPP ... OHHHH ... LET ME GO ... OOOOOO!” Virginia was beginning to get hysterical ... which was faintly understandable. Her head slumped down again and she began to babble. “Oh let me go ... please let me ... go ... let me go ... home ... to Daddy ... oh let me go home to Daddy ... oh let me go ... let me go ...”
“Still wants the high life,” said Ira.
“Pity,” said Janina.
“Yes, what a pity. It’s all downhill from now on.”

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