Revenge of the Baronet

PART 1

“Oh, Gwen, you’re hopeless, darling. I don’t know why I bother trying to teach you escapology. You’ve had over an hour and you haven’t even come close to getting free. If I was a baddie, you’d be in real trouble and you can’t always rely on me to get you out of the messes you get yourself into, you know.”

Gwen looked up at her best friend and lover, female secret agent U-69, and let her blue eyes widen in apology and a mute plea to be untied.

She knew her lover’s words were true, but she really had tried this time and it wasn’t her fault that the tall, full-breasted brunette was so good at tying her up that she hadn’t been able to escape.

It was frustrating though, because every time she was the one doing the tying, U-69 never had any trouble getting loose and tended to be pretty cocky about it.

Gwen’s dream was to one day tie her friend so well that she would be unable to free herself and would end up begging Gwen to untie her…just as she always eventually had to swallow her pride and ask to be freed.

It hadn’t happened yet and it wasn’t going to happen today because Gwen hadn’t been able to make the slightest impression on the multiple loops and cinches of rope that bound her wrists and elbows and knees and ankles.

With a large rubber ball taped into her mouth, she wasn’t going to be able to ask for her freedom until U-69 felt like letting her, either.

“It’s no use you looking at me like that, Gwen,” U-69 told her firmly, “It’s all for your own good and you know it. You need to know how to get out of ties like that in case old D’Arcy and the Countess try to pay you back for all the times you’ve managed to ruin their schemes by escaping from them. They probably think you’re some sort of female Houdini, but we know better, don’t we, honey. Let’s be honest, if it hadn’t been for me coming along to rescue you, you’d still be tied up in a mill or a cellar somewhere and would have lost this nice little cottage along with everything else you own.”

Gwen blushed pinkly as she was reminded of the several times she had been kidnapped and held captive by Sir Dystic D’Arcy and his female partner, the mysterious European woman known only as the Countess.

Each time, their “get rich quick” plans had involved a heavily restrained and tightly gagged Gwen and it was perfectly true that if it hadn’t been for U-69’s timely interventions, Gwen would never have been able to escape on her own, let alone foil their devious schemes.

Knowing it didn’t make it any easier to accept, though and Gwen squirmed in embarrassment at the memory of how easily she had fallen for the tricks that had repeatedly delivered her into their clutches, her naïve and trusting nature making it only too easy for them.

“So, I’ve decided to teach you a little lesson, my darling,” U-69 smiled down at her, “Unless you manage to find a way out of those ropes, you can just stay as you are until I get back from this afternoon’s meeting with that lawyer. I know he asked us both to be there, but I’m sure he’ll understand when I tell him that you’re a bit tied up at the moment and can’t get away.”

“It’s up to you, Gwen. I’m going to go and change and I’ll be about half an hour. If you’re still like that when I’m finished, then I guess I’ll have to go without you.”

She wasn’t joking and as U-69 blew her a fond kiss and walked out of the room, the dispirited blonde began a fresh series of half-hearted struggles against her bonds, knowing full well that even though she had to try, it was going to be a waste of her time and effort.

The cords on her limbs were just too secure and too well-placed for her fingers to get anywhere near the knots her lover had tied and as the minutes flew past with no improvement in her situation, Gwen eventually gave up her futile attempts and resigned herself to a long, frustrating afternoon of helpless waiting.

“Still here?” U-69’s cheerful return was greeted by a sulky glare from Gwen that should have…but didn’t…perturb the brunette one iota, “Decided to have a lazy afternoon in, have you? Oh well, I’ll go on my own, then. Have fun, sweetie and don’t tire yourself out too much trying to get out of those ropes because I’ve got plans for some nice girlie games with you when I get back. See you later,” and with a casual wave, she was gone, leaving Gwen with no option but to endure her solitary bondage as best she might.

 

As she slid into the driver’s seat of her little red sports car and smoothed her tight skirt over her hips, U-69 felt a momentary pang of remorse for abandoning Gwen, then gave a chuckle to herself, “I’ll only be a couple of hours,” she murmured, “She’s got to learn and I’ll be sure to make it up to her when I get back.”

She put the car into gear and drove off towards the town and her appointment, little knowing that there were other forces at work which were already conspiring to make her break her light-hearted promise to Gwen and plunge them both into an adventure whose consequences neither could possibly have foreseen…

THREE WEEKS EARLIER…

“Are you completely certain about this, Snatchem?”

“Oh, yes, Baron. Absolutely certain. The oil is definitely there, under the cottage and the land it sits on. Not a huge deposit, but enough to make you a very wealthy man.”

“Not if I can’t get at it, dammit and I can’t do that with the tenants sitting on top of it.”

“Mm, yes, I see your problem, sir. Perhaps you might consider paying them off…?”

“The Hell with that! It’s my land and my oil and I don’t see why I should make those blasted women rich at my expense. They’ve already cost me a fortune and ruined several plans of mine and I’m damned if I’ll pay them a single penny. What about eviction?”

Silas Snatchem, the senior partner of Snatchem and Grabbe, lawyers to Sir Dystic D’Arcy, frowned and shook his head, “Not possible, I’m afraid, Baron. Not unless they default on the rent, and they’ve already paid for the next half-year.”

“Curses. The news is bound to leak out before then and when they find out how much money is involved, I’ll never get them out of that cottage. Dammit, I need that money and I need it now.”

“Then why not just go ahead with drilling anyway?” the cultured voice of the Countess asked, “As I understand it, it only needs one small pump for a few months and if you’re careful to keep the operation quiet, nobody else will even know what’s going on. That cottage is quite remote, you know.”

“Yes, it is. But how am I supposed to keep those two women from finding out? They’re not blind and deaf, are they? Or perhaps you think they might not notice a drilling rig and pump sitting outside their door?”

D’Arcy was irritated and let it show, but the Countess remained unperturbed, ignoring his heavy-handed sarcasm, “I would have thought the answer was obvious, especially to two intelligent and incisive minds like yours,” she replied calmly, belying the sting in her words, “If you can’t hide the rig, then hide the women.”

D’Arcy frowned, “Hide the women…?” he began, then paused and a smile lit up his florid features, “Of course, m’dear. I shouldn’t have doubted you. We hide the women where they can’t interfere and if we make sure they default on the next rental payment, I can evict them legally. Hell, it’s only a few months, after all.”

“Um… Ahem…” Snatchem cleared his throat noisily, “I’m not sure I’m happy to recommend such a course of action, Baron,” he said nervously, “Hiding the ladies in the manner you appear to be considering would constitute…um…well…kidnapping and…um…false imprisonment. I couldn’t possibly countenance such illegal actions and I would be failing in my duty as your legal adviser if I was to go along with it.”

“Oh, shut up, Snatchem, you old woman!” D’Arcy snapped sharply, “We all know that you’ll do anything for money. And that oil is going to make us all a lot of it. It won’t be the first time you’ve connived in my plans, or the first time that you’ve “overlooked” a bit of kidnapping, so don’t try that legal jargon on me unless you want to lose out on your ten per cent of the profits.”

Snatchem rubbed his bony chin, “Ten per cent, eh? Thank you, Baron, that is most generous and given the…ah…special circumstances in this case…”

“You’re in,” the Baron sneered and turned to the Countess, “Cold, hard cash always makes a compelling case with lawyers, m’dear. Overcomes all sorts of piffling little legal details. So now, we have to make a plan to get our hands on those two women again and this time, I’ll tie them both so tight that they won’t be able to move a muscle.”

“I think not,” the Countess said firmly and as D’Arcy glowered at her, continued, “You have had several attempts at tying them already. And each time, they have escaped and ruined our plans. This time, I want you to leave all that to me. I have something in mind that not even Houdini himself could get out of.”

D’Arcy frowned and grumbled, “It wasn’t my fault, dammit. I don’t know how they did it. I tied and checked every knot personally.”

“Mm. Yes, you did, but they still escaped, as we both know. Just humour me, D’Arcy and let me try for a change.”

“Oh, very well, Countess. As you wish. You’re certainly confident enough. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do. Trust me. I guarantee they won’t get free this time. In fact, I’m so sure of it that if I’m wrong, I’ll take their place myself.”

D’Arcy’s jaw dropped in astonishment at her extraordinary offer, then he recovered and nodded, “Very well, Countess. I agree. You do whatever you like to make sure they don’t get away and I promise I won’t interfere. But if they do manage to escape…” he left the sentence hanging and held her dark eyes for several seconds until a faint pink tinge shadowed her cheeks.

The Countess swallowed, then nodded, “Yes…Yes. Very well, Baron. If…If they do, then I will honour my side of the deal. But they won’t, so that will not arise.”

D’Arcy nodded back, conscious of the sudden erotic tension between them and of the possibilities should the Countess have misjudged her abilities to hold prisoner two women who had proved themselves to be as slippery as eels.

If she was right, the oil would make him rich…and if she was wrong…well…that might just have its compensations, too…

He held her gaze for another two seconds, then deliberately broke the intimate eye-contact and turned to Snatchem, “Right, then, this is what I want you to do. Write a letter with some pretext or other to get them both to come here for an appointment. Something to do with the rent would probably do, but I’ll leave you to sort out a reason and put it in legal mumbo-jumbo.”

“Here?” the lawyer protested, “In my office? Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea at all, Baron. Think of the scandal if it got out that I was involved in a kidnapping. The company would be ruined and what of my own reputation?”

He quailed as D’Arcy glared at him contemptuously, “You lawyers are all the same,” he said coldly, “You want your money, but never want to take any of the risk. Well this time, you’re going to have to earn your ten per cent, Snatchem. Either you get those two here and help us make them vanish, or you can whistle for your share. Now, what’s it to be?”

Snatchem’s fingers twisted in uncertainty, fear and greed chasing each other across his face as he tried to make up his mind, then he took a deep breath, “All right,” he muttered, “I’ll do it, Baron. I’ll get them here and help you, but I only hope no-one sees them or hears the struggle when we try to overpower them.”

The Countess chuckled softly, “Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” she assured him, “I have a little something that will deal most efficiently with that problem. A drop or two in the glass of sherry you offer your clients will do the trick.”

Snatchem closed his eyes for a moment and groaned, “Kidnap, false imprisonment and now administering noxious substances. If it ever gets out I’ll be struck off and ruined.”

“Then it’s in your interests as much as ours to see that our plan works and that it doesn’t get out,” D’Arcy pointed out forcefully, “Pull yourself together, man. It’s only a couple of young women we’re talking about. How much trouble do you think they’re going to be?”

He didn't bother to remind the worried lawyer that the women in question had already caused him a lot more trouble than he had ever anticipated and carried on firmly, “There’s nothing to worry about. Once they’re under the influence of the Countess’s drug, we just take them out of your office and down the back stairs to the courtyard, into my car and away. No-one sees anything, no-one hears anything and no-one but us even knows they’ve been here.”

His confident assertions did much to steady Snatchem and as the Countess nodded her agreement and added, “Once we have them securely locked up, there will be no possible link back to you, of course, because if anybody should happen to ask, why then, we were here with you at the time, having a business meeting, weren’t we? We never saw two young ladies and have no idea where they might be or what happened to them. How should we know what has become of foolish young women like them? Gone off with young men, perhaps? Sorry, but can’t help, I’m afraid.”

“Quite right, m’dear,” D’Arcy rumbled approvingly, “As long as we keep them incommunicado, there’s no evidence of anything and who’s going to doubt the word of two aristocrats and a lawyer. It’s perfect.”

“Unless they escape,” Snatchem demurred and the Countess gave a short, humourless laugh that tinkled like ice crystals.

“Thank you for your confidence in me,” she replied waspishly, “But as I believe you know, I have excellent reasons for ensuring that they do not. I do hope you feel able to take my word for it? I would remind you, too, that even if by some miraculous accident, they did, it would still be only their word against ours. And as a lawyer, I imagine you appreciate how difficult it would be to prove any wrongdoing in such a case? Particularly if the local magistrate proved to be as unsympathetic as I suspect you would, wouldn’t you, D’Arcy dear?”

“Extremely,” he replied firmly, “I can’t abide young women who have no respect for their elders and betters and waste valuable police time by making-up such preposterous allegations. As Chairman of the Bench for this area, I wouldn’t hesitate to throw out such a ridiculous case.”

Snatchem smiled and reached for his pen, “Then if you will excuse me,” he said, “I have a letter to write…”

PART 2

U-69 sank into the soft leather of the armchair in Snatchem’s office and watched carefully as he busied himself with the decanter.

She was well aware that he was D’Arcy’s lawyer and she didn’t trust him one inch, certainly not enough to take her eyes off the glasses of sherry he was pouring.

Better safe than sorry she thought to herself as he handed her the drink, especially as he seemed a little nervous.

“Cheers,” he said, a little too loudly and took a large sip of sherry that lowered the level in his glass quite perceptibly, “May I ask where your…um…partner is, Miss? I was actually expecting both of you.”

U-69 raised her sherry to her lips, but didn’t drink, the glass hiding her small smile at her own melodramatic precautions, “Yes, good health,” she replied, “Gwen’s at home at the moment. Unavoidably detained, you might say. Now, what can I do for you, Mr Snatchem? Your letter didn’t make it too plain.”

“Oh, it’s nothing vital, Miss,” he said, “Just a small query on boundaries, I’m afraid,” and he took a second, equally-large sip from his glass.

The action allayed U-69’s concern and proved to her that the sherry was as harmless as it appeared and that she was over-reacting to the fact that the lawyer had connections with D’Arcy, so she raised her glass a second time and followed suit.

“Mm, delicious,” she smiled at him, “What’s the problem?”

Snatchem launched into a complex explanation and U-69 groaned inwardly, hoping it wasn’t going to take too long.

She wanted to get back to Gwen as quickly as possible.

Bored, she sipped at her glass until it was empty, then rolled it between her fingers to take her mind off the droning voice of the lawyer.

Until, for no apparent reason, she lost her grip on the stem and the glass fell from her fingers to the thick carpet.

Instinctively, she tried to lean forward and stretch her arm down to pick it up, but strangely, her body wouldn’t respond properly and as her hand waved vaguely, the automatic apology that had sprung to her lips, emerged as a slurred, formless mumble.

Snatchem’s monologue stopped abruptly and when he hurried over to her, U-69 stared up at his slightly out-of-focus face, confused by her sudden weakness and the inexplicable grin on his thin lips.

“Well, well. What do you know. It works,” he chuckled and as she heard the words, U-69 realised that she had been drugged.

Concentrating hard, she tried to haul herself out of the chair, but the drug was already coursing through her blood-stream and as her limbs turned to limp spaghetti, she knew that she had fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

A simple Mickey Finn and she hadn’t seen it coming.

Slumped in the seat, she couldn’t move as Snatchem gazed down at her, “It wasn’t in the sherry,” he told her cheerfully, “It was on the rim of your glass. Clever, eh?”

Her lips were frozen and she could only watch helplessly as he walked to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom, “You can come in now.”

Behind her, a door opened, but she couldn’t turn her head and it was only as two people walked across the carpet and joined Snatchem to grin down at her, that she found out who was responsible for her plight.

Sir Dystic D’Arcy and the Countess, both clearly amused and delighted by her helplessness.

“The other one didn’t turn up,” Snatchem reported, “She’s still at the cottage.”

“Yes, we heard on the intercom,” the Countess replied silkily, “Unavoidably detained, it seems. I do hope that means what I’d like it to mean,” she bent low and smiled into U-69’s face, “Tell me, dear, have you and Gwen been playing naughty little tie-up games again, then? Is that why sweet little Gwen isn’t here? We’ll have to go and check and it would be very convenient for us if we found her all pre-wrapped and ready to go, wouldn’t it? But, of course, we’ll deal with you before that. After all, you were here first, weren’t you?”

U-69 had been trained to resist interrogation, but the drug had fatally weakened her ability to control her facial expressions and she could not prevent the dismay that flashed into her eyes at the accuracy of the guess and as the Countess saw the tell-tale sign, her smile widened, “I do believe I’m right, D’Arcy,” she purred, “Isn’t that considerate of our new guest?”

The Baron shrugged, “If it’s true,” he replied, “Either way, we need to get on with making sure this one doesn’t get away,” and he put the large bag he was carrying onto Snatchem’s desk and slid open the zip.

The unmistakable “clunk” of metal against wood as the bag hit the desktop sent a tremor of alarm through U-69, because knowing D’Arcy’s penchant for using rope to tie up his captives, she had automatically assumed that that was what he would use on her.

With her escapology skills, ropes held few fears for her, but metal was a different matter…especially the wide, heavy steel manacles that he took from the bag and laid out across the desk.

Virtually paralysed by the drug, she felt as weak as a kitten and when D’Arcy and Snatchem lifted her and laid her face-down on the desk, she could barely flutter her fingers.

As if trapped in a waking nightmare, she heard the Countess murmur, “Soon have you ready, my dear,” and felt the cool, slim blades of a pair of scissors slide up her spine, slicing through the fabric of her skirt and blouse and bra.

In seconds, warm air played across her flesh and before she could come to terms with the horrifying fact that she had been stripped down to nothing more than suspender-belt, stockings and her high heels, strong arms seized hers and forced them behind her back, pinning her wrists together.

Hard, implacable steel tightened on her soft flesh and when the locks of her manacles clicked shut, U-69 gave a low moan of anguish.

Her ankles soon followed, linked by nine inches of thick, heavy chain and when a three-inch steel collar encircled her slender neck , she knew that escape had become an impossible dream.

Made even more impossible by the massive rubber ball wedged between her stretched jaws and held deep in her mouth by tightly buckled straps around her neck and over her head.

“There now. All set. I do so like a posture collar and short hobbles on a slave’s ankles. It makes them look so sweet and helpless and ensures a suitably humble attitude towards their Masters and Mistresses,” the Countess’s voice reflected her satisfaction, “And now I’d appreciate a glass of your excellent sherry, Mr Snatchem, while we wait for the effects of my little drug to wear off.

She paused and gave a silvery chuckle, “But do make certain not to use the glass our slave drank from, won’t you. I wouldn’t want to end up in the same situation as our little friend here.”

D’Arcy grinned, “Oh, I don’t know about that, m’dear. I think you’d look rather good like that.”

The Countess shook her finger at him, “I’m quite sure you do, you naughty man. But that is a pleasure you will never have.”

“Not unless they manage to escape,” he reminded her and the Countess hesitated, then nodded slowly.

“Touche, Baron,” she conceded, then gestured towards U-69, “But I don’t think that likely, do you?”

“No,” he replied, grinning, “Not likely at all. Pity in a way, though.”

She smiled at him warmly, “Thank you for the compliment, but I think I’ll pass for now. But who knows what the future may hold? We will just have to wait and see,” and as Snatchem fetched sherry for them all, the three sipped the golden liquid and chatted calmly until the effects of the drug eased their grip on U-69’s heavily-chained body.

“If you gentlemen would be so kind…?” the Countess waited until D’Arcy and Snatchem lifted U-69 to her feet and held her, then took a six-foot length of thin chain from the bag and clipped one end to a welded ring on the front of her collar.

U-69 was mortified.

Not only was she helplessly bound and gagged, with her breasts and belly and buttocks lewdly displayed to her captors, but now she was leashed like a pet animal ready to be taken out for “walkies” and she was frighteningly conscious that there was nothing she could do about it.

Wherever the Countess led, she would have to follow.

Worse still, if D’Arcy, or Snatchem, or even the Countess herself, decided to take advantage of her presented nudity, there was nothing she could do about that either.

In her previous encounters with the aristocratic pair of crooks, she had always retained at least most of her clothes and had been able to view her kidnapping and bondage as almost a light-hearted game in which she would pit her wits and escapology skills against their plans and their ropes and eventually emerge victorious after rescuing Gwen from yet another helpless plight and foiling their evil plot.

But when the Countess yanked the leash to U-69’s collar and she was forced to stumble forward in the short, clumsy steps that were all her hobbled ankles permitted, the humiliated brunette tried to suppress her ominous and rapidly-growing concern that this time, things were vastly different and she was in a situation that might well prove to be far beyond even her abilities and skills to turn to her advantage.

It was a feeling she had never experienced before and it sapped her confidence to the point where, as it dawned on her that D’Arcy and the Countess might actually win for a change and succeed in keeping her and Gwen as their prisoners, she lost her head and her usual calm common-sense and began to jerk her neck back against the leash and dig her toes into the thick carpet in an effort to resist.

Definitely a mistake…

With a resounding “CRACK!” a hard palm landed across her right buttock and as stinging fire exploded through her bottom and she howled her pain and shock into her gag, the Countess merely pulled harder and dragged her forward.

“CRACK”

“CRACK”

“CRACK”

“CRACK”

“CRACK”

At every step, her bottom received another cruel spank, turning a vivid scarlet and wringing more howls from her gagged lips as she twisted and writhed in futile attempts to avoid the punishment, shamefully aware of the delightful spectacle her jiggling breasts and flexing buttocks presented to the men behind her.

At the door of the office, the Countess turned and stared coldly at her, “I am quite sure you now understand what will happen if you continue to struggle,” she snapped, “So unless you want more of the same, which the Baron and Mr Snatchem will be more than happy to apply, I suggest you stop that pathetic whining and learn to do as you are told. Now, follow me and let’s have no more silly nonsense.”

Horrified and with her bottom burning painfully, U-69 had little choice and as she fought to bring her anguished squeals down to low whimpers of miserable despair, she was led out into the courtyard behind Snatchem’s office, where D’Arcy’s gleaming RollsRoyce was parked opposite her own little sports car.

D’Arcy himself opened the cavernous boot, then gave her a hard shove and when she tumbled in, transferred her leash to the rear of her collar, bent her legs up behind her and used it to hogtie her.

With her spine hollowed into a deep curve and her neck steeply arched, she couldn’t struggle as he rolled her onto her side and when his hands fastened on her tautened breasts and his fingers applied a cruel pinch to each of her nipples, she gasped in helpless fright, knowing that she was completely at his mercy.

Leaning over D'Arcy's shoulder, Snatchem gazed fixedly at her breasts with a mixture of nervousness and longing, obviously wanting to touch her, but afraid of the consequences…until the Baron sneered, “Well? What are you waiting for, man? She won’t bite, not with that ball-gag in her mouth.”

Stung by his mockery, the lawyer reached down and as he rolled her crinkled buds gently between his fingers and thumbs, U-69 panted for breath, electrifying arousal jolting through her body.

Without knowing it, Snatchem had chanced upon her favourite pleasure…her weak spot…and as her belly began to coil with liquid heat and her nipples sprang to quivering attention, she was unable to hide the betraying evidence of her shameful excitement from him.

Or from D’Arcy and the Countess and as three pairs of eyes savoured her helpless response to his touch, U-69 trembled in urgent need, her brain filled with an icy certainty that none of them would hesitate to use her weakness against her.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Yes, very. I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with something amusing.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you will.”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

“I’m already doing that.”

“Well, time to go, I suppose. Mustn’t keep her friend waiting, must we.”

Reluctantly, Snatchem removed his hands from U-69’s breasts and as she gazed pleadingly up at the trio above her, the boot slammed shut, plunging her into blackness.

Aroused, alone and immobilised, she moaned in despair and humiliation as the car glided forward, knowing that but for her gag, she would have begged Snatchem to continue, no matter what the final cost to her might have been.

Or might still be, for she had no illusions that her ordeal and her captivity was over.

This was merely a brief respite while she was transported to the cottage where Gwen was no doubt still waiting and hoping for her to return and free her from her own bondage.

The thought of Gwen set U-69 straining against her steel manacles, her mind picturing the pretty blonde still securely bound in her chair, hoping and waiting for U-69 to return and release her, unaware of the danger that was fast approaching.

Or of the fact that her lover and best hope of being rescued from her enemies, was lying stripped and helplessly chained in the boot of the car of those same enemies and was in no position to save herself, let alone Gwen…

Sweat beaded U-69’s forehead as she fought her bonds, but as obdurate steel refused to loosen its grip on her slender limbs, her struggles slowly weakened and her strength ebbed away until tears of misery and defeat trickled down her cheeks to drip from the ball sealing her mouth as she was forced to give up the unequal battle.

Unlike the ropes and cords she was used to, steel cuffs could not be twisted or worked or slipped and as U-69 confronted the unpalatable truth that she had been out-thought, outsmarted and comprehensively outwitted by D’Arcy and the Countess’s unexpected change of tactics, her reddened eyes filled with apprehension at the thought of what form their revenge might take.

After losing to Gwen and herself so often, they were hardly likely to feel very well-disposed towards either of them and D’Arcy’s mansion had very large cellars as U-69 knew very well, having escaped from them herself and rescued Gwen more than once from their gloomy depths.

But never while chained as she was now…

She tensed as the car braked smoothly to a halt, but as minute after minute passed and the boot remained firmly shut, she had to accept that there was nothing she could do to save her lover.

Except hope for a miracle…

PART 3

Anger and frustration at being left alone and unable to get free had kept Gwen tugging at her bonds for almost an hour after U-69 left her, but it had done her no good and eventually she had given up.

Surprisingly, she had then fallen asleep in the chair and only woke up when she heard the sound of a key in the front door.

Buoyed up by the thought of seeing U-69…and of finally being untied…even if only after her lover had taken advantage of her helplessness…she smiled behind her gag and watched the door as it swung open…

Her eyes bulged in comical surprise and she gave a muffled squawk of shocked disbelief when a tall, elegantly-attired woman walked into the room and greeted her warmly, “Why hello, Gwen. How nice to see you again, my dear. You look just the same as I remember you. In fact, you haven’t changed a bit.”

Her calm eyes roamed over Gwen’s body and as the blonde remembered that her struggles had only succeeded in hiking her dress up well above her stocking-tops and that one shoulder-strap had slipped down to expose the creamy swell of her right breast in its lacy bra-cup, she wriggled in embarrassment and her face reddened.

“Oh, don’t bother on my account,” the Countess chuckled, “I’ve seen you like that before, of course. And in any case, I’ll be seeing much more of you very soon.”

“And so will I,” the Baron strode over to Gwen and as he noted the way she was tied, he frowned and shook his head in exasperation, “Look at those knots, Countess,” he said peevishly, “They’re nothing like as tight as I make them. If she can’t get out of them, how the Devil did she ever escape from mine?

“Mm, I agree, D’Arcy. Given her record of escaping from your ties, I would have thought she’d have freed herself, too. The only explanation must be that she had help to get loose. Probably from her friend.”

“Must have been, I suppose,” he replied, then smiled evilly into Gwen’s anxious blue eyes, “Well, girl, if that is how you got away from us before, you can forget it this time. Your tricky little partner is outside, safely chained up in the boot of my car and as soon as we’ve got you fixed, you’ll be joining her.”

Gwen groaned as the news of U-69’s capture extinguished her hopes of a last-minute reprieve, because with her lover already a prisoner, there was no-one to mount a daring rescue that would save her from yet another ordeal at the hands and in the ropes of D’Arcy and the Countess.

If she was to avoid that perilous and unwelcome fate, it was all going to be down to her to save the day and as the two conspirators turned to inspect the contents of a bag that the Baron had carried in, Gwen racked her brain to think of some way in which she might be able to overcome the seemingly insuperable odds stacked against her.

On the minus side, she was alone with two strong, ruthless and experienced kidnappers, she was gagged and securely bound, there was no likelihood of a chance visitor interrupting whatever they planned to do with her and her best friend and lover, U-69, was in no position to help.

But on the plus side…well…unfortunately there didn’t appear to be a plus side and as Gwen came to the unwelcome, but unavoidable conclusion that she was in deep trouble, the Countess straightened and came towards her.

Gwen squealed in alarm as she saw the scissors in the tall woman’s hand, then jerked at her bonds as the blades snipped through the shoulder-straps of her dress and the garment fell to her lap, revealing her breasts in their lacy bra-cups.

She tried to protest, but her muffled pleas fell on deaf ears and as the Countess murmured, “Keep still, dear. We wouldn’t want these blades to slip, would we?” and began to cut up the front of her dress, she froze and watched in horror as the slashed material was pulled away until she was stripped to her flimsy underwear.

A flood of red suffused her gagged cheeks when these, too, succumbed to the scissors, but with cords securing her, she could do nothing to cover her firm breasts or hide the triangle of golden curls at her belly as she was deprived of her last fragile defences and left with nothing but her heels, stockings and garter-belt.

The Countess stepped back and as she and D’Arcy calmly inspected Gwen’s exposed curves, the hugely embarrassed blonde moaned in awful despair and closed her eyes, frightened by the cruel anticipation on their faces and the knowledge of her own absolute vulnerability.

Of course, with her eyes squeezed tightly closed, she didn’t see the Countess reach into the bag and it was only when she felt the touch of cold, hard steel at her throat that she found out what her captors intended.

Just like U-69 before her, Gwen was stunned by the weight and strength of the metal encircling her neck and as the collar was locked into position, she shivered at the realisation that she could not remove it.

If she could have, she would have tried to resist as steel manacles were clamped on her limbs, but with her arms and legs still tightly bound by the ropes U-69 had applied earlier that day, it was child’s play for D’Arcy and the Countess to replace each of her bonds in turn with their own, never once permitting her the smallest chance of escape.

Pulled to her feet after her bondage had been checked carefully, she tried to protest when the tape was peeled from her lips and she was finally able to eject the golf ball that had kept her quiet for so long, but before she had time to do more than make a totally unavailing demand to be freed, a much larger rubber ball was crammed into her mouth and its harness strapped around her head.

Then, leashed and helpless, she stumbled forward with the hobble-chain between her ankles clinking at each restricted step as she was led from the cottage and down the rose-bordered path of the cottage to where D’Arcy’s car was drawn up at the gate.

Even though Gwen had been told where U-69 was, it was still a terrible shock to see her hog-tied in the car’s boot and as she was tumbled in and immobilised in exactly the same manner as her dishevelled lover, the two captive women stared wide-eyed at the other’s uncomfortably arched and nudely displayed body, each seeing her own plight mirrored in the defenceless exposure of her friend.

With a cruel chuckle, the Countess sent her leather-gloved hands racing over the uppermost breast of each of her captives, caressing taut flesh and tweaking nipples until the sensitive buds stiffened and grew hard under her skilful fingers and Gwen and U-69 jerked and quivered to her touch, their eyes wild and muffled squeals leaking past their gags as she tormented them.

Until, at the point where the reactions of both women told her quite clearly that they were hopelessly aroused and more than willing for her to continue…she stopped, cutting off their despairing wails and the eloquent pleading of their eyes as she slammed the boot shut…

 

“Nicely done, Countess,” the Baron congratulated her as he held open the car’s door for her, “Give them something to think about on the way to my place, eh?”

“Thank you, D’Arcy,” she replied coolly, “Yes, it’s never too soon to start teaching new girls their place. And as I know you will agree, that place for those two is kneeling at our feet, in their chains and collars, ready to serve us in any way we require.”

“Quite right, m’dear. My feelings exactly. They’ll need a bit of training, of course.”

“Of course. I expect that to take quite a few weeks, especially for the brunette, but we have at least a few months and I’m quite certain that neither of them will be able to hold out for anywhere near that long.”

“Even if they do, it won’t matter by then,” D’Arcy replied, “The oil under their land will be sold and all that lovely money will be safely in my secret account.”

“All except my share, I trust,” the Countess reminded him sharply and he hastened to make amends.

“Oh…yes… Yes, of course. Naturally, my dear. Share and share alike, y’know. You and Snatchem. Only fair that way.”

“Good,” she said flatly as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, “Then let’s get back to your place and start instructing our young friends in their new duties, shall we?”

“Sound plan,” he agreed, “I’m really looking forward to paying them back for all the times they’ve ruined my schemes and cost me money. A month or two in my cellars should even things up a bit.”

“Oh?” the Countess replied mildly, “Only a month or two? I’m afraid that doesn’t come close to what I have in mind.”

D’Arcy was intrigued, “No? Then what do you have in mind, Countess?”

“Well, if you have no objection, I was thinking of keeping them much longer. My maid, FiFi has been getting a little slack recently and I’ve been thinking of sacking her anyway. This seems like the perfect opportunity to train up a couple of permanent replacements for us, don’t you think?”

The car swerved as D’Arcy started in surprise, then as he corrected the wheel, an evil grin spread over his face, “What a fascinating idea, Countess. I do believe I’ve under-estimated you, m’dear. D’you think you can do it?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe not. But it will be fun finding out.”

He nodded and chuckled, “Indeed it will, Countess. Indeed it will. Although our new maids may not find it quite so enjoyable, perhaps.”

The Countess gave a shrug of her slim shoulders, “Who knows? And quite frankly, who cares?” and as she joined in D’Arcy’s laughter, he pushed his foot down on the accelerator and the car sped onward towards his mansion.

 

Several feet behind and ignorant of the crucial decisions being made regarding their futures, Gwen and U-69 were rolled against each other when the car swerved and as their swollen breasts and engorged nipples rubbed together, electric jolts of intense arousal raced through their arched bodies.

The intimacy of the contact instantly heightened the effects of the Countess’s fingers and as fond memories of other times and other places where they had shared similar joint pleasures filled their minds, both took what comfort they could from the closeness and warmth of the other and made no effort to draw back.

Each knowing that their friendship and love for each other was the only certain and unchangeable foundation in a world that had suddenly become a dangerous and frightening place.

At least they were together and could only hope that that fact would be enough to sustain them through whatever trials their captors might choose to impose upon them…because try as they might, neither could discern any other glimmer of hope in their unenviable situation…

 

D’Arcy braked the car to a halt and while he went to unlock the boot, the Countess walked to the massive front door of his mansion, pushed it open and called out, “FiFi? FiFi? Where are you, girl? Get down here at once.”

From somewhere in the house, a girl’s voice replied, “Oui, Madame. FiFi is coming straight away, Madame,” and as the Countess watched, a slim young woman hurried towards her down the marble hallway, her enormously high heels and the fifteen inches of chain linking her leather-cuffed ankles clicking and tinkling musically against the tiled floor.

Two feet from the Countess’s highly-polished shoes, the girl curtsied gracefully, then sank to one knee, placed her hands palms-up on her thighs and raised her head to display the two-inch leather collar adorning her slender throat, “You called for FiFi, Madame?”

The Countess gazed down at her, checking every detail of the classic black and white French Maid’s uniform the girl wore, its low-cut bodice barely covering her prominent nipples, an extremely short skirt and pinafore revealing her legs almost to the joint of her shapely thighs, the black, seamed stockings that displayed her legs and finally, the jaunty, lace-trimmed cap that sat atop her black-haired head.

“Hmm,” the Countess grunted uninformatively, “Fetch me my riding-crop and be quick about it,” and hid her satisfaction as she saw the maid’s eyes widen in alarm in the instant before she turned and scurried away with her hobble-chains clinking.

She knew that FiFi imagined that she was going to be punished for some unknown failing and although it would have been quite simple to allay the girl’s concerns, the Countess had no intention of doing so.

She had trained FiFi to obey without question or hesitation and firmly believed in keeping the maid off-balance and uncertain of what her “Madame” intended.

Never knowing when, or often even why she was to be punished, ensured that FiFi was always obedient and eager to please…which was, of course, why the Countess never explained and only rarely expressed her satisfaction with the girl’s performance of her duties…even when FiFi had done well.

While she waited, the Countess looked to see whether D’Arcy needed assistance and frowned when she saw that although he had released the tethers hog-tying Gwen and U-69 and lifted them out of the boot, both were trying to hold back as he tugged on the chains leading from their collars to his fist.

A waste of effort, of course, because their bonds and gags permitted no effective resistance to a determined man…but nevertheless, annoying and a clear indication that a sharp lesson was in order for them…

“Will you bring them over here, please, D’Arcy,” she called, “There’s something I want them to see.”

Yanking firmly on the leashes, the Baron dragged his reluctant captives over to where she stood, “What is it?” he asked irritably, “I want to get these two inside and down to the cellar where I can start to teach them to behave. Didn’t you see how they were trying to be difficult?”

The Countess nodded, “Yes. That’s why I sent FiFi to fetch my riding-crop. A little demonstration of the foolishness of being awkward will work wonders, I suspect.”

“Hmph. I don’t know about that, Countess. Still, it can’t harm, I suppose.”

Gwen and U-69 exchanged worried glances, not caring for the sound of the proposed “demonstration” then watched nervously as FiFi clinked and tip-tapped her way down the hall and sank to one knee before the Countess, holding her hands up with a long, thin whip of flexible black leather balanced across her open palms.

The sight of the maid in her revealing costume, kneeling humbly with a collar around her throat and hobble-cuffs on her ankles, sent chills of apprehension racing up both captives’ spines and when the Countess took the whip from her and snapped, “Down,” both gasped in horrified understanding as the girl immediately bent double and gripped her own ankles.

With her head down, FiFi’s skirt was far too short to cover her buttocks and as the bare, rounded half-moons of her bottom-cheeks were exposed by her action, the Countess turned to Gwen and U-69, “FiFi has been my maid for some time now,” she informed them calmly, “And as you see, I have trained her to obey. She will not move from this position until I give her permission. No matter what happens to her. Isn’t that so, FiFi?”

“Oui, Madame,” the maid responded instantly, only a faint tremor in her voice betraying embarrassment at being so shamefully displayed before strangers and anxiety about what was in store for her.

The Countess smiled and raised the crop high, “Very good, FiFi. Now be quiet while I show these new trainees what will happen to them if they fail to be as obedient as you.”

The whip hissed down across FiFi’s upraised bottom and as a thin red stripe blossomed on her tautened flesh, her knuckles whitened with the effort of forcing herself to remain perfectly still and silent.

Ignoring her maid’s discomfort, the Countess pointed her whip at U-69 and Gwen in turn, “That is the level of obedience you will be required to give,” she told them coldly, “And it is precisely what you will give. Both of you, no matter what it takes.”

Gwen stared numbly at the taller woman, as if hypnotised by her words and actions…but U-69 had been in tight corners before during her adventures as a secret agent and glared defiantly at the Countess, determined to show she was made of sterner stuff than her young friend and lover.

Or so she imagined…

Until the Countess responded instantly and decisively to the brunette’s unspoken challenge by sending her whip slashing across a pair of slim thighs.

But not U-69’s…Oh, no…the Countess was much too cruel and clever for that.

Her whip burned stinging fire into Gwen’s unprotected flesh and as the blonde squealed shrilly in unexpected and undeserved pain, the ruthless dominant smiled sweetly into U-69’s appalled eyes and murmured, “By all means continue to resist me as much as you wish, my little pet. I don’t mind at all…but I do hope that Gwen here is happy to endure the punishments that your lack of cooperation will earn her…”

U-69 gaped in horrified disbelief at her smiling captor, then tore her eyes away to stare at the vivid whip-mark adorning both of Gwen’s thighs, her ears filled with the heart-rending sobs of her punished lover and as the ruthless ingenuity of the Countess’s method of enforcing her will was made devastatingly clear, U-69 tasted absolute, inevitable defeat for the very first time.

There was no way that she could let Gwen suffer for her defiance and as the bitter knowledge that she was powerless to rebel against the pitiless demands of the Countess sank into her brain, U-69 shuddered in helpless despair and sank awkwardly to her knees, bowing her head in submission.

“That’s better, slave,” the Countess chuckled mockingly as she stared down at U-69, “You’ve saved sweet little Gwen for the moment, but if either of you gives even a hint of reluctance or disobedience from now on, you’ll both become very well acquainted with my whip. So I suggest you get used to the idea of being slaves very, very quickly or you’re going to suffer. Or should I say, suffer even more than we plan for you anyway. Eh, D’Arcy?”

The Baron nodded firmly, his eyes glittering with malice, “Hmmph. Quite right, Countess. These two have caused me a lot of trouble and now it’s my turn. By the time I’m done, they’ll know better than to mess with a D'Arcy.”

Gwen trembled and gave a soft whimper of horrified anguish at the threat, then yelped as the whip flicked out across her left hip and the Countess cooed, “Just a warning, slave. You do not have permission to make a noise and until you do, one more sound out of you and you’ll earn yourself a proper punishment.”

The calm, reasonable tone of her voice was at total variance with the cruelty of her words and Gwen recognised instantly that the brunette was utterly serious and would not hesitate to whip her again unless she remained totally silent.

Too frightened and demoralised to even think of defying the Countess, she watched despairingly as U-69 was ordered to her feet and when the chain leashes to both of their steel-collared throats drew taut, neither had any choice but to shuffle forward in the tiny, nine-inch paces that were all their ankle-hobbles permitted, the rattle of chains accompanying their slow, uncomfortable progress.

PART 4

Powerless to resist their captors, Gwen and U-69 were led past the luxurious private rooms of Darcy’s huge mansion, then through the kitchens and servants’ quarters and eventually to the utility and storage areas at the rear, where a heavy door stood open to reveal a flight of stone steps leading down to the cellars running under almost the entire house.

Cellars in which both had been held captive before and from which they had escaped to foil his plans more than once.

Never, though, from the tight, implacable grip of the steel manacles around their slender limbs and throats.

In the time taken, the Countess despatched FiFi to change out of her maid’s uniform, returning dressed in a skintight transparent catsuit and while Gwen and U-69 stumbled and clinked their way to the farthest recesses of the extensive cellars, the girl hurried ahead to unbolt and swing open the heavy steel doors of two of the many alcoves lining the end wall.

Despite the warning to remain silent, Gwen could not hold back her moan of despairing anguish at the sight of the shallow, narrow cell and the tall vertical post rising from the stone floor.

Her brain instantly conjured-up an image of herself bound helplessly to the thick wood and to her deep shame, she felt her nipples stiffen to humiliating rigidity and her sex grow damp to the power of her own imagination.

The Countess turned, whip raised to strike, but seeing the all too obvious signs of her prisoner’s sexual arousal, she chuckled cruelly and used the tip of her leather crop to tap gently at Gwen’s erect left nipple, ordering, “Don’t move, slave. Stand perfectly still, or I’ll whip those nice firm breasts instead of just playing with them.”

Gwen froze, her eyes wide with horror and unwanted, rapidly-increasing need as each touch of the leather sent a jolt of fierce arousal through her breast and down into the pit of her swirling belly, building a fire that she was unable to control or deny.

Watching intently, the Countess toyed with her victim until she judged that Gwen was fully at the mercy of her own awakened passions, then turned to D’Arcy who was watching intently, “This little slave knows who is in charge now, Baron, so if you would tie her to the post while FiFi replaces her gag with something rather more effective, we can deal with her friend and then leave them to think things over.”

“Certainly, my dear,” D’Arcy responded, then moved to Gwen, “Get in the cell, you, and stand with your back to the post. You may have escaped before, but you won't this time.”

Gwen could do nothing but obey and as loop after loop of rope encircled her legs and body, each pulled mercilessly tight and knotted, she was lashed immovably to the solid wood, the final security being the chaining of her collar to a ring in the roof of the cell.

Then it was FiFi’s turn and after Gwen’s rubber ball-gag was removed and replaced with a massive wad of cloth crammed into her mouth and held in place by a long, wide bandage wrapped around and around her head, the blonde captive could produce nothing more than a barely-audible whimper to express her misery and anguish.

 

With the leash to her collar gripped in D’Arcy’s fist, U-69 tried every trick she knew of to test her bonds and try to find some weakness that she could exploit to free herself.

It was all up to her, she knew, for sweet and lovely though Gwen was, she had no faith whatever in the blonde’s escapology skills.

In all of their previous encounters with D’Arcy and the Countess, Gwen had never once managed to get out of the ropes they had used to bind her.

Even at home, in the tie-up games that they played together, the outcome was just the same, Gwen always failing to get loose and having to beg U-69 to release her.

It often seemed to U-69 that Gwen didn’t really want to escape, for she always became very aroused and excited when she was bound and loved to be played with and tormented by the brunette while helpless to resist.

Not that U-69 minded, because Gwen was very pretty and her firm body delightfully sensitive to U-69’s fingers and lips…

Her fond thoughts were cruelly interrupted by a harsh yank of the leash and as she was jolted back to alarming reality, redoubled her efforts to loosen or slip her bonds.

Time and again, she tried to twist her wrists inside the manacles, time and again she exerted all of her strength against the obdurate metal, time and again she racked her brain to find a technique that would give some fresh hope.

Time and again, she was disappointed, nothing she could do making the smallest impression on the steel locked on her limbs and as she was led through the gloomy cellar and saw the tiny alcoves with their heavy steel doors, an icy chill set her trembling.

She already knew that escape from her chains was totally impossible, but if they were to be locked in those cells as well, even dreaming of escape would be utterly futile.

Her leash handed to the Countess, U-69 watched helplessly while Gwen was bound and gagged even more thoroughly than before and when the blonde’s eyes met hers, filled with a mute plea for U-69 to rescue her as she had so many times before, the secret agent could only shake her head sadly and drop her gaze, unable to bear the sight of her lover’s horrified despair as she realised that this time, there would be no dramatic, last-minute rescue to save her.

Chained, leashed and alone, there was no point in U-69 attempting to resist her three captors and when she was ordered into the alcove next to Gwen’s, she reluctantly obeyed and allowed D’Arcy to bind her tightly to the post, then opened her mouth to be gagged by the grinning FiFi.

By the time the maid stepped back, U-69 was as thoroughly restrained and silenced as Gwen, neither of them able to object or conceal any part of their bodies from the eyes of their captors.

From their eyes, or from D’Arcy’s hands when he used the pretext of checking their bonds, to fondle their naked breasts and buttocks and apply numerous sharp pinches to their defenceless forms.

Eventually satisfied for the moment, he turned to his partner, “Well, Countess, I’d like to see them get out of that! Those ropes are good and tight and I’ve made sure that all the knots are well away from their fingers. I don’t know how the blonde managed to escape before, but this time even Houdini himself wouldn’t get loose.”

The Countess nodded, “I’m sure you’re right, Baron. But I’d still like to check for myself. As I’m sure you remember, it is rather important to me that they remain prisoners and do not somehow slip through our fingers again.”

D’Arcy chuckled mirthlessly, “Ah yes, Countess. Our little agreement. Yes, it would be unfortunate if they got away. For you, at least, if not necessarily for me. I would have to forego the revenue from the oil under their land, but I’m sure the financial pain of that loss would be greatly eased by your service as their replacement. Especially naked and in those chains.”

“I’ve told you before, D’Arcy,” the Countess snapped peevishly, “I have no intention of serving you, either in or out of those chains you are so keen to have me wear. These two are going to be trained as our servants, not me as yours, so I strongly suggest you forget any ideas to the contrary.”

Clearly irritated, she suddenly noticed FiFi listening and turned on the unfortunate girl, brandishing the whip, “How dare you eavesdrop on the private conversations of your betters! You need a lesson, girl. Get over here and down on your knees with your face on the floor. Right now, you useless excuse for a maid! Get down, I said and I don’t want to hear a sound out of you!”

It was obvious that FiFi wanted to protest the injustice of the punishment she was about to receive, but the habit of obedience to her employer was too deeply ingrained and she couldn’t quite bring herself to defy the Countess’s order.

Trembling, she sank to her knees at the Countess’s feet and put her head down, her upraised buttocks perfectly presented for a whipping.

For a moment the Countess hesitated, as if regretting what she had begun, then shook her head in annoyance at her weakness and brought her whip down across the rounded curves of FiFi’s bottom.

Six times the strokes burned vivid red stripes into the maid’s flesh and before the punishment ended, her bottom glowed fiercely hot and her tears flowed as she sobbed in pain.

“Oh, stop blubbering, FiFi,” the Countess demanded, “It was only six and you deserved them, so unless you want more, stand up and get back to your normal duties. You’re still my maid at the moment and I’ll be up to change for dinner later, so lay out the green evening dress. And put on your proper uniform and ankle-hobbles again. You’re getting slack, girl and I won’t have it, do you hear? I won’t have it!”

Rising to her feet, the maid curtsied and hurried from the room, rubbing her reddened bottom as she went, her eyes filled with resentment she dared not express and as she left, the Countess turned to glare at U-69 and Gwen.

Two pairs of frightened eyes stared back at her, for having seen the punishment inflicted on FiFi, both captives feared her and what her whip could do to them.

Without a word, the Countess went to each, tugging hard at the ropes and chains which bound them, then positioned herself just outside the alcoves where they stood in mute immobility.

Slowly, giving them time to anticipate and dread what was to come, she raised her whip and took careful aim.

For the second time, blazing heat seared across Gwen’s thighs and as she screamed into her gag, three more lines of fire joined the first etched into her soft, white skin.

Changing her aim, the ruthless dominant painted four scarlet lines on the tender flesh of U-69’s thighs and although the agent tried to hold back, she had never felt a whip before and the shocking heat that raged through her was too much, her muffled screams bringing a cruel smile to the Countess’s lips.

“We’ve brought you here to be our slaves,” she announced coldly, ignoring the whimpering of her victims, “Slaves can be whipped whenever their owners choose, whether they deserve it or not. Owners don’t have to be fair to their slaves and I’ve decided that as FiFi was given six strokes, you both get six, too. So, where will they do the most good, do you think? How about…there…?”

U-69’s eyes bulged in fearful anguish and she strained madly against her bonds as the whip rose again, but she was far too securely bound and her screams sounded again as two cruel lashes cracked across the smooth upper slopes of her unprotected breasts to send stinging pain raging through her torso.

Seconds later, Gwen’s shrill shrieks blended with hers, confirming that she, too, had received the same punishment and was suffering the same awful torment.

“Well done, Countess,” D’Arcy complimented his partner, “That’ll give ‘em something to think about while we’re at dinner.”

“Thank you, Baron. We must do our best to instil the proper respect in our servants, must we not? But talking of dinner, I really must go up and change.”

“Off you go, m’dear. I’ll be along a little later. Got a few things I want to do first, y’know.”

The Countess glanced at him, then at the two naked, tightly-bound captives and gave a knowing smile, “Is that so, Baron? Very well, then I shall see you in the dining-room,” she turned to leave, then turned back, “Perhaps it would be best if I left this with you,” and handed him her whip.

He nodded, “I think it would, Countess. You think of everything.”

“I try. I do try.”

PART 5

When the sound of her heels had faded into silence, D’Arcy raised the whip and took several practice swings, the leather whistling through the air and bringing muffled gasps of fear from Gwen and U-69.

“The two of you have been thorns in my side for a very long time,” he said coldly, “You’ve cost me a lot of money and caused me a great deal of trouble and embarrassment. But not any more! You’ve interfered with my plans for the last time and now it’s my turn. First, I’m going to give you a small sample of what’s coming to you. Then I’m going to eat a delicious dinner, drink a bottle of excellent wine and spend a comfortable night in my bed. And in the morning, I shall return with the Countess to begin your training as our slaves and you had better be ready, willing and ultra-obedient, or you’ll both suffer. Not that your suffering is of the slightest importance.”

To emphasise his final words, he struck hard, forward and then backhand, the first lash cracking across U-69’s defenceless belly, the second adding another scarlet stripe to Gwen’s pale thighs.

Savouring the gag-distorted screams and squeals of the suffering pair, he struck again, then again, and yet again, until each helpless captive wept and sobbed in horrified anguish, their bodies aflame with furious heat they could do nothing to alleviate.

Terrified, devastated and utterly demoralised by the cruel punishment they had been forced to endure and the awful knowledge of what they must face in the morning, neither Gwen nor U-69 was capable of putting up even minimal resistance when D’Arcy dropped his whip and reached for their cruelly-punished bodies.

Moving first to one, then to the other, he captured their breasts in his hands, his fingers and thumbs caressing the firm globes, then rolling and squeezing their nipples to send a horribly-powerful combination of pleasure and pain jolting through their frames and down into their bellies.

Following on so soon after the multiple shocks of their capture, bondage in inescapable steel, news of their impending enslavement and double whippings by both him and the Countess, the ruthless assault was utterly irresistible and as their feeble attempts to retain control of their responses was quickly crushed and brushed aside, first Gwen, then moments later U-69, were forced to capitulate.

Against her will, each felt and saw her nipples grow shamefully stiff and erect under D’Arcy’s cruel fingers, his mocking chuckles adding to their humiliation when he made them squeal by squeezing their tender buds even harder, reinforcing the stark message of his absolute power over them.

 

To U-69 in particular, used to being in control of any situation and who had always thought herself to be equal to even the toughest situation, it seemed like her worst nightmare come true.

Until the Baron took one hand from her breasts and sent it burrowing between her roped-together thighs, his extended finger probing for her sex.

Squealing and shaking her head in futile denial, the appalled brunette squeezed her legs together even tighter, trying frantically to expel his finger, her eyes wide with alarm at the thought of being made to climax by him.

To her disbelieving horror, even with her legs clamped as tightly as she could, his finger managed to worm its way deeper and when it found the fleshy nubbin of her clitoris, U-69 was incapable of controlling the massive tidal-wave of arousal that swept over her as her most private, most intimate and most exquisitely-sensitive spot was stimulated.

In only minutes, her defences were swept away and she begged piteously into her gag to be given the huge orgasm that boiled and seethed in her belly, her subjugation absolute and her mind quailing before the awesome intensity of her enforced need.

D’Arcy gazed deep into her pleading eyes, drinking in her desperation and fear of her own unleashed passions, then smiled coldly and took his hands from her body, chuckling, “Not yet, slut. You wouldn’t want me to keep Gwen waiting, would you?”

U-69 wailed shrilly in horrendous frustration and misery, knowing she had betrayed herself and that he was mocking her, but as he moved to Gwen, there was nothing she could do except endure the fury of her unsatisfied lust as best she could and hope against hope that he would eventually take pity on her and give her what she longed for so fervently.

 

Only a few feet away in her adjoining cell, her whipped flesh smarting painfully and her belly filled with unwelcome sexual heat, Gwen heard every moan and squeal and gasp of her lover as D’Arcy compelled U-69 to submit to his total domination and power over her.

In their relationship and in all the adventures they had shared, the brunette had always been the strong one, the confident one, the competent one, the one who always found a way to escape and foil the Baron’s cunning plots, invariably rescuing Gwen along the way.

So it came as a stunning, totally unexpected shock to Gwen when she heard the muffled, but unmistakable sound of U-69 pleading with D’Arcy to be permitted to submit to his hands and begging to be allowed to climax.

She simply couldn’t believe that her lover had been brought so low, so quickly, but when she heard the Baron sneer that U-69 would have to wait while he dealt with her, Gwen shuddered in dread, her faith in the brunette’s abilities to turn defeat into victory and save them both from the awful fate D'Arcy planned for them, shaken to its roots.

If U-69 could be made to beg for her own sexual degradation at the hands of their enemy, Gwen knew that she had no hope whatsoever of holding out against him.

Her belly kicked violently as the Baron moved towards her and when his hands captured and toyed with her her breasts and nipples, then pried her thighs apart to plunder her sex, Gwen submitted even more quickly than her lover, her body out of control and writhing erotically in the ropes that bound her.

Just like U-69, she was driven into a frenzy by his ruthless arousal and just like U-69, was not permitted to reach her release, D’Arcy timing the removal of his touch to perfection, just seconds before her race to orgasm would have become unstoppable.

 

Stepping back and picking up the whip from the floor, the Baron surveyed his handiwork, his eyes gleaming with cruel pleasure at the ruinous havoc he had created in the bodies of his two victims.

Their anguished faces, soft moans and whimpers, stone-hard nipples, damply-glistening thighs and quivering bellies, all betrayed the intensity of the arousal and subjugation he had imposed upon them, but even more telling and deeply satisfying to him, was the fact that neither dared raise their eyes to meet his scornful gaze.

They couldn’t face him and he knew it was because he had used their own sexual passions against them to make them submit.

Even now, if he was to allow it, both would beg him for the climax each craved, despite hating themselves for giving in.

At some point in their future as his slaves, he might consider such a request, but certainly not until they were properly trained to serve him and the Countess.

Lifting his whip, he laid two hard lashes across the thighs of each devastated woman, raising his voice above their pained wails, “You have tonight to rest and prepare yourselves to obey. I shall return in the morning.”

Then he slammed the steel doors of the cells and shot the bolts, locking them in and walking away without a backward glance.

 

Bound in steel manacles, imprisoned behind a steel door, tethered by steel chain, U-69 moaned softly, the pain of her whipped thighs matched by the pain of knowing she had been defeated.

Not just defeated, but totally, utterly routed, not even able to put up a brave fight.

From the first moment of her capture, she had never had the smallest chance of escape and had lost every battle to retain some sort of control over her plight.

Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined that she would be whipped, but when the Countess and then D’Arcy had done just that and the leather had burned scorching heat into her flesh, she knew she would have done absolutely anything they demanded, without hesitation, in order to save herself.

She would have, but had never been given the opportunity and when her body had been plundered and then whipped yet again by him, the knowledge that she would be punished whenever he chose and that there was nothing at all she could do to avoid it, sent her spirits plummeting to rock bottom.

She couldn’t see any hope, or any way out and when she heard Gwen’s heart-rending sobs from the next cell, great hot tears welled from U-69’s eyes and rolled down her gagged cheeks to splash on her naked breasts.

 

“Not those boots, you stupid girl! The laced ones.”

The sharp command sent FiFi scurrying back to the huge double wardrobe where the Countess’s clothes and shoes were kept, her eyes filled with anxiety.

The Countess was in a foul mood and that was very bad news for any servant within range of her whip.

Sure enough, as FiFi bent to retrieve the correct pair of boots, her bottom received a stinging lash that brought a hissing gasp of pain from her.

“You’re quite useless and I can’t think why I ever took you on as my maid. Well, don’t just stand there like a stuffed dummy, girl. Bring them over and get on your knees.”

Choking back her desire to throttle her employer, FiFi obeyed, going down on all fours so that the Countess could use her back as a footstool while she put on the boots.

For several minutes, she knelt in silence while the Countess did up the laces of her high heeled boots, but then made the mistake of wincing when a spike heel jabbed her as the Countess bent her leg to check the fit of a boot.

“Keep still, dammit! Oh, I can’t wait to train those two in the cellar to take your place. I certainly won’t be as soft on them as I am on you,” the words were accompanied by a second hard lash and then a third when FiFi failed to keep perfectly still despite the fiery heat raging through her bottom.

“Get out! Get out of my sight before I lose my temper with you. And start packing your things, you’re dismissed.”

“But…But, Madame,” the maid protested, “What will I do? Where will I go? Please, Madame…?”

“Be silent, girl,” the Countess snapped, “Don’t whine. It’s your own fault and my mind is made up. You leave at the end of the month and that’s an end to it. Now, go away.”

FiFi was devastated, the shock of losing her post so suddenly and her fear as to what her future might be, clear on her face as she rose to her feet and stumbled from the room.

Behind her, the Countess frowned in irritation for a few moments, then dismissed FiFi and her problems from her mind.

The maid would just have to work out her own salvation, however she could.

She stood up and strode to the full-length mirror, nodding in admiring self-satisfaction, then sent her whip hissing through the air.

Two slaves needed discipline and training and she and her whip were going to make sure that they got it…

 

The Countess and D’Arcy had both thoroughly enjoyed the first full day of Gwen and U-69’s training, but the two captives had most definitely not.

After a long, frustrating, uncomfortable, hungry night, their misery was compounded by the sight of their captors’ well-fed, well-rested faces laughing at them through the barred grilles of their cell doors.

Things did not improve when the bolts were thrown back and they were untied from the posts where they had stood all through the hours of darkness, for instead of being allowed to rest their aching limbs, or being given something to eat, they were immediately subjected to a series of humiliating commands, each reinforced by the liberal application of cruel lashes to their flinching buttocks.

Still hobbled by short chains between their ankles and unable to use their arms for balance, it was not at all easy to kneel, or curtsey, or even walk, but their difficulties, real though they were, gained them no sympathy whatever and did nothing to reduce the number of times the whips sought them out to punish them for failing to reach the standards of perfection insisted on by their captors.

Tired, distraught and frightened by the seeming impossibility of ever pleasing the pair, Gwen kept her eyes lowered submissively when her gag was finally removed, not daring to voice the protest she wanted to, lest it earn her still more painful whip-strokes.

U-69, with a momentary flash of her old spirit, tried to demand release for herself and Gwen, but her bravery was greeted with mockery and a flurry of lashes that ended her defiance even more quickly than it had begun and left her huddled on the floor, gasping in pain.

The Countess stood over her and gave a tinkling laugh, “Any more demands you’d care to make, slave? No? Then get up, stand still and keep your mouth shut!”

She watched while the punished brunette struggled to her feet and took her place alongside Gwen, then nodded calmly, “That’s better. Now pay attention. From now on, whenever you are permitted to speak, you will address me as “Madame” and you will address the Baron as “Sir” And you will curtsey gracefully, keeping your head down and your eyes lowered.”

“Quite right,” D’Arcy confirmed, “You will show the proper respect to your betters at all times, or I will know the reason why and take appropriate measures to improve your manners. I trust I make myself clear.”

Gwen and U-69 stared numbly at him, neither responding until his brow creased in a frown and the whip in his hand twitched menacingly.

Smarting from her last punishment, U-69 replied first, her confirmatory, “Yes,” followed by a reluctant, “Sir,” echoed a second or so later by Gwen.

His frown deepened and when the Countess laughed a second time and chided, “Oh no, no, no! Far too slow! That won’t do at all. And you both forgot to curtsey,” the two captives gaped at her in horrified dismay.

“Down!” The command came from the Baron, his harsh, uncompromising tone brooking no disobedience and when they had obeyed and were on their knees, grasped U-69 by the nape of her neck and bent her over so that her forehead was on the floor.

“Stay!” he snapped, then repeated his actions with Gwen, leaving them both kneeling with heads down and buttocks raised, perfectly positioned for a whipping.

Stealing a glance to her left, U-69 met Gwen’s frightened eyes, reading in their depths the same humiliation, despair and fearful anxiety that she knew was mirrored in her own as they waited for their inevitable punishment to begin.

Both knowing that if they tried to avoid it, or disobeyed D’Arcy’s order, they would be made to suffer even more.

That certainty held them in position when the whips rose and fell, their enforced obedience intensifying their sense of total helplessness and subjugation as D’Arcy and the Countess strolled casually around their bowed bodies, striking them at will and clearly unconcerned by the pain and misery they were inflicting on them.

Tiring of their sport at last, they ordered their sobbing prisoners to their feet and resumed their training, only relenting after both Gwen and U-69 had completed every embarrassing and nudely-exposed position they had learned, six times in a row without hesitation or fault.

Rewarding them eventually by returning them to their cells, again binding them to the wooden posts and chain-tethering them, but removing their gags to permit them to be fed and watered by FiFi.

Ending Gwen and U-69’s first session of training as the servants and slaves of the Baron and the Countess…

PART 6

The second day followed a similar pattern to the first…but with one unwanted and appalling addition…

Along with the stringent bondage, strict training and relentless discipline, came ferocious, irresistible arousal of their defenceless bodies, leading inevitably to their complete sexual submission to both the Baron and the Countess.

The idea was D’Arcy’s, put to the Countess the previous evening over dinner, when he had regaled her with the story of how, on their first night in the cells, he had tormented and aroused Gwen and U-69 almost to orgasm and then deprived them at the very last moment.

It was a cruel and heartless tale he told and the Countess loved every moment of it, her eyes gleaming with excited amusement as she urged him to tell every detail of what he had done and the reactions of his two victims to the devastating assault on their bodies.

Basking in her admiration, he explained how they had tried to resist him, but had quickly been forced to submit to the strength of their own desires and as he described how they had moaned and writhed to his touch and begged to be allowed to come, he noticed that the Countess wriggled uncomfortably on her seat.

Then squirmed again when he told her how they had been unable to meet his gaze and how he had ended the evening with a final whipping of their thighs.

“So I think we should definitely use the same technique against them, m’dear. It certainly worked.”

The Countess nodded, “Well…yes, D’Arcy. I’m not surprised it was successful. After all, they were naked and bound and helpless and couldn’t resist you. Any woman would have to submit in those circumstances.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Countess. And if I’m not mistaken, you find the idea somewhat appealing yourself, eh?”

She blushed, “It would be an…interesting situation to be in,” she agreed shyly, then hurried on, “Not one I shall ever experience, of course. But as a woman, I can appreciate what they must have felt being so totally vulnerable.”

“Mmm,” he chuckled, “Well, as a man, I can only say that it was highly enjoyable and I’m looking forward to enjoying it again. With the two downstairs, or indeed yourself, Countess, should they escape. Which, of course, I have your personal guarantee that they won’t.”

For the first time in their long relationship, he saw the Countess at a loss for words, her white teeth nibbling at her lower lip and a glint of anxious concern and perhaps even fear in her eyes at his reminder not only of what she had wagered, but of the consequences to her should she lose.

Noting her reaction, but careful not to show it, he smiled warmly at her, “Even though they may have managed to free themselves several times before, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, my dear. As you can see, I’m not worried at all. So let’s have another glass of wine and talk about our plans for tomorrow, shall we?”

 

With experience to guide them and the memory of being whipped still vivid in their minds, Gwen and U-69’s performance of the embarrassing displays of obedience required of them was greatly improved over the coming days.

Kneeling, curtseying, arching and bending their naked bodies into the poses demanded, even the humiliating head to the floor, buttocks raised whipping position.

Repeating the cycles over and over until every position became an ingrained and automatic response to the command given.

It was not achieved easily and despite their best efforts, nowhere near good enough to avoid their captors’ whips entirely, but at least reducing the frequency of stinging lashes they received.

Even when they were permitted to rest, it was on their knees with their spines straight and shoulders pulled back to present their breasts and bellies, the position deliberately ordered to emphasise their lowly status and submission to the Countess and D’Arcy.

Even more humiliating and alarming than their enforced obedience though, was the uncontrollable response of their bodies to the unwanted arousal imposed upon them by the fingers of their captors.

Unwanted, unavoidable, inevitable…and horrifyingly addictive, for even though both tried to hold back and not give in to the storm of erotic desire unleashed within their bodies by the arrogant plundering of their breasts and bellies, neither could resist the overwhelming assaults and were forced, against their will to beg to be allowed to orgasm, their pleas confirming only too clearly their abject surrender to the absolute power of the Countess and D’Arcy.

Day by day, as their sexual need grew ever stronger and remained unsatisfied, U-69 and Gwen became more and more desperate for a climax and less and less able to maintain even a semblance of control over their own fierce lusts, so carefully stoked and fed by the two dominants.

In their chains, naked and helpless, neither Gwen nor U-69 could satisfy the incredible passions unleashed in their bodies, or defy the conditioning imposed on them and as they were forced to endure their subjugation and the servitude demanded of them, their desire for sexual release grew so all-consuming that a casual caress of their flesh, or even the stinging lash of a riding-crop, set their bellies churning and bubbling with savage heat.

Heat which became their constant companion through each long, hard, often-painful day as they were trained to obey without question and submit instantly to whatever demands the Countess and D’Arcy cared to make of them…then stayed with them throughout the nights after they had been carefully and ruthlessly bound and gagged inside their locked cell.

 

Two weeks after her capture, Gwen sank to her knees before the Baron’s armchair, keeping her spine straight and her shoulders back to display her breasts, her thighs parted and eyes lowered submissively, awaiting his command.

Even with her eyes cast down, she could feel him gazing boldly at her presented body and although she longed to cover her nudity and break her pose, she did not dare, knowing only too well that any hint of disobedience would bring instant and painful retribution from his riding-crop.

D’Arcy clicked his fingers, “Closer, girl,” and Gwen shuffled forward on her knees to the spot indicated by his pointing finger, her face flushing bright red in humiliation at her own immediate submission and the spurt of heated arousal that jetted into her belly as she positioned herself within easy reach of his hands.

Ashamed of her weakness, Gwen tried to crush down the unwanted response, but when the Baron brushed the backs of his hands across her rounded breasts and his fingers trailed over her nipples, she couldn’t hold back a gasp as the tawny buds instantly stiffened to aching hardness and her arousal redoubled.

Fighting to hold her position, she bit her lip when D’Arcy sneered that her training was coming along nicely, but then his right hand dived between her spread thighs and she squealed shrilly, writhing and jerking helplessly as his fingers and thumb captured her clitoris and delved into her sex to create devastating havoc in her belly.

Racing headlong towards the massive climax building deep inside her, Gwen surrendered utterly, her eyes betraying both her despair and her blazing need as she was forced to whimper, “Sir? Please, Sir? Please let me come, Sir. I beg to come, Sir,” her fervent passion overcoming the deep shame she felt at giving in so swiftly and easily to her ruthless captor.

D’Arcy paused for a moment, then snapped, “On your knees, slut. Whipping position. Slaves like you have to pay for their pleasure.”

Gwen shuddered, but in less than two seconds was in the ordered position, forehead to the floor and buttocks raised, her mind reeling at the cruelty of his command and the instantaneous jolt of savage heat that sent a trickle of juices oozing from her sex as she obeyed.

Her head lifted momentarily when the first lash seared across her pale flesh, then sank down as Gwen forced herself to accept the punishment, tears welling from her blue eyes as five more hard strokes painted her upraised bottom with stripes of stinging fire.

Head down, in pain from the undeserved punishment, she screamed and her fingers clawed at nothing when the whip’s braided leather handle thrust deep into her slick sex, the Baron’s fingers and thumb rolling and squeezing her engorged clitoris as she was instantly propelled into a huge orgasm.

Helpless in the grip of her enforced submission, Gwen’s belly convulsed, then convulsed again and again, each sending a wave of her hot juices surging through her belly and into her sex, to drip from her and smear the floor under her contorting body as she came with immense power, unable to exert any control over the irresistible demands of her own unleashed passions.

Pulling his crop from her belly and tapping it against one of his boots, the Baron savoured her unconditional surrender to his dominance, quite certain that Gwen was thoroughly subjugated and no longer capable of defying either his will or her own submissive nature.

As soon her climax began to wane, he struck her again, his harsh order cutting through her gasp of pain, “You’ve made a mess on my floor, slut. Clean it up.”

Gwen hesitated, clearly not knowing how she could obey with her arms bound behind her back and no cleaning materials, then squealed as the whip burned across her buttocks a second time and he snapped, “You have a tongue, slut. Use it. And you’d better do a good job or you’ll really be in trouble.”

She longed to refuse, to defy his callous arrogance and show him that she would never be the slave he intended to make her…but when a third lash shattered the wild fantasies of resistance racing through her brain, she whimpered in despairing misery and surrendered to his ruthless subjugation of her.

Pressing her soft lips to the floor and constantly aware of the crop hovering threateningly above her bowed back and ready to strike again at the slightest hint of rebellion on her part, Gwen lapped at the damply-glistening residue of her sexual surrender, shame and humiliation bringing a bright red flush to her cheeks and neck as she was forced to lick up every last drop of the sticky liquid until the floor was as clean as her tongue could make it.

“Hmm,” the Baron sneered at her efforts, “Barely adequate, but I’m in a good mood, so consider yourself lucky, girl. Now, stand up, turn around and keep quiet.”

Rising instantly from her knees, Gwen did exactly as she was told, making not a sound while the Baron casually unlocked her wrists from behind her back and re-secured them in front of her.

Although a marked improvement on her previous bondage, the cuffs were still linked to the centre of her hobble-chain and Gwen found herself unable to lift her hands above the level of her waist.

“Whisky and soda and hurry up about it,” he snapped brusquely, then sank back into his armchair, flexing the crop between his hands while Gwen hurried as quickly as her hobble would permit over to the drinks cabinet.

Only to find that it was too high for her to reach the glasses and bottles inside.

Fearing what would happen if the Baron was kept waiting, she raised her left foot as high as she could, balancing precariously on her right, then bent forward and stretched out her fingers, just managing to grip the cap of the whisky bottle and lift it out of its recess onto the serving tray.

Repeating the manoeuvre with the soda siphon and a glass, she then prepared his ordered drink and carried it over to him, careful not to spill a single drop of the golden liquid as she sank slowly to her knees at his feet and kissed the glass before offering it to him.

“Took your time, didn’t you?” he said, taking a sip, then shrugged, “Well, at least you’ve learned how to make and serve a decent drink. Now stay there and keep quiet while I read through the contract from the oil company and find out just how much money the oil under your hovel is going to make me.”

Gwen’s blue eyes grew wide when she heard about the oil, then wider still as it suddenly became crystal clear why she and U-69 had been kidnapped and held prisoner.

Once again, they were victims of the insatiable Baron’s greed and unless they could escape, not only would he benefit financially from his crimes, but their lovely little home and carefully-tended garden would be completely ruined.

They had to stop him, but Gwen simply couldn’t see any way that they could possibly manage it.

In the past, whenever they had crossed swords with D’Arcy and the Countess, U-69’s ability to free herself from any tie used on her had always turned what had seemed to be inevitable defeat, into triumphant victory, foiling the Baron’s plans and leaving U-69 and Gwen sitting pretty with all the spoils and him with nothing but egg on his face as yet another of his schemes proved to be an embarrassing failure.

This time, though, steel cuffs and chains had taken away that crucial advantage and without it, the future for Gwen and U-69 looked very different.

Escape had proved impossible and as Gwen was forced to confront the unwelcome fact, her eyes filled with tears at the knowledge that she and U-69 had lost and were condemned to an unknown time as the slaves of the Baron and the Countess…

PART 7

U-69 hated the outfit that the Countess had made her wear.

With good reason, for unlike FiFi’s proper French Maid’s uniform, U-69 had only been permitted the tiny pinafore, seamed black stockings, hugely high heels and silly little lace cap.

None of which came anywhere near to covering her breasts, sex and buttocks and merely emphasised her virtual nudity.

With her wrists cuffed behind her back, her ankles hobbled by nine inches of chain, a broad steel panel-gag holding a large leather ball deep in her mouth and a collar with attached leash encircling her throat, U-69 stood perfectly still as she was subjected to a detailed inspection, knowing that if she attempted to move or make any sort of protest, the riding-crop in the hands of the Countess would exact instant and painful retribution.

“There is a letter on the tray in my day-room. Fetch it,” the Countess stared hard at U-69, “Now, girl!”

U-69 nodded humbly and turned away towards the door, ashamed of her weakness and obedience, but not daring to risk the merciless punishment that defiance would earn her.

Since her capture, she had felt the cruel bite of the crop many times and had learned to carry out every order instantly and perfectly, no matter how humiliating or how much she longed to refuse.

As she tottered away, the Countess snapped, “Go with her, FiFi and take my other crop with you. Make sure she doesn’t dilly-dally or slouch. Go on, hurry up.”

“Oui, Madame,” the maid replied happily and as she heard the order, U-69 gave a mental groan.

FiFi took her instructions from the Countess literally and would not hesitate to use the crop on U-69 if she thought it necessary.

Sometimes, she had used it when U-69 was quite sure it hadn’t been necessary, but either way, U-69’s bottom had suffered and there had been nothing she could do about it.

Just as she could do nothing about it when the maid chivvied her along by flicking the crop across her buttocks as she tip-tapped her way down the corridor towards the Countess’s day-room as quickly as she could with her steps severely limited by her hobbled ankles.

At the closed door to the day-room, U-69 stopped, then winced and yelped as the crop burned across her bottom and FiFi sneered, “Don’t just stand there, slave. You won’t always have me around to open doors for you, so get on with it,” and a matching red stripe bloomed on U-69’s pale flesh.

It wasn’t fair, but FiFi had made it quite clear that she blamed U-69 for her losing her job as the Countess’s maid and took every opportunity for revenge to punish and humiliate her whenever she could.

With her bottom smarting from the undeserved lash, U-69 twisted around with her back to the door and fumbled with her cuffed hands to find the handle.

Too slowly, receiving a third stinging stripe on her left thigh as FiFi expressed her displeasure at being made to wait.

The door clicked open and U-69 pushed it wide, tottering in and hurrying to the table where the letter sat on a circular silver tray.

In order to pick it up, she had to stretch her left hand as far as she could across her back and reach out with the extended fingertips of her right hand, just managing to grip the tray and lift it from the table.

“Congratulations,” FiFi said mockingly, “Keep it up and you’ll soon be a proper little slave for the Countess. But you’ll have to be a lot quicker than this because she’s nowhere near as patient as I am so you’d better get used to being cropped. Now, get going and don’t even think about dropping that letter or you’ll find out what a proper punishment feels like.”

Although FiFi was only a maid herself and equally as subject to the Countess’s discipline, U-69 trembled at the threat and obeyed immediately, submitting meekly to the domination just as she had learned to submit to the Baron and the Countess, her spirit and willpower undermined to the point that she no longer even attempted to resist.

With several more red stripes adorning her flanks, each deepening her sense of helpless subjugation, U-69 presented her body before the Countess exactly as she had been trained, her spine straight, shoulders pulled back and legs spread to the full extent of her hobble-chain, exposing and offering herself for whatever use the other woman might care to make of her, in the hope of pleasing her and avoiding punishment.

Holding out the tray, she stood perfectly still and silent, not even daring to glance at the whip in the Countess’s hands while her aristocratic Mistress opened the letter and perused its contents.

“Well, isn’t that nice,” she chuckled sarcastically, “It’s from Snatchem, reporting that nobody has expressed the slightest concern about the sudden disappearance of you and dear little Gwen and he is enquiring as to your health and welfare. Especially yours, slave. He seems to have rather a soft spot for you, although I can’t think why. So, I’ll get D’Arcy to invite him around for dinner. I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you again and find out for himself how you’re getting on with your new duties. Won’t that be fun, slave?”

The thought of a third enemy…especially the crooked, unscrupulous, money-hungry lawyer…witnessing her abject humiliation was too horrible for U-69 to contemplate and she made the understandable mistake of squeezing her eyes shut and letting her shoulders slump in defeated despair.

Understandable, but costly, as two crops lashed across U-69’s naked thighs and bottom as both the Countess and FiFi punished her error.

“Get those shoulders back and stand up straight, you disobedient little trollop! How dare you present yourself like that in front of me? I’ve clearly been far too soft with you,” the Countess snapped, then whirled around to confront the grinning FiFi, “And as for you, girl, who gave you permission to whip my slave while I am disciplining her?”

FiFi’s grin vanished instantly, replaced by anxiety, “But…But…Madame. You…you told me to…to…I…I thought…”

“Be silent! You are not paid to think, you are paid to be a maid and your duties do not include usurping my authority. Thankfully I need only put up with you for two more days and then you will be gone forever. Now, get out!”

The maid hesitated, then curtsied, but as the Countess turned to U-69, FiFi glared venomously at her employer’s back for long seconds, her eyes glittering with anger and malice, before hurrying from the room.

U-69 noticed the by-play between her tormentors, but was far too concerned with her own problems to pay much attention to FiFi’s troubles, for as the Countess smiled coldly, then flexed her riding-crop, the helpless brunette shivered in alarm.

Her fears were fully justified as the Countess said flatly, “We have two days to whip you into shape to take over FiFi’s duties, slave, so there’s not a moment to lose. Down!”

The one-word command was the same the Countess had used when first demonstrating FiFi’s trained obedience and on hearing it, U-69 shivered in fear, knowing that it presaged yet more punishment for her still-smarting buttocks.

Even so, she dared not disobey and instantly bent over to offer her naked bottom to the Countess’s crop, her shame at submitting without even a token protest easily countered by the pain she knew she had saved herself by doing so.

Some pain, but nowhere near all, for the Countess expected perfection from her maid and had no compunction about using any means at her disposal to ensure that she got it.

So while U-69 struggled to meet the impossibly-high standards set for her, the crop painted lines of stinging heat on her body again and again until tears rolled down her gagged cheeks and she despaired of ever satisfying her tormentor, no matter how hard she tried…

 

Early in the morning of the day she was to leave her post, FiFi was staring miserably at her packed bag and trying to come to terms with the cheerless prospect of being unemployed and homeless when she heard the familiar voice of the Countess calling her.

Depressed and angry at what she saw as her unjustified sacking, her instinct was to ignore the summons, but she had been trained and conditioned to serve over a long period and after a brief battle with herself, shook her head in irritation and answered the call.

“There you are at last,” the Countess complained, “Where have you been? Oh, never mind that. Just fetch my negligee. The black one. And hurry up about it.”

There was no word of sympathy for her, no expression of gratitude for her years of service and FiFi could barely contain her fury as she gritted her teeth and responded, “Oui, Madame. At once,” then went to fetch the long, lace garment and helped the Countess to drape her naked body in the filmy material.

Admiring her slender form in the mirror, the Countess nodded in satisfaction, then noticed FiFi still standing nearby, “Well? What are you waiting for? You’ve been dismissed from my service, so get out. But before you go, make sure you lay out my clothes and boots for today. I’m going down to the cellars to make sure your two replacements are ready to take over your duties.”

As she turned and strode from the room, FiFi glared at her back, stunned by the breathtaking arrogance of her former employer.

For a long minute, she simply stood in frustration, her mind racing with cutting replies she could have made and wishing she had told the Countess exactly what to do with her negligee rather than assisting her.

Until it dawned on her that with no job and no reference, she had absolutely nothing left to lose by venting her anger and frustration on the woman she blamed for her troubles.

Grabbing her bag, she hurried after the Countess, her eyes glittering with malice…

PART 8

Helplessly bound and gagged to the post in her cell, Gwen was awoken by the sound of bolts being slid back and trembled in fright when the door was thrown open to reveal the Countess smiling coldly at her.

“Awake, I see. Good. I do hope you’re ready and eager to begin your service as my maid, girl, because I have a feeling that I’m going to be quite…demanding and difficult to please today,”

She gave a tinkling laugh, “You can blame FiFi for that. She was unsatisfactory even before I gave her notice and I’m afraid I was far too lenient with her. That is not an error I shall make again and I shall expect much better from you. So you would be wise to…” she paused and frowned as Gwen’s eyes suddenly opened wide and slid away to stare at something over her left shoulder.

The Countess started to turn and caught a momentary glimpse of FiFi, then her own eyes glazed and she crumpled bonelessly to the floor as a bag propelled by the strength of an angry FiFi crashed down on her head.

“Unsatisfactory, was I?” the ex-maid sneered down at her unconscious victim, “And you were too lenient, eh? Well, what do you think of me now, you bitch? I should have brought your crop with me and given you a taste of your own medicine.”

Gwen could hardly believe what she had seen, her brain reeling at the sight of the Countess lying on the cold stone and the tone of vengeful glee in FiFi’s voice.

She couldn’t work out what was going on and when FiFi said, “Right, let’s get you out of there,” and untied her bonds and gag, she hesitated, not knowing whether she would be punished if she moved or spoke.

“Well, come on!” FiFi snapped, “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you want to be rescued? I’ll tie you up again if that’s what you want.”

“No! No, please. I do want to be rescued, really I do,” Gwen replied hastily, her blue eyes filling with hope as she began to realise that the maid was not playing some cruel trick, “Oh thank you, thank you, FiFi. But what…I mean why…the Countess…You…you hit her…”

“Look, do you want to get out of here, or do you want to stand around asking stupid questions? Because if you do, you can stay here by yourself. I’m not hanging around until that bitch wakes up. So make your mind up.”

Intimidated by FiFi’s harsh tone and challenging stare, Gwen dropped her eyes meekly and murmured, “I’m very sorry, FiFi. I didn’t mean to argue or…or question you. You’re quite right, we do need to get out of here.”

“OK, then. I’ll untie your friend and we’ll be on our way.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I can’t wait to get back home to our lovely little cottage with U-69.”

FiFi didn’t respond and when Gwen saw the sad look on the maid’s face, she was immediately concerned, “What’s the matter, FiFi. You look so unhappy.”

“It's OK for you, but I don’t have anywhere to go,” the maid responded bitterly, “My home was here and now that I’ve been dismissed, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“But that’s awful. I’m so sorry for you,” Gwen sympathised, then her face brightened, “Wait, wait, I know what you can do. Come and stay with us, in our cottage. It’ll be a little bit of a squeeze, but I’m sure we could manage for a while. After all, you are rescuing us, so it’s the least we can do to thank you. You must come, FiFi, we owe you so much and won’t ever be able to repay you properly. And it’ll be fun to all live together until you find a new job and home.”

FiFi smiled, “That’s very kind of you, Gwen. But are you quite sure?”

“Yes, of course. In fact, I insist. And I’m sure U-69 will agree with me.”

FiFi’s smile grew wider, “In that case, I accept. Now let’s get U-69 out.”

As the maid unbolted and opened the door of U-69’s cell, Gwen shuffled to where she could beam delightedly at her lover and cried, “Isn’t it wonderful, darling? FiFi has come to free us and we’ll soon be back at home and safe from the Countess and the Baron,” and she shook the chains joining her cuffed wrists to her ankles behind her back, “I can’t wait to be rid of these awful things and put some clothes on again.”

Halfway through untying U-69, FiFi paused and gazed coolly at Gwen, “I didn’t say anything about removing your chains. I don’t have the keys and I’m certainly not going back upstairs to hunt for them.”

Gwen’s jaw dropped and she stared back at the maid, “But…But…You came to…to rescue us and I thought…I assumed…Wh…What are we going to do…?”

“Well, that’s up to you two, but I’m leaving as soon as I’ve untied your friend. If you want to come along, that’s fine, but I’m not hanging around and if you don’t want to come or can’t keep up, that’s your problem, not mine.”

“But…But we can’t leave like this. We’re both n…naked and still ch…chained up. You have to find the keys, you just have to!”

“No, I don't,” FiFi replied bluntly, “I don’t have to do anything I don’t choose to. If you want the keys, then you go looking for them. But if the Baron catches you, don’t expect me to come rushing back to save you. So make your mind up. Are you coming with me, or not?”

For a long moment, Gwen stared pleadingly at FiFi, then her eyes dropped away and she nodded humbly, “Yes please, FiFi. Please take us with you.”

“OK, then. But if you’re coming, then you both do exactly what I say, when I say. Got it?”

“Yes, FiFi.”

“Right. Stay there and keep quiet while I finish this, then we’re off.”

Seconds later, U-69 was free of her ropes and gag and when she tottered out of her cell and saw the prone body of the Countess lying on the floor, gasped and wanted to know what had happened.

As FiFi explained, U-69’s expression changed from astonished incredulity to amusement and then to deep satisfaction, “Serves her right. She was the one who came up with the idea of kidnapping and chaining us up and trying to make us her slaves in the first place. I’m glad you hit her and I just wish there was some way we could make her go through everything she did to us, to see how she likes it.”

Her words brought a cruel smile to FiFi’s face and her eyes glittered as she chuckled, “That gives me an idea. Stay here and don’t move. I won’t be long.”

She hurried off and U-69 frowned, “I don’t know what she’s up to, but I don’t much like the way she orders us around, do you?”

“I don’t think she means anything by it, darling,” Gwen replied, “She’s just upset at losing her job and I’m sure that when we’re all at home together, she’ll be much nicer.”

“At home together? What do you mean?”

“I’ve said she can come and stay with us until she’s settled in a new post. I know it’ll be a bit of a squeeze, but that’s alright, isn’t it? I mean, she has rescued us from the Baron and the Countess.”

“Well…sort of,” U-69 replied slowly, “Only she hasn’t exactly freed us, has she? And we both know that she was quite happy to help train us and wasn’t slow to use a crop on us to make us do what she wanted.”

“Well…Yes, I know, but she was the Countess’s maid then, so she would have had to do what she was told, even if she didn’t really want to, and she’s already explained to me that she doesn’t know where the keys to these chains are.”

“So she says, Gwen, but I don’t trust her any more than I’d trust the Baron or the Countess. If she really doesn’t have the keys, how are we supposed to get out of these things?”

Dismayed by her lover’s doubts, Gwen replied miserably, “I…don’t know, darling. I thought…maybe…at the cottage…We have some tools and stuff there…But you don’t really think FiFi…? I mean…she wouldn’t…wouldn’t try to…to keep us like this, would she…?”

“I hope not, honey. I hope I’m just being paranoid, but I won’t be happy until we get these chains off. Otherwise, we might as well still be prisoners here.”

“Oh, don’t say that, darling,” Gwen wailed, her eyes filling with tears, “That would be just too awful to bear.”

Seeing how upset her lover was at her words, U-69 tottered over and pressed her shoulder and cheek to Gwen’s, wishing her arms were free so that she could comfort her properly, “I’m so sorry, Gwen. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sure you’re right. FiFi will free us, just you wait and see. And as long as we’re together, everything will be fine, no matter what. So cheer up, honey, and it’ll soon be all over.”

Trying hard to believe her own reassurances, U-69 was saved from having to say more by the return of FiFi, a bundle of heavy manacles and chains in her hands.

“Still here, then?” she chuckled sarcastically, “Good, because you’ll like this. What you said about wishing you could pay her back, reminded me of something the Baron said the first time we put you in those cells. It sounded to me as if he and the Countess had a bet that if you two got away somehow, she would have to take your place.”

“What do you mean? How could she take our place? I don’t understand,” Gwen frowned, but U-69 saw the implications straight away, “FiFi’s right, Gwen. I remember something like that, too. The bitch must have been so confident we’d never escape that she must have agreed to be the Baron’s slave herself if we did.”

“She always was an arrogant cow,” FiFi responded, “And too dam' quick with her crop. Well, now she’s going to find out what being on the other end of it feels like and I’m going to make sure she can’t wriggle out of the bet.”

Bending down over her unconscious ex-employer, FiFi untangled the bundle of chains and manacles, then snapped the smaller pair onto the Countess’s wrists and the larger around her ankles, four sharp “clicks” confirming that the restraints were firmly locked.

Unlike Gwen and U-69, the Countess was bound with her wrists in front of her body and connected to her ankles, but with much thicker, heavier chain than theirs and as U-69 and Gwen gazed down at her, they were quite certain that there was no escape for her without the key.

The key which FiFi stowed away in her bag, intending to throw it into the lake when they left the Baron’s mansion.

“Right, that’s fixed her,” the ex-maid sneered, “I’d like to see what the Baron does to her when he finds her like that, but I’m not waiting around, so if you two are coming, move it and keep quiet.”

Picking up her bag, she walked off without looking back and as Gwen and U-69 realised that she wasn’t going to wait for them, they shuffled after her as fast as they could, their hobble-chains rattling and clinking at every short, hurried pace.

 

By the time they reached the back door, both were struggling to keep up with FiFi, but when they called to her and asked her to slow down a little, neither was prepared for her immediate and totally unexpected response.

“Right! That’s it!” she snapped angrily, “I told you two to keep quiet, but no, you just have to open your big mouths. Well, I’ll fix you,” and opened her bag, producing the ball-gags they had been wearing in their cells.

Grabbing U-69, she forced her mouth open and crammed the gag inside, buckling the strap tightly behind her head despite the brunette’s efforts to escape her grasp.

Shocked by FiFi’s sudden anger and the ruthless silencing of her lover, Gwen tried to protest, “FiFi? What are you doing? No! Stop! Please!” but her feeble efforts had no effect and she was soon as effectively gagged as U-69.

“That’s better. Now, get this through your thick skulls,” FiFi ordered harshly, “I’m in charge around here, not you and if you ever want to get out of those chains, you’d better try really hard to keep me happy, or I might just decide to keep you as you are and make you my slaves. So, either come with me right now, or stay here and see what happens when the Baron catches you again.”

Gwen’s blue eyes filled with tears of despair as the ex-maid’s stark ultimatum and threat of continued captivity for her and U-69, crushed her rosy dreams of freedom and as she saw the same look of demoralised apprehension in her lover’s eyes, knew that the doubts she had expressed about Fifi’s motives in freeing them from their cells, but not from their chains, had been only too accurate.

FiFi had not freed them out of the goodness of her heart, but because she wanted revenge on the Countess and depriving her of her new slaves was a good way of getting it.

U-69’s wish to make the Countess suffer the same indignities as she had had to endure, had given FiFi the idea of chaining her former employer…but, alarmingly, had also had the unwanted effect of boosting her self-confidence to the point of arrogance towards Gwen and U-69.

Leading her to treat them as if they were still slaves… which, while she kept them chained and helpless and naked and at her mercy, they would be.

Even in their own home…

It was a horrid prospect…but the alternative was even worse, for if they didn’t submit and go with FiFi, they would be left to fend for themselves and in their chains and gags would be easy prey for a vengeful D’Arcy when he discovered their escape and came after them.

They had to make a choice and after a brief hesitation, U-69 made it, shuffling to Gwen and nudging her with her shoulder, then both hurrying as best they could after FiFi.

Making their escape from the clutches of the Baron and the Countess…but not from their chains…and not necessarily from FiFi…

PART 9

Some time later, in the cellar, the sprawled form of the Countess stirred and slowly raised her head from the floor and mumbled, “Wha…What happened? Where…Where am I?”

Then, as the mists cleared from her brain, “FiFi!” she snarled, “That insolent little tart must have struck me! I’ll whip her raw when I see her. Oooh, my head…”

Her right hand lifted, going towards the back of her head where she had been hit, then jerked to a stop when the chain from her ankles snapped taut.

“What…? What the…” She stared down at the dully-gleaming steel encircling her wrist, her eyes widening in disbelief as she discovered the heavy manacles and chains that FiFi had used to bind her.

For several moments she was too surprised to react, then her face contorted and she screamed in rage, struggling to sit up and then yanking and jerking at her chains in a furious bid to break free.

To no avail, the heavy steel links easily resisting her most determined efforts until, panting from her exertions and utterly despondent, the Countess was forced to give up the futile battle and accept that there was no possibility of her getting out of the manacles unless she could get hold of a key.

“FiFi must have had the key to unlock the cursed things, so they must be around somewhere,” she told herself angrily, looking around but with no success

The sight of the empty cells and the realisation that Gwen and U-69 were gone, came as a horrible shock and she moaned in dismay, “No! Oh no, no, no! Fifi, what have you done, you stupid, stupid girl? Why did you have to let them go?”

Her questions remained unanswered, for FiFi was far away and so were Gwen and U-69.

Leaving her heavily chained and wearing only her filmy black negligee.

Alone in the mansion with D’Arcy…

The implications of her plight were simply appalling and she threw her hands to her face, giving a shrill wordless scream of horrified denial as she imagined what would happen if he found her before she managed to find the key and free herself.

No matter what she said or how she protested, he would certainly insist on her honouring the terms of the deal she had so rashly made with him.

She could just see his smug grin and almost hear him telling her, with complete untruth, “It’s not something I’m happy about, m’dear and of course I’d much prefer to let you off our little agreement…But, well, y’know, you did make a solemn promise and it wouldn’t be right for an honourable aristocrat like you to go back on your word, now would it? So I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist, Countess.”

He would never accept her contention that U-69 and Gwen couldn't possibly have escaped without FiFi’s help and so there was only one way for her to avoid having to follow through on her promise to serve him as a slave.

She absolutely had to find a key to her manacles, before the humiliations and indignities she had so casually imposed on them, were enforced on her by D’Arcy, for such an outcome was unthinkable, unacceptable, totally intolerable and she was not about to let it happen.

With a graceless twist of her body, she rolled onto all fours, then, hampered by her chains, rose awkwardly to her feet and tried to hurry towards the door of the cellar.

Immediately finding, to her annoyance and frustration, that the chain between her ankle cuffs restricted her steps to no more than a few inches, while the one linking ankles to wrists prevented her from lifting her hands above waist-level.

Forced to totter along in dozens of tiny paces, she made her way slowly across the cellar, growing ever angrier at her restraints for taking away her freedom, at FiFi for putting her in them and freeing Gwen and U-69, at the Baron for his greed for money and his plans that never worked out, at her negligee for being so embarrassingly transparent and constantly twisting around the chain to her ankles…and at herself for being so over-confident and making that idiotic deal with him.

She didn’t even know why she had done such a foolish thing, because he had made no secret of the fact that he would love nothing better than to make her serve him, in chains, as his slave.

“Well, that is not going to happen,” she told herself forcefully, “I’m going to find the key and once I’m out of these dam’ things I won’t rest until I recapture all three of those bitches and make them wish they’d never tangled with me!”

Buoyed up by the thought of revenge and unaware that the keys she sought were already at the bottom of the lake where FiFi had thrown them, she was almost within reach of the heavy door when it swung open and to her absolute horror, D’Arcy strode in, riding-crop in his right hand.

For long, frozen moments, the Baron and the Countess simply stared at each other in silence, then his lips parted in a mirthless smile as he took in her barely-concealed body, the chains restraining her limbs and the empty cells which had held Gwen and U-69,

“Ah…There you are, Countess,” he greeted her calmly, “I thought you might be down here with our slaves, but it seems that I was wrong. I can only see one slave rather than the two I was expecting. Would you care to explain why that is, my dear?”

The Countess gulped, “Yes…Yes, of course, Baron,” she began, then licked her lips nervously, “It wasn’t my fault, D’Arcy. It was…it was FiFi. She hit me and knocked me out and when I woke up, she was gone. And…and…so were the sl…slaves.”

She stared imploringly at him and repeated, “It wasn’t my fault. Really it wasn’t.”

Rubbing his chin, the Baron nodded, “I see, Countess. But what of those charming…adornments you are wearing? Not part of your usual wardrobe, but rather fetching, I must say.”

“It must have been FiFi,” she replied bitterly, “Ooh, when I get my hands on her, I’ll teach her a lesson she’ll never forget! So, if you help me find the key, Baron, I’ll get out of these things and we can get after them and bring them back.”

“Hmm,” D'Arcy nodded slowly, “Well, I could do that, my dear Countess,” he agreed, “But why would I want to? I certainly don’t need three slaves. I’m actually quite happy with the one standing before me right now.”

His flat response sent an icy chill through her and she racked her brain to think of an argument that would change his mind, but the words would not come and she could only watch numbly as his hand reached out to grasp the shoulder of her flimsy negligee and he added smugly, “And my slave certainly won’t be needing this any more.”

His touch broke the paralysis which held her and with a wordless squeal, she tore free of his grip, ripping her negligee as she turned to try to make her escape.

Forgetting, in her panic, that she was hobbled.

At her very first step, the chain between her cuffed ankles snapped taut, throwing her off balance and bringing her to her knees before her attempt had properly begun.

Gazing down at her bare shoulder and the expanse of creamy thigh revealed where her negligee had ridden up, the Baron chuckled, “Nice try, my dear, but you’re not going anywhere for the foreseeable future. I’m sure you remember our little deal? You know, the one where you volunteered your services should the slaves escape.”

“But…But they didn’t escape,” the Countess wailed, “FiFi must have set them free. They couldn’t possibly have got out of their chains and those locked cells on their own. She must have helped them.”

“Oh, I agree, Countess,” the Baron replied, surprising her, “I’m quite sure they didn’t free themselves. After all, you can’t, can you?” he paused and smiled thinly, “But that doesn’t alter the deal we made. It was quite simple and straightforward, as I’m sure you recall. They get away, you take their place. And they’re not here.”

Kneeling at his feet, she tugged uselessly at her chains, then lifted her head to him in a wordless plea.

Their gaze locked briefly, then she shivered and dropped her eyes, reading adamant determination in his face and knowing that he was not going to soften or allow her to avoid the consequences of her failure to keep Gwen and U-69 securely locked up.

D’Arcy stared down at her bowed head and chuckled, knowing what must be going through her mind as she faced the prospect of having to serve as his slave, just as U-69 had been forced to serve as hers.

He was absolutely certain she wasn’t going to be too happy with her new role and lowly status in his mansion, but that was the price of her failure and whether she liked it or not, he intended to make quite sure that she paid every last penny of it.

“So,” he said cheerfully, “Let’s start as we mean to go on, shall we? Or at least, as I mean to go on. Beginning with that negligee. Like I said, as my slave you won’t be needing it”

The Countess shuddered at his words and raised her head to make one last attempt to change his mind, “Please, D’Arcy,” she begged humbly, “You can’t do this to me. I’m not like Gwen and U-69. They’re only commoners, but I’m a Countess. An aristocrat, just like you.”

He shook his head, “Oh no, my dear,” he corrected her coolly, “Not really like me at all. You see, I’m not the one chained up and I won’t be cropped if I’m not naked in the next ten seconds.”

He nodded into her wide, horror-filled eyes and as he began to tap his riding-crop against his boot, she was forced to confront her unwelcome fate.

Unable to escape her chains, defenceless against the cruel bite of his whirring, stinging crop and only too well aware of its power to enforce her obedience, just as she had enforced obedience on others, her submission was inevitable.

She was going to have to become his slave and there was nothing she could do but accept it and hope he would not be as hard on her as he had been with Gwen.

Or as demanding as she had been with U-69…

Biting her lower lip in anguished despair, she let her torn negligee slip from her shoulders and dropped it to the floor, baring her body to the Baron’s hot gaze.

“That’s much better,” he said, his eyes drinking in her nude figure, “Now stand up and display yourself properly, as the slave you are going to be for me.”

It was the last thing she wanted to do, but when he raised the crop and flexed it between his hands, she dared not risk his displeasure and the painful punishment she feared would follow if she tried to defy him.

Rising awkwardly to her feet, she instinctively attempted to cover her breasts, but her spread hands jerked to a halt well short of their intended destinations as the chain linking her ankles and wrists snapped taut.

“Mm, very nice, m’dear,” D’Arcy nodded approvingly, “Now, let’s get you upstairs. There’s work to be done because I haven’t had my breakfast yet and I have a feeling that it’s going to be a long day. Off you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

Slowly, the Countess turned and shuffled towards the cellar door, a low moan escaping her lips when the Baron cruelly reminded her of her suggestion that he should invite Snatchem to dinner to see how the slaves were getting on.

“Of course, there will only be one slave to serve dinner and entertain us now, rather than the two he will be expecting, but I have every confidence in your ability to cope,” he told her, chuckling, then added coldly, “You’d better, because I’m sure you remember that Snatchem rather enjoyed spanking U-69 and I have no doubt he would find doing the same to your delectable bottom equally pleasurable. As indeed, would I, my dear, so you would be well advised not to disappoint us in any way. Now, hurry up, slave, I want my breakfast.”

His crop hissed down and the Countess squealed to the very first pink stripe ever to adorn her buttocks, trembling in horrified anticipation of the days and weeks and months of slavery that loomed before her as the result of her arrogance and over-confidence.

She had been so sure, despite the many times U-69 and Gwen had foiled D’Arcy’s money-making plans by escaping from his ropes, that this time they would never be able to get out of the steel cuffs and chains she was going to use to bind them.

It had been a good plan and worked perfectly…until FiFi had ruined everything…

It had all gone wrong and it wasn’t fair that she should be punished for something that she couldn’t possibly have foreseen…but fair or not, as D’Arcy’s merciless crop urged her out of the cellar and up towards the main house, the painful stinging of her bottom and the clinking of chains that accompanied every short, hobbled step, reinforced her ever-deepening sense of shame and humiliation at being so helpless and vulnerable.

It was supposed to be Gwen and U-69 suffering, not her, but as the crop struck again and she heard him snigger at her involuntary yelp, she gulped in despair at his callous response to her plight.

 

Knowing that the Baron would have his full revenge and if it could not be on the two women who had caused him so much trouble and cost him all the oil revenue he had expected…then it would be on the woman…her…who had unwisely wagered her own freedom on depriving them of theirs…