Bound Ankles

8 Pain in a Distant Land

Donna was lounging on the couch in the den when the phone call came. As usual, she was naked and her wrists crossed and bound behind her back. In addition, that morning, she was wearing a pair of handcuffs locked around her slender ankles. They didn’t stop her from walking around the house but they certainly did slow her down and make her steps much smaller.

A few minutes later Jan came in holding a pad of paper and displaying the first smile Donna had seen on her face for a long time. “He thinks they’ve found her! She’s a Natasha Krishka. She lives in some country I’ve never heard of before, somewhere called Abacastan. Nigel wants us to meet him at the LA airport. Oh, Donna, maybe we can get Patsy back now!”

Donna would have jumped up and hugged her mistress but for the ropes preventing her hands from leaving their home behind her back. Instead she stood and allowed Jan to hug her.

“Pip! Pip!” called Jan. “Get packed! We’re leaving immediately!”

Thousands of miles from the joyous mother, her missing daughter was again suffering at the hands of her owner. This time the teenage girl was suspended near the ceiling of a stone room, spread-eagled with wrists and ankles locked in steel shackles that cut into her flesh. Patsy was naked as she had been every since being brought to his place of pain and suffering. She was face down with her limbs spread wide and taut. She had grown tired of trying to hold her head up and for the last hour had let it just hang. Her bottom and breasts were covered with whip marks in varying degrees of fading, showing clearly that this teenager girl had been whipped almost daily.

It took an effort to look up through her hanging hair when she heard the door creak open. Madam Natasha was standing there, once again dressed in her strange costume of a thin leather bikini and black high heel shoes. She also carried a black riding crop.

Patsy let her head hang down again.

“Why, my sweet little thing,” Madam Natasha cooed.

“You’re tired. Can’t sleep? Too bad. You know, one time I hung a man like this. In this very cell, in fact. I had a slave tie heavy weights to his penis and listened to him scream and plead. He hung like that for seven days before he died.” She flicked Patsy’s left nipple with the tip of the riding crop. “He stopped screaming after the first day. Pity.”

She slashed the black leather horror across both nipples. Patsy gasped and jerked.

“I could leave you here to see if you could last longer than he did. I could even tie weights to your nipples. That would stretch them all out of shape, right?” She took one sore nipple between thumb and forefinger and pulled until Patsy cried out. “I could even have them weave a rope into your pubic hair and hang weights from that. But they might all pull out. What an interesting way to pluck the hairs from a girl’s pussy!”

Madam Natasha walked around until she stood between Patsy’s wide spread legs. Patsy tensed up. But the dark haired woman only tapped the crop against Patsy’s pussy. “When I was a teenage girl, perhaps a little younger than you, I was sold by my parents to a brothel,” she said. “I was being used several times a day by men, and when I was not being used, I was kept locked in a cell with three other girls. If we didn’t obey, we were tortured. My country is old and very experienced in the ways of punishing a slavegirl. It is almost an art form here. I was once hung like you are. For a whole day and night I hung in chains. I was naked, like you, and I was whipped. As you have been. On the dawn of the second day I was let down and immediately taken to the front chambers where a man was waiting to use me. I fainted but he finished his business and left me lying there.”

She cut a stroke squarely between Patsy’s legs. Patsy cried out and her body went stiff for a couple seconds. “Don’t worry, that was not nearly as hard as I could do it.” She continued with her story as if the interruption for that little bit of pain hadn’t even occurred. “I spent a year in that brothel, whorehouse, I think you American’s would call it. Then I escaped. It was good to be free but there was no place I could go. My parents would only return me. Or sell me to another place. At another village, I would probably only be made another wife in the harem of the chief. In the cities I would only be arrested and returned to those who owned me. In this country, prostitution is legal. And the central government only gives lip service to the abolishment of slavery. Once you are away from the one big city we have, there are slaves. Slaves, usually young girls, in brothels, and harems. Girls bought and sold like cattle every day. There is much wealth in my country but also much poverty. The wealth is in the hands of a few. I starved for a while until I found a man who would take me in. He used me as other men did but at least he was kind to me. The food was good and I didn’t have to sleep in a cage with two other girls.”

Madam Natasha paused, remembering her earlier life. “One day I saw a very big car drive through our village. In it was a rich man. All bowed down to him. In his car were two woman, beautiful women, with costly silks and veils to hide their faces. They wore golden chains from their wrists to another around their waist. But the chains were thin and long enough to cause no restriction. They were a symbol, I realized. That man drove on after his business was finished. But I made a vow that I was going to become one of those few rich people in this country.”

She paused again as she walked around to stand under Patsy’s head. She pushed up on Patsy’s forehead with the riding crop so she could look into her eyes. “I got that man who was kind to me to marry me. He was old and had no wives and his two sons had been killed in the fighting of one of the periodic rebellions in the southern provinces. He was old... No one suspected when he died. I got all his property for there was no male sons to give it to. No one knew I had poisoned him.

“I started a brothel of my own. It was the only business I knew. At first there was only me but I found another girl who had also run away from a brothel. I gave her a home. She still lay with men but she slept with me at night and in a comfortable bed. Then there were other girls. I moved to a town not far from the big city. Lot’s of rich men would drive out for an evenings fun. And I found out that men loved to whip women. So I made sure that any man who wanted would find a girl he could whip before impaling her on his shaft. Of course, the richest simply bought their own slavegirls and whipped them to their heart’s delight in their own homes. But there were plenty who could not afford their own slavegirl and sought their pleasure at my place. Strange, isn’t it, that men find so exciting our pain. It makes their sex more intense.” She paused again and smiled the only smile that Patsy had ever seen her exhibit. “Stranger still is that it makes us woman more exited, too. Sex while your back and ass are covered with fresh whip marks is... special.”

Madam Natasha stepped back and let a vicious slash loose across Patsy’s thighs. “Why am I telling you all this? It matters not. I am now one of the richest people in this country, I have the most famous brothel and enough information on those in power to assure that l will be left alone. I can buy my own slaves... I can whip my slaves. I prefer female slaves but sometimes I whip a man. I love to use the big whip and see the flesh ripped from his body. I have killed more than a dozen men that way,” she said calmly. Then she turned to leave.

At the door she paused, “You know that it’s legal to kill your slave in this country? A slave is the property of it’s master. Property in all ways.” Then she was gone.

Patsy cried and her tears splashed against the stones below.

Donna felt strange. For two whole days she had been wearing clothes and going unfettered. Since all but a few hours were spent in traveling to a land far distant from the sunny shores of California, and therefore spent in public, she couldn’t walk around naked and in ropes and chains. In the capital city of Abacastan the four of them finally had the chance to catch their breath in a huge hotel suite overlooking the ancient city that was a strange mixture of the old and modern. From their window they could see two story buildings made of sun-baked bricks that had been erected by hand labor a hundred years before Columbus set foot in the New World. A block away there were twenty story buildings of steel and glass, the same as you might find in any modem city.

No sooner than their minimal luggage had been set down and the porters disappeared, Donna shed her clothes and rushed over to Jan. Turning her back, she crossed her wrists in invitation for a return to her proper status as a slave, It took Jan only a few seconds to find a piece of rope in her suitcase and a minute to bind the hands of the slavegirl she loved. Donna actually sighed in relief when she was finally comfortable.

Nigel said he had to make some inquires and left the room.

Since they had a suite that included two bedrooms, it was decided that Donna and Pip would share one, while the two who were obviously growing more in love each day would share the larger one. The growing affection between her mistress and the man who was once her enemy and who had once raped her, bothered her. She was not sure what it could mean for her, save that it would probably not be for the best. All Donna wanted was a return to the quiet existence they had led in Jan’s home. All she wanted to be was a good slavegirl for her mistress and her mistress’ daughters.

Donna carried her bag into the second bedroom and set it by the bed. She lay down on that soft looking bed to close her eyes and rest for just a second. A few hours later she woke to find a naked Pip sleeping with her arms around Donna. She closed her eyes and let sleep reclaim her and wash the jet-lag from her body.

A dozen miles from the capital city of Abacastan, nestled in the lower reaches of snow-clad mountains, was a small village noted for nothing save the huge, sprawling white building that covered as much ground as the rest of the village. There was a good paved road from the city, far too good for the needs of the simple peasants who tried to raise sheep in the foothills of that mountain. That white building had a front door like a fortress which, in other ways, it also resembled. The double doors could swing open to admit the limos and Mercedes Benz’ from the city where they found a good sized parking lot in the center square. There were many rooms in that big white building, mostly bedrooms. But some were torture rooms.

Patsy was currently upside down but the rotation of the big steel wheel would again bring her upright. The naked teenager was bound in an ingenious and painful position and had been suffering there for an hour already. The torture device was simple, a large tubular steel circle mounted on four short shafts. Those, in turn, were welded to other tubes coming together at the center. From that center a shaft that went into a hole in the wall. When that shaft turned, the whole assembly turned around and around. In the middle of that circle was Patsy, her arms and legs wide spread and bound towards the rim of the circle with thin cord. But simply binding her wrists and ankles was not enough for the pain-hungry Madam Natasha. Thin cord bound to her big toes and thumbs and then to the rim of the circle provided the unfortunate girl’s only support.

Patsy’s thumbs and big toes screamed in agony as the wheel slowly rotated, bringing new pressures to bear constantly and new agony for the naked teenager. At first she counted the seconds for one revolution and found that they numbered about one hundred and twenty, meaning a two minute revolution. When she was upside down, her big toes bore all her weight and she screamed, When she was right-side up, her thumbs took all the weight and she screamed. Other times it was a combination that produced her constant anguish.

From time to time Madam Natasha dropped in to watch and enjoy the suffering. Sometimes she said not a word, other times she asked if Patsy was enjoying herself. Patsy wanted to spit in her face but held back for fear of her life. This woman thought nothing of making innocent girls suffer and, if half of what she had told Patsy was true, held life itself to be of little value. Other peoples’ lives, that is,

Patsy cried with the pain and wished she were back home.

In the morning, Nigel called a Council of War. “This is what I’ve been able to find out,” he began, “The third buyer Pip described was indeed a business associate of Kroff’s, Her description gave the detective enough to go on, When I talked with him, I was able to hint that Kroff’s death had something to do with his buying of a teenage girl from Rashad, And that he might wind up the victim of an accidental hunting lodge explosion if he didn’t help me find the other girl. It took a bit but finally he opened up and told me who the woman was that did buy Patsy.

“Her name is Natasha Krishna. She’s a very powerful woman in this land where woman are definitely second class citizens. Very few women own land or any kind of business. This is the old world, you have to understand. All of you. Don’t do anything stupid. And remember not to act like you own the place, like most American tourists.”

“Okay. This Natasha is the owner of the largest and most successful brothel in the country and probably this part of the world. She’s became rich by providing what the customer wants. No matter what the customer wants, You got the money, they’ve told me, you can have anything at Natasha’s. Especially if you like to whip a girl’s behind, Or torture a girl.”

Jan gasped. Nigel hurried to reassure her, “No, I’ve checked and no one has heard of a teenage American girl, that would fit the description of Patsy, being a new girl there. This Natasha does often travel the world, purchasing girls for her place. But she also sometimes buys a girl for her own use. Just what that use is, I haven’t been able to find out. But it probably involves some rough treatment from what I’ve been able to pick up about her.”

No one said a word for a long minute, Donna finally broke the silence, “So what do we do? Could we just charge in there like we did with Kroff?”

“No way,” replied Nigel. “She’s got a small army of guards. And she could make one phone call and the entire military of this country would be looking for us. She’s powerful.”

“So was Margaret,” said Jan. “So was Margaret.”

“Margaret was different. And this is not California. I’m going to go up to Natasha’s tonight and look around.”

“Looking around is all you’ll do?” asked Jan pointedly. “Well, I have to look like a wealthy American tourist sampling the wicked, sinful ways of the Middle East. Don’t worry, I won’t fall in love with a whore and leave you for her.” His teasing didn’t go over well with Jan. “Well, nevertheless, unless you have a better plan, I’m going in to look the place over. Maybe I can find out if Patsy is in that place. That would be a good start.”

No one had a better plan so it was settled. That night, after a dinner of strange tasting dishes, heavy on the lamb and rice, Nigel set out on his quest. But not before Jan took him aside and had a little word with him. Donna could guess she was telling him that he had better not do any screwing around. From his arguments, it sounded like not screwing around would make him look suspicious. They finally agreed he could whip a little tail, and pretend to screw the girl. The girl probably would be grateful to not be raped and wouldn’t say a thing.

With Nigel gone, Jan paced the room like an expectant father. Pip and Donna tried to comfort her but there was little to be done. She was nervous and there was no way to ease her mind. Finally Donna jumped in with both feet to try and distract Jan.

“Jan, honey, did you know that I kissed Nigel?”

“Huh?”

“I said I kissed him.”

“You did what?” said Jan in disbelief.

“I got right up close to him and brushed his shirt with my breasts. Then I rose to my tip toes and gave him a kiss. It wasn’t a sisterly kiss, either.” Donna smiled sweetly. There isn’t a man in the world who can resist a naked girl with her hands tied behind her back. And that’s not all. He’s quite a man.”

Donna got the reaction she wanted. Being naked and with her hands bound behind her back as she spoke the irritating words, it was easy for Jan to grab a handful of her hair and drag her into the bedroom. There she threw the slavegirl on the bed, face down, and quickly looped rope around each ankle and tied them to the corners of the bed. Then she fetched the riding crop from her suitcase. Without a word she slashed the crop across Donna’s bottom, a bottom which had not been whipped for a couple days but was still plenty sore. Donna squealed but held in the louder cry that the sudden pain usually evoked.

Several hard strokes in succession relieved Jan of some of the immediate anger but not much. Still she dropped the riding crop on the bed. But her reason was not to end the infliction of pain upon this naked girl, it was to bind her in a position that made her far more vulnerable to the whip. Jan tied another rope to Donna’s wrist ropes then pulled her up onto her knees. The ankles were left tied to the bed. She took the rope around the edge of the bed, got on her knees, and found the crosspiece of the bed. She put the rope around that then came back up to Donna’s hands. When she pulled on that rope now, Donna’s hands were pulled back and down. More and more Jan pulled until Donna fell back to rest on her stiff arms. Jan pulled some more and Donna’s hands slipped off the end of the bed. Instantly the naked girl was bent backwards with her legs doubled under her and her arms touching the floor. Jan pulled until the rope was tight then she tied it to one of the legs of the bed.

Donna was in a very strained position. Her legs and bottom were on the bed but her shoulders, arms and head were beyond the edge of the bed. Her legs were bent double and spread wide. She could take some of the weight on her arms but it was still a very uncomfortable position. In a few minutes it would grow worse until it would surely become painful just by itself. But the position itself was not all Jan planned. She brought a gag from the suitcase and secured Donna’s mouth fill of rubber and encased in tight leather straps. Picking up the whip she watched Donna’s eyes widen in fear as she realized how vulnerable her body was. From her breasts down to her knees, the whole front of her was an easy target for the riding crop,

When anger drives the hand, the blows come fast and hard. The first half dozen strokes landed across the big breasts, making the flesh bounce and Donna scream into her gag. The next half dozen were across the taut thighs, crisscrossing the flesh with vivid red marks. Then Jan positioned herself for lashes that would come up between the legs and inflict incredible pain directly on her sex. Donna was whining and her eyes wide with fear.

“I’ll lash that thing right off you,” said Jan through clenched teeth. It was followed up by a hard cut squarely into her pussy. Donna’s body jerked and went rigid. A scream echoed around the room, muffled by the wad of rubber filling her mouth but still conveying the shocking pain this helpless nudity felt. Jan waited, panting, until Donna stopped screaming and the injured body fell back to the bed. Then she struck another blow in the same spot with much the same results.

Perhaps she would have gone on lashing her slavegirl until the offending sex was indeed slashed into ribbons. But a soft voice from the doorway held Jan’s hand as it drew back for another blow.

“She didn’t kiss Nigel.” Pip’s words were simple but effective, “Mommy, I was with her all day. She and Nigel have hardly talked to each other.”

“Then why did she say that?” Jan was puzzled. She lowered the whip and looked at the crying girls bound to the bed. “Why?”

“Because she wanted you to get mad. She wanted you to have something to do besides worry about Patsy.”

Jan dropped the whip on the bed. She knelt and removed the gag from a girl in considerable pain. “Why... You silly slavegirl!”

Donna just cried out her pain, tears running back the sides of her face.

“She knew you would get mad. And you would punish her, probably with the whip.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought maybe it was a good idea,” Pip replied simply.

“But you started getting too hard. You were going to cause injury.”

Jan held Donna’s head and kissed her full on the mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said between kisses.

Somewhere the kisses stopped being signs of love and became signs of passion. An intense reservoir of emotions that had been finding release a moment before in anger now flooded out in love. Jan’s mouth trailed kisses down Donna’s neck to the breasts where her tongue teased the rigid nipples, Soon her kisses descended to the throbbing vagina where her tongue proved once again its talent for making another girl feel intense sensations. Donna was moaning, whether from pleasure or pain perhaps she didn’t even know herself. Probably both. But soon she was arching her body upwards to meet that wonderful tongue and beg of it satisfaction. Donna panted and panted and wiggled her whole body in ecstasy as her mistress brought her closer and closer to orgasm.

Donna’s eyes opened to behold Pip standing there, watching in amazement. “Pip...” the naked and bound girl panted, “come here.” Then she beckoned with her tongue in an unmistakable invitation. Pip was out of her clothes in a flash and straddling Donna’s head with her young legs. She put both hands under Donna’s head and pulled it up to meet her young sex. Donna’s tongue plunged immediately into Pip’s private place, bringing a gasp of pleasure from the teenager. Sensing her own orgasm was very near, Donna hurried to bring Pip to a climax at the same time. But the slavegirl was too far down the road and she came with a muffled explosion of pleasure, her body going rigid and trembling. But her tongue kept lashing and her lips sucking until the teenager unleashed a loud gasp of her own and clamped Donna’s head hard between her thighs.

For a long time, Donna was hardly aware of anything but the flashing lights and incredible pleasure in her body. When she came back to earth she was still tied at the end of the bed. Jan and Pip were lying on the bed, Pip’s head buried between Jan’s legs.

Later, when all were spent, Donna was untied. When Pip came to remove the ropes, Donna’s arms were trembling from the strain of holding up the top of her body. All the ropes were removed save the last one binding the wrists together. In the mood she was in, Donna would probably have fought anyone who tried to remove what had become a part of her and she was fiercely proud of. She was a slave girl and a good one. Who else would sacrifice her body to save her mistress from mental distress? She was a slave and very much honored by her mistress. And her mistress’ tongue.

All three girls rested, waiting for Nigel’s return.

The night was warm and the stars shone down like brilliant, hard diamonds on the rocky mountain landscape. They were close enough to the desert to smell the dry air raising into the night sky, and high enough for the air to be thin and cold at night. Three figures were posed beside a Mercedes Benz, its lights off but its engine cracking and pinging as it radiated heat. One figure was a man. He sat in the car, his work over for now, awaiting the order to drive his mistress back to the brothel.

The second figure was a tall, darkly beautiful woman. She wore the traditional robes of a desert tribe but in black. A veil covered the lower part of her face. She stood with her legs spread wide and hands on her hips.

The third figure was lying on her back on the ground. Each wrist was locked tightly in a handcuff, the other cuff of which was locked about an iron ring set in a cement block set in the ground. Each ankle was similarly secured to rings so she was spread-eagled on the hard, rocking ground.

“This is a caravan trail,” said Natasha. “Does that surprise you? That camel caravans still plod these ancient desert trails? This country is as it always was and always will be.” She picked up a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers. “The sand remains. It is timeless. As are the people who live on it.”

The dark woman looked around. They were alone.

“Caravan’s travel at night to avoid the heat of the day,” she continued. “Perhaps there will be a caravan along tonight. Perhaps not. But do you know what will happen if one comes?” She laughed. “They will find a teenager girl chained on her back and with her arms and legs spread wide in invitation. She will be naked. She will be gagged so she cannot even protest her ravishment by a pack of dirty camel drivers.

“Do you know what a camel driver smells like? I know. When I was your age camel drivers were among the men who used my body. I know what they smell like.” She paused to look around again. “Perhaps you will know before this night if over. I’m leaving you here. I’ll be back in the morning. If you are found by a caravan, they will leave you here. They understand that sometime Madam Natasha leaves girls here. They don’t know why but they use the girl and leave her. They won’t unlock nor cut those handcuffs, You will be here in the morning.”

She checked the straps on the gag, tightening up one that had loosened the slightest during the long drive from the brothel. “Sometimes I leave a rebellious girl here. A night in the desert is not pleasant for a naked and chained down girl. And if a caravan finds her, it is much more unpleasant, no? But sometimes I just leave a girl here as a gift to those who endlessly travel these wastelands.”

Natasha turned back to the car. “Perhaps I don’t even know why I do it,” she said, perhaps to Patsy, perhaps to herself. But she did pause at the car to turn back to Patsy. “I’ll see you in the morning, sweetness. Unless the jackals find you. There will be little left then.”

The car door slammed and the wicked woman was gone.

Patsy jerked and pulled at the steel circlets holding her prisoner but to no avail. With the car headlights gone, the darkness closed in, only starlight as her company. That and whatever crawled, stalked or ran along the still warm sands. Patsy wanted to cry.

Nigel returned. He noticed the new marks on Donna’s rump and breasts, now turning various shades of purple and blue and black, but said nothing about them.

“It’s an incredible place inside,” he began. “Any kind of bedroom, you’ve got it. Want a dungeon? You’ve got your choice of several. They even had one wall filled with different kinds of whips, more than I ever imagined. And your choice of twenty or thirty different girls. I saw a dozen different nationalities.” .

“But what about Patsy?” interjected Jan, nervously.

“No sign. At least she’s not part of the regular inventory. I gave them the chance to offer her if they had her available. I described an American teenager type but the closest they could offer was a French girl I doubt was over thirteen years old. No, if Patsy’s there, she’s not part of the usual inventory.”

Jan looked like she wanted to cry.

“Don’t worry,” Nigel continued. “We’ll figure out something.”

Jan’s apprehension turned to anger. “And did you enjoy whipping and screwing that little French girl?”

Nigel’s eyes turned hard. “Jan,” he said slowly and carefully, “I know you’re worried about Patsy. But I am a man. And I whip and screw any woman I want to, whenever I want to. You had better understand that.”

The silence was absolute. For long seconds it drew out with Jan and Nigel locking eyes. Nigel was the one who finally broke it. “As it happens, I did not chose the French teenager. I picked a cute American girl who was about twenty-four. I whipped her ass enough for her to be in pain, then told her I’d stop and forgo the screwing if she would tell me anything she knew about the other Americans who were held prisoner. She described three other girls, but none were Patsy. She also said that she was kept to that one part of that building and didn’t know what went on in the rest.”

Jan put her head in her hands and started crying. Nigel put his arm around her. Donna stood up and motioned with her head for Pip to come with her to the bedroom. When they were out of the main room, Donna said, “Let’s leave them alone.” Pip looked like she was about to protest but then sighed and said nothing. “How would you like whipping my ass a bit?” Donna offered.

Pip smiled weakly. “Your bottom is pretty marked up already,” she pointed out.

“Well, so are my breasts. Okay, how about you tie me up in some terribly uncomfortable position?”

“Okay.” Pip seemed to brighten up a little at the prospect. What followed was not unusual for slavegirl Donna when at the hands of either or both of the twins. First a rope was tied to her neck collar. Then other ropes were used to bind her ankles and knees together, as tightly as the teenager girl could pull the ropes. Then Donna was placed in a sitting position on the bed with her legs straight out before her. The rope from her collar was passed through the cinch ropes of her knee bondage and back up to the collar’s ring. Pip pulled that rope until Donna was forced to bend forward. Finally her chin was against her knees. Pip ran the rope back around the knee bondage and down to the ankles where she tied several firm knots, Donna was now lying on her side, doubled over. She expected Pip to bend her feet back under her and tie them to her wrists, making Donna nothing but a big, human, naked ball. But Pip didn’t. Instead she tied one end of a rope to Donna’s wrist ropes. Then she rolled Donna over on to her back and pulled her until she was positioned just right. Then Pip took the rope from her wrists and tied it taut to one comer leg of the bed. She then tied another rope to Donna’s ankles and pulled that one up to the opposite corner of the bed. She pulled that rope as tightly as she could before tying it off. When Pip stepped back, Donna was lying on her back, her legs pulled up and over her head and secured so she couldn’t possibly unfold. Pip added a couple ropes from Donna’s knees down to the other two corners of the bed and Donna was prevented from even rolling over on her side, It was certainly an awkward position. Donna had to wonder if Pip had plans for her bottom, which was a very vulnerable target, sticking right up and very taut. But Pip didn’t fetch any riding crop, She didn’t even seem inclined to spank the upturned bottom with her hand. Donna was to suffer purely from the tight bondage position she was in.

For a while Pip watched the television but there was only three channels and none in English, Leaving the TV on, she climbed up on the bed and straddled Donna’s bound form, She lowered herself until she was sitting on Donna’s legs, facing the TV which happened to also be the same direction as Donna’s upturned bottom. After a few minutes she began running the tips of her fingers around Donna’s pussy, teasing the bruised flesh. Before long she was doing more serious stroking and fingering of that part of the sex which was available. And before long Donna was moaning with pleasure and wiggling against the fingers tormenting her and the weight of the teenager sitting on her. As Donna approached an orgasm, Pip skillfully slacked off then withdrew her fingers, Donna moaned with frustration. Pip got off her and went into the bathroom, Donna shook with frustration then sighed, She was actually surprised to find her body so easily excited to orgasm after having experienced intense orgasms only a couple hours before. But she was young and healthy.

When Pip came back, she held a tube of tooth paste in her hand, And she had a wicked smile on her face, “Did you know that your pussy is sort of open when you’re tied like that?” she asked sweetly.

“No, J didn’t.”

“And if someone wanted to put something inside that pussy, some demented, horrible person, they could?”

“I guess so.”

“And if that evil person were to put something inside your pussy, something that irritated your sensitive parts, something that would make you itch, that you couldn’t stop them, being all tied up the way you are?”

“Yes, Pip. I’m sure you’re right.”

Pip climbed on the bed and knelt before the upturned bottom. With the slender fingers of one hand she spread Donna’s pussy lips apart and held them open. With the other she squeezed a goodly amount of the toothpaste into a place where toothpaste had never gone before. She smeared some up on Donna’s clit. Then she returned the toothpaste to the bathroom.

Donna frowned, At first nothing seemed to be happening but... But within a minute she was experiencing a slight burning within her pussy. In two minutes the burning sensation was very real and had spread to her clit and either soft, moist tissue in that general area. After three minutes the burning was growing with every passing second and an itching had started to go along with it. By the end of five minutes Donna understood all too well the nature of Pip’s torture and that it would be very effective,

“Pip, please gag me,” she pleaded, “I’m burning and itching and it’s going to drive me crazy, I’m afraid I’ll make too much noise if I’m not gagged.”

Pip, seeing that Donna was very sincere, fetched the strap gag with the huge rubber wad. Donna actually helped the gag by opening her mouth as wide as she could. With the gag in place, she nodded her thanks to Pip and went back to trying to ignore a terrible burning in her sex. It felt as if the whole sex, deep inside her and all around her vagina, was on fire. And itched. Her fingers flexed as she wished she could just reach her tormented vagina. By the end of half an hour, she was struggling fiercely against the ropes and whining pitifully. She shook her bottom and stretched her fingers towards her inflamed loins but that was all she could do. Several times she tried to roll on her side but the ropes defeated her. Pip was very good at making another girl a complete and very secured prisoner.

“Patsy and I found out about the toothpaste,” Pip informed. Donna strained to ignore the terrible fire and listen. “We wondered what could be put into a girl to make her feel more helpless when she’s tied down. We tried lots of things but toothpaste seems to work very well. And it’s always around.”

Donna was at the point where she could stand no more. She began making pleading sounds through the gag and looking pitifully at Pip. If Pip and Patsy had experimented with this torture, then she must surely understand just how horrible it was. A girl could go crazy from this torture!

Bur Pip just watched her slavegirl suffer, occasionally telling Donna how beautiful she was when she struggled. After about an hour the fire diminished slowly. At the two hour mark all that was left was a smoldering warmth. Donna, on the other hand, was a very exhausted girl. Constant struggling against tight bondage can exhaust a girl. Most of the times when Donna was bound up by the twins, she was left alone. The bondage was often very uncomfortable but rarely was there enough pain to make her constantly struggle for escape, This had been different. The burn in her sex was terrible and she couldn’t help herself from straining to reach and touch that part. Nor could she stop from jerking and twisting her body in restless efforts to do something.

Pip untied Donna when she knew that the toothpaste had exhausted it’s potency and the girl it tormented. Leaving only Donna’s hands bound behind her, she took the slavegirl to the bathroom and gave her a loving bath in warm, scented water. Later, it was an exhausted Donna who fell into bed and instantly to sleep, Pip slept with her, the youthful naked body pressed against Donna’s and her arms around the slave she loved.

Dawn comes to the desert with beauty. Delicate shades of pink and lavender tint the eastern sky while brilliant stars are still shinning down on the barren landscape. Patsy looked up from her imprisonment on the hard ground and was grateful for the coming of the day. She shivered in the pre-dawn cold but was inwardly glad that no caravans had passed that way to ravish her naked and helpless body. No jackals to tear the flesh from her body. But there had been other creatures, all small and crawly, At one point she was sure that it was a scorpion which crawled up between her legs, past her pussy, across her tummy, and stood for a while on one breast. The dim outline she could see in the starlight looked huge and menacing to the frightened teenager. She had frozen with fear and eventually the sharp, tiny claws crawled away into the dark.

The car came shortly after the blazing yellow sun lifted above the black hills. No Madam Natasha, just a chauffeur to unlock her handcuffs and fetch the nude girl back to Madam Natasha’s. She rode with hands handcuffed behind her back and ankles handcuffed together, and was glad for the warmth in the car. She didn’t know what today would bring but she was glad to get away from a night tilled with nightmares and terrible fears.

“Okay, here’s what I’ve found out,” Nigel announced as he poured himself a drink of straight whiskey from the small bar. “I hired a man to find out everything he could about our Madam Natasha. Sort of a detective, although they don’t have any such profession over here. He talked to people who should know about the activities around her brothel.” He paused to take another drink. “Found out some interesting things about this Natasha’s routines. But, unfortunately, nothing about Patsy. There are, however, certain habits or routines that this woman follows. For one thing, she always comes into the city here on the first day of the month, She has a conference with a couple of the big wigs here, then drives back out to her brothel. That’s about the only time she leaves the place, except for trips to other countries to buy slavegirls,” He paused for another drink.

“Except for one other time. From what can be picked up, this Natasha enjoys torturing slaves, be they male or female.” There was a gasp from Jan. “She especially likes to have an American girl around to play with. And one of the games she likes to do is to take her current slavegirl out into the desert and leave her in some kind of bondage for a day or a night. When she does that, she usually takes only a driver and the slavegirl.”

Nigel sighed. “But my man says that when she goes into the desert or the mountains for these games, she’s very careful, often doubling back and stopping to observe for someone following. He talked to one of her former drivers. He also told me that there are apparently a dozen places or more where she plays these ‘outdoor games’ and has no set pattern so she won’t be predictable. He didn’t think that we would be able to follow her without her knowing it.”

“So, what do we do?” asked Jan nervously.

“Well... I have an idea.” Nigel drained the glass. “I’ve arranged for a twenty-four watch to be put on the brothel. We know what car she takes from her driver. Next time she leaves for the great outdoors, we’ll know. Then we...”

Nigel outlined his plan. It was simple and might work.