Gemma

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

With her limbs still clamped in the tight embrace of the leather straps Gemma was still utterly helpless as the van braked to a halt for the second time and its doors thrown open. The mute, blind package of naked girl whimpered in horror as several people climbed in and expert hands began to release the webbing tie-downs that held her in the centre of the floor. Unable to move, let alone make any resistance, Gemma gasped and panted as her bound body was maneuvered onto what she could only assume was the same trolley used to transport her from Mike’s cottage to the van and she sobbed in despair, guessing that she must have arrived at wherever Roxwell planned to hold her captive. Lying on her left side with her limbs cramped from the lengthy bondage, horribly aware of a gentle breeze playing across her naked flesh and cooling the damp patches of sweat staining her body, Gemma strained her ears for any clue to her location.

The feet of her captors crunched on gravel, then scuffled across concrete or brick but aside from those sounds, the night was quiet ... ominously quiet. Gemma realized that there was no sound of traffic or of any of the other noise which was always present in the vicinity of cities or towns. She must be far away from civilization ... and far from any possibility of help or rescue. Keys rattled in a lock and the sound galvanized Gemma into a desperate series of heaves and lunges as she struggled to free herself before her captors imprisoned her behind whatever door the lock secured.

Cool, strong hands pressed down on her shoulders and thighs holding her with contemptuous ease and she shuddered in misery, realizing that she hadn’t a hope of escaping. The trolley glided forward, its wheels hissing across a smooth, flat surface, and Gemma knew that she was inside a building. What building it might be, or where it was, she had not the slightest idea and she panted rapidly, a prey to her fears as she was propelled deeper into Roxwell’s domain.

The trolley stopped, but then to her disbelief began to descend. She must be in a lift. Going down and down, deep beneath the earth. By the time the descent came to an end, Gemma was in a state of complete and abject terror. If she was underground, she’d never be able to escape from whatever this place was. Confused and disorientated, she whimpered in despair as she was wheeled onwards, but at last her journey ended and she was lifted from the trolley then set on her bottom on a coarsely-carpeted floor.

Her blindfold was removed and she stared up at the four people standing over her; Roxwell and her three handlers.

“Welcome to your slave quarters, Gemma.” Roxwell beamed. “This is where you will spend some of your time while you are undergoing training.” He turned to the three silent handlers, “Untie her ankles and release her elbows, but leave her wrists.”

The handlers did as he ordered then stood back, watching impassively as Gemma winced and groaned while the blood returned to her numbed arms and legs.

“There.” Roxwell grinned. “That’s better, isn’t it? Good. Now, listen carefully and I’ll explain what’s going to happen to you.”

Gemma was in no mood to listen and scrambled to her feet, her eyes wild as she sought for some way to escape the predicament she was in. The door behind Roxwell was wide open and, never giving a thought to the consequences of her action, Gemma made a dash for it.

She didn’t even get close, the handlers anticipated just such an attempt, leapt forward, grabbing her before she’d even covered six feet. Dragged back to Roxwell and forced to her knees before him, Gemma wept in bitter frustration as he shook his head sadly.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” he chided. “I see we are going to have to do this the hard way. What a pity, Gemma. I had hoped you were going to be sensible and accept your side of the deal, but I fear you are not. Very well then. You will have to be taught that I take a very dim view of disobedience and people who try to welsh on a bargain. Strap her to the pole, leave her for two hours, then arouse her breasts. Call me when you have done so. I’ll be in my study.”

He turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving Gemma alone with her three silent handlers, her eyes bulging with shock and disbelief as she tried in vain to comprehend the dreadful meaning of his words. A meaning which soon became all too clear, as still on her knees and held that way by the tight grip of the male handler on her shoulders, Gemma saw the other two open a large cupboard built into the wall of her cell and select a number of broad leather straps similar to those she already wore.

Ninety minutes later, Gemma stared down in appalled fascination at her own bare, mercilessly-tensioned breasts, tightly bound, crossed ankles and exposed s*x and thighs; all waiting helplessly for the unavoidable touch of her captors. There was little else she could do, for a strap encircling her head and stretched tightly from her forehead to her bound ankles kept her face lowered and gave her no choice but to look at her own invitingly-posed, extreme vulnerability.

Behind her erect back, five sets of heavy leather straps welded her arms immovably to the solid wooden post and a broad collar around her neck and the post prevented her from even looking away from the devastating sight of her helplessness. At her breasts, straps above and below accentuated the pale orbs, thrusting them forward and up and Gemma gulped miserably as she imagined how easily her tender n*****s could be caressed.

To complete her immobility the handlers had used yet more straps at her belly and hips and Gemma was horribly aware that she was utterly defenseless and quite unable to move, let alone protect herself against anything that her captors might choose to do.

She couldn’t even scream, for her handlers had replaced her gag with another, far worse. From nose to jaw, her face was invisible beneath a wide, heavy, gleaming black gag-strap, from which rose two, thinner straps passing on each side of her nose and over the crown of her head to draw the gag-strap snugly onto her cheeks and pulling the attached massive cylinder of hard leather deep into her mouth and between her parted teeth. Speech was quite out of the question. Even whimpering was well-nigh impossible.

In the few seconds it had taken them to remove then replace her old gag with the new, Gemma had offered them everything she possessed if they would only let her go. Money, her car, her jewellery, anything. In desperation, she had even offered the male handler her body, feeling her face flush a bright scarlet as she did so. But not even that had worked and Gemma shivered with embarrassment as she remembered the appraising, almost calculating way he had looked at her. As if she was being weighed up or assessed, almost like some sort of weird job interview. She hadn’t understood it then and she still didn’t, but, either way, he had chosen not to accept her offer and the huge, horrible new gag had been thrust into her mouth, after which, she could no longer offer herself, even if she had wanted to.

Bound inescapably to her post, Gemma had no option but to wait. Wait and wonder, growing more and more frightened as she imagined all the things that could, so very easily, be done to her. Roxwell had already made her climax once, in the van, but she had been far less helpless, far less vulnerable on that occasion.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Gemma exerted every atom of her strength against the leather which held her so helpless…and for the thousandth time failed to win even the slightest relaxation of her stringent bondage. Big, hot tears of misery and despair rolled down her bulging cheeks and soaked into the gag squeezing her face as she was forced to accept that she had no hope of escape and her brain quailed as she tried to come to terms with what had happened to her.

It didn’t seem possible, but there was no disputing the fact of her captivity, or the fact that she was entirely at the mercy of Roxwell and his three silent assistants. How could Mike have agreed to such a deal? For years, Gemma and he had fought to make a success of their business, sharing each setback and triumph, celebrating the good times and commiserating over the bad, working together as a team and giving everything to make the business work ... until now.

She felt her face flush with a mixture of shame and growing anger as she remembered Mike’s fingers and lips on her body and her own willing cooperation and responses as they made love together. She had always known that Mike was ruthless in business, but could never have imagined that his determination to succeed would lead him to make a deal in which she would become simply a bargaining counter. A business asset, to be negotiated away in return for financial advantage. Gemma gulped, her tightly-bound nudity quivering as she stared wildly at her defenseless breasts and s*x. Mike had sold her ... delivered her as a naked, gagged, gift-wrapped captive into the hands of Roxwell. To belong to him ... to be owned by him for a whole year. Owned and used, as he had already demonstrated, in any way he chose.

Despite the horror of her situation, Gemma could not entirely crush a niggling curiosity as to what Roxwell might have in mind. He had told her she was to become a bondage-slave, but what could that mean? She couldn’t be kept tied up for a whole year, surely? Roxwell would have to let her go sometime and if she was free, how could he keep her against her will? Perhaps he imagined that she would agree to his ridiculous deal with Mike. If so, he was sadly mistaken. The moment she got free, she was going to the Police. Kidnapping, false imprisonment, assault ... oh yes, Mike and Roxwell would both go to jail and Gemma would be there to see them taken away. To see it and enjoy it. That would teach them both that they couldn’t mess with her and get away with it.

For a few minutes, buoyed-up by the pleasant prospect of imagining the two conspirators getting their come-uppance, Gemma’s spirits rose, then sank back to rock-bottom as the reality of her situation intruded into her day-dream. Those things might happen when she got free, but she most certainly wasn’t free yet, and while she remained hopelessly bound, her hopes and dreams were just so much pie-in-the-sky.

Her body was stiff, every joint and muscle aching and Gemma wondered how long it had been since she was left alone. It couldn’t be much longer before the three handlers returned and she felt a deeply unwanted and unexpected warmth percolate into her belly as she remembered that they had instructions to arouse her breasts. She couldn’t really believe that they could, couldn’t really believe that she was a genuine captive ... but if she was and they did...

To her intense shame, Gemma felt her tawny n*****s quiver and twitch and her eyes bulged as she saw the twin buds begin to stiffen and grow hard as she visualized knowing female fingers toying with her. Bound as she was, she couldn’t possibly evade their touch or cover herself and would have no choice but to endure whatever they did to her. Not to mention what the third handler, the man, might do. Or Roxwell, when they had aroused her and sent for him to see the results of her arousal.

Gemma’s slim muscles corded beneath her skin as she strained against her bonds and her belly churned with a mix of fear and shameful arousal as she anticipated the return of her captors and a repeat of the irresistible stimulation which had lead to her helpless submission to Roxwell in the van on her way to this place. A submission she had been forced to give once and which she had an awful, growing conviction that she would be made to give again. And again, and again.

Struggling in her bondage, Gemma froze as the door to her cell swung open and footsteps approached. Held by the strap from her head to her ankles, she could not look up and trembled wildly as three sets of legs came into her field of view; two female and one male, her handlers. Gemma panted for breath, knowing that her displayed body lay open to any torment they chose to inflict upon her.