Olivia Enslaved

Chapter Four-1

Chapter Four

Week Five

Bathed in sweat, her belly, breasts and thighs quivering with strain and the intensity of her passion, Olivia stood helplessly awaiting the pleasure of her Masters.

It had begun some hours before, when, her lips distended by a massive leather ball forced deep into her mouth, her eyes sealed by a thick blindfold and with a light chain clipped into her nose ring, she had been taken from her cell. Helplessly obedient to the leash, she had speculated wildly on where she was being taken and why as she stumbled blindly onwards.

A sharp order to ‘Halt’ had brought her to a standstill and she had known that her next trial, whatever it might be, was at hand.

Her body had shuddered and she had whimpered as she was ordered to spread her legs and felt her ankles being chained to widely set anchorages, holding her open and vulnerable. A broad, extremely stiff leather collar had clamped tight on her neck, over her slave collar and she gulped as it forced her to hold her head erect and prevented her from turning or lowering it.

Her arms, released from behind her back, were immediately pulled out to her sides and clamped immovably at full extension and she had squealed in growing fear as her nose and ear rings were then utilised to bind her head even more securely.

Exploring her bondage, a cold chill had spread through her belly as she found herself unable to ease or alter her shameful exposure and her face had flushed at the thought of the humiliating spectacle she must present to her trainers.

As she felt chains being clipped to the rings at her n*****s and s*x, a delicious ripple of fear had fluttered her belly and as these chains began to tighten, Olivia had felt her breasts begin to be lifted and drawn forward, her labia easing apart until her rounded globes thrust lewdly out and the warm, moist channel to the very centre of her femininity lay wide open.

Immobilised, no part of her offered body hidden from her captors or able to move or defend itself, Olivia had known herself to be displayed in total bondage, incapable of any form of resistance.

Waves of blistering heat radiated outwards from her belly and her rigidly pinioned body had quivered to the knowledge of her absolute vulnerability, her brain visualising with shocking clarity just how desirable and how easily available she must look to the men who had bound her.

For long, endless minutes she had gasped and trembled, every moment anticipating the touch of rough male hands, the thrust of an erection into her belly and the shattering release of the climax she had felt boiling and surging deep within her. With every passing second her sense of submission, her desire to submit, had grown stronger, every moment adding to the turmoil in her belly and reinforcing the intense need which had driven out her last vestiges of self control until she had begged and pleaded shamelessly into her gag for her Masters to take her and extinguish the flames of her all consuming lust.

Only then, when her fragile defences had lain in ruins, destroyed by her own frantic desires, had rough palms cupped her throbbing breasts, knowing fingers rolled and pinched her stone hard n*****s, to send her screaming in delirious ecstasy into a shuddering orgasm.

Her belly had convulsed mightily as she came, but every huge spasm of joyful release had been accompanied by sharp jabs of pain as her rings pulled on the tender and sensitive flesh of her n*****s and labia and Olivia had moaned to the mixture as the two combined to overwhelm her in a whirlpool of painful pleasure where she could no longer tell one from the other.

Drowning in physical sensations, sucked deep into a world she had never known, or even imagined, Olivia had wept and moaned and sobbed as her body embraced the shameful sensuality of complete and absolute surrender to the joys of total submission.

In the midst of her devastating climax, Olivia had shrieked as fingers penetrated deep into her wet and quaking s*x, driving her even further into an unbearable and uncontrollable s****l frenzy, where, powerless to evade or resist the multiple assault on her breasts and belly, her juddering body had contorted once again as she exploded into a second huge orgasm, even more shattering than her first.

Even then, her ruthless Masters had still not been content and Olivia, panting, groaning and with her body streaked with the sweat of her frantic exertions, had been forced to a third peak of furious s****l heat as her anal ring was breached by two further fingers, joining the others still arousing her mercilessly, to build her towards yet another abject submission.

When it came, in a boiling, thundering tide of scalding love juices, Olivia’s tormented, brutally ravaged frame had jerked crazily against her securing chains, her screams of anguish leaking past her gag as billows of heated juices crashed into her belly and s*x, the pain of her ringed breasts and labia forgotten in the enforced fever of her overpowering lusts.

Completely exhausted, Olivia had sagged limply in her bonds, her breasts, belly and thighs dripping with sweat and love juices, her body still shaking as internal explosions had ripped through her, the floor beneath her spread-eagled legs stained with the evidence of her intense responses to the submissions forced upon her.

Her captors had taken their hands from her then, realising that she had nothing left to give and had left her there, still helplessly chained and spread, to shudder and pulse and sob as her tremendous orgasms began to wane.

How long Olivia stood there, her body filled with searing, burning lust, the hapless brunette was never able to tell. It may have been hours, or only minutes, but it was long enough for her to know and come to terms with what she undoubtedly was.

The slave of Sir Malcolm Bradbury.

His passion slave.

Olivia could neither change her fate, nor even deny it.

For, as she discovered, her body did not calm from its heated, frenzied passion. Great swirling coils of lust continued to ebb and flow within her belly, her breast and n*****s continued to throb and ache with undiminished need and her mind filled with a single, fervent desire.

The desire to be a passion slave, to feel men’s hands upon her, their lips and tongues arousing her to heights of ecstasy she had never known existed, to submit utterly to their chains and gags and absolute Mastery, to be used as they chose, taken as they pleased, able only to accept and respond to whatever they, as her Masters, wished her to receive.

She wanted to be taken, to feel a man enter her to spill his seed and impose his dominance upon her, forcing her to be what he and she both wanted her to be.

In the reeling turmoil of her mind, Olivia knew herself to be a true and willing slave.

Sadly for Olivia, however, her gag prevented her from telling the men of her momentous decision to accept their domination of her when they returned to her some time later.

In her chains and unable to move, she could not even go to her knees as a clear signal of her willingness to submit. She had no way to tell them of her decision and soon found that her new-found acceptance of her slavery was neither a defence, nor a protection.

Her trainers, her Masters, could not know of her change of heart. To them, she remained only a captive female, to be trained as a passion slave...and to Olivia’s helpless horror, train her they did.

Time after time, Olivia’s offered body jerked and writhed and shuddered as she was brought to desperate, pulsing orgasms and time after time she wept and screamed for mercy, to be allowed to submit, to be given the opportunity to please her Masters in any way they desired.

That opportunity never came and the gasping, sweating brunette began to understand the full true extent of her captivity and powerlessness.

Men were her Masters and controlled her destiny. Her wishes and hopes and fears meant nothing.

Suddenly, she finally recognised the real meaning of the steel collar on her throat.

She was owned. A possession. She belonged, body and soul, to her Masters.

Like any other of their possessions, a horse, a house, anything, she would not be, could not expect to be, consulted about her fate.

That, like her body, her life even, belonged to her Master. To be kept only as long as he found her pleasing.

The shock took Olivia’s breath away.

If Sir Malcolm did not find her pleasing...? He could, if he chose, sell her. Or give her away, or even have her killed. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Nothing, except...learn to be the most obedient, submissive, responsive and pleasing passion slave she could.

As the hands of her trainers moved on her body once more, Olivia, thoroughly frightened by her conclusions and horribly aware that a failure to be pleasing could lead to consequences too terrible to contemplate, gave over her whole mind and body to the task of responding to their caresses as if she were the hottest and most passionate of all slave girls.

To her astonishment and shame, her body reacted instantly, almost as if some hidden mental restraint had suddenly snapped.

She could not control it and her eyes grew round as every nerve ending in her body tingled with incredible arousal.

Her skin seemed to burn, as if from some internal fire and she gasped helplessly as from deep, deep in her belly, a volcanic, seething, bubbling jet of pure, white hot lust surged unstoppably upwards.

Her lips drew back from the leather gag in a silent scream of intense s****l rapture and a tremendous maelstrom of foaming love juices smashed into her belly, catapulting her into an orgasm of such power and ferocity that it eclipsed even the stupendous orgasms that had gone before.

Arched rigidly in her chains, unable even to scream, terrified of the unsuspected depth of her own response, Olivia moaned in horror as a voice whispered in her ear.

“Excellent, slave. You begin to show a hint of true passion.”

Her devastatingly powerful orgasm had been seen and noted, but her Masters seemed to feel that she could give even more.

She couldn’t. She simply couldn’t. She would die of sheer s****l exhaustion if her levels of arousal grew any higher. She knew she couldn’t take any more.

Olivia, however, was wrong and she did not die.

Her trainers, vastly experienced in the ways of slave girls, knew exactly what responses could be extracted from helpless woman flesh.

Ungagged only to eat, partially untied only when absolutely necessary to clean up and refresh herself, Olivia spent many more hours tightly bound and hopelessly vulnerable to her Masters’ skilled ministrations.

Her body grew sensitised to their slightest touch, a single caress sending her spinning into a torment of helpless need, her climaxes becoming ever stronger and deeper as her submission was ruthlessly enforced, until she could no longer control her own responses, her body refusing to obey the commands of her brain as it leapt to the stimulation of a Master’s caress.

When she could, Olivia begged to be taken, pleading with her Masters to take pity on her, but always to no avail and all the time, she knew she was being prepared for her final, irrevocable submission, as a full and fully trained passion slave, to Sir Malcolm……….

Week Six

Aroused almost, but not quite, to the climax she longed for, begged for and needed with every fibre of her shuddering, furiously stimulated body, Olivia squealed as the thin leather thong of a whip cracked across her naked buttocks, its tail snaking around her thigh to bite into the soft flesh of her lower belly. Another blow landed, then another and another, each lash adding a burning, stinging stripe to her quivering flesh and increasing the intensity of her desire to submit.

Yet, Olivia was not being punished.

As her whipping continued, the coiled leather braids of a second whip were thrust hard against the gaping, excruciatingly sensitive lips of her s*x, propelling her into a massive orgasm as the additional arousal forced her beyond her limits.

Olivia was being taught a passion slave’s climax to the whip.

Twice every day, morning and evening, she writhed and screamed and came to the devastating heat of her whip striped body, responding helplessly to the leather as it brought her pain and exquisite, unbearable pleasure.

Olivia could not know it, but, eventually, it would be Sir Malcolm who would wield the whip, he who would savour her fervent submission, he would impose her climax upon her and he whose whip would be withdrawn from her s*x, glistening wetly with the juices of her enforced submission.

Until then, it was Olivia’s trainers who whipped her to climax and it was they who noted with satisfaction that, every day, her response to their whips grew deeper and more intense and that, every day, fewer cuts of the whip were needed to force her to her climax.

As with her continuing sensitisation to a Master’s touch, so the brunette was being acclimatised to the whip, with the objective of training her to respond equally helplessly to either. Thus giving her Master absolute freedom to amuse himself by bringing her, as he chose, pleasure, or pain.

Knowing, as he did so, that Olivia was conditioned to react to both with the same furious passion.

To Olivia, of course, not knowing why she was being subjected to such cruel treatment, it meant only stinging pain, inevitable submission and the blazing ecstasy of climaxes given to her by the Masters upon whom she was utterly dependent.

Which was exactly what her trainers intended, for the technique was a well tried and proven one, developed specifically to produce the physical and emotional dependency so essential in a true passion slave.

And it was working, as Olivia’s frantic gyrations and powerful orgasms proved.

To Olivia, as day succeeded day, each bringing its quota of pain, enforced submission and inevitable s****l surrender, the world, her world, shrank to the simple imperatives of unquestioning obedience and erotic arousal.

Her memories of her previous life, a life of freedom, of choices, of control over her own destiny, faded until it was almost impossible for her to believe that there had ever been a time when her life had not been bounded by the chains, gags and whips of her ruthless Masters.

Hard though she tried, the hapless brunette could not stop herself falling inexorably into the role demanded of her by her four trainers.

Her body leapt wildly to their touch, her belly and breasts filled with throbbing slave heat, her brain no longer able to control or deny the overwhelming passions she was made to endure.

Until Olivia was forced to confront the final, unavoidable truth about herself and what she had become.