Wydawca: Palimpsest Publishing Kategoria: Obyczajowe i romanse Język: angielski Rok wydania: 2017

Trinity Chteau: Extreme Taboo Barely Legal BDSM Erotica ebook

Brandy Anne Koch  

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Opis ebooka Trinity Chteau: Extreme Taboo Barely Legal BDSM Erotica - Brandy Anne Koch

Warning: Very taboo. Not for the faint of heart. May include BDSM, incest, and other taboo and forbidden elements. This is a vintage **full length** (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel.*************CHAPTER ONE - Trapped TouristCHAPTER TWO - Permanent PrisonerCHAPTER THREE - Gift in ChainsCHAPTER FOUR – AgoniesCHAPTER FIVE - The Binding of Miss Genevra AndersonCHAPTER SIX - The Passionate PainCHAPTER SEVEN - Ma's PrisonerCHAPTER EIGHT - Cut of Cord, Bite of SteelCHAPTER NINE – PunishmentCHAPTER TEN - Her Master's SlaveCHAPTER ELEVEN - The Rape of TrinityCHAPTER TWELVE - Prisoner for Life*********Later Genevra was to crossly tell herself she was old enough to have known better. But Trinity had palled and ten pence was not a lot of money. She counted out the coins and, without another thought, inserted her hand and then her arm to claim her prize. It would quite likely be a tour guide or a package of tea bags.It did not happen instantly. Genevra was busily groping when her wrist was bitten by what she first supposed to be animal teeth. A few moments later she knew it had been encircled within a noose of wire which dragged her hand and arm painfully to where she stood pressed against the wall. Her arm stolen by a force unknown, her eyes roving frantically in search of help. But there was no help, she was alone.The wrist of Miss Genevra Anderson hurt abominably. Genevra's tugs and twists elicited only pain until she stood panting and flushed to assess her plight. As yet she was not afraid.Genevra had fought her battle with English facets which leaked in floods and with English heating devices in which there was no heat. No doubt this was one more case in which something was not working according to plan. When someone came to provide release they were going to get a few crisp American observations on English inefficiency.Her wrist hurt more and more. She wondered if it would do any good to scream.The school girl was delightfully English. She wore the femininely scholastic white and blue of the island's school uniforms, which Genevra had found attractive when a group were inarching together on the streets or playing in the fields. It was neat and tidy and left no doubt as to the wearer's status. The girl advanced several paces into the room and now stood surveying Genevra with vibrant interest. She might have been eighteen, although there was a hint of wisdom in the eyes which belied the trim white tunic and blue blouse. Brightly she observed, "You can't withdraw your arm, can you? You're fixed?"For the first time Genevra felt concern, a concern overwhelm by irritation. "Of course I am fixed," she said angrily. "Surely you don't imagine I'd stand like this if I weren't. I'd be grateful if you could get me loose or go and get someone who can.""You're very pretty," the girl said as though thinking aloud. "You're an American, aren't you? If I led to loose, would you mind being handcuffed for a while?" 

Opinie o ebooku Trinity Chteau: Extreme Taboo Barely Legal BDSM Erotica - Brandy Anne Koch

Fragment ebooka Trinity Chteau: Extreme Taboo Barely Legal BDSM Erotica - Brandy Anne Koch

Trinity Chteau

Brandy Anne Koch

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE - Trapped Tourist

CHAPTER TWO - Permanent Prisoner

CHAPTER THREE - Gift in Chains

CHAPTER FOUR – Agonies

CHAPTER FIVE - The Binding of Miss Genevra Anderson

CHAPTER SIX - The Passionate Pain

CHAPTER SEVEN - Ma's Prisoner

CHAPTER EIGHT - Cut of Cord, Bite of Steel

CHAPTER NINE – Punishment

CHAPTER TEN - Her Master's Slave

CHAPTER ELEVEN - The Rape of Trinity

CHAPTER TWELVE - Prisoner for Life

CHAPTER ONE - Trapped Tourist

Later Genevra was to crossly tell herself she was old enough to have known better. But Trinity had palled and ten pence was not a lot of money. She counted out the coins and, without another thought, inserted her hand and then her arm to claim her prize. It would quite likely be a tour guide or a package of tea bags.

It did not happen instantly. Genevra was busily groping when her wrist was bitten by what she first supposed to be animal teeth. A few moments later she knew it had been encircled within a noose of wire which dragged her hand and arm painfully to where she stood pressed against the wall. Her arm stolen by a force unknown, her eyes roving frantically in search of help. But there was no help, she was alone.

The wrist of Miss Genevra Anderson hurt abominably. Genevra's tugs and twists elicited only pain until she stood panting and flushed to assess her plight. As yet she was not afraid.

Genevra had fought her battle with English facets which leaked in floods and with English heating devices in which there was no heat. No doubt this was one more case in which something was not working according to plan. When someone came to provide release they were going to get a few crisp American observations on English inefficiency.

Her wrist hurt more and more. She wondered if it would do any good to scream.

The school girl was delightfully English. She wore the femininely scholastic white and blue of the island's school uniforms, which Genevra had found attractive when a group were inarching together on the streets or playing in the fields. It was neat and tidy and left no doubt as to the wearer's status. The girl advanced several paces into the room and now stood surveying Genevra with vibrant interest. She might have been eighteen, although there was a hint of wisdom in the eyes which belied the trim white tunic and blue blouse. Brightly she observed, "You can't withdraw your arm, can you? You're fixed?"

For the first time Genevra felt concern, a concern overwhelm by irritation. "Of course I am fixed," she said angrily. "Surely you don't imagine I'd stand like this if I weren't. I'd be grateful if you could get me loose or go and get someone who can."

"You're very pretty," the girl said as though thinking aloud. "You're an American, aren't you? If I led to loose, would you mind being handcuffed for a while?"

Genevra hoped she had not heard aright. But the girl was carrying a handbag and from it withdrew a pair of steel bracelets of the kind usually carried by policemen. She held them up and said, "Pretty and they don't hurt a bit. You will let me, won't you?"

The child must be insane, Genevra thought. But to become the plaything of a teenage moppet was less unattractive than standing where she was. "You're being ridiculous," Genevra told the nymphet with acid certainty. "Please get someone in charge and put an end to this nonsense. Damn it, girl, let me loose!"

The teenage tone was heavily disappointed. "It doesn't really matter because I can look after you anyway. But it would have been much nicer if the two of us would have just had fun. First thing is I have to put these on your ankles."

What happened then was beyond Genevra's comprehension. She needed one foot to stand on and, when she used the other to kick at the schoolgirl who advanced towards her, she found her foot captured by teenage hands and quickly encircled with a steel cuff that snapped shut with a firm click. Genevra's trapped wrist hurt enough to reduce her motions to a pitiful protest. Quickly the girl dragged down her foot and snapped the other cuff on her other foot. When a loop of twine went around her free wrist she would have stamped in indignation and disgust had her feet not been joined. When the schoolgirl tugged suggestively, it hurt almost as much as-did the wire. But the most shameful thing was still to come. The bag yielded a collar and a leash. No matter how Genevra fought, the band of leather was soon buckled tight around her throat, it's leash dangling over the swell of young breasts. The battle was lost.

Genevra's wired wrist came loose without her knowing how the act was done. She was given no chance to examine the scarlet circle on her skin before it was encircled in twine behind her back while she tottered uncertainly on feet held close together by steel.

"There, that will do nicely," the moppet said as she cut the twine to leave Genevra's wrists cinched by a mere couple of strands which hurt too much to struggle. "There, unlock your ankles now but I do hope you'll be sensible."

The moment her feet were free, Genevra took a flying leap towards the door but the leash was clutched in a strong young hand to snub her neck painfully, and bring her to a flushed and panting halt. She stood and glared in mute outrageous.

"It will take you a little time to get accustomed to helplessness," the moppet said cheerfully. "I could hurt you if I wanted to jerk on this leash. After a while you'll get accustomed to be led around like a puppy dog.

"My name's Erin, what's yours?"

"None of your business. Look, girl, you've had your fun now turn me loose. I'll be out of her in no time and won't bother you again."

A vicious tug on the leash was her answer. Then another and another in harsh command to reduce Genevra to a disgusting knowledge of being controlled. "My name is Genevra Anderson," she said unhappily. "I come from California in the good, old USA. And I can assure you when I get near a police station you're going to be a very sorry girl."

"You'll never see a police station again. And you won't be going back to California." Erin's voice was a bright as good news. "Let's stop gabbing and I'll take you to the really and truly old part of where we'll be in time for the afternoon class. Don't be silly or I'll break your neck."

Beyond the door the passages became a labyrinth. The unwilling tourist sensed the passage of centuries as she was led pass rooms that spoke of other days. Sometimes she called for a halt to demand release but was always defeated by the vicious circle around her neck against which there was no defense. Little by little the bewildered girl trod the dust of centuries.

The classroom was startling. It was vivid with life about twenty naked girls sat at twenty desks, busily writing and only spared Erin and her charge a brief glance before returning to their work. At the front, behind a large desk, sat a woman who gave Genevra a brief appraisal before nodding approval at the girl holding Genevra's leash. She indicated a desk and Erin led Genevra to it. There she was sat down and a shiny metal cuff locked around her ankle. Her ankle was now linked to the desk by heavy links of chain. With a snap of a pocket knife, Erin cut the twine holding Genevra's hands and marched from the room without a backwards glance, seeming satisfied over a task well done.

Genevra's protests, fighting for utterance, were delayed by pure astonishment. Each of the girls had an ankle chained as was hers, but in addition, all were naked in a total absence of covering which left the new girl staring in dismay at more breasts than she had ever previously seen.

In all her twenty-six years, Genevra had never felt more at a lose. She busily massaged tender wrists, scarlet and indented by the twine and wire. It was a good feeling to possess hands once more. A feeling offset by the shackle on her ankle, a shackle at which she kicked in indignation with a resultant clatter of links which should have drawn attention but caused no eyebrow to be raised.

It was infuriating and defeating to stand and endure a humiliation none cared to notice. Defiantly she shouted, "I'm here, damn you, I demand release! I don't know what sort of game you're playing but someone is going to prison over this!"

Genevra might as well have kept quiet. No head was raised, no eye turned. It was as if her shout had been lost in the wind. She stood back to test her tether which at best was two feet long. And then to kick it savagely in another attempt to find a weakness or demand attention. Genevra was conscious of making an outrageous amount of noise but no one turned their head. And the woman at the desk up front remained concerned with something on her desk. Since she had proven herself unable to leave, Genevra sulkily sat down.

Someone would say something, something inevitable had to happen. This ignoring of her presence could not possibly go on and on. It was a nightmare Genevra was determined to sit out until she gained an authoritative ear. Never in her life had she been thus encircled by nakedness. Only the woman at the front of the class and herself were clothed. It was a bad dream from which she would soon awake.

With commendable patience, the new girl settled down to sit it out. Her reward was long in coming but eventually the mistress stood up and, carrying an unbelievable burden, made her way from desk to desk. At her approach, each girl submissively expended a pair of wrists upon which handcuffs were tightly clasped before a key unlocked the shackle down below. It was obviously a ritual long repeated, and each girl, when her hands were chained, left the room without a spoken word. The atmosphere was eerie in its expectation of submission and by the total obedience of the naked girls. Determined not to shame herself further, she watched each pair of wrists fastened together and each ankle unlocked. When the classroom held only herself and the mistress, her heart was thudding so painfully she fear the mistress could hear it. When the mistress, showing only a small amused smile, dangled empty handcuffs before her eyes, Genevra put her hands behind her back and glared defiance.

"You would do well to join the other girls, dear. They're going to wash up and then have dinner. I expect you're hungry." The voice was exquisitely modulated. The mistress was an educated woman.

Genevra found herself inc-lined to obey. She, too, wanted a wash up and dinner. And above all to leave the unbelievable atmosphere of the classroom. But if she behaved as had all the others, it would be an admission of defeat Tartly she said, "I reject this whole piece of nonsense, this whole silly game you play. Let me loose and let me go, and I'll consider it never happened."

"You have seen it happen, dear. It will continue to happen, dear. You can never influence rituals so deeply entranced as ours. Give me your hands."

It would be so easy to just accept the handcuffing, and then to leave the room. Perhaps then she would discover the answers to a hundred questions. As Genevra considered its power over her, the ankle shackle seemed to bum her skin. She retorted, "You can't expect me to cooperate in anything you're doing. Can't you see how outrageous this is for me!"

"Of course I can, dear." The voice was gentle, almost kind. "Hold out your hands for these pretty bracelets so that you might take a step towards reality. Surely you do not wish to sit here like this all evening?"

"I certainly will not sit her all evening. I'll go to the police and get this whole thing over with!"

It sounded pompous and absurd. Genevra wished she had kept quiet. Her metal clad ankle made boasts and threats sound empty. More quietly she added, "I am afraid. Please tell me what this is all about?"

The mistress sighed. And ceased to offer the bracelets and chain. "Humility is hard to come by." She said it as almost an admission. "But perhaps if you sit her long enough in this room, you will learn its wisdom. Au revoir, dear. I will leave you with your thoughts. Consider what you have seen. Do not panic, you will not be forgotten."

It was as incomprehensible as all the rest. Genevra watched the stately departure of a woman still beautiful despite her age. The door closed and Genevra became alone. Ghosts hovered and watched. But Genevra, seated at her desk, had a disgusted feeling of having missed her cue.

With none to see or hear, it was a pleasant relief to fight the metal shackle.

Venting her spleen upon the only enemy she could touch, Genevra kicked and tugged and heaved against the steel by which her foot was held until, exhausted and feeling foolish, she sat and lifted her ankle to the desk top to examine the shining links. The examination found no flaws. The only break in the silvery surface was an orifice for a key she did not have. It was by no means a commercial handcuff nor did it look like any other handcuff she had ever seen. It was a wide and exquisitely made circlet which fit her ankle as snugly as if made to measure. Allowing her foot to fall back to the floor, Genevra buried her face in her hands and wept.

The captive girl's loneliness of defeat was measured in hours, during which time she fought again and again the links by which she was held while her mind ceaselessly searched for an answer. Throughout it all, Genevra was aware of an unreality as if in a dream were nothing was sane. Somewhere there would be an answer. But supposing that answer didn't come? Perhaps all those naked girls carried forever an unanswered query they no longer spoke aloud. Perhaps each of them had come to in the same manner as herself! Genevra found no comfort in the though.

It was Erin who Anally broke the solitude. Cheerful as ever, she offered the handcuffs. "I think you're ready now. Stick out your hands, darling."

Genevra thrust forward her hands and watched her wrists encircled by the smooth, shining metal which controlled her. The leash was snapped back on her collar to make her again the submissive property of a teenage girl.

The delayed dinner in the deserted dinning hall was expansively delicious. Genevra ate ravenously under the watchful eyes of her mistress, handcuffed wrists imposed only a small handicap in the use of knife and fork, an unexpected degree of freedom which left Genevra wondering if she could get the best of Erin in a struggle. As though to answer her thought, Erin said, "It's best not to fight me. You'd be terribly punished. And you wouldn't find the freedom you're looking for. Don't fight. Let me be your guide. Soon I'll take you to my mother and she'll explain everything. Mother's a wonderful woman."

"Your mother? What on earth!"

Erin's giggle was delicious. "Mother owns , darling," she explained simply. "Now she owns you. And after she's told you why, you'll feel a lot better. That's the reason I run around loose the way I do-I'm the daughter of the house!"

"Have you thought about going to prison?"

"Oh, darling, don't be silly. Mother's terribly rich, and rich people never go to prison. Come on, dear, we've got many things to do."

Genevra followed the leash. It seemed more likely to lead her to the truth than any act of violence she could try. With joined hands sedately before her, she followed where she was led.

"The is my bedroom," Erin said as she thrust her charge against the wall to exchange the leash for a short chain that was padlocked on to her collar. "You're going to undress now, so I'll let you have your hands. Please struggle all you want, I'll simply watch."

The handcuffs fell away and Genevra knew herself almost totally free. She had both arms and legs so only the collar made her subject to another's will. Her freed hands flew instantly to her neck to discover the measure of this new bondage. While Erin watched in obvious amusement she remarked, "There's nothing you can do, dear. I'll just leave you there until you do as you're told. You know what comes next, don't you?"

It took Genevra only moments to guess. Cheeks suddenly flushed, she affirmed, "I'm not going to. It's indecent. I won't go around without clothes. Even if you leave me like this all night, I'm not going to do a strip-tease. Forget it!"

Erin did the unexpected. Grasping her prisoner in loving arms to kiss and whisper urgently, "Genevra, do it for me. Take your clothes off, it's such a simple thing to do. I don't want to leave you here all night. It's horrible to stand against that wall as it gets darker and darker and you realize you can't do a thing about it. Don't you realize you can't sit down? Please...."

The young voice and the young body held so close and so alive were hard to resist. From the beginning Genevra had felt a attraction towards this girl. And she was aware that she had not been fighting perhaps as hard as she could have. In an honest assessment, the captive girl could thing of no single instance of loosing an opportunity to escape. But she still wondered if she could have done something more.

Her fingers felt the band around her neck, and the chain that padlocked her to wall, feeling with utter certainty that decision was not hers. She could do as she was bid or undergo unpleasant results. Genevra sulkily exclaimed, "Can't you understand how crazy all this is for me? I can't possibly be anxious to please or be obedient. Erin, please, be a sweetheart and let me loose!"

"Take you clothes off."

"Why should I? I mean, give me a good reason!"

"Would you like to wear a school girl outfit, same as me?"

"Of course not! I'd look silly."

"Then take you clothes off. Mother always says that bare skin if Trinity's own uniform."

Genevra's mind was a turmoil of conjecture, at the forefront of which was a vision of herself chained to the wall as darkness fell and the dreary hours extracted their toll of her strength. And increasing fear. She knew herself a victim of an insidious program by which her freedom had already been taken and replaced by shame, humiliation and bewilderment. For sure she had no wish to be like the girls she had seen in the class but was the removal of her clothes beneath Erin's amused gaze such a terrible thing?

"Why can't you take me to your mother the way I am?" she asked without much hope.

"Mother wants you naked, so that's the way it will be. Don't you see how wise it is, dear? Being without clothes will put you in a much more sensible frame of mind. Mother always knows best."

The flimsy things of summer were easily removed but Genevra's distaste for her task slowed the inevitable to slow, angry tugs which stopped when she reached her panties. "Surely you'll let me wear these?"

"No. You must take them off." Erin's eyes were glowing with delight.

The unwilling captive must now grab the chain with one hand while pulling and pushing with the other. The removal of shoes and nylons were a knee bending exercise, leaving Genevra standing splendidly in total nudity. Erin's hushed exclamation of, "Gosh, you're beautiful," did little to ease her mind or erase the wounds of shame. Genevra said no word but fought her hands away from the shielding of her breasts.

The urge to cover herself against the fascinated stare of a teenage girl was strong but Genevra knew it would only shame her more and bring a grin to Erin's elfin face. She allowed her arms to hang limply at her sides while watching her companion gather up her expensive scraps of clothing and the shoes, and dispose of them in an empty drawer. She held up the handcuffs again. "Time for these again, dear."

Hating one more surrender, the now naked girl extended bare arms to watch her wrists snugly circled in the pretty bracelets. Her neck was freed, the leash snapped back upon its ring, and once more Miss Genevra Anderson meekly followed a girl she could not hate.

Patrician was the word for Lady Alyath Hardcastle. Hers was a face of character, modified by a glint of humor in warm grey eyes and at the corners of thin, decisive lips.

"I knew you'd be beautiful," Lady Hardcastle said with swift assessment. "Stand still and let me examine you. Erin, you may leave."

Genevra was certain that leaving the room was the last thing Erin wished to do. But the teenager was obedient as if having delivered Genevra into her mother's care was the completion of a task. The mother gently raised the handcuffed wrists to place them behind Genevra's neck, leaving her nudity totally exposed for the sight and probing fingers of her new captor. At the end of the search which left nothing unexplored, Genevra's hands were once again lifted above her head and allowed to fall into whatever awkward pose the handcuffs might allow.

"I am pleased with you, dear." The approval was almost clinical. "You are fully up to my standards and will be a wonderful addition to the Class. I hope you will enjoy Trinity as much as I love it."

"I want to go home."

"Yes, of course. That is a early phase which will pass."

"You've kidnapped me. You could go to prison!"

Lady Alyath smiled. Her tone was calm, without haste. "I inherited Trinity and with it a vast amount of money. From the beginning I knew there was but a single wish I had to make come true-to own a stable of young ladies like yourself who I could train and dispose of as I will. I am not a lesbian, remember that."

"Those girls in the classroom-they're prisoners?"

"I prefer to call them slaves. The purchase and ownership of slavegirls is an ancient institution. It is not an openly acknowledged today but still a fact of human existence." Lady Alyath smiled benignly. "Your spirit is troubled but that will pass. You will become one of many girls for whom I have opened doorways to a new and wider life. You see, dear, when you and I start to bore each other, I will make a gift of you to some man or woman I wish to honor. It will be someone who will cherish you keep you safe. Try and find comfort in the thought of no longer needing to make a living or to worry about your future. Trinity has taken you for its own."

"It's difficult for me to believe, it's so outrageous!"

"That why you will be whipped tomorrow. To gain a fresh perspective, every one of my girls is whipped every two weeks. You will be no exception. Erin keeps a list to remind me which girl or girls is to be punished every day."

"But I haven't done a thing to deserve punishment. In fact, you have no right....

"You will feel differently after receiving discipline, dear. Don't look so upset, I do not speak of a flogging. The instruments used are humane and the marks they leave upon your skin will disappear in a couple of days. The girls come to look forward to the erotic excitation the whip brings to their loins."

Genevra looked down at her sliver bracelets and wrists, then up to the calm, aristocratic face of a woman who aspired to be her owner. This whole thing had gone beyond the bounds of reason, and Trinity's new possession knew it was time to call a halt. It was like telling the tides to cease their motion, but she had to try.

"You seem to think I'll accept this whole outrageous," she exclaimed, "but I won't. I absolutely refuse to be whipped or turned into a slavegirl. This is as far as I intend to go. I demand my freedom."

"You will feel more sensible after your whipping, dear. And remember, you can earn punishment every day if you so desire. There are so many painful or disagreeable things Trinity can do with you that I hate to enumerate them all."

They measured each other without hostility. Genevra never knew her transition from freedom was being cleverly controlled. She knew that to protest or bluster would diminish this woman's assessment of her worth. Treats are for the weak, the strong keep silent. She shrugged away the things she had no wish to hear.

"You have had a trying day," Lady Alyath suggested. "I will take you now to the other girls who will tell you everything I have not. You may sleep as late as you wish. You can hold your own leash, I'm not going to tug at it as though you were a puppy dog. I'm sure you'll be sensible."

The huge dormitory was bright and cheerful, and alive with girls. All the nakedness Genevra had seen in the classroom was chatting cheerfully but fell silent and the mistress of Trinity intruded upon their time of play. Curiosity mixed with sympathy was mixed in every eye.

Genevra was led to a cot and her left ankle shackled to the floor in the same manner as in the classroom. Every girl was similarly fastened save for a few whose chain was attached to a metal collar on her neck instead of her ankle. The good-night kiss Lady Alyath planted upon her newest acquisition was warm and loving for a girl who watched her new owner leave and close the door before turning to meet a multitude of laughing eyes and excited lips.

Their stories varied little. All had been snatched from life by the Arm hand of a woman of whom they spoke in awe. Two girl who had been whipped that day exhibited the whip marks on their skin with an inordinate amount of pride. Genevra was told earnestly not to be frighten and to abandon thought of escape, no girl every escaped the restraints of Lady Alyath, none every would. If they seemed happy in captivity, it was because they knew it useless to sit and mourn or weep each other's shoulders with tears. They had been captured and enslaved, and that was the end of it. They laughingly admitted a wish to become a gift to something tall, dark and handsome, and very rich. Their captivities varied from as little as three months up to a period of several years. They assured a bemused Genevra everything would fall into place for her in a week or so. Comforted by companions in distress, she slept.

CHAPTER TWO - Permanent Prisoner

As Genevra Anderson's first year as a captive within the stone and iron of drew to a close, California faded from her mind to be replaced by memories of her slow subjugation to the will of Lady Hardcastle. It had taken the American girl almost the entire twelve month period to accept her condition and become reconciled to the clutch of steel and chaff of rope. And, most potently of all, the vanishing of shame over complete nudity the ancient place imposed.

Even the ritual of the whip had become a commonplace fact of life. It had taken time for Genevra to become thus conditioned. The whipping given on the day after her capture had seem an impossible agony, too great for any girl to bear. But her introduction to pain was cleverly contrived by having her fastened a few feet distant from a girl who's turn it was that day, a girl whipped many times during a long captivity. And a girl who was secretly ordered to show as little concern and as much control as she could manage. The two girls stood, their hands tied above their heads, to enable Genevra to watch something she could scarcely believe.

The girl from California still remembered wincing in horror as the punishing thong sliced air before impacting across innocent bare shoulders to leave a scarlet imprint on a maiden's skin. The girl thus marked showed only a bored interest plus an insolent backward glance over her bare shoulder and a carefree wink in Genevra's direction. It was a superb performance.by the time the twenty strokes had descended one by one from shoulders to knees, the punished inmate of Trinity was restless and moving from foot to foot, and thrusting a cheek hard against a bare, raised arm. But there were no screams or pleading for the punishment to cease. The girl had learned her lesson well and had mounted the first stepping stone of pain by which Genevra Anderson began her long journey of discovery.

It was not a time for conversation. Lady Alyath moved from number one to number two with no longer pause than it took to run loving fingers up and down the virgin skin of a girl who had never been whipped. Then she stepped back, swung her arm and made the slender leather sing its song. In involuntary shock, Genevra screamed.

It was a rueful memory of which Genevra was now ashamed. She had long since come to know that, on a scale of one to ten, both the whip and the force of its blow would rate no more than five. How else could a girl cope with the marking of her skin at two week intervals and still provide virgin skin to mark! But that first stroke of thin leather burned her back, etching itself in Genevra's mind forever. Nothing would ever be the same again.by the time she received her twenty strokes, Genevra had thoroughly disgraced herself with screams and distortions, and sweat from fear and pain. When it was over, she stood with heaving breasts and panting lips only to be gently kissed once more by her owner. Lady Alyath then went away to leave the two tightly tied girls to exchange whatever maiden confidences they chose.

Genevra knew herself utterly shamed. "I made a shocking amount of noise," she admitted urgently. "I'm sorry, I simply couldn't keep quiet, like you."

"My name is Penny and I know yours is Genevra," her punished companion said softly. "Don't worry about it, we all scream the first time. When I first got the whip, I knew I'd die."

"But it is so awful. And we haven't done anything."

Sympathetic eyes found the new girl's. But Penny doubted her companion would be gratified to hear that she looked lovely as she stood there. Instead she said, "I'll bet she told you the whip would give you perspective. And I'll say it does. I know I've never been the same since that first time. But what you have to understand, dear, is that her ladyish adores whipping naked girls. And since she can afford it. she keeps an adequate stock of us on hand. Her present inventory can be sure of getting one or two whipped every day."

"Inventory?"

"That's what we really are, you know. Call us captives or prisoners if you like. But we're really an inventory of girls her ladyish keeps around. Not only for the fun of whipping us but to use as gifts to be given to any bitch or bastard she wants something from."

"But why hasn't one of you escaped and blown the whistle?"

"Do you have to ask that?" Penny was bitter. "You've seen the way she keeps us chained. You've been chained yourself. I've been here positively ages and ages, and I've never once been free of chain or rope. Look at us now. Are we going anyplace?"

Genevra twisted and looked up at tethered wrists. Most certainly she would have to stand as she was until released. Still searching for answers, she inquired, "But the servants, those two women who hung us up, what's wrong with them that they don't go to the police?"

"Darling, you're being terribly naive. First off, they enjoy what they're doing, same as her ladyship. Secondly they get bed so damned much money that they'd have to be crazy to call the cops." Penny laughed shortly. "By the way, don't ever try to enlist their sympathy, or offer them a bribe. If you do, you'll be whipped so damned bad it will make what we've just had seem a mere tickle. Honest, I've given up thinking of escape. There's simply no way."

Genevra sighed. After they had shared the whip. Penny had disappeared. She had become a "gift" and was never seen or heard from again. Woefully, Genevra came to know that everything Penny had said that day was true. Throughout the year, Lady Alyath's captive had never been without metal or rope somewhere tight upon her nakedness. For the girls of freedom was almost a dirty word. Their only future was to become a gift.

"The Class," was a quaint expedient by which Lady Alyath found contrast for her pupils and herself. They were by no means a daily event, rather convened at will.

About half the time each student was required to don the school tunic of white and blue Erin had worn on that first day. The ordeal of wearing it made Genevra feel a greater shame than being bare. Each garment had been made one size too small to give undue emphasis to breasts and bottom. Always, sometime during the day, they would be removed, carefully folded and put away for the next occasion of a Class. There was also a much hated "punishment vest" which ended all too soon above female hips to leave the rounded contours of a bottom rotflr caned and a patch of pubic hair wickedly exposed. Wearing this prelude to punishment, the unfortunately girl was forever impelled to tug and tug in a vain compulsion to cover what mattered of herself.

The girls were not always caned upon bare skin but were sometimes compelled to wear an elasticized pair of briefs so outrageously tight as to demand help in dragging them above protesting hips and painfully within an innocent crotch. It was a matter of much debate as, to whether the cane hurt more of less when wearing them.

Lady Hardcastle's Academy for Young Ladies was never short of a fresh surprise. For a girl as intelligent as Genevra Anderson, it was easy to follow the process of her conditioning into what she was forced to recognize as a form of slavery. She remembered Lady Alyath using the word on that fateful first day. It had seem an outrage then but now was apt. She had become a girl who had value for the women by whom she was owned, a girl to be kept chained or bound and frequently punished. Genevra knew, too, that she had become painfully obedient. She shrugged away objections and admitted to herself she was indeed a slave. The chaffed skin of ankles, wrist and neck were a mute testimony to the beastly five letter word.

At the end of her first month, Genevra's leather collar had been discarded to be replaced by a truly lovely thing of shinning silver, slender and beautifully made by some master craftsman unknown. It had been made to her exact measurement and locked upon her neck with a resounding snap. It was understood Lady Alyath held the only key. Genevra fingered it often and felt guilty at her own vanity when she frequently admired the beautiful creation before a mirror. At the end of it was a metal ring by which she could be attached or leashed. The neck of every girl in the place was similarly ensnared.

Erin had been in evidence off and one throughout most of the year. In response to questioning she said frankly that if you were rich enough, there was no need to go to school. The child admitted shamelessly to being spoiled by an indulgent mother. As one of the privileges due a daughter of the house, Erin was allowed to amuse herself with any and every girl in the place. She had inherited her mother's love of the whip and the possession of female flesh. But she administered her pains and punishments with good will, and was sometimes repentant of her own acts. If she marked a girl with the whip, those marks would not last lone. On the day after Genevra had been locked into her silver collar, it had amused Erin to padlock the prisoner's handcuffs to the ring at the back of her neck, to thus compel the greatest possible exposure. Whenever Erin stepped out of bounds in the severity of her impositions on any girl, she was, herself, punished as if she, too, was one of Lady Alyath's slaves. Such punishments rarely diminished her high spirits for more than a few hours. On the whole, the nymphet added a touch of sunshine to captive lives. At first the new girl had felt shy and awkward when summoned to the presence of Lady Alyath to stand or sit demurely with handcuffed wrists beneath wise, appraising eyes. At first Genevra had felt certain that such summons must surely be a prelude to punishment for sins unknown. But after a while she came to know that the visits were simply a social contact by which her owner kept in touch with her girls. Tea was usually served and the honored maiden was sent back to join her fellows in tremendous relief and a degree of pride in having carried off an interview she suspected was something to be feared. But the more Genevra saw of the woman who kept her safely chained, the more she realized the Lady Alyath Hardcastle was a warm and affectionate personality who's only flaw was her addition to whipping naked girls and, of necessity, keeping them enchained. Exactly as predicted for Genevra everything was falling into place.

It might be supposed that for the captives of the castle, their enemy was time. But Lady Alyath was well prepared for this ancient enemy. When not in class where they actually acquired knowledge, the chained nudities performed tasks around the castle itself. The staff was small: the cook, a butler whom the girls all feared, and a chauffeur who could be called upon to offer assistance when rebellion was in the air. The girls were told of him but had never seen him enter the premises. None which to be man-handled and the butler, whose name was Bristol, was an ample male influence beneath her Ladyship's command. In addition, there were the two warrior women, as title the girl's themselves evolved. The pair were very strong and cruelly skilled in the martial arts. gave much scope in the exercise of cleaning its many rooms and halls so there was never a shortage of tasks for the girls to do. But no chance whatever of escape was presented. Whenever a girl fled towards what seemed the glimmer of daylight, she found herself confronted by iron bars. Since the old structure was a keep, the only view it afforded was of the high wall which once keep an enemy at bay but which now limited a prisoner's view and provided a safe and secure playground when they were let out for exercise. Whenever a maiden was discovered attempting to defeat the iron bars, iron doors, or iron chains, she was taken before her owner to be sentenced. Most of the girls had tried this once, but once was enough. They lived within the stone walls in resigned contentment.

The maiden prison within the limits of was be no means without imagination in its methods of confinement. The new girl soon became aware that confinement did not necessary mean a cage or cell. A bit of chain and padlock could keep her just as effectively a prisoner, handcuffs and leg irons were normal. But in one of her tet-a-tets. Lady Alyath took time to explain to Genevra the mechanics of immobility. As usual her tone was soft and sweet as though discussing the mowing of a lawn or the latest fashions from Paris.

"I positively adore handcuffs, dear child," she explained. "You will notice the ones I lock on your wrists are expensive and decorative bracelets. They save an awful lot of trouble in the matter of keeping you confined. More importantly, they are exquisitely aesthetic. A handcuffed girl not only looks beautiful with her wrists encircled by the shinning steel but they impose an artistic quality. For instance, with you now, you sit there demurely with your joined hands resting on your pubic hair in a submission you probably could not duplicate if you tried, handcuffs are magic."

Genevra sipped tea and agreed that, indeed, there was some magic quality about the handcuffs on her wrists. She was rarely free of them and could well understand Lady Alyath's fascination with them. In one way they prevented almost nothing, but in their end effect kept her most potently prisoner.

"You are certain to earn yourself some punishments, dear girl," her Ladyship explained earnestly. "In some of these we will bring into play the very special qualities of rope and cord. Soft cord, tight upon a girl's wrists and ankles, becomes a very personal sensation as from me to them. It will be my fingers or those of the two guards that bind you tight. And, as you struggle for release or resign yourself to helplessness, your thoughts will dwell upon the woman how tied you thus. Do you understand?"

Genevra understood. She hated rope and cord and was always grateful for her handcuffs. Rope and cord chaffed her wrists and always left her supposing that, if her were enterprising enough, she could free herself. She never did but hope was always there and was an irritant leading to chaffed skin and sometimes punishments. The handcuffs, on the other hand, did not hurt if you did not struggle. And, since you knew yourself incapable of unlocking them, were a pleasurable release from the burden of guilt her own conscious imposed if she did not at least try. Everything had been beautifully designed to make her know herself a slave.

The punishments by which rope and cord might be imposed to punish a maiden were ingenious and diverse. Genevra had spent hours with her hands corded behind her back and one leg roped and raised to compel her to stand like a stork in a growing weariness and a horrible fear of falling. Rope had been used to tie her tightly to a post and another time to a tree in the playground. Girls who were tied thus were exposed to pubic gaze and could carry on a conversation with any other imprisoned damsel who passed her way. The ropes were always too tight and cleverly woven to accentuate her femaleness, cutting her skin to protrude her breasts or emphasis a crotch open to public view. The girls who came to talk could easily untie her bonds but did not dare.

It had been explained that cords would more often be used upon her wrists had not the possibility existed that she might free herself by use of nimble teeth. Authority demanded that her wrists be bound behind her back but this rendered her useless to perform the chores by which the girls were occupied. Sometimes her wrists were crossed and tied in front. This was done mostly in the classroom where, under the eagle eye of a watching mistress, she could scarcely employ her teeth.

Lady Alyath did not scorn the simple punishment of being locked within a cage or one of the hateful cells the girls abhorred. The sentenced girl could spend her time behind the bars in full possession of her limbs and neck unless it pleased her ladyship to tie her slender wrists behind a whip-marked back or make the girl immobile with the dreaded hogtie, and tell her sweetly she was quite free to struggle and escape. Her ladyship found much joy in seeing the girls clutching the bars. Cages came in several sizes running all the way from a small square of mesh and iron in which a girl must crotch uncomfortably, especially if her hands were bound behind her back with thin twine she could not untie, up to a massive thing of sliver bars in which a girl could stretch out on the cushions provided. The larger cages were so beautiful a girl entered them with pride and was inc-lined to giggle. But with the silver bracelets on her wrists, the door securely locked, and the wardress gone about her affairs, it was not long before the loneliness reduced the sinful girl to tears. In the course of her first year in Genevra had sampled all of them.

There was also the ordeal of being taken to her ladyship's room to spend the night. When Genevra was chosen, she thought sure she would be required to exhibit whatever skills she might possess in giving pleasure to another of her own sex, certain her refusal could only mean some terrible punishment designed to reduce her to full submission between her owner's legs. But Lady Alyath was forever an enigma who tied her slavegirl's wrists behind her back and before turning out the lights had enjoyed displaying her wardrobe to a shivering girl who felt certain she would be whipped. When the mistress of allowed her scanty clothing to fall to the floor, Genevra felt certain she faced a decision she could not make. But instead she was told to lay upon the rug where a chain was padlocked to the ring of her silver collar. She was kissed and told to have sweet dreams.

Genevra was never sure about her owner and no doubt this also was carefully contrived. Her night chained upon the rug beside her owner's bed was probably a lesson in humiliation as she would ever suffer. It was hard to sleep with her neck confined by padlock and very short chain. But her wrists cunningly corded behind her back became a nagging infliction she could never do anything about. After many contortions and a sleepily admonition from the bed, Genevra disposed her nakedness as best she could and slept the night away in innocence.

Foremost among Genevra's memories were the punishment of Erin for a sin so trivial Genevra suspected was simply a pretense for Lady Alyath to perform her favorite sport upon her own daughter. But Erin took the whole affair so seriously as to make watching it a breathless privilege. It was explained to Genevra that she was presence to enhance the youngster's shame. The mischievous nymphet had whipped every girl in the class according to her fancy. Now most of them were watching her own submission to the cane and whip.

The whole thing was highly stylized, it had undoubted happened before and would happen again. Mother and daughter had rehearsed their lines and the timing of what was said and done to create in the girls who watched an erotic fire of which Genevra was very ashamed.

It was the room in which Lady Alyath enjoyed her daily whipping of a girl-or maybe two or three. Genevra awaited in the room, secured handcuffed as normal. Lady Alyath was there already.