Chapter Two

Olivia awoke from her drugged sleep to the discomfort of something digging into her belly. Automatically she tried to move to release the pressure, but for some unknown reason her limbs would not respond to the orders of her dazed brain. For several moments she struggled feebly, then her mind cleared and she began to appreciate the full horror of her predicament.

Her limbs would not respond because they could not. The harsh bite of coarse rope into the soft flesh of her wrists and ankles told her that she was a captive, her arms and legs outstretched to anchorages in front and behind her, her belly pressed tight against a solid wooden rail over which she was bent. Her terror grew as she discovered that a thick cloth over her eyes blindfolded her and that her mouth and lips were forced into a stretched ‘O’ by the presence of a steel ring wedged behind her teeth and preventing her from closing her jaws. Warm sunshine played upon her and her mind reeled as she felt its rays on her legs and buttocks and spine. She was naked, her body helplessly displayed, the gaping pink gash of her sex and the dimpled entry to her anal passage exposed and shockingly vulnerable. Terrified, her nude, upthrust buttocks clenched furiously as she fought to escape, her frantic efforts proof of her shame and fear, muffled, breathy squeals of panic and despair leaking from her gagged jaws as she wrenched in vain at her bonds.

She searched her memory desperately, seeking a clue to her awful situation. She remembered the women’s rally at which she had spoken, her departure in the hansom cab, the unexpected stop, getting down to look for the driver...but then, nothing.

Nothing, until she awoke and found herself cruelly bound.

Where she was, why she was bound, who had done this to her, she did not know and her terror increased with the horrifying uncertainty as she explored her situation.

Her neck ached, arched cruelly back by a rope knotted to her long, dark hair and she felt sunshine on her tear stained face as she stared blindly up at the sky, unable to lower her head.

To her stunned shock, she heard voices. Deep, rough voices and mocking laughter and knew she was not alone. Men, several of them, were with her and her wild struggles redoubled as she fought to hide her shameful nakedness from their eyes.

Heavy footsteps approached her and Olivia squealed in anguished misery as a man bellied up behind her and thrust his hard, rampant erection deep into her defenceless sex, piercing to the very core of her femininity.

Her shrill screams were brutally cut short as a second man seized her by the hair and forced his rigid flesh through the steel ring in her mouth, gagging and nearly choking her.

Helpless, the naked, weeping brunette shuddered and sobbed as she was brutally ravaged, the two men pounding into her sex and mouth with callous disregard for anything but their own pleasure, using her as they wished to satisfy their brute lusts.

The man buried in her sex reached his peak first, his hips jolting against her buttocks as he shot his seed into her trembling belly and Olivia wept helplessly as he pulled out of her spread body, feeling his spend trickle from her sex to dribble slowly down her thighs.

The second man lunged a final time, his erection pulsing and Olivia’s cheeks bulged as they were filled with the hot seed of his climax as it gushed into her mouth, giving her no option but to swallow or choke. Her throat worked convulsively, her shame beyond bearing, but her misery was of no consequence to her captor and she heard his cruel laughter as some of his juices escaped past her lips to stain her face as proof of her disgrace. Then he, too, withdrew from her, casually wiping himself on her hair, leaving the shuddering, sobbing brunette utterly distraught and still tightly bound.

Sunk in her misery, Olivia could have no idea that her torment was not yet over and it was only when a third man sent his erection plunging into her mouth and a fourth forced apart the tight, resistant ring of her anal passage to drive deep into her rear orifice, that she knew the true horror of her captivity. In pain from her very first anal penetration, unable even to scream for mercy, Olivia suffered terribly as her tormentors took her unmercifully, the third man sending his fingers burrowing into her sex to abuse her quivering body still further.

Plundered ruthlessly, Olivia swallowed and moaned and wept as the men came, their climaxes filling her mouth and anus simultaneously as they enforced their full, brutal power over her and she sagged limply over the rail at her belly, utterly exhausted, as they withdrew from her.

Thirty minutes later, however, they returned to their helpless victim and Olivia squealed and juddered as hard hands thrust between her straddled thighs, probing every crevice and secret recess of her body. Unknown to her, every maddened response, every twitch, every frantic contortion of her hips as she tried vainly to avoid the merciless invasion of her body, was carefully noted for use against her in the rigorous slave training programme she was all too soon to undergo. A programme designed specifically to turn her from the free, wealthy and powerful young woman she had so recently been, into the naked, sexually responsive and ultimately submissive slave her new, and as yet to her, unknown Master desired her to become.

For, though Olivia did not know it, her capture had been no accident. Her soon to be Master had plotted long and carefully to engineer her downfall and her captors had been well paid for their services. Services which were by no means over.

The hands withdrew from her belly, leaving her hugely aroused, but unsatisfied and Olivia sobbed her relief.

Too soon!

Even as she attempted to relax, knowing fingers captured her nipples, where they hung free below her bent over body. Olivia shrieked in misery, but was powerless to prevent the skilled manipulation of her sensitive buds as they were brought to hard and throbbing erection, each aching with the urgency and intensity of the needs forced upon her. Propelled helplessly to a frenzied peak of sexual arousal, her entire body vibrated with fierce lust she could not assuage, until, at the very pinnacle of her sexual longing, two agonising lines of fire burned across the exposed globes of her naked buttocks.

Her wild screams of pain and anguish rang in her ears, but could not halt the whipping Olivia received. Her buttocks and thighs turned a fiery, glowing crimson as the whips taught her her captivity, burning their stinging, smarting agony into her flesh.

A third whip, its thick leather handle thrust between her gaping thighs and deep into her dripping sex, sent her hurtling into a feared and terrifying climax, her belly exploding into a gigantic, pulsing orgasm, the heavy leather gripped as if in a vice by her spasming internal muscles, her scalding love juices soaking the deeply buried invader!

Climaxing hugely, maddened beyond any shadow of control, Olivia screamed for mercy as the other whips continued to scourge her flinching buttocks, the leather in her belly thrusting wetly as her captors continued her torment.

The gag was pulled from her jaws and she screamed, “Please. No more, please! Please, I beg you, no more!”

The whips stopped momentarily as her gag was crammed back between her lips and Olivia trembled wildly, her brain numb with shock.

This simply couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not in England! Not in the late 19th century with a Queen on the throne! It had to be a nightmare, brought on by overwork. It just had to be!

Held by the coarse ropes on her limbs, Olivia whimpered in pain and anguish, praying that she would wake up and find it was all a terrible dream.

But her body remained spread-eagled, her flesh smarting and her brain reeled as she was forced to face the awful truth. She was not dreaming. She really was the prisoner of strong and ruthless men! Men who had already demonstrated their power.

Drugged and kidnapped, snatched away from her familiar, safe surroundings, she had been brought to this place, stripped, bound and taken. She had no idea where she was, no idea who her captors were, no idea, even, of their plans for her.

She knew only that she was the helpless prey of their savage, male lusts.

How could it have happened?

Who would do such a terrible thi....?

A scream of sheer, stark terror rose in Olivia’s throat

For she suddenly knew who and why and what her fate might be.

Sir Malcolm Bradbury!

Bradbury, the millionaire industrialist. The man who considered women, all women, incapable of anything more demanding than childbearing and devoting their lives to the physical and sexual wellbeing of men.

The man Olivia had vilified and insulted in so many bitter attacks at meetings she had addressed. To such effect that it was rumoured that he had sworn to make her pay, in person, for every cutting insult she had ever delivered!

Once, she remembered, they had even met, face to face in a busy London street as Olivia had been leading a Women’s Rights march. He had been furious to see what he had termed ‘A disgraceful rabble of ill mannered harridans, led by a virago who could not please her husband and should be in a whore house to learn the duties of a wife.’

Olivia had struck him, then, her own anger uncontrollable.

He had not, at that time, responded to her blow, but his eyes had blazed with a cold contempt which had sent a shiver up her spine.

Olivia’s belly kicked wildly as she visualised the arrogant Peer, his thin lips and hard eyes and his unshakable belief in the dominance of the male over the female.

Could it possibly be that he was her captor?

That he had acted on his vow and had her kidnapped?

There were unsubstantiated stories that he had a voracious sexual appetite, spending enormous sums of money on prostitutes and unfortunate women who had fallen into debt. Some even said that, in return for paying off what they owed, he made women sign a paper saying they would provide him with sexual services for a specified period, of their own free will. Thus protecting him from charges of rape or assault.

Was this the man into whose clutches Olivia had fallen?

A great shudder shook Olivia’s nude frame as a spurt of unwelcome and completely unexpected arousal jetted into her belly and she whimpered into her gag, struggling desperately to crush down the instant and shameful heat which rose in her. A heat such as Olivia had never known before and which terrified her even as it sent coils and swirls of scorching lust raging through her trapped body.

Sir Malcolm was phenomenally rich, extremely powerful and reputed to be quite ruthless.

If Olivia had been kidnapped by, or for, him, she was in the worst trouble of her whole life. There would be no mercy from such an implacable enemy and Olivia gasped in growing terror as she imagined her awful fate if he was to have her in his grasp!

The heavy thud of approaching hoof beats sent a cold chill of horror through Olivia’s bound nudity and she trembled wildly, fearing the unknown rider...and fearing even more the strange, previously undreamed-of mixture of feelings whirling through her brain. Fear there certainly was, but there were others, too. Feelings of shame, of intense excitement, even of curiosity at what was to happen next, but, above all, an odd feeling of acceptance, of resignation, as if her body and brain no longer wished to resist, despite the appalling prospect before her.

From high above her spread-eagled, sweat and sex stained body, she heard a cruel, mocking chuckle and a bright red flush flamed across her blindfolded, gagged face. In the scornful amusement of the rider, she read the pleasure and anticipation of one who sees his dearest wish and greatest ambition brought to fruition before his eyes.

Terror snapped her from her trance-like state as she heard the unmistakable sound of chains and realised that her freedom was about to end for ever and she writhed furiously in the ropes binding her, horribly conscious that once chains were locked on her limbs, her last, faint chance of escape would be gone.

Struggling vainly beneath the hot sun, uncaring of the rasp of coarse rope on her soft flesh, or of the display of helpless desirability her futile resistance gave to her captors, Olivia fought desperately to escape and flee from her awful fate.

Fought with every ounce of her strength.

Fought with tears of shame and horror pouring from beneath her blindfold.

Fought, but failed to free herself!

With terrible, awesome finality, a cold, heavy ring of steel snapped shut about her slim throat.

Olivia could not believe what had happened! Even the rattle of chain had not prepared her for this horror. A muffled groan of abject misery filtered through her gag and she slumped over the wooden rail, her resistance replaced by a numbed paralysis as the steel collar proclaimed her irrevocable and irreversible defeat.

She moaned softly as she was untied, steel cuffs clamped on each wrist and her arms pulled behind her and locked. Further cuffs, joined by a short length of clinking chain, hobbled her ankles and she stood helpless, naked in her chains, able only to await whatever her captors planned for her.

She was too devastated to struggle. Not even in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined being chained and collared. Now, steel gripped her throat and limbs and she was utterly, terrifyingly helpless.

“Kneel,” a harsh male voice ordered and she gasped, realising that she had no alternative but to obey. She could not run, could not hide and, surrounded by an unknown number of men, any attempt to fight would be worse than useless! Quivering with fear, made clumsy by her bondage, Olivia went down onto her knees, the grass cool against her naked legs.

A strong hand wrenched her blindfold from her eyes, but she kept her eyes tightly shut, not wanting to see the faces of her kidnappers, or, far worse, the nakedness and vulnerability of her own, chained body.

“Look upon your Master, slave,” the same harsh voice ordered and a cold chill raced up her spine. He had called her ‘slave’....and himself, ‘Master.’

Yet slavery had been abolished decades before.

Even so, he gave her orders as if she were a slave.

Slowly, Olivia raised her eyes, her trembles shaking her body.

A low, soft scream was torn from her throat as her eyes fixed on the face of the man who called himself her Master.

Sir Malcolm Bradbury towered over her, his cold eyes glittering and Olivia shuddered massively, her naked breasts heaving as her worst and most terrifying nightmare crashed into her brain!

As she shook and quivered, he smiled broadly, “So, Olivia,” he hissed, “We meet once again,” his smile grew even broader, “But not, this time, in the street. And most definitely, not as equals!”

The naked, chained brunette screamed in agony as she read her fate in his hard, black eyes and lowered her head, yanking wildly at the steel on her limbs.

Her scream changed to a gasp of pain as his hand fastened in her long, dark hair and jerked her head back until she once again stared up at him.

“You were not given permission to lower your head,” he said calmly, “As my slave, you will learn to obey exactly, my dear. Painfully, if necessary. In my slave quarters, there are many devices to aid in the training of slaves and you, slave, will come to know them all as you are taught obedience and submission.”

He nodded slowly, his cold eyes burning into hers with a frightening intensity, “Make no mistake, slave,” he said harshly, “You, who thought you were the equal of men, will become Olivia, my passion slave and there will be none more obedient, none hotter or more responsive and none more desperate to please men than you, slave!”

He chuckled with pleasure, enjoying the stark terror and disbelief written on the face of his horrified captive and continued mockingly, “And so, Olivia, you had best prepare yourself as best you can, for the life you once knew is over and your training as my passion slave begins at once. We shall not meet again until that training is complete. Only then, when you are fully trained, will you be brought to me as a passion slave and only then shall I permit you to submit to me as your true Master, obedient in all things and submissive in all things. Your body, your very life devoted to only one thing...the service and pleasure of your Master.”

He released her hair and turned away, ignoring the horror and despair on her face.

“Take her to the slave quarters,” he ordered, “The branding iron is already heating and I have warned the Doctor to be ready with the rings of a passion slave.”

The four kidnappers bowed as Sir Malcolm mounted his horse and, without even a backward glance at the distraught Olivia, he rode away, leaving her shuddering in her chains, her brain devastated by the catalogue of horrors awaiting her.

Horrors which came closer with every reluctant, hobbled step she was forced to take as, gagged, fettered, her throat collared and leashed to the pommel of one of her captors’ horses, Olivia was dragged towards the slave quarters beneath Sir Malcolm’s magnificent country mansion.