Donna, as was often the case, had lost count of the number of strokes the twins had given her. Her educated guess was twenty, and she had a lot of education to base that upon. She whined and bit back a plead that they might stop this painful punishment of an innocent girl. To utter it would give them added fuel for the fire in her bottom. There were very few rules in Jan’s house; no escape attempts, no protesting anything done to you, and no pleading for mercy. And some general stuff about sarcasm, disobedience, and the like. But the rule that was important now was the one forbidding her from pleading. She was sure the twins knew exactly how much they could mark up her bottom before their mother drew the line and punished them for harming their pet slavegirl. But if she broke any more rules, the twins would have reason to give her some more and it would be half justified to Jan. So Donna held back her words and suffered.
They stopped after twenty-six strokes. You usually got an even number of strokes when two twins were involved. Giggling, they went off in search of other pursuits, leaving the naked Donna hanging by her wrists and with a very sore bottom. Donna hung her head and sighed. Her bottom was on fire and she knew there would be angry red marks all over it, if she could only see it. She cried a little as she swayed slowly back and forth. But she forgave the twins. It was simply their nature to enjoy giving her pain. Just as it was her nature to receive it. Jan had called her a natural-born submissive. Donna hadn’t known what that meant at first but came to an understanding that she was a girl who needed to be kept in constant restraints and used by those who enjoyed tormenting naked girls.
The girls came back later and let Donna down. She was very glad to have her feet reach the floor.
Later that night, Donna, naked and with her hands crossed and bound behind her back, was taken to Jan’s bedroom, led by a short piece of rope tied to the ring of the slender metal collar Donna always wore. In the bedroom, Jan untied the leash and pushed Donna playfully onto the huge bed. Tossing off the sheer black baby-doll nightie, Jan joined her slavegirl on the cool red Satin sheets. She pushed Donna over on to her stomach, then straddled her legs and thighs, pinning the girl with tied hands to the bed. Then she leaned forward, slipped hands around Donna to cup the more than ample breasts quite firmly. Donna moaned as Jan pressed her body against the freshly marked up bottom but said nothing. Jan ignored the moan and began kneading the flesh in a way that quickly had Donna moaning with pleasure. Then she drew back, forced Donna’s legs wide apart and placed herself in a kneeling position between the legs, preventing them from closing and placing her in a very good position to tease Donna’s sex. And tease she did until she had the slavegirl gasping and wiggling, Soon Donna’s hips were pushing back as if to impale her sex harder on the fingers that were just inside her vagina. But Jan suddenly withdrew her hand and, with a laugh, slapped Donna hard across the bottom cheeks.
Donna gasped with pain for the open palmed slap had found already tenderized flesh and set new stinging fire to bum her ass. A couple more slaps had the bound girl wiggling harder, Then the teasing hand and very skilled fingers evoked new gasps of pleasure. Jan alternated playing with her slavegirl until the lovely girl was very excited and burned with lust. Then she pushed Donna aside, took her place in the center of the bed and spread her legs wide. Donna, without being told to, crawled between her mistress’ legs and buried her face in the sex of the girl she loved.
It did not matter to Donna that it was her tongue that drove her mistress into spasms of pleasure and a very satisfactory orgasm while Donna’s own pussy ached for satisfaction. All that mattered was her beloved mistress. If Jan had ordered her to give pleasure all night while denying her own, Donna would do her best to make it so. It was frustrating and a form of torture for the slavegirl to be so horny and unable to even touch herself. But it was a beautiful torture and Donna loved every minute of it.
After a second orgasm for the mistress, Jan took pity on her slavegirl She fetched a length of rope, turned Donna back onto her stomach, and tied her ankles tightly together. Then she tied the rope up to her bound hands and pulled tight, forcing Donna into a hogtied. Donna moaned for she feared being left in the hogtie all night as her mistress had done in times past. But it was not to be that way. Instead, Jan fetched a big vibrator, one over twelve inches long and very powerful, one not meant for mere batteries, plugged it’s cord Into a wall socket, and pushed it hard up between Donna’s legs as she lay on her stomach. With her knees not bound, Donna could separate her legs some to allow the vibrator to reach her sensitive place, With a gasp from the hogtied girl, the vibrator pressed right into Donna’s pussy. Quickly her breathing increased to a pant, her gasps turned to moans and whines of pleasure, and, after only a minute, she exploded into a violent climax accompanied by a mini-scream. She quickly bit the pillow but her body arched wildly within the hogtie then trembled with pure ecstasy for a long time.
When Donna came back down to earth, she found herself lying on the carpet at the foot of Jan’s bed, shackled by a short chain and padlock from her collar to one of the rings in the bed, and still hogtied. She didn’t care. With a sigh of satisfaction, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
The next night Jan, for whatever reason, did not want Donna in her bed. Mistresses don’t have to give reasons for their actions and Jan gave Donna none. At bedtime the twins left Donna sitting on the bench in her little cage down in the basement room that all of them thought of as “The Dungeon”, although Jan didn’t like to openly call it that. Jan was also the only one who didn’t use the word “Torture” for some of the things the twins did to their resident slavegirl. But Donna called the whippings and having to ride the Horse torture, and few would argue with her. They did hurt a hell of a lot even if no damage was done.
Donna, naked as usual, she never got to wear clothes anymore, had her hands bound behind her back with skillfully applied rope. She knew there was no hope of her ever working her hands free from those ropes, no escape. She would still be in her cage, still bound, when the morning came and either the twins or Aunt Janet herself came to take her off to a bath and breakfast. She had come to enjoy those baths in warm, scented water, often with lots of bubbles. And the loving hands of Jan or the twins to attend to her cleaning, usually with more attention to the sexual parts than strictly needed for proper cleanliness. Donna sighed and tried to find a comfortable position on the hard wood bench, a nightly task and an impossible one. She much preferred those nights when she shared the warm and loving bed of Jan.
Donna curled up as best she could and drifted off into dreams of never-ending whippings, endless hours of riding the painful Horse, and the wonderful smell of her mistress’ hot pussy. She was not aware of powerful forces gathering outside the safety of Jan’s home, forces that would soon intrude on the idyllic existence of the four girls who lived there. As Donna slept, sinister black figures crept through the bushes.
2
Kidnapped!
Not long after breakfast, Donna was taken into the garden, really a small forest, to be fastened for the day. The twins were happy at the prospect of once again getting to bind their naked slavegirl into some uncomfortable position, then leaving her in the full knowledge that when they returned that afternoon, she would be still tightly bound and just as helpless as they had left her. Donna, as usual, had her wrists crossed and bound tightly behind her back. Except for those times when they had to be untied so that the wrists could be put into some other kind of bondage, her hands were tied behind her, often for days and sometimes weeks at a time. She was used to it. Indeed, on those rare occasions when her hands were not tied, or handcuffed, or strapped, or locked into stocks and pillories, she felt very strange, often not knowing what to do with them.