PROLOGUE - Leah

By Tom Jefferson

 

It was at the athletics meeting when I saw her, and I knew straight away that she was what I wanted.

If that sounds like a coincidence, it wasn't. I like sporty girls, and I had gone to the meeting specifically to see if there was anybody there who took my fancy. She certainly hit the spot and, although she didn't yet know it, that would be unfortunate for her.

I would guess she was a little under 60 kilos, whatever that is in stones and pounds, but certainly fairly light. She wasn't that tall, but she was beautifully proportioned. That could easily be seen, because she was wearing a tight crop top and equally tight shorts, not to show herself off but for best results in her competitions. It did show her body off superbly, though. She was sleek, toned, not muscular in a masculine sense but certainly very well defined. When she walked, she moved like a panther, and the taut muscles flowed under her skin in much the same way. She had long, straight, light brown hair, pinned effectively into a pony tail behind her. Her stomach was flat, but not harshly so. Her legs were beautifully shapely and also benefitted from her athletic tone.

I didn't want to get too close, but I moved close enough to see light blue eyes, with a fierce, piercing look. She was, I later discovered, only just turned eighteen, which perhaps explained the wonderfully textured, milky smooth skin, which also seemed to almost glow with health and vitality. There was an air of fiercely competitive determination about her, like a tigress or some other form of wild big cat. It all added up to a wonderful whole.

Her name was Leah Brownstone, from a fairly well-to-do background, but not a background so powerful that it would cause a massive hunt when she went missing. That was another plus point.

Perhaps the final clincher was a somewhat unusual choice of events in which she was competing. The first was the 100 metre sprint, in which she showed both explosive power and huge determination. But then, rather unusually, she was also a middle distance runner, doing 1500 metres. And finally, she was a javelin thrower. Such an idiosyncratic combination suggested a fierce independence of spirit, not somebody hidebound by normal practice. And incidentally, she excelled in all three, medalling in each against what looked to my amateur eye strong opposition.

Yes, she was just what I was looking for. I conversed with the man who accompanied me, and he said he would arrange to acquire her. He ran a rather unusual agency, which specialised in such "acquisitions", indeed was licensed to do so back in our oasis town of Xanxta, a place where slavery was the accepted norm, as this girl would soon find out.

PROLOGUE - Lucy

 

Lucy Garrington was, in her own, quite different way, just as much of a wildcat as Leah Brownstone.

Both of her parents worked in the pornography industry, her mother being a stripper and her father adept both behind and in front of the camera, so her upbringing was rather unconventional, though settled and always loving. But at school, she became quite a rebel. Although she was quite bright, she showed no interest in studying, except for those things which genuinely interested her. She wanted to follow her parents into a career in porn and the sex industry, and school was not relevant to that. Also, she took delight in shocking and defying her teachers. Her despairing parents moved her from one school to the next. Going private didn't help; at one point, they even tried a convent school. The poor nuns learned more, albeit unwillingly, from her than she did from them in the six weeks before the harassed Mother Superior told her father in no uncertain terms but with considerable understatement that Lucy "didn't really fit in here" and needed to continue her education elsewhere.

Lucy had inherited her mother's good looks, and also had a superb, trim body. Her breasts were not overly large but they were firm and perky, her tummy was flat and her bottom and legs perfection, and her skin was soft and responsive. The boys soon took interest, and she returned that interest avidly. Her parents, sensibly, bowed to the inevitable and lectured her in precautions rather than abstinence. She lost her virginity at the age of thirteen, and by the age of sixteen she was quite experienced. She was able to be open with her parents about it, and they in turn were able to ensure her safety and support her. She was quite an exhibitionist as well, so summer family holidays, which in any case tended to be beach holidays in warm climates, were in places where topless or nude sunbathing was fine. Lucy's mother, still a very good looking woman herself and still active in the porn industry, usually joined her in disrobing.

Lucy's eighteenth birthday present was just what she wanted: her parents booked her to appear at a strip club. Her mother taught her the moves for weeks beforehand, and on the night, both parents watched with pride. Lucy loved every moment, and at times had to stop herself from actually orgasming on stage, such was the thrill of it.

Up until that point, she had held only mundane jobs where she usually got the sack within a week or two, but now she was eighteen, her parents were able to get her jobs of the sort she had always wanted. A regular job at the strip club was a start, plus web cam work, phone sex and then actual physical encounters. Her mum actually worked her phone, ensuring her safety and making sure she was not ripped off. Her mum also taught her how to suck cock and other sex techniques. Lucy also discovered bondage and spanking and got into those activities as well. There was a good, safe, well run establishment in London, quite near to where they lived, where Lucy worked one day a week, plus occasional extra assignations, and she loved it.

She enjoyed all of her various activities and was developing a healthy bank balance. Life was good, and it was about to get a whole lot better.

 

CHAPTER 1

Leah, a month later

By Tom Jefferson

 

That same man sat in my office back in Xanxta. I read the report he had given me with barely concealed irritation.

"There's no need for concern, Mr Jefferson," he said smoothly. "As always, there are no loose ends, nothing to worry about. The Xanxta authorities have had my report and have satisfied themselves completely."

I grunted. "How many of your fingers did she break?"

He smiled unctuously, and showed me the hand on which the index and second fingers were strapped together. "Just the one," he said. "It's not a problem."

"And she broke three ribs of one of your men," I read from the report.

"She gave him a rather powerful kick before we were able to subdue her."

"Serves both of you right," I observed testily. "You were with me when we first observed her. Javelin thrower, runner, all-round athlete; you might have worked out that she would have a bit of strength and fire."

He smiled again. "Not a bit of strength, I can assure you: she was phenomenally strong, even more so that we had anticipated. It took all three of us to hold her down and apply the anaesthetic, and she struggled with unbelievable power. I don't think I've ever encountered such a strong or determined young lady. But, as I said, we got it done, and extraction from that point went as smoothly as ever."

I grunted again. "Well, I'm not paying for your medical bills, or those of your employee," I said firmly. "You get the standard fee and that's all."

"Of course," he said in a placatory tone, though I could see he had been trying to work the conversation towards trying to get me to contribute. He had no chance, and he now knew it, probably always had known it but thought it worth a try. Well, it wasn't.

"Have you delivered her?"

"Yes, she is in your reception room, as requested. She's still sedated, but she should be coming round within the next few hours."

I noted his squirming. "What else do you want to tell me?" I asked directly.

He made another placatory gesture. "I feel I need to advise you that she is quite a wildcat," he said. "I have to professionally remind you that under the local regulations for wild animals and untamed slaves, you'll need to be very careful with her and keep her carefully restrained until you can break her in. And I would suspect that will take quite a bit of time."

For the first time, I smiled. "I'm counting on it," I replied. "I like a challenge; I wouldn't be a successful businessman if I didn't." I wasn't idly boasting. I've built up quite a fortune, which is why I can afford to live the way I do and be a force, even in a place like Xanxta.

"Still," he insisted, "I hope you will take all proper precautions. Now that we have handed her over, properly secured, we cannot be held responsible for any future incident."

"Rest assured that my staff and I are fully competent at handling such girls," I said airily, but I decided I would hold a briefing before we began dealing with her. For all my gruffness towards this man and his agency, they were smooth professionals who abducted without leaving a trace, otherwise Xanxta would not authorise them. The town takes such things very seriously, and rightly so. If this girl had put up such a fight against three experienced kidnappers, she would need very cautious handling. But my people and I were also expert, and very well equipped, as the girl would shortly find out.

 

***

 

A few hours later, I noted from the hidden camera that the girl was now fully awake, the sedatives having worn off. I gave her a while to stew, then went to see her, accompanied by my two slave handlers, Bill and Ben. Those were my names for them; both were large, muscular Arabic types, with perfect English but usually not given to talking much. They accepted my names for them, but then, I was paying them good salaries.

The girl looked up as I entered the room, her blue eyes fierce. She tried to say something, but the ball gag in her mouth rendered it completely unintelligible. Bill and Ben had done a very good job of securing her: she was stood against a wall, metal bands around her neck, wrists, lower arms, upper arms, waist, thighs, calves and ankles all bolted to the wall so that she had absolutely no choice but to stand with her arms raised by her sides, her thumbs level with her ears. She was wearing a t-shirt, jeans and trainers, the clothes she had been abducted in; all of them looked crumpled now after her long hours in transit. That would be no matter shortly. I noted that they had put a black leather collar on her and that there was a leather wristband around each of her slim wrists, all as per my orders.

The girl repeated what she was trying to say, more loudly but equally unintelligibly. I held my hand up to quieten her, and told Bill to remove the gag. Even with him right next to her, the metal bands kept her completely helpless. I would have liked that cocksure agent to see that, to see my men's efficiency, but never mind.

She licked her dry lips, and eyed me balefully. There was fear in the blue eyes, but plenty of determination and anger as well. I was impressed that she was not in a state of panic, though she was clearly holding herself together with an effort.

"Are you in charge here?" she asked me, her voice firm.

"Indeed I am," I replied suavely.

"Then get me out of these chains, now!"

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

She glared at me. "Kidnapping is a serious offence," she said evenly. "If you let me go now, I'm sure we can agree it was some kind of mistake."

I ignored this for now. "Do you know where you are?" I asked.

"No," she replied frankly.

It had been during a cold spring in England when she was taken. In Xanxta it is always hot. Naturally my house has air conditioning, but I don't have it on very high most of the time. In this room it was very warm, and she would be able to tell that it was climatic, not central heating.

"Well, you don't need to know exactly which country you are in, but suffice it to say you are in an Arabic or southern Asiatic country. As you will know, many of these countries have rather ... different attitudes towards women, particularly western women. This particular country runs a rather unique closed community, which is where you are, in an oasis town with a lot of desert all around, which makes it rather conveniently completely cut off from the outside world. The town is called Xanxta. Here, slavery is openly legal, in fact part of the system. They even allow us to, shall we say, import young women under certain circumstances and licences. You have been selected and imported, and you are now, quite legally here, a slave, and you belong to me."

She stared at me. "You're crazy," she stated flatly.

I shrugged. "I have to admit that it is a difficult thing to get used to. However, you are going to have to learn quickly to keep a more civil tongue in your head. You will note the wristbands you are wearing?"

Another impolite retort came to her lips, but instead she turned to look at one of the wristbands. "What about them?" she asked, her voice betraying no fear.

"You'll find them quite impossible to remove. There is a steel band inside them which prevents them from being cut, they won't stretch so you can't slip them off, and you will see they each have a tiny lock to which you do not have the key. The same applies to your slave collar." I produced a small remote device, which simply had a three point dial setting and a button to push. "This wonderful toy, when I press the button, sends a signal to your collar, which in turn relays it to the two wristbands. They then emit a short but very effective electrical charge which goes through your body."

"You're mad," she began, but it turned into a loud yell of pain as I pressed the button. Her body stiffened, and the sky blue eyes bulged for a long second; then she slumped in her bonds. Were it not for the metal bands pinning her to the wall, she would have fallen to the floor. As it was, the chains held her up, her legs no longer supported her.

I waited for her to recover. Slowly, she got back to her feet. "That hurt like Hell," she protested.

"It's called an agoniser," I told her. "Quite ingenious, really: the voltage, or amperage, I'm never sure quite which, is set at a point which acutely inflames your nerve endings. You can see from the remote" - I showed her the little box - "that there are three settings. That was level one, the lowest. Level two is much worse. Level three will cause you to pass out, though far from painlessly. That level is mainly for security reasons, if we release you from your bondage at some point and you get, shall we say, a little frisky."

"You can't keep me here," she protested.

"But of course I can. As I have already pointed out, slavery is not only allowed here but is part of the legal system. Even if you escape this room, and this building, you will find no help from the population, not even your fellow slaves. The police and authorities will hunt you down and return you to me. Your collar also has a locating mechanism, and you would be surprised at the range of both that and the remote here. There are plenty of other precautions as well, which you will learn about in due course."

"The authorities back home will be looking for me."

"Certainly, but they will be doing so back there, thousands of miles away. I assure you that your removal from your country was done without a trace. The team which acquired you is very professional in that regard, even if you were able to let off a little steam before they subdued you." She said nothing; I could see her mind working furiously, trying to find a loophole. I let her think about it all for a few moments, then I moved on. "Now, there will obviously be various stages in your training. What is acceptable now will not be accepted later. But for the moment, you do not need to call me 'master' or even 'sir'; just reasonable politeness, a lack of name-calling and so on, will do. Do you understand?"

"And if I refuse?" I lifted the remote up, wordlessly. She got the message, but said nothing, so I moved on further. "Naturally, you don't believe much of what I am saying, which is fair enough under the circumstances. We'll take you out and round the town tomorrow, so you'll see a bit more then. Meanwhile, I'll give you a little example in-house." I turned to Bill. "Go and get Slave Ellie, please." Bill departed, and I took a seat. Leah continued to say nothing.

I watched her eyes open wide, however, when Ellie walked in. Ellie was stark naked, of course, which was what took Leah by surprise, apart from her collar. She was a small girl, barely five feet two inches, but with a beautifully proportioned body. The big brown eyes and gentle expression gave her a Barbie-like presence but with a delicious hint of innocence. Her glossy black hair, tied in a pony tail, reached down past her bare shoulders and nestled in the centre of her equally bare back. She seemed now to accept her permanent nudity, a far cry from a couple of months ago. I noticed with satisfaction that her superb bubble butt was covered in very evident bruises; I had given her a substantial going over with a table tennis bat yesterday. It had not been for any misdemeanour, but purely for my entertainment. She came immediately over to me and knelt down, raising that cute little bottom into the air as her lips kissed my feet, the way she had been taught to greet me in front of strangers. Then she stood once more. "You wanted me, master?" she asked in that cultured, beautifully modulated voice that I liked so much.

"Indeed, Tufty" I replied. Tufty was one of my two nicknames for her, chosen because of her small but quite pronounced bush of thick black pubic hair; quite a bit of her mound was virtually hairless, but there was this one sort of blob of hair which sprouted out almost like a square punk Mohican. It wasn't cultivated that way, it was just the way it grew. She was naturally far too young to be aware of the children's TV character of yesteryear which the name came from. She had been clean shaven down there when she arrived, but I prefer a little hair on my girls and when her pubic locks sprouted the way they did, I had been as childishly delighted as she had been completely embarrassed. The other nickname was Bubble Butt: her body was superb, with those perky breasts, slim waist and lovely legs, but her bottom was her best asset of all. Rarely had I seen such a cute derriere on a girl, and I've seen plenty.

"This is my new acquisition," I told her. "Her name is Slave Leah. Go and say hello."

She turned and went over to Leah. "Hello, Slave Leah," she trilled. "I'm Slave Ellie."

"I'm not Slave Leah, I'm just Leah," returned my captive frostily.

"Yes, Slave Leah," said Ellie agreeably.

"As I recall, you had a similar frame of mind when you were first brought here," I said to Ellie.

"Yes, Master, I remember," Ellie replied.

"If you're suggesting that I'm going to end up like her, you can forget it," Leah told me firmly.

I smiled. "I think you said something like that as well, didn't you, Ellie?" I asked my little girl.

"Yes, Master."

But you learnt to change?"

"Yes, Master," Ellie agreed. "You tamed me, just as you said you would."

I smiled. Tamed she might be, but Ellie still had a delicious streak of defiance in her. She might be tamed, but not yet fully broken. 'Tamed but not trained' was a phrase I had used to her more than once. But I chose to ignore that for now. "You, see, Slave Leah ..." I began.

"Don't call me that," Leah interrupted.

I ignored the interruption. "There is one big similarity between you and Ellie here, and three small dissimilarities. The similarity is that you are both slaves, legally owned by me." I held my hand up to forestall another interruption. "Whether you yet understand or accept that or not is irrelevant," I added. "What is more interesting at the moment are the dissimilarities. Let me draw your attention to those." The girl said nothing, regarding me warily. "Firstly, I went on, "you are chained up firmly, whilst Ellie is not. Secondly, as she says, Ellie is now tamed, whereas you as yet are not. Naturally, the first is as a consequence of the second. The third is that Ellie is in proper slave uniform, whereas you as yet are not."

"Proper slave uniform? She's starkers!" Leah observed.

"Precisely. So we can at least eliminate one of the dissimilarities straight away." I nodded to Ben.

"What do you mean? What are you doing?" Leah asked nervously. Ben had produced a large pair of scissors, designed to cut cloth easily. "No!" she shouted as she realised his intention. "Stop!" Ignoring her, he pulled her t-shirt out of her shorts and with three quick snips of the scissors cut it all the way to the neck. Two more quick snips at the side and the ruined garment fell completely away. As she was assimilating this, two equally quick cuts and the shorts fell away, leaving her in white bra and panties.

"You bastards!" she shouted, as much at me as at Ben.

"One moment, Ben," I said quietly. The muscular minion moved back. The girl regarded me with fierce, angry eyes. "You will recall," I reminded her, "that I said impoliteness and bad language would not be tolerated."

"Go to Hell," she snarled.

I smiled again, and touched the button on the remote. Leah's head went back, as far as the restraints allowed it to, and her body stiffened. A strangled cry escaped her lips as the waves of pain coursed through her body. The charge ceased - it was on an automatic three second timer - and she slumped forwards, but the metal bands held her in place. I got up and stood right in front of her.

"You were saying?" I asked mildly.

"I said go to Hell," she gasped, and then cried out as I sent another charge through her.

"I can do this all day long," I said, again mildly. The agoniser's battery cells would last quite a while, and were easily recharged.

"I'm sure you can," she said croakily. "I suppose it's how you get your kicks."

"Well, one of the ways, yes," I admitted. "But if you keep a civil tongue in your head, I'll stop."

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "Go to Hell," she repeated.

I was impressed; she knew what was coming next, and put herself up for it. I pressed the red button on the remote, and she stiffened and cried out again as more electricity coursed through her lithe frame. Once more, as the current ceased, she slumped in her bonds.

"Master, may I speak to the slave?" Ellie asked from behind me.

I decided to allow the intervention. I stepped back, and Ellie took my place in front of Leah. "Our master is right," Ellie said to Leah; "he can do this all day long, and he will until you stop being rude to him."

"Being rude? His toy boy just cut half my clothes away! And he's not 'our' master; he might be yours but he isn't mine." But I noticed she glanced at me with trepidation as she made the declaration. I didn't touch the remote; I decided she hadn't been unduly rude, though I could have taken exception to the 'toy boy' comment. But I let it go.

"And he's going to finish the job, whether you like it or not," Ellie pointed out, "so stop making it harder for yourself."

"It's all right for you," Leah retorted, "you obviously like walking around stark naked."

"No I don't" Ellie replied quietly. "I hate it, but I don't have any choice." Now that was interesting; I wasn't aware that Ellie was still that uncomfortable being nude. She hid it well. Damn, that girl had some spirit! "And I've been where you are, and I started off doing the same as you, and it didn't get me anywhere either, so just keep quiet, OK?" Her fingers brushed Leah's flank in a gesture of solidarity, then she stepped back.

"So," I said to Leah, "may we continue?"

Leah glared at me. "I'll say it just one more time," she said quietly. "Go to Hell."

Very impressive, I thought. I almost wanted to spare her, but it was not a good idea. I pressed the button, and she cried out one more time, and her underwear-clad body jerked and then slumped once more. I was actually wondering if the agoniser would run out of power soon; I couldn't recall the last time it had been called into action so many times in a short period.

"Would you like to say it one more time again?" I asked, my hand hovering over the button.

Leah pulled herself back up. She knew she couldn't win, but she risked a final parting shot. "You know what I'm thinking," she said.

Again I smiled. The girl was smart: that was a neat way of conceding the round without losing face. I decided she had earned that. This time. I nodded to Ben, who stepped forward with the scissors again.

"No! Don't! Please!"

Ben ignored her, of course. Two quick snips and the shoulder straps of the bra were history. One more between the cups and the ruined garment fell away. Two more, one on each hip on the waistband of the panties, and a quick tug, and she was naked.

"Bastards!" Leah snarled again, and then yelped as I pressed the agoniser button once more. She slumped in her bonds for a moment, then recovered her feet and just stared wordlessly ahead of her, avoiding my eyes. I realised that she was quite embarrassed.

She had nothing to be ashamed of, though. Her body was quite superb. Beautifully toned, her muscles rippled delightfully under her taut skin. Her stomach was flat, which is actually not that common in a girl, and her boobs were firm and high, not too large but that's the way I like them. She had an untrimmed triangle of light brown pubic hair nestling between her tightly pressed thighs. Her legs were very shapely, as I had already seen in the shorts. She was clearly a very sporty girl, as I already knew.

"What do you think, Bubble Butt?" I asked Slave Ellie.

"She's very pretty, master," Ellie replied in that lovely, slightly upper class voice of hers. "She looks very fit and strong, too," she added. She knew I liked fit girls. She was no slouch in that department herself, but Leah was singularly impressive.

Leah said nothing, but her face burned with shame.

"A worthwhile addition to the household, do you think?" I asked Ellie.

"Yes, master," she agreed.

"Talking of the household," I went on conversationally, "tell me: which of the men in the household do you like going with the least?"

Ellie didn't need to think. "The cook, master."

I thought as much, but nevertheless I said casually, "the cook? Really?"

"Yes master," she replied with feeling. "He's vile."

I waited. A little hush descended. Then Ellie said quietly, "I shouldn't have used that word."

"A little impolite," I agreed.

"Sorry, master." She sounded genuinely contrite, and perhaps she was, but she knew she wasn't going to get away with it.

"Are your pegs handy?"

She had prepared a poker face. "I'll get them, master." She hurried away and returned moments later with two clothes pegs, which she handed me. Then she faced me, knowing what was coming. I grasped her right boob firmly with one hand, opened the peg with the other and attached it to her nipple. She controlled her reaction well; just a slight gasp. I grasped the left boob and attached the other peg there; again I was rewarded by a slight gasp. The pegs were tight ones, and her nipples, as I knew well, were particularly sensitive.

"Th-thank you, master." It was a required response.

I glanced at my watch. "It's three o'clock in the afternoon," I observed. "Shall we say ninety minutes?"

Ellie again controlled her expression: her previous longest time with the pegs had been an hour. "Yes, master, thank you master," she intoned. Already I could see the wooden pegs digging into her sensitive nips; they stuck out almost proudly from her bare chest.

"Now, where were we?" I mused aloud. "Oh yes, you were saying that the cook is, well, not your favourite sexual partner, shall we say?"

"Yes, master," said Ellie. She knew what was coming.

"Go and find him and screw him," I instructed her. "When you've finished, you can come back here and tell your new colleague all about it."

"Yes, master," she said, her face again impassive, but I had detected the slightest grimace at the corner of her lovely mouth when I had given the order. She turned and hurried off. I watched the bruised bubble butt as she departed, then turned my attention back to Leah.

"Gag her," I ordered. Bill and Ben moved forward quickly, so that the girl had barely time to start protesting before one of them, by the simple expedient of pinching her nose, made her open her mouth, whereupon the other pushed a ball gag in, expertly avoiding any possibility of her biting him. They secured the ball gag and stepped back. A completely incomprehensible "mmmmmggffff" came from behind the gag. It was a large ball; no doubt her jaw muscles would soon be aching.

It was time for me to check over my new toy. My hands roved everywhere, with no consideration for her feelings or privacy, and of course ignoring the almost constant muffled protests from behind the gag, though occasionally I gave her a touch of the agoniser to quieten her down. She was all that I could have possibly expected and more. Her flesh was beautifully smooth, firm but not hard, with the vibrancy and energy of youth and impressive physical fitness, and currently infused with her outrage and anger at my groping of her nude body. I could almost feel the humiliation and anger seething inside her, but there was no fear. What a magnificent specimen she was! Tamed and trained, she would make a wonderful slave, and taming and training her was going to be a wonderful challenge for me. But that was for later. Right now I enjoyed the perfect contours of her body, the sleek musculature, the high, firm breasts, the perky and excellently shaped bottom, the flat, pulsing stomach, the lithe thighs. Her face, too, even distorted by the gag and her fury, was extremely pretty. I spent a good ten minutes exploring her, including finding out that she was not a virgin, before leaving her chained to the wall and departing, my faithful entourage in tow.