Chapter Four-1

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Chapter Four From the moment she had tried to dissuade Arabella from submitting to Razak, Belinda had had to watch her friend’s enslavement and s****l torment at his hands without being able to interfere in any way. With a warrior’s hard brawny arm pinning hers, the blonde could only watch in growing horror as Razak had lured Arabella into declaring herself to be his slave and then reneged on his promise not to chain and collar her. The sustained intensity of the arousal to which Arabella was then subjected, the absolute, whip-enforced obedience demanded of her, and the shattering orgasm she had been forced to endure, set Belinda trembling in fear because she remembered all too well her own frenzied responses when Razak and his men aroused her and took her and knew that, if she were to be treated in the same way as her friend, then she, too, would be just as incapable of resisting the men’s demands. Only when Arabella was dragged to the wagon and chained by her side did Belinda’s captor released his iron grip on her, only to thrust a gag deep between her jaws, snake his arms around her, and cup her full breasts in his palms, fingers rolling and tweaking her prominent n*****s. She gasped, wriggling vainly as arousal shot through her breasts, but could not evade his touch; and, as she tried and failed, a hot fire of need ignited in her belly as she had to face the fact that it was shamefully exciting…and even pleasurable...to be quite unable to control what was done to her. Bound as she was, she told herself, she could do nothing to prevent the man caressing and toying with her body. If she couldn’t stop him, then what happened could not be her fault. With the gag between her jaws, she had no way to reason with him, and she certainly couldn’t fight him. Not even if her arms and legs had been free…which they weren’t. Absolved, in her own mind, of any guilt, Belinda gave in to the delicious sensations rippling through her body, and her struggles changed to a sensual swaying against the man’s muscular chest as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to surrender to his erotic domination. “The white b***h seems to like your touch, Amal. Perhaps you should permit her to kneel and beg to be a slave like her friend.” Belinda’s eyes jerked open, and she stared wildly into the hard face of Razak, her gagged cheeks flushing a vivid scarlet as the slaver Prince gazed at the full globes of her breasts and the engorged knobs of her rigid n*****s. “Not me, my Prince,” Amal replied cheerfully, “I prefer a slave to be fully trained in the arts of pleasuring a man before she kneels at my feet. This one is quite responsive for a white woman, but why should I waste time and effort on her when fully trained slaves are plentiful and cheap? And who can know whether she might not turn out to be cold and frigid even after she is trained?” Razak gave a mirthless laugh then bent forward to stare deep into Belinda’s frightened eyes. And, for a long moment, the blonde tried to meet his gaze, then she gave a low moan, and her eyes slid away from his face. He nodded slowly. “As you say, Amal,” he agreed calmly. “Trained slaves are cheap and easy to find. But I do not think this one will be cold or frigid when she is trained, and I am quite confident that she will repay the time and effort spent in training her a thousand times over, my friend. And even if she does not, even a frigid white woman will still bring us a good price as a trophy to serve in the chains of a rich merchant.” Amal chuckled softly. “I wish you luck, my Prince,” he said. As he spoke, his fingers gave a cunning tweak to each of Belinda’s stiffened buds. A stifled yelp of impassioned anguish leaked past her gag, and her body quivered in helpless need as a jolt of pained pleasure shot through her breasts. Razak watched her instinctive response then gave a cruel smile. “Take her to my tent,” he ordered. “Bind her in the whipping frame, blindfold her, and leave her there. I shall begin her training after I have dealt with her friend.” Shamed by her submission to Amal’s skilful touch and appalled by the casual way in which the two men discussed her body and its potential for their profit, Belinda shrieked in terror as the muscular warrior unlocked her ankle cuffs and the chain tethering her to the wagon and dragged her through the camp to the large tent where she was to be bound into the whipping frame to await Razak’s pleasure. When her muffled screams faded, Razak turned to the chained brunette kneeling at his feet. Forbidden to speak and horribly conscious that the smallest disobedience on her part would be instantly and ruthlessly punished, Arabella trembled in fear, not daring to lift her head to look up at the man whose slave she had become. The memory of his hands and whip on her body, arousing her and forcing her to climax to his will, sent a confusing mixture of humiliation and excitement through her belly; and, before she could come to terms with her conflicting feelings, she heard hurrying footsteps and Ranee’s voice. “Your knife, my Master, and this is the switch you ordered me to cut.” The switch whistled through the air as Razak tested its suitability then slashed down across Arabella’s naked buttocks. The smooth, thin sapling etched a red line of scorching heat into her flesh. She screamed in pain as she was struck but was ignored. Her slaver said, “Yes, Ranee, that will do very well. This slave has already submitted to me of her own free will, so you may whip her as often as you wish while you are teaching her her duties. Here is the key to her padlock. Train her well, slave, or you will answer to me for her failures.” He walked away without another word. Immediately, Razak left her alone with the Indian slave. Arabella saw her chance to escape and stole a glance around, her spirits rising as she saw that the compound was deserted. She twisted her neck to look up at the girl and spoke in low, urgent tones. “Quickly, Ranee,” she ordered, “untie me. Don’t just stand there, girl. Get this chain off my neck at once.” Ranee gazed down at the kneeling brunette then raised the switch in her hand and sent it slashing across Arabella’s rounded bottom, applying several hard cuts as the brunette squealed and writhed in vain efforts to avoid the stinging lashes, her eyes wide with shock and pain as the younger woman beat her. “Aaahh. No, stop, oh please, stop. Owww. Ooohh.” Ranee laughed softly. “Why should I?” she asked cruelly. “You have submitted as a slave, and your Master has ordered me to train you as I was trained by him. He whipped me, so why should I not whip you?” Arabella whimpered to the heat of her reddened bottom and shook her head in denial and confusion. “But…But I am British,” she protested. “A Memsahib. You are only a native and a slave. You cannot do this to me. I…I forbid it.” The switch hissed down again and then again and, as the helpless brunette screamed, Ranee’s eyes glittered angrily. “You are nothing,” she snapped. “A slave, like me, and you will be whipped as often as I wish. There are no British Memsahibs here, only slaves, and there are no soldiers in red coats to help you. You will be trained to serve men as a slave, you white b***h, and I hope they will whip you often and make you pleasure them just like any cheap w***e in the streets of . Now, be silent, or I will call a warrior to whip you.” Arabella shuddered and clamped her lips together, terrified by the girl’s cruelty and her threat to call a warrior, understanding that a whipping administered by a man would be far more painful that anything Ranee could do to her. “Good. You begin to obey like a slave,” the girl sneered. “Now you will learn to present your body as a slave.” She unlocked the padlock securing Arabella to the wagon. “Kneel up straight, slave. Head up and pull your shoulders back. Spread your knees. Wider. Shoulders back, you bitch.” The switch seared across the brunette’s rounded belly then bit at her flanks as she bent forward, instinctively, to protect herself. She sobbed as her merciless tutor and the stinging switch enforced an obedience she did not want to give. Not that her wishes made the slightest difference, for Ranee forced her to display her body again and again; and, as Arabella obeyed, she learned that her preconceived ideas that no mere native girl could ever make an English Memsahib do anything against her will, were disastrously wrong. Chains and a whip made for an irresistible argument. As the brunette struggled to satisfy the ruthless Indian slave, her safe, ordered world of comfort and security evaporated like the sweat that rolled down her naked breasts and belly. “Forehead on the ground, slave, and keep your knees spread. Raise your bottom. Higher. Now do not move unless you want to be whipped.” Helpless in the pose and totally vulnerable, Arabella shuddered as Ranee chuckled that this was a favourite with many of the warriors. In it, a slave was shamefully offered, her buttocks displayed for a whipping, her s*x held open for the Master’s pleasure, and her breasts perfectly placed for his fingers. Despite herself, Arabella felt her n*****s stiffen and her s*x moisten as she imagined a warrior taking advantage of her defencelessness. She could not stop the rapid growth of a shameful excitement that swirled in her belly to the idea of being made to submit and serve a strong Master in such a way. With her arms bound behind her back, a man need only keep her head pressed down into the dust to hold her in place, and she would be totally unable to rise from her knees or resist the plundering of her belly. There would be nothing she could do to save herself, and her arousal burned as hot as her face as she responded humiliatingly to the vision her brain conjured up. How easily she could be made to submit became horrifyingly clear as Ranee knelt behind her and slapped her upraised buttocks with the switch. “Do not make a sound or try to close your legs, slave,” she warned. “You know how to present your body to a Master, and now you will learn how to respond to one.” Arabella tensed, as if to resist, but the switch found her buttocks again, not hard enough to hurt, but carrying an unmistakable message. Gulping in fearful excitement, the brunette took a deep breath and surrendered to the inevitable, forcing her muscles to relax, and trying to persuade herself that she did not want to be aroused and made to respond to the girl, but that she had no choice. It was not a very convincing attempt, for every inch of her skin tingled with delicious anticipation; and, although she knew she should be strong and should resist, no matter how painful it might be, Arabella felt a shameful thrill at the thought of submitting to Ranee. Slowly, the girl slid her fingers up the soft curve of Arabella’s inner thigh, her touch bringing a gasp from the brunette as ripples of arousal spread upwards into her belly to ignite a slow fire of desire in her. Patiently, and without hurry, Ranee stoked the flame of her captive’s need, her fingers approaching, but never quite reaching, the delicate and exquisitely sensitive folds of Arabella’s labia, tormenting the hapless brunette until she moaned in frustration and her buttocks weaved lasciviously from side to side, her need far outweighing any lingering shame she felt. Desperate to be given the climax she could feel rising ever upwards in her belly and acutely conscious of the switch which still threatened her, Arabella nibbled at her lower lip, fighting not to break her silence and plead to be made to come as Ranee’s fingers rose higher, stroking with feather-light caresses at the slick, engorged lips of her s*x, each touch sending a jolt of white-hot lust spearing into her quaking belly and reinforcing her helpless submission to the Indian girl. Trained in the arts of love by Masters who demanded complete surrender from their slaves, Ranee knew exactly how to impose her will on Arabella and drove her into a frenzy of s****l desire. The blonde’s body trembled with unsatisfied passion and her s*x wet with the juices of her enforced arousal as she was made to respond far more deeply than ever before. Gasping and whimpering to the inferno raging through her body, Arabella hurtled into a climax of stupendous power as Ranee sent her slim fingers burrowing into her s*x, massive contractions releasing towering floods of juices to churn and boil and seethe through her convulsing belly as she screamed in the humiliating ecstasy of unconditional submission. Never in her whole life, not even in her husband’s bed, had Arabella ever dreamed of such intense pleasure and, as her body melted into a whirlpool of soaring rapture, her brain reeled to the shocking knowledge that she had surrendered as a slave. Not as a wife, or even as a lover, but as a collared, chained slave. To a woman who was a slave herself. She dared not even think about what would say if he ever discovered her disgrace. Luckily, perhaps, she was given little time to dwell on that nightmare scene, for as her spasms eased, Ranee ordered her back to her knees, following the order with a sharp lash of the switch across her bottom, and her training continued as if nothing had happened. Struggling to satisfy her demanding teacher and the even more demanding whip in her hand, Arabella was, by turns, angry and resentful and ashamed; but, as she was forced to obey and display her body as Ranee commanded, her feelings slowly turned to a frightening realisation of just how defenceless and vulnerable she truly was. Ranee was only a young girl, yet she dominated and punished and forced Arabella to submit with consummate ease. Razak and his men were far stronger and infinitely more ruthless; and, as she faced the dreadful prospect of having to please them, the brunette fought to control her panic. Some of them had already taken her, and one had whipped her without mercy when she had tried to resist him….and that had been before she knelt before Razak and submitted herself as his slave. How much more would be demanded of her now? Even as her brain framed the question, Arabella realised that she already knew the answer. Anything….and everything. Kneeling in the dust under a hot Indian sun, in chains and learning how to display her body for the pleasure of dominant men, Arabella shuddered as a glow of arousal warmed her belly. Until she was ransomed, she must obey her Masters and knew she would be cruelly punished if she was not fully pleasing. She had no choice, for now, she was a slave.
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