Trapped: Part Ii free porn video

Trapped: Part ii By Simon Mason I had spent two hours as the unwilling and utterly humiliated prisoner of my stepsister Melanie and her university friends. In no small way I had been the author of my own misfortune. My imprisonment would not have been effected so easily, indeed it likely would not have been effected at all, had I not succumbed to the lure of Melanie's wardrobe and been discovered "amusing myself" in her bedroom whilst dressed in her lingerie, her old school uniform, and a pair of long silk opera gloves. Melanie and her friends had swiftly overpowered me, pinioned me and bound me. I had been forced to thank them for my imprisonment and maltreatment before being left en travestie, still tightly trussed with an assortment of dressing gown cords, washing line, and lengths of rope. I had little hope of rescue. Melanie's sadistic Amazon friend Christine had gagged me securely with a pair of knickers and a knotted scarf. Prolonged gnawing and wriggling had not loosened the silencing silk one jot. Melanie had considerately left her ghetto blaster tuned loudly to a local station that I detested so that if my father or stepmother were to return from their respective employments early they would not be able to hear my muffled pleas for rescue. Finally Melanie had padlocked her bedroom door before departing. A prisoner I was, and a prisoner I would remain, until Melanie chose to release me. Made wretched by my ordeal, and fearful of future humiliations to come, tears of hot, salty, frustration began to course down my face. Eventually I stopped crying and lay miserable, but yielding upon the bedroom floor. Someone later asked what do you do in BDSM? The point is if you are a slave in bondage you actually do nothing. You merely wait and endure. After what seemed an eternity but was only an hour and a half in Radio Fun FM time I heard the front door chains rattle as it was opened. I listened intently. Multiple voices and lots of noise. That meant that Melanie and her chums had returned. I waited eagerly for their arrival but for a long time all I could hear was the occasional burst of laughter audible above the prattle of the radio. Finally there was the clatter of footsteps on the stairs. I heard a scrabble at the padlock before the door swung open. Melanie smiled triumphantly when she saw that I was still as effectively trussed as when she had left me two hours previously. "See!" exclaimed Nadine, Melanie's tall black accomplice with the affinity for bondage and a yen for oral worship. "When I tie a sissy white boy he stays tied!" "He hasn't made much progress removing my gag either," remarked Christine with an air of satisfaction. "That's 'cos he likes the taste of Melanie's knickers so much," sneered Vanessa, an Essex girl with strappy sandals and a little black dress. The other girls laughed appreciatively. "His makeup's run," sighed Emily, a pretty blonde who had spent considerable pains in feminising my masculine features before Christine had applied the gag. She began rummaging in her bag for her repair tools. "Later, Emily," instructed Melanie. "I want to tell my darling brother just what wonderful arrangements have been made for his benefit." She lit a cigarette and took a deep drag before exhaling a slow stream of smoke through which she regarded me coolly. "Simon - you are a lazy, arrogant, chauvinist pig. You expect to be waited upon and indulged like some feudal lord and praised for your minimal achievements as if you had produced manna from heaven. Not only are you a horrific intellectual snob but you also regard women as a second class species, fit only to fawn upon your limited wit and less than impressive physique. You are insensitive, callous, and unforgiving of any fault but your own, to which you are utterly blind. You receive great kindnesses without any concept of the efforts other people make on your behalf but give nothing in return. Today that changes forever." Melanie drew deeply upon her cigarette. I remained silent. Obviously. However even if it had not been for the gag I doubt whether I could have made any reply. I was shocked at the depth of her anger. In all our years of sibling rivalry I had always attributed Melanie's malice to the simple fact that she was a class A bitch. She was always in trouble at school, invariably rowed with her Mum (my father rather diplomatically kept a low profile during these engagements), and I regarded our war of attrition as a simple extension of that ongoing campaign "Melanie versus The World". To discover that she, as the elder sibling, resented my status was profoundly unsettling. It was later that I discovered just how much most women have to give for a meagre return. Most women, even today, meekly accepted their lot. Melanie fought the entire system. And occasionally won. She held out a sheet of A4 paper before my eyes. "Read this," she commanded. My eyes widened in horror as they deciphered the words. Wanted for Crimes Against Humanity Simon Mason (Sissy Boy) Below are photographs of the notorious pervy creature Simon Mason, taken after his capture by the elite feminist unit "Fox Force Four". If seen at liberty, away from the custody of his keepers, members of the public should be aware that he poses no danger of any sort to their safety. This is because he is an effeminate cross dresser whose main goal in life is to sneak into his sister's bedroom so that he can prance around in her knickers and school uniform. Simone, as we now call it, is however a profound embarrassment to the human race and accordingly if seen in public should be captured and restrained until professional assistance can be summoned on the following number. There then followed Melanie's mobile number. Despite complaints about the poor quality of the family's computer's scanner the colour photos of the girls posing around my bound and uniformed body had been accurately and recognisably reproduced. The two photos had been carefully selected to exclude Melanie and to include the shot showing my betraying erection. Melanie smiled contentedly. The implication was clear. Obey Melanie and keep her happy. Or be forced to flee beyond the reach of modern communications and civilised society. Which left the moon. Or Scunthorpe. "I presume that I do not have to state the obvious," hissed Melanie emphatically. My head shook subserviently. "And that you know that if you fail to obey me without question that you will be punished." I nodded. "So if I am merciful enough to remove your gag you will behave like a civilised and grateful human being instead of a whinging and whining toad." I nodded eagerly. "Just be aware little brother that this notice is stored on an encrypted file on the computer. It would take me less than three minutes to post it on more than a dozen bulletin boards." My head hung in defeat. Melanie waited until she was assured of my submission before she reached around behind my head and untied the silencing scarf. Gently she pulled the knot from between my lips before removing the now sodden knickers from my mouth. I wriggled my jaw experimentally and gently moistened my sore lips. Melanie waited before me expectantly, her implements of punishment and restraint still to hand. "Thank you Mistress Melanie," I intoned. Melanie held up a glass of clear liquid. "Here - drink," she commanded. I drank deeply, too dehydrated from my ordeal to suspect the contents of the glass. Fortunately only water was present. Melanie stood up. "Mistress Emily and Mistress Nadine will prepare you for the ceremony," she informed me. I was too exhausted and miserable to complain or question. Instead I lay docilely as Nadine carefully unravelled the spider's web of cords and ropes that had so effectively confined me. The release of the strict hog tie allowed me to stretch my aching muscles. Nadine untied all the cords around my legs whilst leaving my upper body securely bound. She replaced them with a pair of leather cuffs that she padlocked around my ankles. Next she removed the ropes that held my arms until only my wrists remained tied. "Help me Christine," she called. She and Christine forcibly hauled me to my feet. They were strong girls otherwise I would have surely tumbled as my legs quivered weakly, unable at first to bear my weight. Admittedly Melanie's high heels that I had forcibly strapped on my larger feet did not assist. Emily fastened Melanie's collar around my neck and attached a lead. "Come on. Walkies," she giggled. Melanie passed her crop to Nadine. "Beat him if he misbehaves," she instructed. Nadine swished the crop experimentally. She then slapped the crop across my bum. "Oww," I yelped, skipping forward. "You're such a wuss," sighed Nadine. Nadine and Emily escorted me to the bathroom. I flopped despairingly onto the toilet. Emily immediately commenced work in cleansing and retouching my makeup. "You look miserable," she commented as she dabbed blusher onto my cheeks. I tried to smile at her, conscious of the penalties that unsanctioned morbidity would attract, but it was a weak effort. "What is it that you're so upset about?" she enquired. "Well, other than being beaten up, trussed like a chicken, and utterly humiliated the prospect of spending my entire life in thraldom to my darling sociopathic sister Melanie is a depressing concept," I complained, grievance briefly outweighing self preservation. "Melanie's a sweetheart," smiled Emily, happily retouching my lips with a liner. "Wonderful," I grunted. "Let her blackmail you for the rest of your life then." "Simon," Emily said sternly. "What were you doing when we found you?" I shrugged sullenly. Emily took the crop from Nadine and rapped it smartly across my thighs causing me to jump. "Stop feeling so sorry for yourself," she chided. "I was wearing Melanie's clothes," I mumbled. "And what else?" she continued. I shrugged. She prodded my groin with the tip of the crop. "What was this doing?" "Hard," I whispered. "Hard," she repeated. "The truth is that this gets you hot, doesn't it." "The clothes... feel nice," I conceded resentfully. "And being tied up... that feels nice too," Emily persisted. "No," I refuted. "So you've never fantasised about being tightly tied up in that lovely silky lingerie?" demanded Emily sceptically. I blushed. "Fantasies aren't reality," I countered. "So being tied up was sooo bad then?" "You laughed at me. You left me alone for more than two hours. The gag really hurt," I whined. "Ohhhh, poor baby," sympathised Emily, perching herself on the edge of my lap. One hand stroked my cheek whilst the other furtively reached under my skirt. "Was it such a dreadful ordeal?" Stunned by this development I nodded dumbly as Emily's hand tunnelled between my thighs to my nylon encased manhood. Deftly she slipped her hand inside the panties and slid my penis free. She then began to stroke its velvet foreskin, bringing instant rejuvenation to its shrivelled pride. "So you would hope that you would never have to suffer such a horrible experience ever again?" I shook my head wearily, the old soldier enervated by the horrors of war. Promptly Emily replaced my penis back in its nylon cache before standing. "Well I'd better stop then," she announced. Nadine grinned. I began to bluster before I recognised it was pointless. I had been proved to be a fickle tart, rather than a victim worthy of sympathy. Vanessa entered the bathroom with an armful of white garments. "Melanie wants 'im to wear these." "Isn't white just for virgins?" enquired Nadine. Vanessa smiled maliciously. "Melanie says that these are entirely appropriate." I blushed, appropriately, a beetroot red. Nadine merely snorted but Emily regarded me with fresh interest. Vanessa began whispering instructions to an occasionally chuckling Nadine whilst regarding me slyly. She then left. Nadine turned to me and flicked her crop in my direction. "Stand up sissy boy," she commanded. I struggled to my feet. Nadine crouched down and unfastened the leather cuffs at my ankles. She then removed my shoes before reaching under my skirt. Perfunctorily she removed my skirt, knickers, stockings, and shoes. Roughly she replaced them with a pair of white satin panties with frills. She raised her eyebrows disapprovingly when she realised that my erection was still evident. "We'll have to get rid of this," she remarked. My eyes must have widened in horror because she flourished a panty girdle. "Don't worry, it won't be permanent." She pulled on the girdle, straining to pull the elasticised fabric over the swell of my buttocks and my erection, which was flattened firmly against my stomach. She then unfastened the blouse so that she could manoeuvre a white corset into place. Notably where the rear lacing should have been was a thin chain, which Nadine and Emily nevertheless proceeded to yank as tightly as possible. "You're crushing me," I complained. "Welcome to being a woman," muttered Nadine bitterly. "Yeah, just be grateful you don't have periods," agreed Emily. Nadine finally strained the chain as tightly as she could manage before Emily locked it into place with a small padlock. "We'll have to untie you completely now but if you misbehave we'll tell Melanie," warned Nadine. "And then you'll be in trouble," chimed in Emily. I nodded subserviently. Disobedience was the last thing on my mind. Nadine released both my ankles and my wrists from their bonds and I stretched and rubbed my cramped limbs gratefully. "Sit down on this," commanded Nadine, gesturing to a backless stool. I slumped onto the seat. "Sit up straight," she snapped. "Your posture is awful!" I straightened up as best I could. "You'll have to sort yourself out if you're going to be any value as a slave," Nadine informed me. "Good deportment is essential." I was curious as to the significance of this remark but decided that my best hope for salvation lay in mute obedience. Nadine stripped off my upper garments, blouse, tie, bra, boater and wig whilst Emily began enthusiastically buffing my toenails and painting them a livid shade of red. Then Nadine began to re- clothe me, first fastening a white lacy bra around my chest, again using balled scarves and panties to fashion what nature had not. Meanwhile Emily darted about fixing glittered false nails to my fingers. They made me stand up whilst they dropped a full-length silver satin slip over my shoulders. Over this they placed a full white silk ball gown with a puffed taffeta skirt and sleeves and a lacy frontage. Whilst Nadine added a suspender belt and white lacy stockings to my ensemble, my toe nails having dried, Emily replaced the wig and began styling it to her satisfaction. Next Nadine strapped a pair of white strappy shoes with uncomfortably high, narrow heels, locking them into place with tiny padlocks. "White stilettos?" I queried. "I know, but they work with this outfit," acknowledged Emily. Nadine placed my hands into ivory elbow length gloves before retrieving a length of rope from the floor. "Put your hands loosely together in front of you, wrists and palms together," she commanded. "Look, I'm co-operating," I protested. "Is this strictly necessary?" "Yes!" chorused Nadine and Emily. Nadine efficiently and effectively bound my wrists with the white cord making me a physical as well as a psychological prisoner once more. She also replaced the leather leg cuffs. "Gag or no gag?" Emily asked Nadine. "Melanie says gag," replied Nadine. "She's a traditionalist." "Don't struggle," chided Emily as she retrieved two scarves from the heaped pile of clothing and restraints that Vanessa had brought to the room. "I'll get so angry if you mess up your makeup after I've spent all that time on it." "No, Mistress Emily," I apologised. "Open wide," she instructed brightly, scrunching the scarlet scarf in her fist. I obeyed, nerving myself for the bland taste of the silken square. "Tongue out of the way. Say 'ahhhh'," Emily commanded. "Ahhh," I obeyed as she carefully pushed the scarf into my mouth. I must have started to involuntarily bite down upon the intruding mass because Emily scolded "No. No. Keep the mouth open. Keep saying ahhh." "Ahhh," I complied, distinctly muffled. Emily fashioned the white scarf into a broad band with a large knot at its centre. She forced the knot between my teeth before stepping behind me. "Keep that mouth nice and wide now so I can do this properly," she commanded, slowly but firmly tightening the gag until the original scarlet scarf was firmly compressed deep in my mouth. The gag tightly knotted in place, Nadine and Emily stepped back to survey their handiwork. "She looks wonderful," remarked Emily, wiping a tear from her eye. "Just the finishing touch now," agreed Nadine. She produced what appeared to be a homemade white veil; fashioned from a piece of net curtain fabric and a metal ring clipped from a clothes hanger, and placed it on my head. "Perfect," she reported. Emily glanced at her watch. "We'd better hurry and change." "Just a second," Nadine interjected. "Let's make sure our little slave does not mess up her make-up by struggling excessively while we're gone." She studied the layout of the room carefully for a moment. "Got it." She made me stand and moved the stool next to the wall mounted towel rail. "Sit," she commanded, manoeuvring me back onto the stool. Capably she looped a rope around my bound wrists and then tied the rope securely around my legs above the knees, firmly securing my hands into my lap. Then she took a large padlock and after she'd wrestled me into her desired position clicked it into place. When I tried to move a tug at my neck revealed that Nadine had used the padlock to secure the D-ring at the rear of my collar to the towel rail. Not only was I tightly bound but Nadine had contrived to restrain me as a parody of Victorian respectability - the blushing virgin in white, knees chastely pressed together, hands demurely laid across my lap. Furthermore I was unlikely to utter any intemperate opinion. Nice girls were seen and not heard. The girls gathered the remaining scattered clothing and bonds, smiled at me with self-satisfaction, and were gone. I struggled half heartedly and briefly with my bonds but was too worried about the consequences of ripping the towel rail from the wall to mount a determined attempt at escape. A brief exploration revealed that Emily was no less adept at gagging deviant males than her friend Nadine. Once more I was helplessly bound, cruelly gagged, and left abandoned. In the circumstances however I would forgo the rescue by a valiant prince. I was actually alone for a very short time. Christine entered the room dressed in an attractive low cut trouser suit. In one hand she held a short riding crop. The other hand held a video camera, which she focussed upon me. "Here in the bathroom of 98 Acacia Avenue we find Sissy Simone, exquisitely prepared for the Ceremony of Acquisition by Mistresses Nadine and Emily," she commented for the benefit of the tape. "Note the perfect co-ordination of silky lingerie and firm restraint to keep the sissy aroused but chaste. But does the pervy creature appreciate the loving care that has been expended in its creation? Let's ask it." Christine crouched down in front of me. "So Sissy Simone are you grateful for the privilege of being given the opportunity to spend your life in devoted service to the greater sex?" I stared at her mutely. "Sissy Simone doesn't realise that she must answer any questions from a Mistress promptly and accurately," recorded Christine. "So I shall attempt to teach her." She used the riding crop to give a short but effective lash across the side of each of my thighs. My gag efficiently dampened my cry of frustration and pain. "So, are you thankful for the wonderful opportunity you are being given?" she demanded. "Yes! Yes!" my throat cried. But only a muffled mewling issued beyond the knotted scarf. "I can't hear you," chided Christine. "You'll have to speak more clearly." She emphasised her point by cropping my hamstrings. The D-ring rattled against the towel rail as I thrashed helplessly in my bonds. "Last chance sissy boy," she warned, brandishing the crop. "Don't you adore being the helpless panty slave for superior women?" I nodded vigorously and made pleading noises through my gag. Christine cocked her head to one side and listened sympathetically. "I think I can hear you. Can I? Can I... No!" She brandished the crop threateningly. I squealed in fear and shook my head desperately. Christine raised the crop high above her head in preparation for what would be an excruciatingly painful strike. I screwed up my eyes and braced myself for the anticipated blow. When it did not land I cautiously opened one eye to see Christine grinning malevolently at me. "I wonder if Sissy Simone is trying to tell me something," she mused. I made pathetic begging noises through the gag. "I wonder if lifting Sissy Simone's pretty veil would help?" she asked rhetorically. Using the loop on the crop to dangle it from her wrist she used that hand to lift the veil so she could maintain uninterrupted coverage with the camera. "Look! Sissy Simone has been gagged. That looks like a good gag Sissy Simone. Did Mistress Emily do that for you?" I nodded. "I bet even if I beat you very hard indeed no-one would hear you cry with a good gag like that would they?" pondered Christine, flourishing the crop menacingly once more. I shook my head emphatically, seeking to avoid the need for confirmation by experiment. "Did Mistress Emily gag you with her knickers?" queried Christine. "Did she peel her wonderful silky knickers off in front of you and push them into your mouth, still damp and warm from her juices?" My head shook gently. "You'd have liked that though wouldn't you? You'd have liked it if sexy Mistress Emily had pushed her knickers into your mouth. Because you like the taste of girly knickers don't you Sissy Simone?" I nodded affirmatively. Though the confession was obtained under duress it was no less damning. "You've been looking at my breasts, haven't you Sissy Simone?" she teased, cupping and pushing them up to an even more arresting prospect. "Do you like my beautiful breasts Sissy Simone?" I again nodded in agreement. Christine may have been a sadistic, malicious bitch but her tits were undeniably magnificent. Christine slowly undid the jacket of her suit, revealing that beneath it only a bra shielded her voluptuous nakedness from my gaze. She provocatively licked the tip of her finger, slowly and deliberately, before inserting it in her bra. As her finger rubbed against what was clearly her nipple her eyes half closed and she moaned ecstatically. My erection strained painfully against its elasticised prison. "Ohhh. I'm so turned on," teased Christine. "You know what I'd let you do if you were a real man sissy Simone. I'd let you fuck me here and now on the bathroom floor. You could plunge that erection of yours deep into my cunt and pump me hard until you exploded your come deep inside me. I'd let you lick and bite my nipples, I'd suck your cock and swallow your thick semen, I'm so horny I'd even let you fuck me in the ass if you wanted. But you're just a sissy Simone, tied up and abused by a bunch of girlies, and that means although I'll let you look I won't let you touch - not ever. So tonight when I'm still feeling hot and you're still here kissing Melanie's ass to stop her from telling the world your pervy secret I'm going to go to a bar in the city centre, I'm going to pick up the youngest, hottest, stud, and then I'm going to take him back to my place and I'm going to fuck him dry. I do it all Simone. Every trick in the book. But you're not going to get any of it." During her taunts her free hand had drifted from her nipple to under the waistband of her trousers and I could see the fabric bulge and contract rapidly as she frigged herself. Suddenly the door opened and Emily and Vanessa entered. Emily was dressed in a man's styled tuxedo that only served to emphasise her pert bosom, elfin features, and long blonde hair. Vanessa meanwhile was dressed in a leather dress, low cut on the breasts, cut high on the thighs, and coupled with thigh length leather boots. There was a deliberate resemblance to Xena although Vanessa was shorter and slighter than the wonderful Lucy Lawless. "What are you doing?" demanded Emily. Christine, momentarily and unusually flustered, snatched her hand back into view. "I was filming the slave before the ceremony," she blustered. "Well if the footage is shaky we'll know why," Emily snapped huffily. "You'd better go. Mel and Nads are ready." Christine almost scurried out of the bathroom. Emily made a few final adjustments to my ensemble. "Has she been mistreating you?" she asked gently. I nodded sombrely. "Good," she smiled naughtily, giving my imprisoned penis a swift squeeze. "That will keep this hard for later." She released my collar from the towel rail and untied the rope that bound my wrists to my knees. "Up." Once I had stood she looped the white rope around my waist and secured my bound wrists to it. Then she attached a chain lead to my collar. "When you walk remember to keep your steps small and lady like." The leg shackles and high heels will see to that I thought. "Ready," called Vanessa from the door, caressing a long leather flogger. From Melanie's room I could hear the swelling sound of classical strings. It took a few moments for me to recognise the opening bars to the Overture to the Marriage of Figaro. As Emily led me onto the landing Vanessa began flogging my back. She was far weaker than either Melanie or Christine but even so the repeated blows were uncomfortable. I stopped and made a plaintive noise but Emily was implacable. "Come on," she commanded, giving a tug on my lead. Our bizarre procession, Emily in her formal suit leading me in my white trousseau whilst Vanessa haphazardly but enthusiastically flogged me, entered Melanie's bedroom. Christine was already filming as we came in, recording the occasion for posterity. Melanie and Nadine had both dressed for the occasion. Nadine was stunning. From her neck to her feet she was clad in a skin-tight black PVC cat suit. Her feet were shod in black ankle boots and around her neck was a dramatically spiked collar. Her black- gloved hands held a sheaf of paper. Melanie's garb was more enigmatic. Most of her body was concealed beneath a full-length black leather coat. On her head she wore a wide brimmed hat and her eyes were concealed behind dark glasses. "Kneel," Emily instructed. As I kneeled Emily handed my lead to Melanie. Whilst Nadine turned down the music Emily and Vanessa seated themselves behind Melanie and me. Christine continued to prowl the room with the video camera. "Dearest friends," intoned Nadine. "We are gathered here today to bear witness to the entry into servitude of Simon, whose slave name shall be Simone, to our sister Melanie. Servitude is a honourable institution whereby the base male can be tutored to reject the degeneracies of his sex and can be granted enlightenment by his devotion and obedience to the deity woman. It may not be entered into lightly for the slave shall remain unto his Mistress until the reins of his life are solemnly passed to another who will bear the responsibility for his tutoring. What is hereby forged let no woman break asunder for it is heresy for woman to covet or convert that which is the rightful property of another woman. If any here present know of any impediment why this slave should not be covenanted to our sister Melanie let her speak now or forever hold her counsel." There was no reply. Melanie tightened the lead to discourage ill- mannered interruptions. "Do you promise to train, discipline, and punish this creature, keeping it in bondage and servitude to the use or pleasure of womankind?" "I do," promised Melanie. "Sister Melanie, do you take this creature to serve as your indentured slave until death or due ceremony do you part?" "I do," intoned Melanie. "I now pronounce you Mistress and slave," beamed Nadine. "You may place your personal collar upon your slave." Emily and Vanessa clapped and cheered as Melanie produced a leather choker bearing a medallion engraved with her name and used it to replace my existing collar. "Stand!" commanded Melanie. I struggled awkwardly to my feet. "Mistress Emily, please secure my slave in the punishment position." I grunted my objections but had little scope for resistance as Emily, eyes averted, dragged me towards Melanie's bed, Vanessa pushing me from behind. Whilst Vanessa chained my left ankle to the foot of the bed Emily heaped cushions and blankets in a mound before me. Vanessa unfastened the linking chain between my ankles and forced my legs wide before chaining my right ankle to the opposite leg of the bed. I squealed stifled indignation at the discomfort caused by the enforced stretch. Worse was to come. Emily unfastened the rope belt from around my waist and looped it around the iron headboard of Melanie's bed. As I struggled futilely she tightened the rope dragging my bound wrists towards the head of the bed until I toppled forward onto the mound of cushions and blankets in a very undignified fashion. Emily continued to hoist my arms forward until they were stretched out beyond my head and then secured the rope in place, knotted far beyond my fingers. The pile of cushions kept my buttocks vulnerably high and exposed whilst I had to crane my neck upwards to Melanie's mirror to see what was happening behind me. Melanie had removed her coat, hat, and glasses to reveal a black bustier, stockings, gloves and boots. She and her friends were celebrating my humiliation with champagne. A supermarket label naturally, they were students after all. "Dearest friends," announced Melanie, raising her glass. "You have witnessed my greatest triumph to date in the capture and complete subjugation of my darling detested step-brother. I wish to thank you all for your invaluable assistance in achieving this goal. As my loyal and faithful companions I wish you to share in the fruits of this victory. I pledge that once Simone has been trained to an acceptable level of obedience then I shall make her available for your service. More immediately I would like you to participate in the ceremonial punishing of the slave. I have laid out a selection of my instruments of chastisement. Please select an implement and then let the punishment commence." There was an excited murmuring and the demoralising whistle and crack of floggers, whips, and paddles being used to cut air and pummel furniture. Soon they would be turned upon me and mere helplessness was not enough to describe the futility of my situation. My chained legs, bound hands and gagged mouth could not be released save through the intervention of a third party and the girls appeared determined to prolong my captivity. Even once physically released psychologically I was now in utter thrall to Melanie, her potential for blackmail now capable of global multimedia coverage. "Pull up it's dress," commanded Melanie. "It was rather expensive and I don't want to get any blood stains on it." Christine and Nadine lifted my upper body by the arms, allowing Emily to pull the dress and slip over my head. My pitiful struggles and stifled pleas did not inhibit them as the silk dress and satin slip were dropped over my head and arms, effectively cocooning and blindfolding me. "As best man," Melanie controlled the ribald denials by adding, "Well there certainly wasn't any other contender, Emily, you should go first." "I choose my hands as my implements," decided Emily. "If you insist Sister Emily," Melanie demurred with a slightly sibilant hiss. Emily, or at least I presumed it was Emily, commenced by softly caressing my buttocks, gentling me as I shied away from each touch. "You're to punish her, not grope her," chided Melanie. Emily responded by commencing to slap my raised bottom. At first the blows were gentle and infrequent and my body glowed appreciatively under her ministrations. Steadily her speed and ferocity increased and I began to writhe with growing discomfort. As the blows reached their zenith, a rapid flurry of stinging slaps, I jerked uncontrollably in my bonds, and I moaned into my gag, tears pricking my eyes. I felt Emily collapse against me, her bosom rubbing against my buttocks as her hands once more caressed me. "Enough Emily," ordered Melanie. "If you are tired I am sure others will wish to take their turn." Emily groaned in apparent disappointment. "Your go Vanessa." Melanie was clearly relishing her commanding role. "I'll use the flogger," announced Vanessa. "I've already had some practice today." A sharp crack and a sting of pain heralded Vanessa's turn as she snapped the leather thongs across my already reddened arse. Her aim was not as accurate as Melanie's, nor was she as strong, but she persevered sufficiently to ensure that my flesh felt aflame and my body was racked by stifled sobs before she at last relented. In addition my undignified pose was also uncomfortable, my calves tight and complaining from the high heels, and my shackles were too unyielding to allow any effective alteration in posture. "Nadine, you go next," decided Melanie. "I'll use your riding crop," announced Nadine. This I had dreaded. As Nadine first stroked her crop across my sore behind I thrashed wildly in my bonds, screaming bitter indignation into my gag. Nadine coolly allowed myself to futilely exhaust myself before she commenced her punishment. After each blow the pain provoked me into a fresh spasm of resistance and each time Nadine would wait for the struggles to subside before striking again. She beat me until I was an exhausted, sobbing wreck, unable to do anything but submit. There was a respectful pause before Melanie prompted "Christine?" "I choose..." Christine paused dramatically. "The paddle." By this time I was unable to even feign defiance. The first blow from Christine was agony, a broad swathe of pain across my already tortured flesh. But the second took me beyond the realm of pain altogether. My entire body felt on fire, or more truly that my body was in fact flame. The heat cleansed but did not injure. I think that Christine must have stopped her onslaught some time before Nadine and Emily pulled back the dress and slip that had covered me. They were surprisingly tender. Emily released my bound hands from the headboard, although my hands themselves remained tied. Once Vanessa had unchained my legs Nadine drew me fully onto the bed and with slow, strong strokes massaged life back into their stiffened sinews. Emily softly stroked my face, cleaning away the paths of my tears with a handkerchief. Even Melanie regarded me differently, her hostility sated by my atonement by ordeal. I felt divorced from the world, in a place remote from its transitory desires. Melanie spoke, "We'd better let him come down in peace." Still with unexpected gentleness Nadine untied my wrists before manoeuvring them behind my back and firmly, but not maliciously, retying them. Vanessa roped my legs together in a similar fashion before leading the rope around my wrists in a loose hogtie and onwards to the headboard. They pulled the duvet from underneath me and used it to cover my bound body. Emily's tightly effective gag remained in place. After a few more gentle strokes to my face Emily and the other girls left me, softly shutting the door behind them. I shuffled into a more comfortable position and then dozed fitfully, the less severe restraints allowing me to relax. Melanie and her friends must have been relatively quiet because few, if any, sounds permeated the bedroom. I'm not sure how long I had been asleep when the door opened quietly. Emily slipped into the room and, with a quick dart over her shoulder, shut the door behind her. "Shh..." she ordered with a girlish giggle as she kicked off her shoes and slipped off her trousers. She clambered onto the bed and pulled down the duvet. "You make a ravishing virgin bride, Simone." she remarked with a lascivious grin. She pushed me over onto my back and sat astride me. "You've made me so hot. I'd have liked to spank you a lot longer." She reached under the slip and dress and commenced fondling me. "Is that okay? Can I do that?" she asked brightly. I nodded solemnly. "Your eyes are really cute you know, sometimes they look so soft and gentle and brown and then the light catches them and they have this green glitter to them. Dead sexy." She sat back upon her haunches, still astride me, and looked at me quizzically as if unsure what to do next. "Do you fancy me, Simon?" I nodded encouragingly. "Are you sure, you're not just saying that?" From my recumbent position I could see her small pert breasts, her soft luscious lips, her sparkling lively eyes, and her long blonde hair and I tried to convey through a shaking head and muffled grunts that I thought she was absolutely fantastic and that I would love to spend time with her even if I wasn't a trussed up prisoner with literally no say in the matter. "Are you really still a virgin?" she inquired in solemn concentration. I reddened but nodded. "And you'd like to lose your virginity with me, here, like this?" she asked, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. I tried to convey that although the situation may not have been ideal I would be only too happy to let her relieve me of my chastity. Although some eighteen year old girls may preserve their chastity as a valued blessing to be bestowed upon only their true loves most eighteen year old male virgins regard their virginity as an onerous burden to be discarded at the earliest opportunity. "Are you sure?" I thought for a moment. It was perhaps a more serious decision than I had realised. Then I saw the look of longing on Emily's face. I smiled as much as my gag would allow me to and nodded my assent. Emily began exploring once more beneath my slip. "This panty girdle is really tight. I'm not sure that I'll be able to get it off without untying your legs which I'd better not do." She forced her hand under the elasticised garment. "If you're big enough I might just be able to push the leg of the girdle up enough to release your cock." I shivered as her colder hand seized my hot and sweating manhood. "Ohhh, you are a big boy aren't you," Emily exclaimed delightedly. "EMILY!!" It was Melanie. She and the others had obviously been concerned by Emily's prolonged absence and had come to find her. Once again I had been undone by the lack of a creak from Melanie's bedroom door. "And what do you think you're doing?" In the circumstances I would have classed that as a rhetorical question. Emily at least had the grace to fidget and appear embarrassed. "I felt sorry for him," Emily explained weakly. "Sorry for him!!" Melanie exclaimed, her tone caught somewhere between that of a suburban headmistress and Lady Bracknell. "I think that you are in need of a little re-education my girl." Emily had got off the bed and was stood at my side head down and shame faced. "Take her downstairs," she instructed and Christine and Nadine obeyed, hustling her away like CID officers who had been working undercover at a brothel. Melanie turned her attention upon me. "And you needn't look so smug either!!" I protested my passivity through my gag but the tribunal was not well disposed towards me. She stalked out of the room, Vanessa trailing in her wake. The door slammed shut behind her in a distinctly hostile fashion. I renewed my struggles in a more frantic frame of mind. The sufferings of the innocent always affected me more when suffered personally. Unfortunately my large wrists and ankles and my enfeebled circumstances made even the looser bonds inescapable. I swiftly and futilely exhausted myself. At this point I was about to commence blubbering once more until I decided it was both unmerited and undignified. Instead I tried to conserve my energy for the ordeals to come. My wait was fraught but not exceptionally long. Melanie came back into the room, minus hat but with her coat and a domino mask in place. She had a disturbing resemblance to a feminist medieval executioner. "Hello Slave Simone," she purred. Bad news. She was happy. That meant that she had dreamed up some particularly sadistic ordeal to punish me. She waited expectantly. "Hello Mistress Melanie," I said which sounded like "Mmmmeerrrrrr Mmmmerrr Merrmererrma." It was enough to satisfy Melanie on that point. "So you have seduced my weak willed sister with your sluttish ways have you?" she demanded. I did not deny the allegation. "So do you desire Mistress Emily little brother?" she demanded. I nodded. It was the truth and seemed the least likely answer to lead to a flogging. "So I bet you would like to spend half an hour on your own with her in here wouldn't you?" Again I nodded. I would also have liked today to have been simply a bad dream but neither of those desires appeared likely to be fulfilled. "You know that if I let you have half an hour alone in here with Mistress Emily you will have to work exceptionally hard to repay my generosity." My head jack-hammered up and down. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Melanie already owned my ass body and soul. This was something for nothing. And what a something! "So do we have a deal?" Melanie whispered. "For some obscure reason Emily seems to have an irrational obsession with your pasty flesh." Again I frantically semaphored my assent. "Bring in Emily," she commanded. Flanked by Christine and Nadine, Emily entered the room. Her trousers that she had discarded in Melanie's room had not been replaced. In addition her other clothes had been removed so she stood before me, her body naked save for her heels, panties, and bra. Ah. And also the ropes tying her hands behind her back, the leather cuffs at her ankles, and the blindfold over eyes. Christine and Nadine lowered her to the floor at the foot of the bed and tied a loose rope hog tie from her ankles to her wrists. "Have fun," Melanie chuckled as she and the others departed, closing the door behind me. "Bitch," I swore. Silently. "Are you there Simon?" Emily called, sotto voce. Muffled confirmation. "Untie me quickly, we don't have long," she pleaded. Stifled, as it was my agonised groan of frustration was nevertheless eloquently comprehensible. "Oh. They've left you tied up too. They are mean aren't they," Emily remarked. I reached the conclusion that although Emily had many fine qualities, a piercing intellect was not one of them. I tried to encourage her to struggle onto the bed where we could assist each other to escape. "Simon. What are you saying? I can't understand you," complained Emily. "If your gag wasn't so bloody effective you might have a better chance," I retorted in frustration, the curse mitigated by its incomprehensibility. "Do you want me to do something?" she asked. I grunted singularly. "Do you want me to try to escape?" Her breasts jiggled enticingly as she struggled prettily but ineffectively against her bonds. I grunted twice, albeit reluctantly. "You don't want me to escape? Why not?" she cried despondently. I grunted loudly twice and then made frantic come hither sounds. "I can't understand and I can't get free," she cried. One grunt. "You can't rescue me because your tied to the bed." One loud grunt. "I just don't know what to do," she despaired. I desperately but unintelligibly called out "Come here! Come here!" "If you weren't gagged I could understand what you were saying." Emily displayed faultless ability in detecting the obvious. "Can you get the gag free?" she asked. Two grunts. I tried to remove any trace of accusation from them. "Perhaps I could help you get the gag off," she said. I called large single celebratory grunts. "Is that what you want me to do?" My stifled affirmations called clear and true. Emily inched her way towards the bed. Unfortunately she was one of the MTV generation for whom girl guiding and sporting skills had taken a back seat to fashion and music. As she pushed herself against the bed the loose hogtie and her high heels seemed to frustrate her attempt to lever herself up. "Simon. Help me," she pleaded. I realised that I would have to take a more active part in effecting our rescue. Whilst the ropes around my wrists were snug and the knots carefully placed out of reach of my gloved false nails the rope which fastened me to the headboard might offer me more opportunity for freedom. I shuffled around until I could see the path of the rope. I could see that Vanessa had looped the rope around the outer bar of the headboard several times before knotting it to one of the central rods. I struggled towards the knot but found that the short length of the rope between my wrists and the frame pulled me up short. Disappointed but undeterred I manoeuvred around so that my body was parallel to the headboard and the rope at my wrists stretched taut against the bed frame. In this contorted position I could just reach the knot on the frame. This was by no means the end of my problems. Although I could touch the knot I could not see it. Furthermore the silk gloves and false fingernails with which I had been adorned reduced to negligible any purchase that may have enabled me to release the knot. Frantic scrabbling only succeeded in tearing off a couple of the nails. Although it took some time to dislodge the fragments I did at last manage to grasp the knot with my own nails. Desperately I clawed at it with negligible effect. Emily had abandoned her attempts to reach my plateau and was lying passive and dejected on the floor. I tugged once more to feel a slight give in the cord. I pulled again and this time there was clear movement. Ecstatically I freed the knot and pulled hard at the rope. I was still held firmly. Desperately I wormed my way to the edge of the bed and loosened the tight coils around the bedpost. This time when I pulled the rope smoothly unravelled. I quickly pulled myself across the bed towards Emily. Carefully I swung my legs over the side of the bed and lowered my feet to the floor. Cautiously I edged forward until, with a muttered plea, I pushed myself off the bed and onto the floor. I tried to fall parachute style, first absorbing the impact with my legs and then with my shoulder. There was still a loud thud as I hit the floor. Swiftly I shuffled over to Emily. At my first tentative touch she exclaimed, "Simon. You've escaped." I grunted to show this was only partially true. Emily appeared more than content with our tangential contact but I was determined to achieve the release necessary for all our bonds and burdens. With some difficulty I finally managed to position us back-to-back so I could work at the cord on Emily's wrists. Emily seemed more interested in stroking my hand and pinching my bum, both painful and disconcerting, than untying me. Her bonds however had been tied more securely and the knots were unwilling to yield to my assault. I did at last manage to push one coil of rope to the edge of her hand and finally over it. I barked muted orders that Emily eventually seemed to understand. She wriggled determinedly and bravely and at the expense of some scraped and reddened skin released her wrists. She immediately removed her blindfold. "Simon, my hero. You did it!" she exclaimed, forcing my face into her heaving bosom with an enthusiastic hug. She rescued me from imminent risk of suffocation by releasing the hug and instead planted a large number of slobbering kisses on my face. "You're so brave, so clever, so cute," she enthused. I grunted madly. Although the praise was welcome important priorities, i.e. releasing me, were being neglected. "What's up baby," she asked dolefully. "Oh. Silly me. You're still tied up aren't you?" With a regretful shake of the head at her forgetfulness she reached for the knot that secured my scarf gag. At that moment Melanie arrived. "Time's up children," she announced cheerfully. I am sure that she enjoyed my resulting wail of anguish. Nadine and Christine entered the room, hauled Emily to her feet, and rebound in seconds her wrists in front of her. "Bye Simon. You were wonderful," she called, seemingly unfazed by the events as Christine and Nadine dragged her from the room. Melanie studied me for a moment, assessing how successful my efforts at releasing my restraints had been, before deciding they were marginal at best. She sniggered and left the room. Both my struggles and their failure were predictable. There were noises downstairs and I heard the front door bang shut. Shortly thereafter I could hear movement and music in the bathroom. Some time later Melanie returned to her bedroom, clad in a bathrobe with her hair swaddled in a towel. Carefully she transported the afternoon's costumes and toys back to her room and replaced them neatly in their wardrobes and cupboards. Then she dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and sandals, replacing her heavy fetish make-up with a light smear of lipstick and a slight touch of mascara. Almost as an afterthought she turned to me. Without comment she removed the gag and untied the bonds. The ropes she replaced in their draw whilst she discarded the sodden scarves in her wash basket. She then handed me a glass of water that I accepted gratefully. "You seem very relaxed," Melanie observed archly. "Huh," I responded inarticulately. "Well by my estimate Mum should be back in about five minutes time and you're still sat happily on my bedroom floor dressed like a hooker with a bridal fetish," she explained, displaying the time on her watch. "Shit!" I exclaimed, scrambling to my feet and nearly dislocating my ankle in my panic. I tried to kick off the heels but soon realised that they were still padlocked in place. "I suppose you want this," purred Melanie, displaying the required key in the palm of her hand to taunt me. "Please, let me have it," I begged, voice breaking. "Why should I?" Melanie asked impassively. I thought desperately. "Because Mum will discover my secret if you don't," I replied. "So?" Melanie was unmoved. "If Mum finds out so will Dad. There'll be a big family crisis over the issue. I'll get packed off to therapy and you won't be able to bully me any more. So long as it is only you and your friends who know you have all the power. The more people who know the less you have to blackmail me with." Melanie considered my argument carefully. After a worrying pause she handed me the key. I scrabbled the key into place, unlocked the padlocks, kicked off the shoes and raced for the door. "Slave Simone." Melanie's voice was quiet but icy. I froze. "What do you think you are doing?" she demanded. "I... err... don't know," I conceded blushingly. Melanie's face seemed frozen in anger. "Mistress Melanie," I stuttered quickly. Melanie's face softened. Slightly. I tried to work out what Melanie now expected from me. "Please Mistress Melanie ma'am, may I be released to change before mother returns home," I requested. This was accompanied by a clumsy attempt at a curtsey that was more akin to a squat accompanied by a flash of knickers. Melanie winced painfully. "Slave Simone do you think it is appropriate to leave garments strewn across the floor in your Mistress` chamber?" Melanie queried. "No ma'am," I conceded. "Where would you like me to put them?" Melanie considered carefully. "Place the shoes in the rack in my left hand wardrobe," she instructed. I scurried to obey. "That's right Simone, heels together in the space." "What about these ma'am," I inquired, retrieving the key and padlocks from the floor. "Let me think," said Melanie, nonchalantly turning her attention to one of the magazines. I waited impatiently, jiggling on the spot like someone desperately awaiting a free toilet cubicle. Melanie simply ignored me and I knew that if I challenged her she would delay me further. Instead I knelt by her chair, clasped my hands neatly in my lap, and lowered my head. "What are you doing Slave Simone?" asked Melanie, not unpleasantly. "Awaiting your next instructions Mistress Melanie ma'am," I replied obediently. "Very good," she acknowledged. "Go to my draw in my desk. Once there lock the two padlocks together and leave the key in the lock. Place them in the black jewellery box with gilt edging to the left of the draw." I completed her instructions, noting with concern a large collection of clamps and grips also in the box, and returned to stand in front of her. "You may now go to the bathroom," Melanie conceded. "You may run your bath but take no further action until I instruct you." I obeyed her commands and waited anxiously in the bathroom. Melanie entered a short time later encumbered with various items of feminine alchemy. She stripped off my gloves, frowning at the tear in the silk and the two broken nails caused by my desperate escape attempts. Then she removed the rest of my ensemble save for the silky white knickers. I sighed with relief as my lower torso was released from its chain and elastic reinforced casing. Sitting me on the toilet seat she removed the make-up and varnish that had been so laboriously applied with practised flourish. She clasped my jaw in her hand and twisted my face back and forth to confirm that all the traces of the cosmetics had been removed. "Stand up and put your hands on the edge of the sink," Melanie commanded. Once I had complied she gave me two full strength slaps, one on each buttock. Had I been unmarked the blows were strong enough to have stung painfully. On my already swollen flesh the caused me to gasp in pain and my eyes to water. "That was for the damage to the gloves and my false nails," she explained. "Now get cleaned up. I'll leave your clothes in your room." Melanie left the room as my Mum (I never really thought of her as a step-mum) arrived home. I gritted my teeth as the hot bath water lapped at my punished bottom but finally sank into the water contentedly. I arrived back in my room to find that as well as jeans; socks and a T-shirt Melanie had laid out a pair of knickers and tights visibly on my bed. I swiftly closed my door to and grumbling under my breath dressed with the chosen garments. When I came downstairs Melanie was sat in my usual seat in the lounge, watching television. As I moved to sit down she said, "Simone, go and help mother in the kitchen." I shot her a glare of pure malice but upon seeing the anger reflected in her own features bowed and in a half whisper acknowledged "Yes, Mistress Melanie." Mum was surprised at her new domestic assistant and had to be pressured to accept the help offered but I would not be refused. Melanie wandered in and out of the kitchen, frequently advising me on my peeling or chopping technique or proposing some new chore. Our Mum regarded us suspiciously but did not comment. At dinner Melanie said that she and her friends had been fascinated by my attitude towards the relationship between the sexes and I was forced to enthuse wildly about the superiority of women and the iniquity of male society's lack of respect for them much to the surprise and chagrin of my Dad. After dinner Melanie dispatched me to assist with the washing-up and when at last I returned exhausted to the lounge suggested it was time for me to do some studying. Upstairs in my room I obediently revised for a couple of hours until Melanie entered with a plastic carrier bag. "Brush your teeth. Bedtime," she said chirpily. I frowned since it was still only nine thirty and since the end of my lessons I had been accustomed to watching TV or playing computer games until the early hours and only arising late in the morning to slob about making half hearted efforts at revision. I had little choice but to conform to Melanie's whims however and soon completed her instruction. "Quickly. Clothes off. I'm going out now." "Why do you need to do this?" I demanded truculently. Melanie ignored me and tugged at my clothes until I was stripped to the knickers and tights she had chosen for me earlier. "Put this on," she instructed, producing a long peach satin nightdress from the carrier. "Oh no," I refused. "Oh yes," she insisted, pulling it over my head. "Now into bed." Once I was in bed Melanie pulled my wrists behind my back and began tying them together with a nylon dressing gown cord. "What are you doing?" I demanded pointlessly. "Making sure you don't misbehave while I am out," Melanie smiled, knotting the cord into place and starting work on my ankles. "You can't do this! What if Mum or Dad see me!" I pleaded. "You'll just have to be careful and make sure that they don't," Melanie explained resolutely. "Now I'll untie you about seven o'clock tomorrow morning. You can go down and make breakfast for Mum and Dad. After they've gone to work I want you to clean up and put away the dishes. Next you can do the laundry - you'll have to wash all those scarves and knickers you've been slobbering over all day. You can then do some quiet cleaning. Mop the kitchen floor and dust the lounge. You bring me my breakfast at half past ten - orange juice, Alpen with semi skimmed milk, and black tea. And after Mum and Dad go you're to strip down to your panties and an apron I'll give you. Once I've woken up I'll give you your chores for the rest of the day." "Melanie - you can't do this to me," I spat. Melanie grabbed my hair in fury. "If I hear one further note of complaint out of you little madam you'll be wearing this," she waved a headscarf, "as a gag all night." My rebellion subsided swiftly. Melanie compromised by not gagging me but by tying the headscarf firmly in place around my head, knotting it securely under my jaw. Now if anyone turned the light on in my room my shame would be instantly revealed. "You look so sweet. Sleep well little brother," Melanie smiled as she chastely kissed me on the forehead and left for the door. She paused before leaving. "You know before today I've always disliked you but now I realise that you are the little brother that I always wanted," announced Melanie. "Thank you Mistress Melanie," I smiled. Weakly. The End