Captive in Dark Leather Ch. 5
For what I believe are the last three days, my reality has consisted of darkness...naked, bound and gagged. My head has been encased in a hood of solid leather, with only nose-holes for breathing. I can feel I'm on a ship, surrounded by other women. I can hear them when they don't follow their commands. That's when they are beaten and punished. There are also our captors. The one in charge, the Woman, has taken a special interest in me. It's probably because when she first commanded me to lick, I licked. I tasted the leather of her boot. I've since been dragged around by a leash, caged, bathed, fed and trained to crawl. I've found my center when I'm commanded to lick, and taste her boot all over again.
It started with a naughty vacation with my husband. We were flying in to the Bahamas to stay at a special BDSM-themed resort, Club De La Desclos. It would have been our first time trying anything kinky...if we'd made it there. The last thing I remember is boarding the shuttle at the airport. Then I awoke on a floor in this ship, in the darkness.
After three days, I've finally found some answers. I knew I wouldn't like them. I was prepared for this evening, put into my hood and dildo-gag as well as heels, wrist cuffs and arm-binders. I was led into a room, and chained to the ceiling standing up. My hood was removed after the Woman had addressed her audience. What I saw shocked me. I was chained in here along with 22 other women. They had all been on my plane, or other flights. We were tricked. This is the real Club De La Desclos we thought we were taking naughty vacations to. We were lured here, kidnapped, and are now the captive slaves of a very exclusive clientele, who have paid a lot of money to have their ways with us. There are no limits. No safewords. No rights for us. Just the expectation that the guests will get their money's worth, by using us to fulfill their darkest, cruelest, most sadistic needs. That's what they paid for, and the management believes in customer satisfaction.
I've been looking around since my hood was finally removed. The women around me are in various states. Most have bruises or welts here and there. A few are covered in them. They don't follow their commands. I follow my commands. I've only felt the whip twice, to let me know it's there when I don't.
I've also finally been granted the privilege to see the Woman who's been commanding me these past three days. She is a stunning vision of pure dominance. Mid-40's. Close-cropped hair, dyed jet-black. It offsets her pale skin and blood-red lipstick. A one-piece black leather corset-bustier envelops her mature, slightly curvaceous body. She sports those shiny thigh-high black leather boots, whose taste I have learned to crave. Her eyes are a piercing grey. After her tongue has cruelly invaded my mouth, she says this to me:
"There's something else I've been waiting to do for three days. We'll get to it in just a moment."
The Woman continues smiling, as she looks me in the eye. I struggle to maintain eye contact with her, instead of staring at that cruel looking whip in her hand. I thought it was a strap at first, but now I can see it more clearly. It's an equestrian whip, black leather, for whipping horses. A horse whip. Surely she knows she won't need that with me. I have followed every command she has given me without hesitation. I cannot recall the taste of anything else but the exquisite leather of her boots. She started my training yesterday, and I did so well I thought. I crawled when I was told, and heeled when I was told. She seemed so proud of me. So why the whip?
Something happens behind me. I feel a release, as the chain keeping me tethered to the ceiling is unclasped from the ring on the back of my collar. While maintaining eye contact, the Woman hooks her finger through the other ring at the front of my collar, and pulls. I am led forward as she walks. I struggle to keep my balance and keep up with her in my high heels, with my arms and wrists bound behind me. She leads me back and forth from side to side between the women on display and the people out there. She's parading me in front of the clientele, giving them all a good look. Then she stops in the center and addresses our audience.
"Notice how she struggles to keep up with me, but never falters, never gets out of line. She's not the youngest, and certainly not the prettiest here. But look at her body. Barely a mark on it. Why? Because this one knows how to follow commands. She is one of the easiest slaves to train that I have ever encountered. She listened to the sounds of punishment around her, and submitted instantly. She has yet to give cause for punishment. I almost hate to do this, because she has been so obedient. But I'm like you...I have my needs. And the more she has behaved, the more it's made me crave this."
I start to feel a panic in my stomach building. She pulls me, with that finger in the ring of my collar, over to a table that some handlers have placed front and center on our slightly raised platform (it's a stage, of sorts). It's padded around the sides. Why?
The Woman pushes me against the side of the table, and bends me over it. Helpers appear. Are they the same ones who have bathed me, fed me, caged me, and cleaned me after I've taken a shit in front of them every morning? I feel my legs spread apart while one holds me down against that table. My ankles are cuffed. Leather cuffs? My ankles are secured tightly. I can't move them. A chain is clipped to the front ring of my collar and pulled taut. I am immobilized, bent over this table. Now I know what that padding is for. I am grateful for that tiny mercy. A black ball is suddenly shoved into my mouth. It's pulled tight as it's strapped around my head. I've been ball-gagged. Even though it's nowhere near as intrusive as the dildo-gag that's filled my mouth for most of the last three days, it's still a gag. It's still de-humanizing.
"There's no need to muffle her screams here, of course. But we want just the screams...no actual words to get in the way of our enjoyment. A gag like this prevents her from being able to articulate anything. Now, we take a moment to savor this sight, and..."
Nothing happens for a moment. I can feel everyone's eyes on me in the absolute silence of this cavernous hold. The only sound is my breathing. Then, a quick swish, and...
Whack!
"Mmmmffffff!"
I scream through the ball-gag as leather makes first contact with my ass. She's right, there's no way to talk through these gags, just scream unintelligibly. The whipping hurts. Oh, why is she subjecting me to this? I followed my commands. Isn't that enough for her?
I close my eyes and tense up, ready for the next one, and...
Nothing. Nothing happens. I open my eyes to look around as much as I can. My body relaxes a bit. Why isn't she whipping me? Isn't this why she had me trussed up over this table?
"Now, anyone can whip a slave like this. But to truly get under her skin and make her feel the pain, you have to look for ways to make things...interesting."
I hear a sound in the silence. Shuffling, off to the side. It's faint at first, and then becomes clearer as I catch them in my peripheral vision. Two men lead a third person towards me. The men on either side are captors, handlers. They lead a naked person in-between them, another slave. A black leather hood covers the slave's head. Was that the same kind of hood I was trapped in?
This is a slow process. The slave's ankles are chained together like mine were. They can only move so fast because of this. The wait is agonizing. When they finally reach me, they stop about five feet in front of me and turn to face me. I am shocked when they do that. Why?
Because this slave is a man. His flaccid cock catches my eye first. It's encased in a leather harness of some kind along with his testicles. I can't seem to look away from it. But then I finally do, and take in the rest of him. His hands are bound behind him. He's naked otherwise, except for the chained ankle cuffs, collar and hood. He's also bruised. There are fresh welts on his body. This man has not been following his commands.
Isn't that crazy? The thought that goes through my mind is that he hasn't been following his commands? I'm adapting far too well to this place. After making a note of that, I start putting things together. This man proves that they don't only keep the women for slaves here. Presumably he's a husband...
