This is the second and concluding part of a story concerning the kidnapping and training of Sharon Adams, a beautiful, twenty-something secretary whose attempt to travel to Paris has been interrupted.
*****
According to the Mistress, as she prepared Sharon for the evening's gala was to remember that she was first and foremost a slave whose sole reason for being was to bring pleasure to her master. Tonight her master would be one of the organization's employees who was being rewarded for excellent service. She was to obey him or anybody he might designate. With that, Sharon descended the staircase.
She could not have looked more demure. With her bowed head, self-conscious gait and white trousseau she looked every bit the virgin bride. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she was met by a young, good liking man dressed in a tuxedo. "Good evening, slave-wife," he said with a familiar French accent.
Sharon recognized both the accent and the voice. It was Jean, if that was his real name. It didn't matter. "Good evening, Master husband," she replied without looking up.
"Slave, are you ready for your instructions?"
"Yes, Master, I am."
"Tonight is the Employees' Ball. This evening you are here for my use and my use only unless I say otherwise. Turn, and let me see you. Sharon slowly rotated, eyes lowered until she had completed a 360 degree circle and stopped. "Put this on, slave," said the guard as he handed her a white leather collar and attached a leash to the metal "D-ring." "Let's take a walk around. You may lift your head up. I want all of the men in this room to envy me before we adjourn to the honeymoon suite."
Jean, who was tall and good-looking in his tuxedo, led his "bride" through the room. There were over a dozen of his partners in crime, each with a young girl and all in one costume or another. Robin Hood had Maid Marian tethered by the hands. There was a cowboy with an Indian squaw roped as if she had been lassoed like a wild horse and a sultan with a harem girl being led by a leash connected to rings in her nipples. In the corner a man dressed as an English schoolmaster was caning a petite blonde "schoolgirl" who had apparently broken some school rule. She was very young, no more than twenty and her tiny stature and make-up made her look all of sixteen. Her plaid skirt had been raised to her waist and she was counting out the strokes. "Eight, nine, ten" she recited and then the caning stopped. Both of her buttocks displayed the red record of her punishment- ten hard lashes. She neither whimpered nor complained, but remained motionless, awaiting further instructions from her disciplinarian.
Sharon's "husband" enjoyed a second glass of champagne as he looked at his young bride. He had allowed her to have her own glass of champagne. She was also permitted to raise her gaze. One look at her escort and her suspicions were instantly confirmed. It was Jean, the man she had met at her phony job interview, the man who had stolen her life and her dreams and substituted this awful alternative in its place. Dressed formally, his outfit completed the illusion and this night would be all about illusion, if only for half the people in the room. For the other half it was all about reality, their horrific, new reality as slaves.
Sharon set down her champagne flute as she felt a gentle tug on her leash. "Yes, Master-husband," she said.
"I think it's time we consummated our marriage, slave. Come upstairs to the honeymoon suite," he said as he chuckled to himself.
"Yes, Master," said Sharon as she lowered her eyes and followed the vector of the leash obediently. She hiked her satin robe just enough to avoid tripping in her high heels and began to ascend the stairway. Just before they reached the top the leash went slack, a signal to stop. Below her, the gala had moved into higher gear and her "husband" wanted to watch the party for a while before retiring for the night.
The Indian maiden had been expertly roped and tied. Her buckskin top had been unbuttoned to the waist and the lariat was now wrapped above and below her naked breasts forcing them to extend with her dark, pointy nipples sticking straight out. Her arms were trapped at her side. The cowboy was busy kneading both breasts and pinching her nipples with eager hands.
The recalcitrant school girl was sitting, albeit gingerly, in the schoolmaster's lap with the cane held firmly between her gritted teeth. Had Sharon not been over half way up the staircase, closer examination would have revealed that the schoolmaster's hand was well up her skirt massaging her vagina. Sharon could tell from the look on the girl's face that her ordeal was not entirely unpleasant for her, but then again, Sharon knew that part of their training was to "please the Master" in all things. If the schoolmaster wanted her to enjoy it, then she would, or face severe discipline.
Maid Marian was kneeling, arms still bound, directly in front of Robin. Her full red lips were wrapped around Robin's shaft, which, based on size alone, should have belonged to Little John instead. Robin of Sherwood's cock was both long and thick. Maid Marian was having difficulty taking it in and she knew that nothing less than the entire length would be acceptable to the leader of the "Merry Men" or any of the men in the room for that matter. He moved his hands behind the kneeling beauty's braided long brown tresses to assist her as she bobbed back and forth on Robin's cock. On one of the return strokes he pulled his hands towards his body forcing his huge cock fully into her throat. Marian bucked and gagged, but remained impaled on the shaft of the archer. After a short while she was allowed to remove his cock entirely and to rest for a few seconds.
