The Slaves of New York Page 11

  Hands pulled her off the mattress. The belt around her waist was loosened and the handcuffs unclipped. After so long confined uncomfortably behind her they were so cramped and weak she could put up no resistance as she was pushed back against a wall and her arms were dragged out to the side. She felt them being manacled into new restraints, so that they were stretched out at right angles to her body.

  The leather strap around her knees was removed. Hands, whether the man's or the woman's she could not tell, cupped both her breasts, kneading the flesh. Was the man her master? Was it Jake Ashley? She had no way of knowing.

  'What do you want me to do?' the woman asked. 'Just rip it off?'

  The woman was awaiting orders from the man; she was clearly not in charge.

  The man must have indicated his consent, as Kim felt a hand plucking at her neck, just above her collarbone. Fingers seized the rubber coating, pulling it away from her flesh. It puckered outward, then suddenly began to tear. The fingers worked into the hole they had created, pulling out and ripping downward at the same time. Her breasts stung and trembled as they were released through a great gash torn in the black rubber. Kim felt the latex being stripped from her belly. The gash parted at her mons and continued down her thighs.

  'Mmm...' This came from the man.

  The latex hung from Kim in tatters, most of the front of her body now bare. A finger traced its way down from her throat to her crotch. She heard feet crossing the room and the door being opened again.

  'I'll get her cleaned up,' the woman said. 'What time do you want her ready?' Kim could not hear the man's response.

  The strap on her ankles was released. The pleasure at being able to move her legs again was almost orgasmic. She shuffled them apart and bent each at the knee. The drawstring of the velvet bag was being unknotted.

  'Keep your eyes closed for a while,' the woman warned as the bag was tugged off. Fingers unstrapped the gag, and Kim moaned as it was pulled away, cramp in her jaw now causing her new agonies.

  Even with her eyes tightly shut the impact of the light filtering through her eyelids made Kim wince. Slowly and gingerly she opened them, but it was minutes before she could focus on anything. Eventually, through the tears that had welled in them, she could make out her surroundings. She was standing in a small pine clad room with a cord-carpeted floor. To the left was a doorway with no door, through which Kim could see a shower cubicle and a toilet. There was a wooden framed bed to her right, a wooden chair and a mirror hanging on the opposite wall. She could see herself in the mirror, bits of rubber still clinging to her flesh, her hair ragged, her face covered in sweat, with a red stripe where the strap of the gag had cut across her cheeks.

  'Welcome to Shangri-La,' the woman said.

  The door of the room was open and the man had gone. The woman standing in front of her was short and stocky, with razor cropped black hair. She was wearing tight leather trousers and a leather halter-neck top cut off at her midriff. The muscles of her stomach looked like the gridiron on an American football pitch. Kim's heart leapt. She recognised her immediately. The woman was Monica Montana, the major-domo in Ashley's books, which surely meant one thing: the house belonged to the man she'd been pursuing.

  Kim's wrists had been clipped into metal manacles that hung from rings set into the wall. The woman released them.

  'What size shoe are you?' she asked.

  'Five,' Kim mumbled, her mouth dry.

  'I can guess the rest,' the woman said, eyeing her closely. 'Go in there and get yourself cleaned up,' she added, indicating the tiny washroom. She took another long look at Kim's body, then walked out, closing the door behind her. Kim heard a key turning in the lock.

  It had taken a long time to get the last of the latex off her. Kim sat and picked it away until she was completely clean, then showered and washed her hair with the shampoo she found in a small cabinet. She had no idea what time it was, as she'd left her watch with her other clothes at Audrey's apartment, but when she finally slumped on the bare mattress she fell asleep immediately.

  She woke up next morning, if it was morning, to find a tray had been placed on the floor by the door. There was cereal, milk, sugar, and some scrambled eggs. The eggs were cold, but such was her hunger she ate them and everything else anyway. She showered again, brushed out her hair as best she could, and waited expectantly, hoping that at any moment Jake Ashley would walk through the door.

  She was sure it was Jake who had been with the woman last night, eager to see his new slave. But now it appeared his eagerness had worn off, for hour followed hour with no sign of him. She heard noises and faint voices in the corridor outside, all of which, as far as she could judge, were female. But though footsteps passed the door several times, no one entered.

  There was nothing to do but think, and Kim's mind roamed over everything that had happened to her since she arrived in New York. Being blindfolded again had revived memories of what Candy had done to her, and the extraordinary feeling of being touched sexually by a woman for the first time. Then there was everything that had happened in the club to play and re-play in her mind, the details so vivid it was like a video recording; each feeling, each soaring sensation etched in her memory. And she thought about Jake Ashley, too. She had assumed over all these weeks that the character of the master in his books was based on his own predilections. Everything she'd learnt from Candy and Audrey had confirmed that theory. And if it was true all the fantasies she'd had, since she'd first read one of his books, were about to come true.

  Kim guessed it to be about lunchtime when the pattern of neglect was finally broken. She heard the key turning in the lock.

  'Up,' the woman Kim thought of as Dolores said. She was wearing a tight short leather skirt, and a leather blouse. Her stout thighs were thick with muscle. 'You're new to this, is that right?'

  'Yes,' Kim admitted as she rose obediently.

  'My name is Marsha. You will call me Ms Marsha, is that understood?'

  'Yes... Ms Marsha.'

  'A quick study. I like that. There are only three rules here. Number one, whenever you are brought into the presence of myself or the master, or one of his guests, you must kneel until you are told to do otherwise. Number two, you must obey without question or hesitation. Number three, you must not speak unless spoken to - you must not talk to any of the other slaves. Understood?'

  'Yes, Ms Marsha.' Kim lowered her gaze, already feeling intimidated by the woman.

  'Good. If you break any of these rules you will be punished. If you refuse to be punished you will immediately be sent away. And if you are sent away you will not be permitted to be a slave in any of the other establishments in the system. Now put this on.'

  Marsha threw a pair of denim shorts on the bed. Kim quickly put them on. They were two sizes too big and the crotch had been removed.

  'Spread your feet apart,' the woman continued, dropping to her knees.

  She took a pair of metal cuffs from a pocket. They were like handcuffs but with a longer chain. She fitted the cuffs around Kim's ankles, then got to her feet. 'Follow me,' she snapped.

  The major-domo marched out of the room. The corridor outside was narrow with a series of doors down one side, all identical to the one they had just left. There was a staircase at the far end.

  Upstairs, they emerged through a wooden door into a beautifully decorated hallway, its floor covered in oatmeal tufted carpet, its walls covered with prints and photographs all framed in stripped wood.

  Feeling like a member of a chain gang, with the chain clanging between her ankles as she walked, Kim followed Marsha into a large kitchen. There was another man already working there, dressed in identical shorts and chained in the same way. Kim could see his genitals hanging down between his legs through the cut-out in the denim.

  'You are to scrub this floor,' Marsha said. 'Then clean all the windows inside and out. Understood?'

  'Yes, Ms Marsha,' Kim said humbly.

  'The cleaning materials are all here.
' Marsha opened a cupboard to reveal mops, brushes, and packets and bottles of detergents.

  Kim saw no choice but to obey. She had hoped she would be taken straight to Jake Ashley. But she was in his house, and now she was so close to him she could almost sense his presence, she didn't want to do anything that would ruin her chance of actually meeting him. If she disobeyed and was faced with some punishment she could not accept, she could easily be sent away without achieving either of her goals; getting her story... or satisfying her sexual needs.

  So she took out a mop, ran some water into a bucket and began cleaning the perfectly clean tiled kitchen floor. The chain around her ankles made the work that much harder.

  Marsha helped herself to a cup of filtered coffee, pulled up a chair, and watched her for a while. But after ten or fifteen minutes she got up and left.

  The male slave said nothing. He sat at the large kitchen table cleaning a canteen of silver cutlery. Occasionally she caught him looking at her breasts, but he looked away again quickly. She needed to get a lot of background for her story, and the temptation to ask him how long he had been there, how many other slaves there were in the house, and whether he could confirm any of what Audrey had told her, was overwhelming. But Kim resisted. She didn't know how he would react. He might call for Marsha or she might come back unexpectedly. In either case, Kim might well be expelled from the house before she'd even got her feet under the table. So she decided to say nothing, keep her head down, and got on with the job.

  The large kitchen windows looked out onto a stone flagged patio. To the right was a large rectangular swimming pool, and to the left a lawn and neatly tended gardens. She could see the driveway too, curling around from the front of the house to the large garage at the rear. The weather had improved again and it was a fine sunny day.

  According to the clock on the cooking range it was four o'clock in the afternoon by the time she had finished the floor and the windows - both jobs, like all those assigned to the slaves in Jake's books, totally unnecessary. Marsha returned with an older woman in a flowery print dress, who put a saucepan of soup on the range, and served it to both slaves with slices of bread.

  As they ate a movement outside by the pool caught Kim's eye. She glanced up and saw a tall, raven-haired woman in a tiny black bikini mounting the diving board, then executing a perfect swallow dive into the deep blue water. For a moment Kim had trouble believing her eyes. The woman looked like Nina Berry.

  The male slave had seen her too and was staring out of the window, clearly waiting to catch another glimpse of her. Eventually the woman pulled herself out of the pool with a straight arm lift. She reached for a towel on a nearby lounger, and for a moment was staring straight into the kitchen, her long black hair plastered back.

  Now there was no doubt in Kim's mind that her first impression had been correct. The woman was Nina Berry.

  Kim's mind was racing. Nina Berry was probably the biggest star in the current Hollywood firmament. Her last picture had made more money than any picture in the history of movies, and it was rumoured that she was going to receive twenty million dollars for her next starring role. But despite her fame she had always refused interviews and led a secretive and reclusive life.

  Occasionally her name had been linked to one of her more famous co-stars, but she had never confirmed or denied any involvement with a man. Did her presence here mean she was involved with Jake Ashley? And if she was, did that lead to the conclusion that she was into the kind of sexual activities that had made him famous?

  Audrey had been right, Kim kept telling herself. This was going to be a very big story. Just getting the news out that Nina was visiting Jake's house would be a major worldwide scoop. But if it went further, if she was actually here to slake more unusual appetites, that was mega.

  Kim could write her own ticket on Fleet Street after that. She would probably even be able to get a job in New York.

  Nina Berry finished towelling her hair, climbed into a pair of open-toed high-heeled sandals and walked back into the house.

  'All right, up,' Marsha said as they finished their food. 'Both of you, follow me.'

  They trooped after Marsha with their chains rattling. Down in the basement she shut them both in what Kim had come to think of as cells. A few minutes after being locked in, the door opened again and Marsha dropped a holdall on the bed.

  'Get cleaned up, then put these on,' she said. 'There's make-up, too. Just in case you're required.'

  These developments made Kim's pulse race. She hurried into the shower room and stood under the powerful spray. As the water cascaded over her body she began to write the story:

  It was revealed in New York today that millionaire film star Nina Berry, widely regarded as one of the most beautiful women of her generation, was having a relationship with writer and sexual guru Jake Ashley, infamous for his SLAVES OF NEW YORK books, whose themes frequently deal with bondage and the domination of women. It is not known how long their relationship has flourished or whether Ms Berry is a fan of his writing...

  There was a lot Kim didn't know as yet. She didn't know whether Nina Berry liked to be dominating or dominated. Was she here to use the slaves that, like Kim, were no doubt sitting in the basement at this moment, or did she allow Jake to use her and abuse her?

  But Ms Berry was seen indulging in a penchant for bondage and submission with Mr Ashley in an orgiastic scene involving several other so-called slaves. Ms Berry was reported to have been seen bound and spread-eagled against a wall where she was whipped by Mr Ashley and his guests, and subsequently made to have sexual relations with one or all of them. She was frequently seen in the bizarre rubber and leather costumes associated with bondage practises, and was said to be willing to perform in group sex with the other slaves while Mr Ashley watched the proceedings, presumably an activity that gave full range to her acting skills.

  Perhaps she had come to him for advice on setting up her own establishment. She certainly had enough money to join the very elite circle of masters that Candy had referred to at the club.

  But investigations have revealed that she has her own house where male and female slaves are kept to satisfy her unusual sexual demands. A woman reports having been kept in a cell in the house for over three weeks, being bound and whipped by Ms Berry and Jake Ashley on several occasions, as well as being asked to perform many sexual acts with both of them at the same time. A man, similarly, has come forward to report being held in Ms Berry's house for over three months. He was frequently bound and whipped with a riding crop and used by her and her female guests in a variety of ways, including oral sex. Ms Berry's favourite pursuit was, he claims, having him masturbate over her naked body.

  Kim wasn't sure which story would play better. Not that it mattered. Either of them would be sensational.

  She dried herself, then went back to the bed. She opened the nylon holdall and shook its contents out onto the mattress. There was a black satin basque with a lacy, almost transparent bra, a packet of shiny black stockings and a pair of high heels, the narrow tapering heel at least four inches high. There was a studded black collar too, with a large D-ring attached to the front, and a plastic box of make-up containing everything from lipstick and eye shadow to nail varnish, though there was no choice of colours.

  Quickly Kim wrapped the basque around her body. At home she had rarely worn anything but the most functional of underwear, and the feeling of the tight garment as she clipped the hooks into the eyes at the back created a wave of arousal. She had already come to associate this sort of tight constriction with sex. Rolling the stockings up her long legs and clipping them into the suspenders had the same effect. They were so glossy they looked wet, and seemed to draw attention, by contrast, to the band of soft flesh above them.

  Kim stood in front of the mirror and put on her make-up. The colours were much darker and more dramatic than she would have chosen, the nail varnish a deep red.

  After she'd climbed into the shoes and strapped the coll
ar around her throat there was nothing to do but wait. The waiting now was much more difficult, however. The corset cinched so tightly around her waist, and the taut suspenders constantly reminded her of the sexual agenda. Ever since she had put them on her sex seemed to be alive, her vagina melting and wet, her clitoris swollen and throbbing. Dolores, in The Disciple, had been made to wait like this, dressed in only a pair of hold up stockings and high-heeled ankle boots, Kim remembered. She had waited for hours before she met the master for the first time, and Kim's feelings mirrored exactly what she had felt. Whatever Jake's other capabilities, he certainly knew how to understand and describe the emotions of the women who submitted themselves to such ordeals.

  As she had no way of telling the time, it seemed to drag. Every time she heard a noise in the corridor outside her pulse quickened.

  Eventually she dozed lightly, and the sound of the door being opened startled her.

  'You're required,' Marsha said, with a tone of disapproval. 'Let me look at you.'

  Kim got to her feet. Marsha gripped her arm and turned her around, examining her critically. 'When did you get those?' she demanded, nodding at the faint lines that still decorated Kim's buttocks.

  'Th-three days ago,' Kim stammered, feeling intimidated by the overbearing woman. Or was it four? Had another day dawned?

  Marsha smiled. She took a length of white nylon rope and threaded it through the D-ring on the collar, then pulled Kim's hands up to her throat, tying her wrists together so they were secured under her chin. 'All right, follow me,' she said, when satisfied with her charge.

  To Kim's surprise, out in the narrow hall a man was standing in the identical bondage, his wrists also tied to a black leather collar. It was not the same man she had seen that afternoon. He was naked apart from a tiny pouch of black leather that barely covered his genitals, and had a well-developed body that suggested regular exercise. He had curly brown hair and a delicate, almost feminine face, with a sensuous mouth. She saw his eyes roaming her body, devouring every detail of the black satin basque and the silky stockings.