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The Chronicles of Rita - Volume 1 by Shadow

EXTRACT FOR
The Chronicles of Rita - Volume 1 
(Shadow)


The Chronicles of Rita - 1

CHAPTER 1 – RITA’S CHOICE

 

Rita stood silently and motionless, watching Craig, her master for the previous week fill out a report documenting her performance. The oversize ball that was occupying her mouth; it being the business end of the harness ball-gag he had crammed into her ensured her silence. After forcibly getting the ball into her straining mouth, he had pulled the straps very tightly around her head. They were tight enough that she was sure they would give her a headache if they remained on for much longer. That was almost a certainty considering he planned to return her to Spellbook Slave Rentals after he completed the report card, and he seemed to be writing quite a bit so it was doubtful that he would finish any time soon. Not that she was going anywhere.

Spellbook Slave Rentals was a division of Spellbook Slaves & Games. SS&G was one of the leading slave stores located in Eastlake, Oklahoma. It was owned by Mike West, a licensed slave trader who had been one of the first to see the business opportunities offered by the passage of the White Slave Act of 2000 (WSA2000), and had jumped into the business as soon as female slavery became legal in the U.S. The slave rental aspect was the new version of prostitution, and while it was reasonably profitable for Mike, single-handedly, Rita was giving his stable a bad reputation. Rita was gorgeous, so killing her or turning her into a torture slave seemed like a waste of an expensive asset. As a last-ditch effort to salvage his investment, Mike turned Rita over to Craig for additional training in being a good slave. It had been a painful learning experience for her, but it appeared to have been worthwhile.

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to ease the cramp in her shoulder blade. The cramp came from the fact that her elbows were touching behind her back, as were her wrists, each held tightly together by heavy leather cuffs that were padlocked closed. She had slightly more freedom with her feet, as they had about a foot of chain between the cuffs on her ankles. Not that that mattered tremendously, he had ordered her to stand still and she was not in the mood to prompt a repeat of the recent obedience-assistance method he had demonstrated on her. Obedience-assistance, my ass. A whipping is a whipping no matter what it’s called. As that thought passed through her mind, she tried to rub her ass to sooth the burn that remained as a reminder of the terrible session she had endured earlier in the week.

He had bound her, naked of course, onto an L-shaped contraption about three feet in height. It was made from a heavy metal pipe that extended vertically from the center of a four-foot square platform. That pipe was topped by a small horizontal platform about three inches by one foot, which was lightly padded and covered in leather.

Her feet had been spread to a bit more than shoulder width, then secured to the edges of the platform she was standing on. He forced her to bend over at the waist while keeping her legs straight. The horizontal platform had been adjusted to her waist’s height. The vertical pipe was placed directly between her breasts, with the horizontal placed lengthwise so that it began between her breasts, and extended backwards to end just before reaching her hips. That placement prevented her from bending her legs. Her wrists were locked to the base of the vertical post, directly below her breasts. Since her feet were pulled forward, almost halfway to the vertical post, it had the effect of forcing her ass to jut out to the rear, leaving her ass, pussy and legs totally exposed. A strap connected to the platform under her breasts came up across the back of her neck then back to where it started. Once tightened, it prevented her from sliding forward and also held her tightly in the bent over position.

She had spent the next hour or two screaming and writhing, and when she wasn’t screaming she was counting. She was counting out loud each one of the whip strokes he was laying onto her exposed flesh. Then there was the begging. She had begun to learn how to beg in earnest by the end of that session. She was actually getting good at it. All because of six little words.

He had ordered her to give him a blowjob. Although she complied, albeit reluctantly, he hadn’t been satisfied with it. Oh, he had come, and he made her swallow every speck of it, then lick his cock clean, but he berated her, telling her it had been a terrible performance. As a result, he had forced her to “practice” on a large dildo almost continuously for the rest of the afternoon. He had allowed her short breaks, but by the end of the afternoon, her mouth and jaw ached from sucking on the dildo furiously. She was sucking furiously because of the gauges attached to the dildo with which he could tell how much pressure her lips were exerting on it and the amount of suction she was creating. He set the controls and if she fell below the amount he had set, she received terrible shocks in her pussy until she got the gauge back to where he required it. He had been raising the requirements all afternoon. Late in the day he stopped her and told her to do him again. That was when she got into trouble. All she said was, “Please let me rest a minute.”

He grabbed a handful of her long, luxurious red hair, pulled her to her feet with it and dragged her to the L-bar thing where he secured her. After she was properly secured, he disappeared for a minute before returning with a riding crop in his hand. “So you want to rest for a minute? How barbaric of me not to have thought of it, that you might want to rest.” She wasn’t positive, but she didn’t think he was being completely truthful. “You may rest for as long as you wish, while I suffer from need of your services.”

She silently shuddered. Oh no….this doesn’t sound good at all.