Karen had just two
more days to last until the end of her qualification period. Her current position as ‘Volunteer 525’ had
taken her through three of the hardest months of her young life.
At this moment her eyes were comically crossed, she was
watching the single bead of perspiration slowly tickling its way down her
nose. She pondered over the option of
shaking her head to remove the offending article, weighing the benefit against
the added strain this would place on her stretched nipples. She was standing naked, bent forward at the
waist with her arms drawn painfully up her back pointing to the high ceiling,
held there by her wrist cuffs which were attached to the overhead motorised
pulley. Small lead weights dangled from
the biting nipple clamps placed on her an hour ago. The pale white flesh of her bottom was
criss-crossed with ten bright red twin tracked weals,
unmistakable evidence of having been recently caned.
Some six feet to her
left, another slave was balanced in exactly the same position. Her dilemma was
worse; she had two weights hanging from each of her distended nipples. Although this girl was of a darker complexion,
the same marks of the cane stood out in proud relief on her well rounded
behind. Her suffering had been, and
continued to be, far greater than Karen’s. So many vivid welts throbbed and
burned her rear it was impossible to be certain of the precise number, as each
fiery track was interlaced with another.
Her tears rolled off her cheeks to land with a silent splash at her
feet, every heaving sob adding to her agony as the suspended weights swung
gently from her breasts.
Karen reflected on
her own good fortune: in just one more hour her immediate ordeal would be over,
two more days of routine classroom stuff would follow and then she would have
qualified. The poor wretch next to her
would remain in her strained position for at least two or three more hours and
who knows how many more hours, days, weeks or years of torment to follow.
Karen allowed her
mind to wander back to that hot July day, which although only a few weeks ago,
felt more like several years. It was the
day after her twenty third birthday and, still recovering from the celebrations
of the previous evening, she had decided enough was enough. Her job as a secretary in a city law firm was
driving her crazy with boredom; she had been looking around for something
totally different, something to take her out of the mundane nine to five rat
race, and most importantly, something where she could exercise her dominant
nature. Her social life was a
nightmare. She was definitely more
attracted to women than men, but had enjoyed the occasional hetero
relationship. The one prime factor was
her need to dominate. Since her mid teens she had enjoyed using her powerful personality to
persuade apparently straight girls to perform lesbian acts with her. Her desires had continued to grow, reaching
the point where she now needed to control all of her relationships. She needed
to inflict pain, both emotional and physical.
In keeping with her sexual preference, she would rather rule over women,
but if the chance came along to dominate a man she could cope with that quite
The advertisement had
been quite small and, placed as it was, in her regular monthly edition of ‘Contact’,
it was probably not read by too many people.
Certainly those without an interest in the world of sexual domination,
even had they read it, would not have grasped the implication of the wording.
/ Trainer Required
Will suit late
twenties early thirties.
Male / female
to education essential.
qualifications less important than aptitude.
Working away from
home you must be very strong willed and
prepared to undergo intensive
in – house training.
Send details to:
P.O. Box No.
The address named a
small village in the Cotswold Hills.
It was only because
the advertisement appeared in that particular publication that it aroused any
interest in her at all, normally an educational post based in some sleepy
country town would not have held her attention long enough to finish reading
She had spent the
next three days thinking about the wording in the ad. Hoping she had
interpreted the message correctly, she decided to apply for an interview. Exactly one month later a letter had arrived
inviting her to a meeting with ‘Miss Catherine Davis,’ to be held at the Park
Lane Hotel, London.
She had made up her
mind to attend the meeting relatively easily, deciding what to wear had been
considerably more difficult. Should it
be a discreet business suit, or more in keeping with what she hoped the job
would entail, perhaps something more daring?
After changing several times she had settled on a navy blue trouser
suit, tightly cut at the waist over a white silk blouse, black patent leather
shoes with figure enhancing three-inch heels.
Barefoot, she could
claim to be five feet seven inches tall, her trim, if not quite athletic,
34-24-34 frame was topped with a bobbed hairstyle, the short fringe keeping her
chestnut curls away from her face. Her
make-up was minimal, intended to mainly accentuate her deep hazel eyes and high
It had taken four
separate meetings, in different locations, before she finally had been offered
the post on a trial basis. Whilst
attending the last meeting at a hotel near Southampton, she had been told she
would have to live abroad for at least the next twelve months and that contact
with people outside the organisation was absolutely forbidden during that
time. She had been given seven days to
accept the offer and then a further two weeks to put her affairs in order. This
was to be followed by a final briefing before her departure overseas. She still
did not know where she was going, only that it would be hot.
When Karen received
her instructions for the next meeting, she also received a small package
containing the clothes she should wear.
The typewritten details told her to be at a motorway service area on the
M5 at two PM, on Thursday of that week.
A chauffeur driven Mercedes would meet her and the driver would identify
himself as Marcus. She should enter the
rear of the car and immediately put on the blindfold she would find on the back
seat. The notes also told her that
Marcus would be instructed not to speak during the journey, which would take
approximately sixty minutes. Just
reading the instructions sent a shiver of expectancy raced down her spine. She
could not wait to begin this new adventure.