IN THE CITY
April never knew the names of the two
men who held her and Niki naked and chained in the cellar. The few times she was not blindfolded in
their presence their faces were always covered by hood-masks and they were
smart enough never to refer to each other personally. After a while in her mind she named them Thug
One and Thug Two: a pair of large, at times carelessly brutal men who usually
smelt of sweat and beer, and who were their de-facto masters.
It was a strange truth that she would
probably recognize their erect cocks if she saw them again. Every orifice of her body had become
intimately familiar with them. She knew
their length and girth, each fold of skin and pulsing vein, how fully they filled
her mouth, how far up her vagina they reached, how much they distended her anus
and how completely they plugged her rectum.
She even recognized the distinctly different taste of their sperm in her
Neither did she know where the cellar
they were held in was situated, beyond that it was somewhere in Riddlemouth,
which was a city that occupied much the same the physical location in the
parallel world of Nethervale as Bristol did in her own version of England. They had been brought to it blindfolded,
bound and gagged and had not seen the sun since except for the glow that
filtered through the thick, grimy glass of a high, narrow, recessed and heavily
The window was their only link with
the outside world but it offered no more chance of physical escape from the
cellar than did the only other possible means of egress: the heavy ironbound
door situated at the top of a flight of stone steps through which they had been
brought. Nor was there the possibility
of calling out when they were left alone in the cellar in the hope somebody
outside might hear them. When their
mouths were not filled with their captor’s cocks or briefly freed for the
purposes of eating or drinking they were kept securely closed with thick strap
and plug gags, which were held in place by additional crown and chin straps and
padlocked behind their necks. Their
captors had no interest in anything they wanted to say and reserved their
tongues and lips for their own pleasures.
Even if they had the means they could
not reach the window to break it and raise the alarm, always assuming there was
somebody on the other side to take notice.
Heavy chains connecting their thick leather collars to rings set in the
wall confined them to a bed of straw and a waste bucket in one corner of the
cellar well away from the window. Such
restraints were not unusual when confining bondmaids and it might have made
little difference to their conditions even if they had been the legal property
of their captors. Any owner could
confine them like this if he so wished.
In Nethervale bondmaids were regarded as little better than animals who
could talk… when and if they were permitted.
Not so many months ago back in her
world undergoing such an ordeal would have driven April mad. She would have cried herself to sleep and
lived each day in fear. Had she been
rescued she would have undergone therapy and trauma counselling and been
expected to bear the mental scars for years.
Now she simply accepted and endured, finding any small crumb of comfort
or pleasure along the way. She did not
like her situation and longed to be almost anywhere else, but she knew it would
not destroy her. After all, she was a
trained bondmaid and expected a measure of suffering as natural. What counted was that she still had
Niki. While they were together she
thought she could take anything.
At night as she slept curled up
against Niki’s warm body she dreamed of Marvell’s bondmaid carnival from which
she had Niki had been accidentally stolen by the two thugs, along with
Marvell’s caravan, for the purpose of discovering its concealed strongbox. “Kidnapped” would have been the wrong word as
it had not been the thugs’ intent to take them.
Since they were mere bondmaids and therefore legal property in
Nethervale, “stolen” seemed the more appropriate term.
She wondered if the Marvell’s missed
them. She hoped the carnival was doing
well and had triumphed in its battle with their business rival Harry Carlo, who
had been trying to sabotage their tour and ruin them so he could take over
their show. It was he who in desperation
had finally hired the thugs to steal Marvell’s caravan. The last April knew he had been setting about
tearing it to pieces in search of the strongbox, not knowing that she and Niki
had already thrown it into the front garden of a house as the thieves had
driven the caravan through the city in the dark small hours.
She wished she could have seen Carlo’s
face when he discovered he had been wasting his time. In retrospect it was probably lucky the thugs
and taken her and Niki away with them to sell on after the excitement had died
down and make a little extra cash on the side.
She shuddered to think what Carlo would have done to them had he found
out it was they who had cheated him of his prize.
Thugs One and Two at least had no
personal reason to hate them. To them
she and Niki were, like all bondmaids, simply living sex toys existing for
their personal amusement. They were a
collection of hot tight orifices arrayed for their cocks to plunder and spill
their seed, pliant flesh they could mould and pinch and slap, pretty faces they
could watch crumple in pain, soft eyes they could see fill with tears until
they pleaded mutely to serve them by any means, and lovely bodies that they
could confine, twist, stretch and bend to serve their pleasure.
Yes, April admitted without false
pride, they both had attractive bodies seemingly made to suffer.
April had lightly olive-tinted skin,
shoulder length straight dark hair, deep brown eyes, a full mouth and straight
narrow nose. Large brown erect nipples
capped her full, proud breasts. Her hips
wide, her navel deep and her bottom cheeks strong and well rounded. Hard labour had filled out the feminine
curves of her thighs and calves with underlying muscle. The lips of her sex were fleshy and pouting
and perfectly smooth and hairless.
Niki by contrast was a blonde of
slightly lesser build with a mass of waved honey-blonde hair. Her eyes were blue, her nose a little broader
than April’s and her lips red and full
Her skin, at least at the start of their captivity in the cellar, had
born a light golden even tan that showed off the prominent conical pink nipples
that capped her neat, high breasts.
Months of vigorous exercise and a carefully controlled bondmaid diet had
left her waist was trim and her stomach flat, displaying her deep navel to its
best advantage. Like April her prominent
sex was perfectly smooth and quite bare.
They were also alike in one other
respect. Both bore a purple scar brand
on the upper slopes of their right buttocks in the shape of the letters RW set
inside a circle. This stood for
Ramswold, a market town some miles to the north on the other side of the
Papswell Rises, the equivalent in Nethervale of the Cotswold hills,
where she and Niki had first unwittingly emerged into Nethervale and been
captured and condemned to bondmaid service.
Up until recently they had also worn
brightly jewelled carnival piercing rings through their nasal septum, nipples,
labia and clitoral hoods, together with coloured carnival collars and
cuffs. Their captors had removed all
these distinctive items and the perforations in their flesh were left to
close-up in preparation for their eventual sale. The thugs did not want them recognized as
It was the prospect of their sale that
April both feared and longed for. Her
fear was that she and Niki might be separated.
Her hope was at some point during the process of sale and the ensuing
change of owner they would have a chance to speak out. She had heard the thugs talking about
selling them openly. Surely a reputable
auction house would not want to deal with stolen goods.
They might even be returned to their
last legal owners. The Marvell’s had
grown fond of herself and Niki and they had foiled Carlo’s plot against
them. April imagined there might even
be a reward for their return to the carnival.
All they had to do was explain to somebody who they really were and they
would be saved. April clung to that
possibility with all her heart. Life as
a carnival girl with Niki had probably been the happiest time she had spent in
In the meantime, however, they had to
accept their lot and make the best of it.
The thugs at least had the sense to
keep them exercised since they wanted them fit and healthy so they would fetch
the best price. Their method was simple
but effective, employing the sort of device commonly used in Nethervale to
control and discipline bondmaids.
In one corner of the cellar was a
heavy wooden upright frame reaching almost to the ceiling supporting between it
horizontal rollers at the top and bottom, fitted with large wooden cogs at each
end. Looped over the rollers were two
heavy ropes between which wooden slats were tied, rather like a continuous rope
ladder. The teeth of the roller cogs
engaged with the ladder slats. Climbing
up one side of the ladder caused it to run about the rollers in the other
direction, the speed determined by adjustable friction brakes.
For at least an hour twice a day April
and Niki each climbed that interminable ladder.
Even when the thugs were not there to monitor them they could not slow
down or step off the device. There was
nothing to cling to on the frame on either side. Slack chains hanging from a
ceiling ring hooked to their collars prevented simply stepping off. They might have grasped these chains above
their heads and briefly hung from them to rest, but that would have caused them
to sink too close to the ground and that they dared not do.
While on the ladder machine they were
impaled on a large plug-headed anal dildo mounted on the end of a long rod that
was fastened to a pivot set in a heavy base plate. Just under the flared dildo base flange there
was a telescopic sprung section in the rod.
Below this was a set a wooden disk bristling with upward facing
nails. If they slowed their rate of
climb and sank down the ladder the rod compressed and the nails jabbed their
bottoms, warning them to climb faster.
At the end of each exercise session
they were lathered with sweat and utterly exhausted. Their bottom cheeks stung and smarted from
nail scratches, while their anuses ached from clenching the dildo inside