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Bondmaids Volume 3 by Simon Grail

EXTRACT FOR
Bondmaids Volume 3 
(Simon Grail)


Bondmaids Volume 3

BONDMAIDS IN THE CITY

CHAPTER ONE

 

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 mouth.  

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 barred window.

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 stolen property.

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 Nethervale.   

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 them.