free rope bondage Bondage stories 2011 archive

It was on the tip of Eve`s tongue to express her disgust at the whole set-up and the supine way that women allowed men to trample on them when the guard who had stopped them blew a whistle and waved to Daphne to proceed. She engaged gear and rolled slowly past the line of panting perspiring women, their naked skins clotted with dirt, their bare feet scratched and calloused. They stood stock still, with military precision, their eyes set rigidly ahead of them, wearing their stripes like campaign ribbons. Eve sucked in her breath. Seen close to the welts were vicious. Most were on their backs, and away from her, but enough had curled round to leave savage bites on tender tit and belly to make it clear these were no love taps. The women varied in age from about twenty to somewhere about the forty mark. She could make a guess at their time on the line from the state of their sunburn on unprotected bodies and the state of their musculature, especially on bellies and forearms. Even the oldest displayed well-defined abs, and straight firm shoulders. No wonder she thought, gazing absently at the line of sweat encrusted shaven vulvas steaming in the sun.
As they passed the one she had pointed out as a dinner guest, Daphne rolled down the driver`s window, letting in a fetid smell of hot unwashed woman flesh, and smiled at her. The woman stared straight ahead, forbidden to acknowledge civilians, tied tightly by the discipline of the line and the fear of the overseer`s whips.
Her eyes drawn unaccountably to the woman`s groin, Eve saw that she bore the number 387 in inch high numerals across her plump shaven mons. A quick glance showed that all the women sported a number, though the dust and sweat partially obscured them. As they drew away from the scene of feminine servitude she commented on them to Daphne who dismissed them airily.
"Just their prison numbers," she explained, "they all get a number when they go on the line."
"Oh well," Eve said, "I believe tattoos can be fairly easily erased now. They can get them removed when they come out or, perhaps, tattooed over with some more suitable design."
"Who`s talking about tattoos? Those are put on with a hot iron. Brands. They`re more or less permanent. We don`t do things by halves in Eden. Besides, it`s part of the ethos. A woman has too much pride to try and remove her marks, just as nobody here would seriously try to mitigate any ordeal or punishment"
"But they`re disfigured for life!" Eve exclaimed, horrified.
"Oh I wouldn`t say disfigured, some people find it quite attractive. Besides, they`ve been branded on their shaved mounds. When they`ve done their time they can let their muffs grow again. The fur will soon cover the marks and no-one will see but their lovers. Even then, he or she would have to be a fan of cunnilingus."
Eve would have liked to have asked a million more questions; a gang of naked women labouring on a chin gang is not your normal tourist attraction, but Daphne seemed to have become exhausted by the enforced delay.
"Actually darling I would like to concentrate on the road. I really can`t afford another traffic violation. It`s not just the state of my arse; that will heal, but if you accumulate too many debits it might be decided that you should spend a month or two on the hook to rehabilitate you, and I really wouldn`t like that. Besides, I wouldn`t be here to take you round and satisfy that `satiable curiosity of yours."

By now though they had reached the long driveway that led to Daphne`s home and, Eve`s mind was taken up by the beauty of the scene. The island had been everywhere pleasing as they had crossed it and climbed into the hills where the Borenson estate lay, but Eve`s delight in it had been blunted by the distraction of Daphne`s revelations, literally so in the case of her bottom, of the real nature of women`s position here, but the actual sight of the house, set against a backcloth of trees and looking out over the plain to the sparkling edge of the sea, quite took her breath away. Eden indeed. Daphne seemed grateful to get off the subject of her martyred backside and, having seen Eve`s bags carried to her room, the two of them explored the house and grounds happily until Gordon`s car swept up the drive as evening fell.
He greeted Eve affectionately, telling her he`d heard much about her from Daphne and looked forward to getting to know her better, a sentiment that sent a strange electric sensation into her groin and knees, then kissed Daphne passionately, a passion that was fully returned. Eve could not help but wonder at their apparent love for each other given what she knew of his attentions to her in more brutal ways. Did she not resent his beating her for no purpose other than to `liven her up`? It appeared not. She didn`t even appear to object to his hand patting her roasted rump, though its continued soreness was reflected in a quickly suppressed tightening of her brow.
At dinner though she gave a pronounced wince as she sat down, having forgotten her bruised state for a moment in the animated conversation between the three of them. Gordon evidently spotted it for he laughed and remarked that he must have been on good form that morning if she was still feeling it.
"You were," Daphne replied with feeling. "But that`s not all I`ve got down there," and she proceeded to give a blow-by-blow account of the afternoons events.
Gordon grinned.
"I`m sure it did you a power of good," he remarked, "let`s have a look at the damage."
"Oh, men!" she complained to Eve. "They`re all the same in these parts. Always want to get a peek at your bottom, especially if it`s got roasted with a cane," but she didn`t appear to her friend to be particularly unhappy about the fact.
As she lifted her skirt, and was about to pull down the hated drawers she was `walking` Gordon checked her.
"What`s this?" he queried, pointing to the shapeless grey pants.
"Got sent them by the Bridge Club," his wife informed him, "to be returned tomorrow."
"And double-threaded too, I see," Gordon observed, "what have you been up to?"
Daphne looked a little ashamed for the first time since she had begun her strip.
"Eh. I guess I might have started a few too many post-mortems. Only trying to help other people`s game, you know, but it seems they didn`t appreciate it."
Gordon laughed.
"Seems not. Better keep your mouth shut after rubbers in future I suggest. My, aren`t we going to be one sore girlie tomorrow night. I`ll have to think of some way of soothing it."
"You know damn well what I need," Daphne said, "I can see it tenting your trousers right now, and I shan`t give you any peace until I get it."


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