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Barbarienne Episode 3:
"Escape Clause!"

When I awoke, for a moment I thought it had all been a dream -- and I do mean all.  I was naked, bound and gagged, in the darkness...was I back in that dungeon, had I imagined my rescue?  Had I imagined my rescuer, the beautiful barbarienne Charol?  From the warm luxury of sleep, I was instantly turned to solid ice at the thought.

But no.  It was a leather strap round my ankles, and a long strip of leather around my wrists behind me, with its ends tightly encircling my waist.  There was no massive plug of metal locked in my mouth, but just the ball-gag Charol had placed there so tenderly only hours ago.  Light showed around the door, early morning sunlight, illuminating the interior of the Churmuk guest wagon, and I allowed myself to relax, before my foolish brain finally remembered how Charol had been torn away from me by our hosts, apparently under arrest for the murder of the tribe's First Speaker.  Well, she hadn't done it, she'd been with me; my money, if I'd had any, would be on the Churmuk's chief warrior, very possibly the First Speaker's successor, Natella.  She'd made herself some good reasons to hate Charol, so making her the scapegoat for the murder would be right in character, I decided.

The door opened quietly, and Fran looked in, saw my eyes open, and entered, closing the door with exaggerated care.

"Your friend is in big trouble", she said, and crouched by me, unbuckling my gag.  "Natella has convinced a lotof people that Charol killed the First Speaker... the trial will be held tonight."

"What can we do?  She was here with me after you left, Fran, all the time until the warriors burst in on us."

Fran untied the leather strip from around my waist, and freed my wrists, before unbuckling the strap from around my ankles, and then sat beside me on the cushions.  "I know, Memree... but enough of Natella's cronies will swear differently..."  She looked at me carefully, and then looked towards the door.

"And as her trophy-slave, my testimony wouldn't count for much", I commented glumly.

"So, what about escape?  This afternoon, preferably, when things are quietest."

I thought of our plan, which was to help a man called Kreston escape, and arrange a rescue and a diversion.  It could include all of us, and go down today...

"Hey, you're a Churmuk, Fran -- I don't want you to betray your friends."  I put an arm around her waist.  She was wearing the usual Churmuk breastplate, calf-length boots, and short plate-mail kilt, but managed to snuggle against me in a far from military manner.

"I was a Churmuk, but I'm not going to stay here to be ruled by a murderer like Natella."  She nuzzled my hair.  "Anyway, I was a bored, frustrated little Churmuk, not like you and Charol."

We lay back on the cushions, and I began to unbuckle her breastplate.  When you have an ally, you give them your full support, that's my strategy.  "Isn't it all sisters together here, then?"

"Most Churmuk prefer men, when they get the chance, or a relationship between two warriors, with a well-polished wooden pussy-pleaser", Fran said, as I removed the breastplate, which did, as I'd supposed, exactly match the breasts within.

"I pulled off her boots.  "It all sounds terribly... warrior-like."

"And then I see you and Charol, like something out of my deepest fantasies come to life", she said quietly.  "Both beautiful, and very much absorbed in each in her chains, her holding your leash..."

I investigated her kilt, and discovered a buckle to undo.  "I'm not sure a threesome would work, Fran... not in the long run, anyway."

"Oh, I realise that -- but if I help you both, I might expect a little... gratitude...?"

The kilt fell away, and she was naked.  I felt a rush of affection, and a rather satisfying sense of power.  "Oh, I think you could rely on our assistance", I told her.  "I'm certain a well-built, properly submissive little sex-slave would be sure of going to a good home."

"I'm not sure..." Her protest was weak, and convinced neither of us.

There are some tests, though -- just a formality in your case."  I gently turned her over onto her stomach, and brought her wrists together.  She gave a little moan and a shiver, but resisted not in any way, as I kept the wrists touching while I got the long strip of leather ready, then wrapped the leather round.  I rolled her back over again, and tied the ends of the strip by her navel, nicely tight.  "Now, where's that ankle-strap...?"

"Just by my feet, ready for use", she whispered, and watched as I grabbed it and buckled it in place.

"How do you feel, Fran?"

"All wet inside and ready to explode -- I can't believe..."  Her voice trailed away, as I produced the rubber ball-gag I'd been wearing until so recently.

"Now, this is still all wet from my mouth, so I'd better find another one, hadn't I?"

"Please..." Her voice failed her for a moment.  "Please, Memree, I beg you -- that ball-gag, from your mouth to mine."

I looked at her, and smiled.  "I think you've passed the test", I told her, and leaned forward over her, my mouth above hers.  I kissed her on the lips, very gently, and her mouth opened, inviting my tongue inside.  I stroked it in, rubbed my tongue along hers, then withdrew, and smiled.

"Of course, a real slavegirl would be punished for using the name of her mistress, but I suppose I'd better let you off that, hadn't I?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress -- I didn't realise.  But please discipline me, so I'll know better next time."  Her voice was breathy, full of desire, and she smiled in wonder at what she'd just said.

I brought the ball-gag between our faces, and gave it a slow, sensuous lick.  "Well, since the slavegirl asks so nicely", I told her... "Perhaps I'll see what I can do."

She raised her head to accept the ball-gag, and I buckled it tightly, then studied the effect.  Her mouth was wide, white teeth visible around the ball; her eyes were wide, too.  I kissed the ball, then kissed her chin, and her jaw, and she gave a shuddering sigh...

"Maybe I should leave you like this", I told her, "and give you some explaining to do on how you were overpowered."  I grinned.

She went pale, and shook her head emphatically.  She'd have difficulty living that down!

I put a hand on her breast consolingly.  "Don't worry, Fran, or whatever your mistress will choose to call you -- I wouldn't do that!  There will be an escape this afternoon, and it will involve me, Charol, you, and a certain ser Kreston, our reason for coming here."

Her nipples were hard, as I toyed with them.  Then I moved on top of her, my breasts on hers, my hips on hers, and kissed the tip of her nose, before moving one hand between us, in the general direction of our pussies.

"Now, one more test, before I let you have a little rest, my girl", I told her, gentling her pubic lips apart and getting my hand wet on her juices... though I was pretty damp down there myself.  I moved my attention to her clitoris, which almost touched mine, and her back arched once, then again, in a sudden pair of orgasms that made her breath hiss, and brought a thankfully-muffled howl to her throat.

I was feeling a bit shaky myself, but got up on my knees, rolled her onto her front,and slapped her naked, helpless bottom with plenty of energy, not just once but a couple of dozen times, alternating between buttocks.  She tried not to react, to begin with, but by the end her seat was red, and she bucked and wriggled with all the energy I'd shown the previous day.

She moved onto her side and watched me as I stood up and found a full-head dark leather hood, which I fiddled with, looking down at her.

"No eye-holes", I told her, holding it up draped over one hand.  "It makes a girl's morning one long surprise."

Her eyes were wide, and her emotions conflicting, I could tell; she dreaded it, but she desired it as well, and I could sympathise.  I was used to playing the slavegirl myself... but being in control instead had its attractions...

I crouched, discarding the hood, and began to untie the knot by her navel; for a moment she stiffened, then relaxed.  "But we need you back in your Churmuk clothes for a few more hours."

The ankle-strap came off, and then I unbuckled the ball-gag.  Fran was unwilling to move, obviously still absorbing all the new sensations her body had subjected her to, so I put her breastplate in place, and strapped it on her.  "Hardy people, the Churmuk, to slip one of these
on on a cold winter's morning", I commented.

"I never---"  She cleared her throat, and began again. "You're a special kind of person, m'sera, and you're a lot stronger an individual than I am... remember that."

Once she was dressed, Fran went off to fetch me my own set of Churmuk armour, plus some sort of breakfast; I took the opportunity to pee into the pot provided, then found a leotard, pulled it on, and brushed my hair into good order.

The breakfast Fran brought me was fresh-baked bread rolls with newly-churned butter and a large steaming mug of strong cha; I did it full justice, and then pulled on the boots and the kilt, and looked carefully at the breastplate Fran held up for my inspection.  "It looks rather big", I observed - it truly had been made for an exceptionally well-endowed woman.

"You're not so little", she replied.  "There's no big choice of spares, anyway -- the next size down might have been a bit constricting."

I allowed her to see to its fastening, after I concentrated on feeding my breasts into the appropriate bumps.  Having them in there, supported by the cool, unyielding metal, was a strange sensation; I resolved to ask Fran some time how the things were usually constructed to fit... just by a metalsmith with a very good eye for estimating such things, I assume.

"I'm just sorry we didn't have longer this morning to... get acquainted", I told her.  "But trust me, in a few days we will resume our session, if you want -- right where we left off!"

Charol was being held in a wooden hut by the camp's outer ring; once we looked enough like two ordinary Churmuk warriors, we headed that way.  Fran assured me that there were enough people in the camp that nobody would know I wasn't what I appeared to be, and indeed nobody gave us a second glance.  Who would connect a purposeful warrior with the naked trophy-slave from the previous night?  Most people had probably only seen me close to while I was wearing that white leather hood, after all.

There was one guard at the hut's entrance; she just smiled and held the door open for us, after Fran asked if Charol was "receiving visitors" -- so, in we went.

It was one set of stocks, two boards locked together with holes to imprison both ankles and both wrists.  Put a prisoner in it sitting down, and it's hardly more than a minor inconvenience, unless her nose itches; put her in facing downwards and it is a little more awkward, but she can kneel, and sit back on the top of the stocks.  However, knot a rope tightly around her waist, lead it through between her legs, and tie it to a hook in the roof, pulling her butt high in the air and not letting her relax by an inch without the rope cruelly chafing her crack, and you've got a painful way to pass a few hours.  And this, of course, was how Charol was secured, making our first view of her a rather novel one.

She'd been stripped naked, of course; an old cloth was a blindfold, and a thin rope across her mouth kept a wad of rags in place as a cheek-stuffing gag, the sort of rough arrangement which could prove deadly if it was forced too deeply in, to make the victim throw up, or block the airway.

Fran let me approach Charol, which was a good idea; I was feeling awfully angry, to see my friend and protector like this, and anyone who got in my way would have been likely to get a painful example of my annoyance.  Gently, I unknotted the rope from across her mouth.

"Charol?"  I eased the wadded, sopping mess out of her mouth.  "It's me, Memree."

"Don't untie me", she said, once she'd let her tongue reclaim her mouth as her own.  "If they check, and things are looser, there'd be trouble."

"Fran is with me... she'll help us, if we take her away as well as Kreston."

"Good", she said, and gave a little cough.  "Our people shou be in place from this afternoon on, so after lunch you open that magical message-flask, the diversion begins, you come and get me, we get to Kreston... no problem, but in the meantime, how about you taking your great ugly hand off my bottom...?"

I looked around, surprised, to find my hand resting familiarly on her posterior, close to the rope.  I moved it away, and then gave her a friendly pat.  "Well, you'd do the same for me, sera."

"I would, wouldn't I?"  She sounded amused.  "Well, get Hengist loaded and ready to run, neighbour -- and try not to be too surprised when you uncork Ashil's bottle.  He was insufferably coy about what would happen, but it will be visible a long way off, to let him see it.  It's without any tangible substance, remember, but it's liable to cause some degree of panic around here, if only in the livestock.  I'd suggest closing your eyes for a moment."

"Not something that will worry you here."  I looked at her, blindfolded, muscles aching, and with a rope trying to cut her in two, and felt a surge of warmth.  Somehow, despite the totally undignified pose, which seemed to cry out for a flower or two to be stuck up her back passage, she was not only in control, but thinking of our mission, and of me.  A special person, Charol -- and she always has been.

"Now, before you stuff that disgusting gag back in my mouth, how about taking part of it out, so I don't feel as if my face is in danger of bursting?  Take the part away with you, don't leave it anywhere it could be seen."

I knelt down close to her face, close enough for her to feel my breath, I hoped.  "That's a pretty big favour to ask, isn't it?"

"Yes it is, chump."

"And can I, one day, ask a favour in return, my barbarienne?"

"Yes, chump, you can -- now, please...?"

By almost scraping my own head on the floor, I managed to kiss her; she was surprised, but responded with a significant degree of passion, briefly.

"Of course, boss", I said, dividing the gag's mess into two parts, and stuffing one half down inside my breastplate.  "Open wide, because here comes your share!"

"Good luck, and be careful", she managed before I fed her the wad of fabric, and readjusted the rope, using the same type of knot as before.

"We'll be back as soon as we can", I said as I stood up.  I touched her bottom again, warm and smooth, and then gently fingered the rope just above her; it moved slightly, and Charol's rump swayed with it, though she didn't make a sound.

Fran opened the door, and spoke to the guard as we went out.  "Pretty as a picture, isn't she?"

"Well, her bottom's comelier than some faces in this camp", the guard replied.  "My sergeant for one - but otherwise, naming no names, sister."

Fran laughed at that, and I smiled; the humour of the rough soldiery.  We headed back to the guest wagon, and managed to get Hengist packed.  Due to some strange workings of Churmuk honour, the "weight of gold" we'd won the previous evening had arrived, and we tucked that into a saddlebag.  Not a very big purse, but surprisingly heavy; if it had been coppers it could have kept two people in beer for a couple of weeks.  If gold is worth a hundred times as much as copper, we'd be looking at quite a few barrels of ale... if we lived to drink it, anyway!  It looked as if the slavegirl of a soon-to-be-convicted criminal was of no interest to the authorities here, though whether I was an item to be sold later, or would be granted my 'freedom', I'd no idea.

I dug out the small, corked and securely sealed blue glass bottle from where Charol had concealed it, while Fran brought us a lunch of cold sliced meat, bread and well-watered red wine.  Fran argued that we should allow more time for Ashil and his comrades to get into position, and coyly suggested a few interesting ways of passing the time, but I could almost feel that taut rope through my slit, and I didn't want to make Charol suffer any longer than she had to.  So, I opened the door, descended the steps, broke the seal, closed my eyes, and pulled the cork, before dropping the bottle on the ground and...

Atzmon, here?  Atzmon, clad in her glowing blue skin, a hundred feet high, her sword flashing?  I could see through her, yes, but we'd gone from full sunlight to not much better than dusk in an instant, and I shivered.

Batwings unfolding from Atzmon's back?  A sword raised, green and dripping?  Another figure, a naked woman -- Charol, unarmed but gripping Atzmon's sword arm?  The whole sky rippled like water, staying dark, and a dragon fought a giant white bear, which turned into a dead man, a man dead and gone...

Fran grabbed my hand.  "Come on -- you've a friend to rescue, remember!"

The camp was in uproar.  Not everyone watches the sky, but the twilight had told the whole tribe that something weird was under way, so we were far from the only women rushing around.  Fran had a sword in her hand.  A small, glowing wraith approached us, no more than a green, insubstantial skull trailing a cloud of sparks -- Fran's blade swept through it, and it exploded silently, the debris winking out of existence almost at once.  We ran through a sudden breath of hot, dry wind.

The sky was dark red, now.  A great tiger leapt across the clouds, and vanished; a pile of plates the size of a mountain tottered and fell, breaking in mid-air, and there was thunder... a flash of lightning, and the sky was suddenly a deep, unnatural blue.

We hurried towards the hut where Charol was being kept.  A young, fully-armoured Churmuk stood in front of us, but she was a ghost, pale and glowing; we ran through her, and I felt an icy chill then, could see my breath crystallizing against her.

"What's going on?"  The guard looked frantic, and glad to see us.

"We must free the prisoner", I told her, opening the door; she moved to follow me in, and Fran used the hilt of the sword to tap her just behind and below one ear.  She fell without a sound -- I swear she was alive, but a red-tinged "ghost" separated from her body, and ran away from us silently screaming, her feet just inches above the ground.

I unhooked the rope from the ceiling, and began to untie the rope from around Charol's mouth.  "The bottle's open, and all hel is breaking loose", I told her.  "Giant figures in the sky, an early twilight, ghosts and floating skulls..."

"That's the general idea", she said, once she'd spat out the wad of gag.  Fran had got some keys from the guard, and was unlocking the stocks.

The blindfold came off easily, and I helped Charol to straighten up, and get to her feet, something she did slowly and rather cautiously.  She felt along the indentation the rope had left as it approached her groin, while I untied it from around her waist.  Fran dragged the unconscious guard inside... as she got her across the threshold, a second, blue-shining "ghost" rose from the body, looked at us, silently snarled like a beast, and ran through the wall as if it wasn't there.

"Spooky, or what?"

"It's just illusion magic", Charol said, gently feeling her poor abused under-section.  "But I think that guard's about my size, isn't she?"

She got dressed quickly, after Fran and I had taken the guard's clothes off.  The guard was breathing easily; I kept expecting a third "ghost" to burst out, but nothing happened.  Once she was naked, we locked her in the stocks, face down as Charol had been, but without bothering with the rope.  Charol took her sword, hefted it to judge its balance, and nodded.

We left the hut, now three Churmuk warriors.  The sky was a dark green now, but somehow it didn't make us, or the landscape, seem sickly.  Another skeletal head fizzed past, pale amber with glowing red eyes, leaving a trail of mauve butterflies in its wake.

"Kreston will be in that large shed over there", Fran pointed.  "I'll go and get your horse, and enough extra mounts."

"Good luck", Charol replied.  Fran hurried off one way, and Charol and I headed the way she'd indicated.  The sky was rippling again, like a pond some idling youngster kept throwing stones in.  Green to blue to red to yellow, and I saw Atzmon again, looking down at us as if we were ants scurrying frantically to avoid her feet.

"Fran's really being useful -- what have you been promising her, Memree?"

"Nothing we can't deliver -- it's a long story, boss!"

If there had been a guard on the shed's door, she'd gone now; a wooden bar across the door rested on two brackets, and was easily discarded.  Charol kicked the door wide; four men, in ragged trousers, with iron collars on their necks, were being guarded by two Churmuk.  Although the collars were securely chained to the wall, the Churmuk looked nervous, and had their swords drawn.  They also looked glad to have what they assumed were reinforcements.

"Kreston's behind this", Charol shouted urgently, heading for them.  "We need to take him to Natella, and quickly!"

I stayed at the door, watching a soundless duel in the orange sky between Atzmon and -- hel, that was me up there, and in Churmuk armour!

One of the Churmuk carefully unchained Kreston from the wall, while the other kept the remaining three men at bay -- until Charol grasped her sword-hand, making her drop her weapon, and pushed her forward into three waiting pairs of arms.  The Churmuk who had freed Kreston whirled on Charol, only to grabbed by Kreston, who got a loop of chain round her neck.

"Kreston -- we're the rescue party!"

"Charol?  You old hound, I've never been happier to see your homely, wrinkled old features!"

Old acquaintances, obviously. Charol smiled broadly. "From you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Room for my three buddies in your plans?"

"You mean I should have made plans, Kres?  Now you tell me..."

Kreston got the keys from his guard, who was unconscious on the floor, and unlocked his collar, and those on his friends.  "Fight anyone in our way, run like the devil was after us, and pray for back-up -- am I right?"

Charol grinned.  "Let's get to the horses, shall we?"

Kreston and one of his comrades picked up swords, and we headed back out into the unnatural twilight.  The sky was grey, now, like one big thundercloud, occasionally pulsing with veins of light; there were no figures in the sky, but we could see coloured lights moving around the camp, and what looked like a glowing octopus with an almost-human head scudded by us, leaving a track of bubbles in its wake.

"Illusion magic", Charol told him.  "And it seems to be past its peak, now."

"Looks good to me", Kreston commented.  "And it must be scaring the panties off the bloody Churmuk."

We saw Fran ahead by some wagons, with Hengist and a few other horses all saddled.  She waved to us, smiling broadly, and we ran towards her.

"Fran's coming with us", I said.

"Natella's lover-girl?"  Kreston sounded surprised.  "They must have had a spat."

"Everyone mount up -- you too, Fran", Charol said, and headed for one of the horses, a mid- sized black mare with a white blaze on her forehead...

"I'm afraid not, guest!"

The voice was Natella's; she led five armed warriors out of hiding behind the wagons.  It was a trap -- and Fran had led us into it.  It was all my fault -- I'd trusted her, believed her, blithely assumed that my naive sex-play had bound her to us.  I turned to her, as Natella and Charol closed, swords raised, and Kreston and his men joined battle with her companions.

"Fran, how could you...?"

Fran sheathed her sword, confident she could fight me on equal terms.  "It was Natella's plan all along, sweetness", she said.  "Giving Charol a trial for murder might have been risky, so she gets killed trying to escape."

"And me, Fran?"

Smiling, she produced a pair of handcuffs.  Who'd believe a slavegirl?"

The others were already fighting; I leapt on Fran, and we rolled on the ground, grappling.  "Oh, you can believe me, and what I offered", I said firmly.  "And I believe you'd rather enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

She fought harder, and tried to get one cuff on my wrist; we looked each other straight in the eye -- until she lowered her gaze.  "In fact, I think you'd regret it all your life, if you didn't get away from here, and from Natella", I told her, as we fought -- and I forced the cuff onto her own wrist, elbowed her in the stomach just below the breastplate, turned her over, and cuffed the other wrist behind her, before kneeling on her back.  "And you can't deny it -- or your true self!"

Two of the Churmuk warriors were down now, unconscious and bleeding, and as I watched, Kreston got inside another one's guard, and punched her on the jaw.  A lot of frustration went into that punch, and I reckon that the hard work he'd been doing for the Churmuk had been good for his muscles -- she dropped with a grunt, and didn't move.

I hadn't heard a word from Charol or Natella, which is unusual; when Charol fights, she likes to taunt her opponent, to make her angry.  I think that Charol was angry enough herself this time, as I learnt later that Natella had been the one who'd added the "rope suspension" round her middle (and through her crotch) to Charol's overnight imprisonment.  With the swords, they were evenly matched; Natella hadn't expected us to free all four men, and she had no advantage in numbers now.  I got up, found some spare rope in Hengist's saddlebags, and boosted Fran up sideways onto another of the horses, so that she lay across the neck in front of the saddle, and tied her in place, with rope around her shoulders and round her feet.  The last of Natella's Churmuk were down, now, and Kreston and his men were mounting too.

"Come on, Charol --leave her, we've got to get going now, before the rest of the camp gets organised", I shouted, but she ignored me, as Kreston led the way out.

The men urged their horse into a trot.  I mounted the horse Fran was on, holding Hengist on a leading rein.  "Hurry -- the whole tribe will be down on us!"

Charol still fought on.  We'd been lucky; Natella had brought only a few blue-faction warriors she could trust, rather than half the tribe, in case Charol had said anything she'd have difficulty explaining away.  She's underestimated the men's ability to fight, and, once again, she'd under- estimated Charol.

Fran squirmed in front of me, testing the ropes; I slapped her bottom, and she settled down.  I urged our horse to a walk, just as Charol lunged; Natella dodged, but Charol whipped her sword-arm sideways, and hit Natella's temple with the hilt of the sword.  Natella collapsed soundlessly.

"Come on, Charol, or we'll all be in the stocks!"

Charol looked at me, and smiled broadly, then picked up the unconscious Natella and threw her over her horse, jumped into the saddle, and dug her heels in.  "Let's get out of here", she shouted.

We never saw any pursuit as we rode through the afternoon; the Churmuk and their horses were all too spooked, presumably, and without their murdered First Speaker and abducted chief warrior hadn't the necessary spirit - though perhaps any candidates for either post would not have wanted to ride away and leave their rivals behind to plot against them!  We met up with Ashil after the first hour, and changed to the fresh horses he had thoughtfully brought along; Natella was properly bound, which she may have preferred to Charol's regular love-taps on her skull.  And the following evening saw us back in town.  While Ashil and Kreston went off to talk with the people from the Sommersley estates, Charol and I made a quick stop at our room, and then headed for the bar of 'The Lazy Goose' -- along with Fran.

Charol was wearing one of her white leotards now, plus belt, boots, and her favourite leather jacket; I was just in sandals and a grey leotard.  Fran was naked, except for ankle-cuffs and a chain hobble, and wrist-cuffs locked together in front of her.  We each had a tankard of beer in front of us, though I'd not yet touched mine.

"Well, I still say dear Fran here betrayed us", Charol said.  "I don't like being ambushed."

"If you ask me, it was Natella who was ambushed", I replied, putting a hand on Fran's arm.  "You're not going to tell me that a Churmuk warrior like Fran couldn't have out-wrestled me if she'd wanted to -- and then the odds really would have been in Natella's favour."

"Well, Fran...?"

She looked up, and gave a thin smile.  "I won't deny that Natella set you up from the start, to take the blame for First Speaker's murder, and that I was supposed to gain your trust, and encourage an escape attempt -- yes, and lead you into a trap."  She stopped, and looked at Charol, and then at me.

We made no comment, but waited for her to continue.  "I thought I was exaggerating my...
in sexual slavery, though I'd had daydreams of being the lover-slave of some beautiful yet demanding mistress.  But the example of the pair of you...and Memree's little practical demonstration that morning..."  She blushed, and, using both hands, took a deep swig of her beer.  "Well, let's just say that I wasn't at my fighting best later that day, and that Natella hadn't expected Kreston to bring his friends along."

Ashil bustled in, looking very cheerful, and came over to join us.  "Full payment received from Sommersley, plus a bonus... I've paid your share into your account at the goldsmiths' hall.  And Kreston wants to buy Natella off you... it seems she was rather nasty to him, and he wants to return the favour by making her the pot-slave at their townhouse."

A tankard of beer arrived for Ashil, and he beamed his thanks.  "Don't tell anyone, but I think he's actually a little bit sweet on her."

"Oh yeah", Charol commented, making a face.  "What a pair they would make."

"Kreston will pay well, I'm sure -- he's grateful for being rescued, and while he's not a man to actually say so, he'll let the money speak for him."

"Fair enough", Charol said.  "You do the negotiation -- she's staying with Delinda at the moment, getting a little education into her new status in life."  She sipped her beer.  "Don't be
grasping, he and his friends were a great help in the big fight, after all."

"At Del's?  Oh, painful!"  Ashil grinned.  "Still, the sooner she gets used to doing what she's told, the less traumatic the consequences, yes?"

"You could say that."

"And what about Memree's little conquest here, sitting naked and chained drinking beer?"

I looked up, and winked at him.  "Oh, we have a special deal for her", I said, putting my arm round her shoulders.  "This one's white collar material."

Slave collars come in different colours.  Plain metal is general purpose, but red means a slave- prostitute, black means the slave is for the exclusive use of his or her owner, and white means same-sex only.  This usually applies only to the actual metal collar; a leather over-collar in such colours is normally just part of a costume, though it may indicate a possible inclination.

We all finished our drinks, and then Ashil headed back to Kreston's house, while Charol, Fran and I made for the privacy of our room.

Fran stood, naked and very much unsure of herself, while Charol unlocked her wrist and ankle cuffs.  I was out of sight behind her as I undressed.  I hadn't had much of a chance to talk to Charol about this evening's entertainment, so I was feeling a little uncertain myself... but a nice kind of uncertain, that brought a quiver of heat to my loins as I pulled off the leotard.

Charol put her face close to Fran's.  "In the morning, we'll be collecting Natella from her stay with our friend Delinda... and we will give you to her, instead."

I came up behind Fran, and let my body press against hers.  "She is a demanding mistress -- just the sort to keep a handful like you in line", I murmured.

"But I wanted--"

"What slaves want and what they get are two different things", I went on, my breasts rubbing her back.  "She will soon have you in love with serving her -- and that's what you want, isn't it?"

"Well, a strong, relentless owner, to bend me absolutely to her will..."

Charol hugged us together, hands round my back.  "Which is more than I would do, babe", she told her gently.  "We just play at this -- but Del's an expert. full time."

I disengaged Charol's hands from behind me, and then moved my arms to embrace Fran.  "So start playing, boss, or your two slaves for the night will begin the game without you."

Charol stood back a few inches.  "Let's see you front to front, then, and sharing a nice, long, friendly kiss, shall we -- but with your hands behind your backs."

We moved into position.  Well, I did the moving; Fran was a little slow to react, though she did put her hands behind her back before too long.  Our breasts pushed together, and our lips touched.  The kiss began.

First, Charol put a strap around my left ankle and Fran's right ankle, and buckled it tight, so that Fran's leg was to the left of mine; then she did the same with my right ankle and Fran's left, again with my leg on the inside.  We had to press together to keep steady; her pubic hair pressed against mine, and I rubbed gently, still keeping the kiss going, breathing through my nose when necessary.

With my hands behind my back, I'd automatically crossed my wrists, like any good slavegirl; I felt Charol wind a rope around them, and tie it tight, though I must admit she didn't have my full attention.  My mouth, my breasts and my pussy were what I was concentrating on.  I'd pushed my tongue deeply into Fran's mouth, and her own tongue made it welcome with darting caresses and lingering, rubbing strokes.  She faltered for a moment when Charol went behind her, crossed her wrists for her and tied the rope around them; her breath shuddered, rubbing her nipples on my breasts in a most enjoyable way.

"That's it, slavegirls, keep that kiss going", Charol said quietly, as she started to put a longer piece of rope around our waists.  She pushed us together firmly, and tied the rope after in had encircled us three times; the knot was in the middle of my back, with a few spare feet of rope dangling down.  But Charol didn't let it dangle for long; lifting my hands out of the way, she took it down the cleft of my bottom and under me, then moved to feed it under Fran, and up to the rope at Fran's waist, where she tied it off, tight enough to make Fran and me really close friends, pulling our bodies tightly together.

I purred deep in my throat, and wriggled my hips just a little, which did really naughty things to me in the way of stimulation, with both the rope and Fran's pubic bush rubbing against me.  And I could feel another length of rope going round me, under our arms and above our breasts; I couldn't see it, because by now my eyes were closed.

"End your kiss now, m'seras", Charol said, and, breaking lip contact reluctantly, I turned towards Charol's voice, opening my eyes.  And what I saw was an end to all kissing -- a big rubber ball-gag set on a thin leather strap.

"Now, who gets this to bite on?"  Charol sounded amused, as she held it up in front of our wide-open eyes.  "I think it's only fair to award it to the one of you with the biggest mouth, don't you -- so open wide, both of you!"

I opened wide; frankly, I don't think Fran was trying, as her mouth barely opened more than an inch.  So, I got the "prize" deftly inserted, tasting of rubber and filling my face for me.  Charol buckled it tight behind my neck.

We were standing fairly close to the bed.  Charol manoeuvred us a little closer, opened it, and gave us a gentle push... Fran landed on top of me, which was rather stimulating... and then I felt a pair of hands, presumably Charol's, gently easing our legs apart.  Next, I felt some fingers getting extremely personal, and began to moan, muffled by the gag.  I think Fran was getting the same treatment -- she bit on the ball too, and let out a shuddering sigh.

One thing was sure -- it was going to be a long night!