Leather training | Gerda's story | free bondage stories

Three weeks later Gerda reported to Le Compte's study at exactly 4 p.m., knowing the painful penalties of being even a minute late. He was again dressed in his white leather suit, and she felt weak with love and desire when she saw him encased in the gleaming material.

"Sit down, slave Gerda. I regret this is an official visit, but in a few days we will dine together as before." She knew this meant spending an evening with him, when she was allowed to eat dinner without her slave mask and long rubber gloves.

"You did well in your initial tests," he continued, eyeing her totally leathered face, "and now you can pass on to the next part of your training, which is more severe, of course. But, admit it now, you are starting to like your slavery.?"

Her independent spirit rose up in protest, although her feelings did a mental somersault. "Yes," she said slowly, "you've taught me a great deal in the past few weeks. I would never have believed it possible, but only because I love you so very much, Guy - sorry, Master" she corrected herself hastily. "I have to admit that I am now turned on by the humiliation of bondage. But why ? I am not a masochist - am I ?"

He lit a cigarette and watched the smoke for a moment. "Everyone, male and female, has a part of their character which is masochistic - some more than others. We are drawing upon your masochistic side in order to give you actual enjoyment in your training."

"But the costumes" she asked slowly, "I've never felt any sexual feelings towards rubber or leather, and yet I now accept it, even welcome it. I can't imagine wearing ordinary clothes now ! Am I perverted or something ?"

"There is no such thing as perversion, slave Gerda. It's an old fashioned English word, used in envy during the Victorian era. Curiously enough, although we are strict and sometimes extremely cruel, in the long run there have been very few slaves who have actually resented it. You see, we do not attempt to break the spirit. We do not try to make the female an object of pity. On the contrary, a slave's ego and personality must be built up to a point where she is proud of her training."

She could not fully comprehend his words. "Perhaps I am lucky in that I have you. I love you ! But a slave being trained for an unknown Master - that I couldn't bear."

He smiled and stood up, crossing to the one way mirror on the wall of his office which gave a complete view of the adjacent punishment chamber. He activated the screen which allowed them to see into the room without themselves being seen.

"There is Tessa, a top level slave. She is a happy girl, because she will meet her new Master this weekend for the first time. he is due any moment, and she requested that she be put in this position when he arrived."

The slave Tessa was secured over a whipping block, her wrists, ankles and knees padlocked tightly over the steel frame, her rubbered bottom outstretched and ready to be whipped. "He will arrive in about ten minutes," said Le Compte. "He is a young and wealthy American, and now all she wants is to find a Master whom she can adore and love."

"But surely so she can escape" said Gerda. Guy obscured the mirror again. "Not actually. That is her decision, of course, but for the time being at least she remains here until she knows them well, she has no great desire to go back to the outside world."

"So" he continued, "you will now enter the second phase of your training, but you will be accorded certain privileges, such as being allowed one day of freedom per week. Dressed in rubber of course, but with no actual training, and permitted to roam the island. Your serving maid will brief you on that. Meanwhile, tomorrow morning you will report for a tawse whipping and start your breast training. That is all for now." Suddenly he was the stern Master again. Instinctively, she dropped to her knees and kissed his Supreme Master, tight against his leather suit.

Despite her fear of the Executioner, the sadistic lesbian who had cut off her hair when she had first arrived, Gerda had slept well and was feeling relatively calm when Maria dressed her the next morning for her further training.

She put on a pair of tight latex trousers over which came laced up high heeled boots. Maria then brought across a white vinyl jacket with holes allowing Gerda's breasts to emerge. Her mask and long gloves completed the outfit, apart from a long swirling latex cape which Maria fastened round Gerda's neck.

She reported on time to one of the smaller punishment rooms. The Executioner was waiting for her and despite her bravado she felt a tingle of fear run up her spine. In some manner this woman managed to keep an aura of mysterious evil about her. She was dressed in white rubber breeches, boots and long cloak under which she was tightly corseted. A red Latex mask covered half her face and incongruously and ominously her eyes were covered in dark goggles.

"Come in, slave Gerda" she purred, "I rarely see you these days, except for punishment. But today I shall have the privilege of initiating you into your second stage of training. First, you need warming up. Bend over, legs straight, and grip your ankles. I will give you 25 strokes with the thick tawse and every time you move or groan I will repeat the stroke. Take off your cape."

Afraid now, Gerda did as she was ordered, bending over in the middle of the room so that her tightly rubbered bottom was high in the air. She heard the rustle of the Executioners cloak as she raised the tawse, then the next moment felt a stinging thwack as the leather whip cracked across her bottom. With an effort she held back any sound. Again and again it descended, until her bottom was a mass of flaming pain, the tawse whipping cruelly across the same welts. Grimly she clenched her teeth, determined not to incur any further punishment by crying out. The last stroke was delivered with the Mistresses full strength, and Gerda's mind reeled with the effort of not moving or crying out.

"What a good slave" the Executioner said mockingly, "I see you are learning. Now go and sit in the punishment chair."

The seat was at the side of the room, a heavy upright Provencal chair with sturdy arms. The Executioner pressed a bell to summon a serving maid, and in a few moments the girl arrived, dressed in the usual high latex stockings, stiletto heels, short rubber dress, corsetted, gloved and masked.

She came across to Gerda and secured her to the chair by wrists, ankles, waist and shoulders, then inserted and strapped up a bit gag, and finally secured a blindfold across her eyes. Then she felt straps being passed over and under her breasts so that they were prominently extended through the vinyl jacket.

"Excellent" purred the Executioner. "Now, slave Gerda, you will wear the torture pins for ten minutes before I beat your breasts. You may scream all you like, as I know it is extremely painful. You will receive this treatment every day until you can accept it within yourself as normal training."

The next moment Gerda felt a fearful pain on her left nipple as the clamp was applied. Then her right nipple was similarly squeezed, and she screamed in agony and pulled at her bonds, shaking her head in mute appeal. But the bondage was secure and rigid, and the spring clamps remained painfully on her extended nipples. Thankfully, after two or three minutes, the pain lessened.

"Poor slave, this is only the beginning. Maid, put the machine on her for a moment to get her prepared for her breast beating."

Gerda felt the vibrator between her legs, then the next moment the cruel oscillations were seething through her. The pain of the clamps gradually turned to a fierce pleasure, and behind the leather blindfold she could feel tears of frustration, knowing this cruel bitch was breaking down the torture into ecstasy.

Abruptly, the machine ceased and the clamps were removed, bringing a new surge of pain as the blood returned to her nipple. Then the low voice of the Executioner said "25 light strokes on each breast, slave. Very good for keeping the muscles taut, so look upon it as therapeutic training."

The balsa wood flat cane smacked gently across her breasts, gradually increasing in strength. Powerless to move in her bonds, Gerda moaned as the pleasure and pain mounted together. Then suddenly the machine was turned on again, and now she strained her breasts forward to meet the cane, begging for it, knowing she was lost. She screamed endlessly through her gag as the pleasure hit her in a cacophony of pain and ecstasy.

The blindfold and gag were removed. She saw her tormentress smiling beneath her half mask. "Interesting, slave Gerda, isn't it, that you react so well ? In time, and with the most severe treatment, you may even become a good slave. What were you about to tell me ?"

Gerda had learned her lessons well. "Thank you Mistress for devoting your time to train me. I humbly accept your tortures and humiliations knowing that they are for my own benefit." It choked her to say it, but she knew now that any breach of discipline brought only further punishment. She groaned as the straps were released and she was pulled upright by the maid. As she moved forward she tripped and fell against the Executioner, who stepped back quickly.

"How dare you touch me. Maid, bring me a long punishment hood immediately." Weakly, Gerda tried to apologise, then recoiled as the serving maid brought across a heavy white helmet. "Please, Mistress, I didn't mean too..."

"Silence." The tick rubber hood was fitted over her head, then the high collared cape was tied around her neck, causing her to breathe noisily against the rubber. "You will keep that on for two hours, slave, to teach you not to be careless in the future. Maid, Inform her maid Maria when she can remove it."

Desperately Gerda tried to control her breathing inside the heavy loose hood. She realised there were two small breathing holes at either side, but it required long deep breaths to inhale any air, and even turning her head to the side could close one of the holes.