Katrina gagged | Gerda's story 52 | free bondage stories

Gerda was a superb sight, although she was not appreciating it. The life like Chinese mask, with red lips and an inscrutable smile, gave no indication of the cruel gag and masks underneath. The head was drawn proudly upright, and the long hair fell almost to her waist, emphasising rather than hiding the gleaming corset which seemed effortlessly to constrict the 17 inch waist, causing the firm breasts to thrust out against there black latex covering. Long beautiful legs were perched precariously on high booted heels, and from the superbly encased bottom there extended a heavy rod with a long plumed feather attached.

"Excellent, my dear Gerda ! Now I want you to serve my friends with all due humility. You will receive multiple demerits if you spill a drop of tea or show the slightest sign of resistance or discomfort. You will obey any order given to you instantly. You will not moan or give the slightest indication of pain or suffering. I want to be proud of my new slave !"

She walked out of the kitchen, slim and arrogant in her tight leather suit, the red cape swishing around her shoulders. Gerda took the mandated tiny steps over to the stove where the electric kettle had already boiled., her hobble clinking gently.

But Laura had yet to realise that Gerda was now able to adjust her psychological mood to fit the situation. Gerda stood still for a moment, closing her eyes and rocking slightly on her precarious balance. I am a Chinese slave, she thought, a slave very lucky to be properly dressed and allowed to serve. I want to be a perfect servant, and I need to be humbled and humiliated, so that I will become a better Chinese slave.

She opened her eyes, her mind and body alive and aware of the challenge. Her vicious corset felt wonderful, and she gently massaged her breasts pushing so firmly against the latex. Her chained head was now almost comfortable, luckily, Laura had not pulled it as far back as before.

I'm crazy and kinky, she thought, but I am actually enjoying the thought of going out there in front of those cows and being dominated and humiliated by them. Determinedly, she refused to think about Laura's sinister blackmail threats - one problem at a time. She poured the water into the large silver tea pot and picked up the heavy tray, the wrist chain clinking against it. With practised ease she took tiny steps in her 6 inch heels across the room to the sitting room.

Half an hour later Gerda was standing stiffly to attention in a corner of the room, only her tightly gagged mouth preventing her from smiling. She had carried out her duties perfectly, Laura and her four guests being served their tea and sandwiches impeccably, with not a drop spilt or a plate or spoon mishandled. She could see that the Executioner was furious, she had ordered Gerda to refill the cups and hand round cigarettes and a light, hoping the slave would fumble something. But with intense concentration and great care, Gerda had avoided all the pitfalls, despite having to work with double gloved and chained hands.

Three of the guests she knew, despite their rubber costumes and simple domino masks which all wore. One was the resident house keeper, a sour and humourless lady who ran the laundry and cleaning with a rotating staff of serving maids. The second woman, ill at ease in a pink rubber dress and boots, was the catering manageress who twice a week went to the mainland to buy supplies. The third guest was a slave, fully masked but with an extra open faced hood covering her name stencilled on all slave masks.

It was the fourth woman who interested Gerda. She was dressed in a 'normal' suit of polished brown leather, long latex gloves and a thin rubber half mask, the rear of which hung down to her shoulders, nun style. Gerda guessed she was in her fifties by the lower face and strong chin. It was Laura herself who gave her the clue. She had been explaining to the woman the finer points of a particularly unpleasant new punishment which Le Compte had agreed to try out as a permanent item.

"So I decided, Katrina, that the mind should suffer as well. The slave should be made to panic in order to lower physical resistance. Burial was the answer !"

Now Gerda was sure ! It was the infamous Baroness Katrina Oblonska, who ran an incredible and very exclusive 'house' in Nice. Several times, when she had lived in Paris, Gerda had heard the name mentioned by friends or clients, and one of her mannequin friends had been taken there by an over enthusiastic boyfriend, and been horrified by the huge establishment which specialised in training male slaves using the most perverted tortures. It was rumoured that Katrina paid a fortune in bribes to remain open, but her 'club' had remained open for many years. And now here she was, calmly swapping stories with the Executioner !

Up till now, Gerda had had little chance to listen to the conversation, every ounce of concentration being needed to handle and serve tea while keeping her balance in her high boots and trying to see downward through the slits of her masks while her head remained chained upright. But for the moment she could relax.

"It is a good idea," the woman said slowly, with the touch of a slavic accent. "But I repeat, Le Compte is too mild with his slaves. He lets them succeed or fail according to their own talent and wishes. My slaves have no choice. They are beaten until they obey, then beaten again for good measure. When not on duty they are locked, with twenty metres of chain, into their dormitories. They can move around, but there is no question of them ever being allowed outside !"

Gerda had to admire the style of the Executioner. She sat completely relaxed in an armchair, long booted legs crossed, her black leather suit and mask gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the big windows. Unlike the others, he mask was total, and she smoked her cigarette through a holder, only her mouth and eyes visible.

"But how long can you keep them ? Don't they try to revolt or escape ?"

Katrina laughed harshly. "Sometimes they try, but I have very well paid guards. Also, I have a big turn over, so few of them are there long enough to do much planning."

The plump woman leaned forward. "What do you mean, a big turn over ? Surely you don't mean they - they die ?"

Katrina looked at her contemptuously. "No, I am not foolish. I get some of my slaves off the streets. I promise them a quarter of what the client pays, so they think they are going to score some easy money. But most of my clients are foreign, mainly Arab. If they like one of my boys I sell him, a hundred thousand dollars, delivered anywhere in the world. But mostly my male slaves are brought for training by wealthy Mistresses."

There was a short silence. Gerda sensed that the two woman of the centre were somewhat embarrassed. Obviously, they were acting out their roles as 'guests', but were duly horrified by this woman casual attitude towards slavery.

"But - how can you deliver someone who may not want to go ?" It was the catering manageress again, interested despite her repugnance.

"Ah ! That is my secret !" the woman replied smugly, "I have an exporting business under the name of a genuine company. We ship kitchen ware - large crates of it. Some of these crates are modified to carry drugged slaves. By air, of course, it only takes a few hours."

"I have other means, as well, " went on Katrina, "But curiously enough, most of my slaves go willingly ! They are masochists of course, and lured by the idea of being a rich Mistress's slave, or, if they are that way inclined, a wealthy Master. Of course, when they get there it's all very different. Usually my clients want them only as subservient slaves, toys to be whipped and enjoyed."

She appeared bored now, waving a hand at Gerda.

"That one I could use very well as a maid. I have some clients who would pay a fortune to fondle a tiny waist like that ! Is she well trained ?"

The Executioner smiled sweetly. "Very well trained, but not available, I'm afraid Katrina. Come over here, Gerda !"

Gerda's heart beat more rapidly as she obediently stood rigidly in front of them, legs as wide apart as the hobble allowed, to help balance herself against anything they may do to her.

Naturally, she is well gagged underneath, and wearing an extra mask. Under the wig, her head is harnesses and chained back. She is rapidly learning the art of true slavery." Laura finished almost proudly.

Gerda gasped as the Russian woman took a firm hold of the end of her rod and pushed it cruelly into her, and then pulled several inches out. "A nice big rod, Laura ? I admire your patience, my male slaves learn to take the largest prick on the first day they are in the centre !" She pushed on the rod again, almost upsetting Gerda's balance. "Kneel down in front of me, you bitch slave !"

Agonisingly, Gerda knelt in her stiff boots, her corset contracting and her head chain tightening and forcing back her gagged face so that the Chinese mask was looking placidly back at her tormentor.

"Now sit back on your heels and lets see you play with your rod," ordered Katrina. "Your Mistress Laura kindly gave me permission earlier treat you as my slave, so do it properly !"

Stiffly, Gerda sank back until her extended rod was pushing against her booted heels. Her thighs aching with the strain, she lifted up slightly until the rod eased out, then sank heavily back. She did this several times, until the greased rod was moving easily in and out. Her breath through the small nostril holes came quicker as she felt the sexual stimulus. Unexpectedly, Katrina reached forward with her gloved hands and cruelly pinched Gerda's masked nose. "Go on, slave, keep fucking yourself on your rod !"

There was no way Gerda could breathe now, her gagged mouth helpless and the two masks tightening against her face and preventing air from infiltrating even through the eye holes. She bounced desperately on her rod, her lungs bursting for air. Red specks sparkled in front of her eyes, but resolutely she kept her hand in her lap, resisting the impulse to push away the fingers holding her nose. Dimly she heard Laura's voice.

"Enough, Katrina, we have a rule here that direct suffocation is not allowed. Let her go !"

Gasping with relief, Gerda felt her nose being released, realising that incredibly she was near a pleasure, the strange combination of the moving rod, the rigid corset and the unexpected suffocation all working insidiously on her slave trained responses. Upon a further order from Laura she climbed as gracefully to her feet as she could manage, and stood stiffly to attention, chest heaving in an enticing spectacle for moinutes as the tiny nostril tubes prevented big lung fulls of air.

"Not bad," Katrina acknowledged condescendingly, "But I would have made her come or black out. Slaves like this should never be shown the slightest mercy, it makes them too independent."

"Perhaps we are more subtle here," the Executioner murmured, "I assure you, this slave has suffered, and will suffer very much more in the future ! But we believe training has more effect if it continues over a long period."

She looked at an elegant gold watch strapped over her black leathered wrist. "I'm afraid the launch will be leaving in a few minutes, Katrina, and I want to have a few minutes in private with you. Ladies, thank you for coming to tea. Slave Gerda, you are dismissed !"

Gerda returned to her quarters feeling elated at her successful afternoon, but aware she still had a long way to go before she passed her Final Exams. Before an incredulous Maria, she stopped her from releasing her and knelt down until her rod was once more resting on her heals. It only took a few thrusts before an incredible pleasure flooded through her.