Holiday Slavery

H O L I D A Y

B O N D A G E

Chapter 3. New Experiences ... and Acquaintances.

I woke to the sound of the telephone ringing and my Mistress' voice (somewhat sleepily!) answering: "Hello ... yes ... thank you, he'll be down right away."

She hung up, then called, "Slave ... are you awake?" and when I answered she continued, "Our breakfast will be ready in five minutes. I want you to go down to the dining room to collect it ... get up!" The shackle on my ankle suddenly fell open (there must have been some sort of remote control), enabling me to obey.

"Good morning!" she said with a smile, then seriously, "Can I trust you to go down with no shackles?" My fervent, "Oh yes Mistress!" brought another smile and the reply, "OK, off you go then ... you know where to find the slaves-only lift?"

The 'slaves-only' lift was nothing more than a cage running on tracks up the walls (three floors high) of the foyer. As I rode down, my nakedness was visible to everybody there, but it happened to be deserted except for staff, who paid very little attention to me as I made my way to the dining room and then to the kitchen servery.

I announced my errand and room number when asked, and a covered tray was placed on my forearms and then fastened there with straps around each wrist and elbow! "Keep it level, now!" was the comment as I was sent off, and, "You're a lucky slave, aren't you, wandering about without even ankle hobbles!"

This compliment gave me a bit of a thrill, of course ... enough to see me through the foyer on my return journey; a large group of tourists was standing about, obviously waiting for a bus or something! They all stared in fascination and amusement as I made my way past them, and comments of all kinds were passed as I rode up in the cage, unable (now) to cover my cock and balls even if I wanted to.

My Mistress was wearing her robe and sitting up; I looked around for a table for the breakfast tray, but suddenly became aware that she was pointing to the floor at her feet -- a clear sign that I was to kneel there. I obeyed -- carefully! -- and the tray thus became her breakfast table!

As she ate, and fed me, she talked about her plans for the morning; we would go for a long walk through the streets and look at the stalls and shops, and I would be permitted to talk and ask her about how things were done here ... "so long as you ask properly for my permission before speaking," she emphasised seriously. "Now help me dress."

She released my arms from the tray and I started on a task I adore! It is so exciting for me to dress my Mistress; to draw her briefs up her long legs and fit them on her shapely hips, to cup her gorgeous breasts in her bra, to guide her arms into the sleeves of of a blouse and button it over those same breasts, to fit a pretty casual skirt around her slim waist and, finally, to kneel at her feet and carefully place them into her light sandals!

When she was ready, she turned to me and said, "Even though you behaved perfectly last night, I want to fasten your hands behind your back this morning ... not because I expect you to disobey, but just because I feel like it! Turn around, slave!" I obeyed and she tied my forearms wrist-to-elbow across my back, firmly but fairly comfortably. "I want those nice marks on your bum to be plainly in view!" she commented with a chuckle.

The heavy padlock on my balls had a second smaller ring on it, and to this my Mistress clipped one end of a heavy leash ... and off we went! My reactions were now quite different from yesterday -- as we went through the foyer I even found myself smiling at the amazed stares and the cool appraising looks! At one point I was so distracted that I didn't watch where my Mistress was leading me ... but I was abruptly reminded by her tug on the chain, which snapped quite painfully on the head of my cock.

Now that I was able to relax more, I began to notice things I hadn't seen yesterday. For instance, there were slaves (at least, I assumed they were slaves because they were naked and usually shackled in some way) who had numbers tattooed or stencilled low on their backs or on their bellies just above their pubic hair. Mindful of my Mistress' instructions about getting permission to speak, I said humbly, "Mistress, may I speak, please?" and at her nod asked about the numbers.

"That's their registration number, of course," she replied. "All permanent slaves have to be registered, so that the authorities can keep track of them and of who owns them. The island police have a special Slave Squad, whose job it is to see that slaves are not mistreated beyond their tolerance; they regularly check how slaves are being treated, and all slaves are given a regular opportunity to complain about their treatment or to say that they they don't want to be slaves any longer. And if any owners overstep the limits and abuse their slaves, there are very tough penalties -- like losing their licence to own slaves, or even being deported from the island." She grinned at me -- "So you see a slave's life here is not too bad, eh?"

Her description was confirmed later when we were approached by a man and a woman wearing uniforms. "Slave Squad, ma'am," one said to my Mistress, "Your slave has no registration number, so we assume that you are visiting? ... then may we see your papers please?"

They looked at the papers and checked something against the padlock on my balls, then continued, "We want to ask your slave some questions, ma'am, and we warn you not to try and influence his answers in any way." I was asked whether I was a slave voluntarily (I replied "Yes"), whether I had been treated too cruelly ("No"), and even whether the weals across my bum and thighs had been inflicted against my will ("Yes sir," I replied, "but I deserved every one of them and I thank my Mistress for them"). Satisfied, the officers thanked my Mistress and left us; and my Mistress said quietly, "Thank you, slave ... I wonder what you'd have answered if I'd been questioned yesterday?"

During the morning we wandered around the streets, getting our bearings. I was constantly being surprised by new evidences of the slavery that was so common here; slaves tied to posts outside houses, slaves working in gardens chained to rings in the ground (and to the implements they were using), and the large variety of shackles worn by slaves as they walked or were led about the streets. These ranged from the lightest of leashes (attached to collars or cock-rings or nipple-clips) to leather 'body-harnesses' and ropes to very heavy cuffs and chains and even spreader bars between ankles; one day we even saw a slave dragging a real, heavy ball on a chain!

By far the majority of slaves were totally naked, but there were a few who wore some clothing, usually the smallest of 'g-strings' covering their pubic parts; I don't remember ever seeing a female slave with any covering over her breasts! Naturally, as a normal (sexually, at least -- maybe not in some other ways!) heterosexual male, I was fascinated by the constant display of naked female bodies all around me. They came in many shapes and sizes, but most of them were fairly young and at least firm and shapely -- the sort of body (as my Mistress remarked once) that an owner is not ashamed to put on public view.

One might think that after a while I would have become blasé about this, but quite the reverse -- the more naked slave-women I saw, the more my my cock tended to stand up! Of course my Mistress noticed and when my eyes followed a particularly shapely body passing us she said with a grin, "Not for you, boy! You're my slave, and your only desire should be for my pleasure!"

My scrutiny of all these naked female bodies revealed that (like myself) some had no registration numbers. I guessed that these were (also like myself) 'visiting' slaves, and I asked my Mistress to confirm this: "Yes," she replied, "and if you managed to raise your lustful gaze to the level of their necks, you may also notice that they are all wearing a collar of the same sort of heavy metal as the padlock on your balls. I think their owners have the option of that or a heavy belt with a crotch-strap, but female slaves don't have the convenience of balls like you do. It works much better this way, don't you think?" She smiled and gave my leash a harder tug than usual!

We stopped for lunch in a little sunlit park. My Mistress had bought a picnic basket at a stall nearby and she sat on the grass leaning against a tree and had me kneel beside her and put the food in her mouth and hold her glass to her lips (she freed my arms for this purpose and also to give them some relief). As we ate she idly ran her hands over my naked body and played with my cock....

"I get the idea from this" (she gave it a squeeze) "that you're enjoying yourself more than you did yesterday. Tell me how you feel, slave."

With real enthusiasm, I told her how much I was enjoying the sun and breeze on my body, the humiliation of being on a leash and naked for everyone to see, and the excitement of seeing all the other naked slaves around me; and I thanked her, very sincerely, for being strict with me yesterday and bringing me to my senses.

During the afternoon my Mistress decided to explore the shops. I was interested, too, in seeing what they offered; but at the first shop my Mistress left me outside -- I found to my surprise that all the shops had a sort of 'hitching rail' outside ... like the Old West had for horses, but these were for slaves!! A link of my chain leash slipped into a strong hook which clicked firmly shut when my Mistress turned a key.

"The immigration people warned me," she said, "that sometimes visiting slaves are stolen to avoid the licence fees -- and we don't want that to happen, do we?" She smiled, removed the key and disappeared into the shop.

I waited -- a little nervously -- until she emerged, then obtained her permission to speak and protested that I didn't like being left alone without her. She looked at me a little sternly and said: "Why do you think I'm using a strong chain with strong padlocks? I promise nothing will happen to you ... and you promised to trust me until the end of this holiday, didn't you?"

At the next shop she found a very heavy steel collar that she could fit around my neck, forcing me to kneel at the hitching rail while she was inside, and the third had a heavy iron cage in which I had to crouch. By this time I'd had time to think and I asked very humbly, "Mistress, may I speak, please?"

She looked hard at me for a moment before nodding, and I continued: "I'm sorry, Mistress, I'm just a stupid slave and it seems I constantly need reminding of what it means to trust you. I really do trust you, and I'll try to show it more and I hope you can forget my complaint a few minutes ago. But -- if I may ask another question -- would you explain, please, why are slaves not allowed inside the shops?"

My Mistress' expression had softened, and now it turned into one of mock amazement as she replied: "There's no point, is there? Slaves have no money to buy anything, no need for anything because their owners keep them (at great expense, I might add!) ... and if I want to buy something for myself, would I lower myself to ask the opinion of a mere slave like you? As a slave, the best you could do is to beg for a new whip for me to discipline you, then accept whatever whip I might choose ..." She let her implicit invitation hang in the air and smiled gently at my, "Thank you, Mistress, I understand now."

Reassured, I began to enjoy the periods, whether short or long, spent hitched outside the shops. My Mistress had earlier explained that her "no speaking unless spoken to" rule did not apply to conversations with other slaves ("but don't dare interrupt your betters!" she had added), and I chatted with several slaves who occasionallly shared my hitching rail. I discovered that some had been permanent slaves since the official age-of-consent at 16, while others were 'semi-permanent', having agreed to a few years' slavery to earn good money which was earning interest back home without any opportunity to spend it!

And of course I could enjoy the display of naked female slave bodies as they went by, without my Mistress' sarcastic remarks! I was alone outside one shop, avidly watching an especially shapely slave-girl walking away (high heels and a very short chain between her ankles were making her generous hips sway in a most interesting fashion!) when I heard another slave being hitched to the rail behind me. Waiting until the immediate object of my attention disappeared around a corner, I turned to face my new companion ... and stared, my mouth falling open in sheer wonder!

She was naked, of course, and her body was easily the sexiest I had seen; her breasts were large, almost too large for her slim frame, but very high and firm with large dark aureoles around erect nipples; her waist was slim and her belly flat, rising below to a prominent mound covered with a thick crop of blond curls; her hips, slim yet well-curved, tapered into shapely thighs and long slim legs. All this I saw in a single long look, thanks to her arms being tied to her sides, firmly but not very tightly.

Eventually I managed to drag my eyes up to her neck (noticing that she wore a 'visiting slave' collar) and face, which was framed by a halo of golden wavy hair and was as beautiful as her body ... and (I realised with a jolt) was vaguely familiar! Wondering where I'd seen her before -- was she a slight acquaintance from my home town? -- and hoping she didn't recognise me, I said, "Hi" as casually as I could manage (forgetting in my confusion that I was hardly in danger of blackmail or anything like that from another naked slave like myself!). No such luck -- she looked at me more closely and said, "Hello -- we met on the cruise ship, didn't we?"

Immediately I recognised her as one of the honeymooners (as I'd thought) from the first days of this holiday! I had admired her beauty then, wearing a lovely one-piece swimsuit or a stunning evening gown at dinner, and had wondered how she would look naked ... now I knew, and she was more beautiful than ever!

So we started to to chat, and Helen (she had to tell me her name again) told me that she and her Master had played bondage games for several years as lovers, but recently he had been promoted enabling her to give up work and become his full-time slave.

"We are honeymooners," she smiled when I mentioned my guess. "We got legally married at the same time as I submitted to full-time slavery; this cruise was to celebrate both. I was expecting to enjoy the cruise and our evening bondage activities, but my Master surprised me with the visit to this island. Yesterday was the first time I'd been naked and shackled in public, and I kept covering myself with my hands -- that's why they're tied today. Last night he gave me a lash for each time I'd covered myself; look!" She turned, displaying her back covered with 20 or 30 thin weals, and continued, "He used only a light whip, but they still hurt!"

Just then I saw my Mistress emerging from the shop and cried excitedly, "Look Mistress, it's Helen from the..." but she cut me off with a sharp, "Quiet! You didn't ask permission to speak, but I think I'll overlook it this time if you apologize." After my humble, "I'm sorry, Mistress," she continued: "Yes I know, I met her Master inside -- he'll be out in a moment. Isn't it a coincidence? I see you've recognised each other -- and I hope you like each other, because Master Paul and I have decided to spend some time together ... and that means you slaves too ... ah, here he is!"

I remembered the handsome young man who came out of the shop ... and also remembered how I'd envied him his gorgeous wife! Now I felt the faintest touch of jealousy (what exactly did my Mistress mean by "spend time together"?) but decided that I wouldn't mind if it meant I could also spend some time with the beautiful naked girl beside me!

My Mistress and Master Paul spent a few minutes 'inspecting' Helen and me respectively and explaining the reasons for our weals and tied hands, then Master Paul said to Helen, "I'm inclined to give you another chance to keep your hands in their place. You can see what Mistress Tina did to her slave..." -- here he ran a fingernail slowly along one of the weals on my bum and I winced visibly -- "... and next time I won't be as gentle as I was yesterday. OK?"

"Yes, Master, I'll try," replied Helen in a small voice. Her Master removed the straps holding her arms and said to my Mistress, "Shall we go?" We moved off, my Mistress with my chain-leash in her hand, while Helen (now totally unfettered) followed obediently behind Master Paul. My Mistress commented casually, "You're not using a leash, I see," and at his reply, "No, I'm training her to follow me without one," she continued, "I have an idea -- she could hold my slave's leash, if you think she can be trusted not to lead him astray!"

"She'd better not lead him anywhere but right behind us," was Master Paul's reply (delivered with mock sternness) as he agreed readily, and my Mistress handed the end of my chain to Helen with the admonition: "Don't you dare lose him!" and she continued to Master Paul, "See ... now she has only one hand spare to cover herself; one hand won't cover much of these lovely big boobs, and it would be a pity to cover such a pretty blond pussy ... may I?" Master Paul nodded smilingly and my Mistress spent a few moments gently fondling Helen's lovely tits and cupping her pussy with clever fingers.

Our next stop was an open-air coffee shop -- but it also had a hitching rail! Master Paul had a thin chain to fasten Helen's collar; and before they left us, my Mistress and her new friend produced something from the packages they had brought out from the last shop -- two brightly-coloured 4-inch plastic squares attached to spring-loaded clips. They held them up in front of us for a moment, then fastened the clips to a pinch of flesh and went in to enjoy a cup of coffee, giggling like schoolgirls. It took a moment for us to understand -- the 'tags' had large letters spelling "FEEL FREE!"

The ambiguity -- and the invitation -- in these two words was not lost on the passers-by ... to the obvious delight of my Mistress and my companion's Master as they sat at a table and sipped their coffee. At first it was only other Masters or Mistresses walking by with their slaves or entering the cafe, but later it was also tourists who had clearly never encountered Bondage and Slavery before; Helen and I were very thoroughly "felt" -- touched, fondled, stroked, goosed, you name it -- by twenty or thirty hands in as many minutes!

With my hands tied behind me, I had no choice but to accept the attention, but Helen was in a quandary; instinctively she wanted to protect her tits and pussy with her hands but she also wanted to keep her word to her Master. At last she gritted her teeth (as it were), put her hands firmly behind her back and kept them there; a moment later she was rewarded by Master Paul coming over to give her a big hug and kiss and a warm, "Good girl! I knew you could do it!"

We wore those tags for the rest of the afternoon and every time we had to wait fastened to a hitching rail, people accepted the invitation. But we also found that our owners were watching out for us, because when a cold-eyed lady tourist began twisting my cock and squeezing my balls very painfully, she was suddenly confronted by my Mistress angrily demanding, "What gives you the right to maltreat my slave? The sign says 'Feel', not 'Hurt'. You will please apologize to me -- and to him! Or would you rather I call for the police?" It was a strange feeling to be a naked shackled slave and yet to have a strong-willed and fully dressed woman begging me humbly to forgive her for hurting me ... but mainly I felt grateful to my Mistress for keeping her promise to me.

Gentle as most of the 'feeling' was, my cock was quite sore by the time my Mistress removed the tag (Helen had already made similar complaints to me about her tits and pussy). This was when we were both taken inside a shop despite what my Mistress had said earlier. However, we bought nothing because we saw nothing ... we'd been blindfolded first, and all I knew was that my whole body was measured carefully from head to toe (Helen told me later that exactly the same happened to her). But my Mistress flatly refused to tell me the purpose of this; "It'll be a surprise," was her only answer, as we were walking back to our hotel. (Master Paul and Helen had left us to go back to their accommodation, a 'honeymoon' chalet where they catered for themselves.)

My Mistress made me take a long hot shower while she relaxed and made "arrangements for the evening"! Then she lay back in a tub of steaming water while I carefully and gently bathed her lovely body. As I did so I realised that, despite a slight case of infatuation with Helen's gorgeous face and body, I really adore my Mistress' long black hair, her handsome face that can be so stern or so gentle, her slim strong body with the firm cone-shaped breasts (slightly small, perhaps, but so well-proportioned) and their prominent nipples, and (maybe most of all) her long smooth thighs and legs that can clutch my head so tightly when I worship at her pleasure-centre nestling between them, framed by thick curls and dark with desire for the attentions of my tongue.

My thoughts must have been almost transparent to her because after I had patted her dry -- with thick towels and very gently! -- she allowed me to plant lots of little kisses all over her body from the hollow in her throat, over her breasts, across her belly to the dark thatch of her pussy where she kept my lips working just long enough to bring her to a gentle sighing climax.

Next she made me dress her -- in a simple red dress with a full skirt and only narrow shoulder straps, over the minimum underwear of bra and g-string briefs that left her buttocks completely bare. With elegant sandals in a matching red, she was ready to go to dinner -- but first she made me shackle my own ankles with cuffs and a short chain and attach one end of a light chrome chain to my 'ball-lock'.

A taxi was waiting for us at the hotel entrance. It had no doors, and my Mistress got in and sat down, then told me to stand in the opening and act as a door, gripping a bar in the open top to keep from falling off. We drove off and soon arrived at a group of small buildings; Master Paul was waiting with Helen on a leash behind him, got into the taxi and told Helen to take up her position opposite me. Once again her naked beauty hit me, with the inevitable effect on my cock ... and of course my Mistress noticed without appearing to, and spent the rest of our journey playing almost absentmindedly with it.

When the taxi stopped, Helen and I stepped down and waited quietly while our 'owners' got out, then we obeyed the tugs on our leashes as they entered the restaurant. Two slaves, naked except for ankle shackles, greeted them and showed them to a table; but when my Mistress went to sit down, the male slave said, "Pardon me ma'am, but your seat is not ready yet."

Master Paul said, "What do you mean?" then looked hard at the seats beside the table ... which were shaped very strangely indeed.

The slave waitress replied, "We have a custom in this restaurant that slaves provide seats for Masters and Mistresses -- they lie face up on the benches and you, sir, may sit in comfort on their bellies."

Master Paul protested that his weight would be too much for his slave to bear, but the girl persisted: "No sir, the bench is like a waterbed -- she will feel some weight but it won't crush her. But if you wish, sir, I'll take her place ... if you will order her to take mine as your waitress."

My Mistress and Master Paul looked more closely at the benches and were satisfied enough to say, "No, thank you," to this offer and, "Come along, slave," to Helen and me. We obediently lay down on the slightly yielding surface of the benches and quickly had our wrists shackled to the floor by the other two slaves. Then my Mistress sat down on my belly and I found that her weight was by no means unbearable; what's more, it was humiliating and exciting at the same time to be used simply as a naked living cushion!

Our two owners clearly enjoyed it too; during the meal my Mistress' hands were constantly caressing my body -- often one hand would be on my nipples and the other on my cock -- and under the table I could see Master Paul doing the same to Helen. The benches were so arranged that Helen's and my heads were at the same side of the table and quite close together, and we could talk quietly without disturbing our owners; it was also the side of the table from which the waiters served, and we had a first-class view of their naked bodies as they leaned over us with food and wine.

Quite early on my Mistress realised that she could toss her skirt back over my body and actually sit skin-on-skin, which was even more enjoyable (for both of us!); when she told Master Paul about this, he replied, "You make me envious. I can't do that so easily with trousers; maybe next time I should wear a kaftan or something similar!" They chatted animatedly the whole time and obviously enjoyed a delicious dinner -- Helen and I got our share too, opening our mouths on cue to have morsels of food dropped in.

After dinner we moved into a small auditorium where the seating was arranged on steps so that we slaves could kneel in front of our owners' chairs and be used as footstools while still being able to see the show over the heads of the next row. The show was a display of Bondage and Discipline, featuring a number of 'Masters' and 'Mistresses', wearing dramatic costumes, and their slaves, who were either naked throughout or in a few cases were roughly stripped during their act. It was pretty impressive -- the action was constant, the bondage was tight, the variety of positions was enormous (some brought gasps from the audience as slaves' bodies were forced into severe contortions) and some slaves even received quite severe whippings (we were assured that these were all real masochists, who actually got a lot of pleasure from it!).

My Mistress and Master Paul obviously enjoyed it all -- several times they commented, "Hey look at that! Must try it out sometime!" and nudged Helen and me with their feet. When the show closed with the announcement that two nights hence there would be a competition involving speed and variety of bondage, they made certain on our way out to book seats. I noticed that they were given a piece of paper with their tickets, which they read on their way home in the taxi and then exchanged smiles and nods, and I wondered what it was all about.

Back in our hotel room, I had to undress my Mistress; then she lay down on the bed and said, "Now slave, I want you to show me how you feel about my body -- you may start with your tongue on my right big toe...." My hands were free tonight and she made me use them, caressing her all over while I followed her directions with my eager tongue. I spent a long time licking her lovely breasts and sucking and nibbling her nipples; then my fingers continued to stimulate them when she directed my mouth down to her moist pussy. She let her arousal build very slowly and it was about two hours before my busy tongue brought her to a moaning, writhing orgasm that seemed to go on and on....

After resting a while, she 'put me to bed' on my pallet, padlocking to a ring the chain that had not left my ankles all day and tying my wrists firmly but comfortably in front of me. I was as excited as hell (my cock had never been fondled so much in a week, let alone one day!) but she ignored my hopeful looks, patted me on the head with a "Sleep well!" and turned out the light.

One of the conditions of my slavery is that I must NOT bring myself off without express permission (and asking for that permission is liable to any punishment my Mistress might choose!). I had to content myself with stroking my cock without letting myself come -- and I did so for quite a while before I eventually fell asleep.

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