Six Masters Island - De Lucia's Slaves (10 page)

Isabelle knelt in almost stunned shock, and trembling fingers reached out for his zipper.
 
Her mind reeled back through her expertise with Constantine and how she had tried to manipulate Chayton into using her.
 
Nothing she had done, none of the plans that had worked so well when she was free, ever worked with these people.
 
Their sadistic dominance came in different forms, and she had no idea how to manipulate and maneuver for a place of importance.
 
While she became resigned towards her future, Isabelle treated Brian to one of the most attentive oral sessions on his cock that he had received in quite some time.

Sienna’s frightening use of her tipped Isabelle over the edge.
 
There was nothing she would do to end up back in the Mistress’ clutches, but she also had no idea of what she could do to survive this madness.

Brian groaned out his orgasm, and the girl cleaned him without being coaxed.
 
When she was finished, she knelt back, and finally broke down and cried.
 
Brian saw the temporary sign of defeat in her eyes, but he knew by morning they would be back to the calculating narrowing of her manipulative mind working.
 
“You win,” she said softly.

He lifted her chin.
 
“It’s too late for that, Isabelle.
 
It is rare that a slave comes through with the capacity to both show submissive qualities and total lack of ability to focus on their Master’s desires.
 
I have designed a training that will produce an unusual result, and figured I would eventually have to purchase a slave to apply it on.”

Brian thought of the complicated device he had worked on for three years, and Isabelle’s blood ran cold at the anticipation in his eyes.
 
“If I had not already convinced the rest to let me try it with you, your actions today would have assured their backing.”

Brian placed the girl in a cage with her wrists latched behind her back and hooked to the top bars.
 
He showered and left the room without looking back at her.
 
Within an hour, her mind was already working out a plan to convince him of her worthiness.
 
If he thought she was superior enough to share this new device, he must realize that she was a more adequate slave than the others.

Brian left Isabelle in the uncomfortable position for hours, and her head rose in disbelief when she heard the creaking of the mattress just before the light turned off.
 
“Master,” she said softly, “you have forgotten to unhook my wrists.”
 
Surely her punishment for playing with the stupid slave had been fulfilled.
 
The feeling in the arms raised over her back had turned from an annoyance to a mounting, painful throb.

Isabelle sighed in relief when the light turned back on and she saw his feet on the floor in front of her.
 
He knelt, and she looked up to thank him for unlatching the hook, when the door to the cage opened and a hand with a sponge ball appeared in front of her face.
 
The disbelief caused her mouth to drop open, and the ball was pushed roughly into her mouth before the bars were once again locked, and Brian climbed back into bed.

By morning, she had angry tears coating her cheeks.
 
Gagged… Isabelle had not been gagged in months, and to leave her arms contorted until the circulation had been cut off… her hands were numb.
 
Isabelle had convinced herself the man was an inept Master not to have realized how he had allowed her to be abused for merely toying with another slave.

Brian led her out of the cage, and pulled her to kneel beside his chair.
 
A servant brought their breakfast, and he finally removed the gag while keeping her wrists locked behind her.
 
She leaned down and silently lapped the boring gruel, missing the delectable meals she used to enjoy when she was with true Masters on Six Masters Island.
 
These people had no idea how to treat a slave properly, to make them want to strive to obey.

After breakfast there was a knock on the door, and Brian rose to let Dawson enter.
 
“I’ve left Fallon preoccupied, and decided I’d like to see this device you’ve been working on.”

Brian was excited, and pleased that his brother did not just dismiss his idea.
 
“I see many applications for it, Dawson.
 
It may be a training we can market.”

“Something so permanent… I’m not convinced.
 
I enjoy the personal administration of pain,” Dawson replied.

“Oh, it still allows for that.
 
As a matter of fact, the slave can be coaxed into presenting any available target you wish to minister to,” Brian informed him.

Dawson sat in a chair, and watched Isabelle silently trembling with a soaked sponge in her mouth, as Brian continued.
 
“Of course, with this one’s inability to accept even minor pain, she will perform for the device rapidly.
 
With others, it may take slightly longer… but, all will eventually succumb to the equipment.”

“Then there will be no training involved, Brian.
 
Just hook the gadget onto them and ship them out.”
 
Dawson did not think this sounded beneficial, when he considered the way the De Lucia’s trained the slaves to be an art.

“No, it is merely an enhancement.
 
Masters will want the slaves to attend them, not just present themselves for arousal,” Brian replied.
 
“You said you would approach this with an open mind, Dawson.”

“And so I will.
 
I just wanted to lay the concerns in front of you.”

Brian moved towards a cabinet by his bank of computers, and returned with a series of thin bands.
 
“They attach with Velcro, so they can be sized for anyone.
 
I’ve already figured out the most promising locations, but I’ll probably have to work out adjustments now I have a live model to work with.”

Dawson reached down for one of the straps as Brian lifted Isabelle to her feet, and began securing them around her.
 
They were two strips of black leather stitched together, and on the inside there were small pointed silver studs every inch or so.
 
“Is it the same principal as their collar?”

“Pretty much, though the series of wires is hidden between the leather so they won’t be as easily damaged.
 
I pointed the connectors so they would not slip as easily if the slave sweats.”

“Good planning,” Dawson remarked, and he sat back to watch his brother wrap the strips around Isabelle’s ankles, knees, upper thighs, wrists, elbows, and beneath her breasts.

“That should do it, to begin with.”
 
Brian unlatched Isabelle’s wrists and she clenched her fists by her sides.

“Shit, forgot something,” Brian muttered, and he strode over to the desk.
 
He returned and used two fingers to spread the girl’s labia, and swiped his thumb down her slit a few times until her clit exposed a little further.
 
She had been trained for immediate response since her time with Constantine.
 
Brian attached a clip with a small bead to the metal clit ring that had replaced the gold band her first Master had inserted when she was sent to Devon’s cells.

“It replaces the corrective necessity of the collar.
 
We’ll start with simple moves.”
 
Brian held a panel he had sitting on the stand next to his chair, and he pressed a button on the flat pad.

Isabelle shrieked as current sparked around her knees, and she reached for the belts to rip them off.
 
As soon as her wrists were within two inches of the knee straps, a piercing jolt shocked her pussy and she screamed, moving a hand towards her slit.
 
When the wrist straps moved away from her knees, the clit jolt ended, though the knee bands continued to shock her.

“It will take a minute for her to figure it out, but it’s better to let her form the opinion on her own.
 
I think it embeds the information better,” Brian said.

“Stop… oh… oh,” Isabelle was already sobbing, and inadvertently spread her legs a little.
 
The shock lessened, and she panicked and moved her knees even further apart until the electric sparks finally stopped.

“She’s quick.
 
I think she’s already figured out that if she goes near the straps, her pussy gets it.
 
It might take a while for her to learn that sometimes the current stops when the affected bands are moved together.”

“Why would we want that?
 
It seems spread apart would be the desired option,” Dawson remarked.

“Not always.
 
Watch this.”
 
Brian pushed another square on his panel, and Isabelle cried.

She tried holding her arms out, when the elbow bands and the belt below her breasts began to pierce her with tiny jolts.
 
It did no good, as the current seemed even stronger.
 
She moved them until they pressed together on her chest and the current was not as strong, but still causing her to twitch.

“This was a little trickier,” Brian said.
 
“Isabelle, behind your back,” he ordered.

She quickly put her arms behind her, and the breast band stopped issuing jarring shocks, though her elbows continued to spark.
 
She worked and strained to get them together, and was left with mini-tingles when she managed a one-inch separation.

“Now, it can be intensified until she trains herself to get her elbows together,” Brian suggested.
 
Brian reached in the drawer, and pulled out a dildo.
 
“It even comes with attachments,” he chuckled.

His fingers flew over the panel, and Isabelle screamed at the sensations bombarding her.
 
The position required was separated thighs, with her wrists hovering over her pussy.
 
Still the clit bead shocked while she wailed.
 
“Spread your lips away from the ring, Isabelle.”

She quickly opened her pussy, and the damning current stopped.
 
“Please… please take these off of me,” she cried.
 
A sob escaped her as Brian approached with the large dildo, and she was forced to keep herself immobile and spread while he inserted it.

Brian hit a button on the bottom of his panel.
 
“If the rod slips out an inch, the dildo reacts with the clit bead and her pussy gets shocked until she pushes it back in.
 
It could be used as another method to tighten their sheath.”

Forced to keep her knees and pussy spread open, Isabelle felt the fake phallus begin to slide, and the shock to her channel caused her to clench and shriek, pulling it back inside her.
 
The lesson was learned, and she strained her bottom to keep the rod in place.

“Obviously, it can be used anally, as well,” Brian commented.

“Not bad, Brian,” Dawson said, aroused and impressed.

“A true artist, with this thing, could have her changing positions for guests’ accommodations during parties, and such.
 
I’ll work with her on it, until it’s time to pass her on.
 
I need to trade so that I can keep her two sessions, but I’m passing on Courtney anyway,” Brian said.

“That should be no problem, and as no one else wants to work with Isabelle anyway, I’m sure I can arrange the schedule adjustment,” Dawson said.
 
He rose to check on Fallon, and said to Isabelle, “I think my brother has finally figured out a use you have as a slave.”

Isabelle looked up with her teary eyes, still holding her pussy open.
 
“Please, Master Dawson,” she begged.
 
“I’m a harem slave.
 
You can’t do this to me.”

“Brian, make sure she understands the full use of your device.”
 
Dawson shook his head in irritation that the girl would still be putting her own desires first.

By the time he returned to Fallon, she had stopped screaming and was down to moaning sobs.
 
“Shall we try again?” he asked.

Dawson told her to kneel earlier, and when he ordered her to lubricate, she refused.
 
He pulled her to the horse, a one-inch dowel hanging horizontally from two chains bolted into the ceiling.
 
He straddled her across it and she was forced onto her toes to keep the rod from pressing into her pussy.
 
Her waist belt was secured front and back to the chains supporting the dowel, and then her wrists were short chained to the back of her collar, so they rose straight behind her.
 
His fingers separated her labia so that the rings lay on either side of the dowel.
 
She screamed when he walked behind her, lifted her ankles, and secured the cuffs on top of the pole, forcing all her weight onto her poor pussy, and she pleaded as he left the room.

Dawson realized that in her misery, she had not heard him.
 
“Are you ready to try again, Fallon?” he demanded.

The girl finally acknowledged him through her shocked agony.
 
“Yes, Master Dawson,” she cried.
 
Fallon gasped in relief when her ankles were freed, and she pushed up on her toes.
 
The blood burned as it flooded into her pussy, but it was so much better than bearing her weight.

Her wrists were unchained, and she reluctantly followed him to the chair after swinging a long, trembling leg over the pole.
 
Fallon knelt before the horrible man, spreading her thighs lewdly, and staring at his feet while she stroked herself.
 
At first, she was numb and could get no response from the bruised slit.