woman. The depths of her degradation were so considerable that it was not open to measure.
Her two captors had taken her as far as the stairs in the hall before she finally developed the presence of mind to rebel. There was some struggle and the four of them – including Rover – meandered around the bottom of the stairs in a vague sort of clutching, gripping, pushing combat before the hulking German shepherd began snarling at her in a way so vicious it simply froze her heart with terror.
At this point her resistance slackened instinctively and they were able to get a grip on her again, half dragging, half shoving, but altogether completely in control of her voluptuously leggy body so that there was really very little she could do. Every time she gave the least sign of resistance, Rover nipped stingingly at her calves to keep her in line. She cringed like a sheep being led to the pen.
By the time they reached the second floor, a great deal of her strength and ability to coordinate had been sapped. She no longer hoped merely to escape from their terrible degeneracy and clutching hands. The thought of the blackmail with a film of her and Rover was a potent deterrent to orderly thought and coordinated resistance. God, if she made them angry, who knew what they might do?
But at the same time, she couldn't very well submit outright. Perhaps the chance to get away would still present itself, when their guard had lowered. Some time or other. Some of whatever was in the drugged cigarette they had given her had worn off, although she was still woozy and feeble from that and the sherry they had made her drink.
When they finally pushed her into the bedroom she had made up her mind what she would do. The minute she had her chance she would race for the window, throw it up and scream at the top of her voice. That would bring people running. There would even be passing cars on the highway that would hear her and come to her rescue.
There was a click as Mark locked the door in back of them. Rover nudged at her shivering legs as Cleonora led her, unprotesting, to the bed.
'Now just sit down for a moment, dear,' cooed her dominatrix. 'Put on one of my bracelets.'
Laura was distracted. Put on one of her bracelets? What on earth for? As she watched uncomprehendingly, Cleonora sat down next to her, removing one of the wide-band gold bracelets Laura had so often admired. She handed it to Laura, saying: 'This is for you, dear. You've been such a good sport.'
'But-but what is this for?' asked the innocent young blonde, shaking out her long golden hair over her shoulder. 'I-I haven't done anything for…'
'Ssssshhh. You've been just fine. We've enjoyed having the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. We've enjoyed making you happy. And most of all we've been very cheered to get all of your happiness down on film.'
This last reminder of their blackmail hold on her sent a chill of fear through the innocent blonde housewife. How could she ever have been so stupid as to trust them? She must have seemed a real country bumpkin.
'In fact, why don't you take both of these bracelets, you've made us so happy,' said Cleonora, and with this she removed the gold bracelet from her other wrist, attaching it with expert swiftness around Laura's slender wrist. Before the puzzled girl could say anything, Cleonora picked up the other bracelet from the stunned wife's hand and clasped it around Laura's right wrist with a single practiced motion.
Their blonde love-slave looked at the two gold bracelets and moved them about her wrists. Why, they must have been worth a fortune! But why on earth give them to her?
The master bedroom, in addition to being elegantly furnished with mirrors on all the walls and ceilings, sported a bar at one end of the enormous room. Mark finished mixing a trio of drinks, put them on a tray, and brought them over to the end table next to the bed.
'Nice bracelets,' he said looking down. 'Does she like them?'
'I think so,' said Cleonora. 'All women love jewelry. Don't we, my dear?'
'Well, I – uh…' Laura moved the bracelets around. They shone so that she could see her reflection in them.
'Actually these are exact duplicates of the kind that Roman gladiators used to wear just prior to going into the arena.' Cleonora moved lightly across the room towards a Louis XIV vanity by the window. She opened one of the drawers and removed two gold-link chains. Then she returned across the deep plush purple carpeting, telling Laura: 'But you really need some additional jewelry, my dear, in order to make them complete.' And with this she lifted each of Laura's wrists in turn and attached the two chains to the gold band bracelets.
'See,' she said, standing back from her blonde charge, who didn't know what to make of either the bracelets or the chains. 'Aren't they just perfect?'
The Franklins' eyes met in a silence pregnant with communication. Laura turned her hands around, studying the gold bracelets and the chains, which were attached by tiny metal clips. She didn't know what to make at them.
… Until suddenly the Franklins each took up a chain and dragged her back across the bed!
'What – what are you doing to me!?' the helpless young wife cried out, but it was impossible to try to fight them, because Mark and Cleonora had each taken one end of chain and were pulling her backwards so deftly that they were quite out of reach… had she even been able to 'reach', which she couldn't, with her arms under such powerful control by her two determined dominators.
'Hook 'er up,' Mark commanded. With her long voluptuous body pulled prostrate across the bed, they now stretched Laura's arms out in order to ring the end of each chain to its corresponding hook built into the tall, opposing bedposts. The enslaved blonde squirmed and twisted on the bed, but to no avail. They had hooked her arms up securely.
'Oh, please,' she whimpered tearfully, 'please let me go. Why are you doing this to me?' She moved her legs back and forth and then, on reflection, brought her thighs snugly together.
Mark snickered something unintelligible. He slipped his shirt up over his head, revealing two hard brown nipples on a wide expanse of chest lightly cushioned with curly dark hair. At the foot of the bed, Rover had climbed up with his forelegs on the bedspread. He was panting maniacally, his large brown eyes gleaming dangerously, focused like laser beams on her tightly clenched legs. Laura cringed from his menacing pose. What had ever become of the nice, well-behaved dog she had known?
Cleonora had returned to the vanity and come back with two lengthy strips of black leather. As if with a single thought, the Franklins now moved to either end of the foot of the bed, Cleonora passing over to Mark one of the long black pieces of leather. He took it up quickly and then both of them reached for her ankles.
'What – oh my what are you doing!? Please! Oh no!'
There was not much she could do as they pried apart her futilely clenched legs and tied her ankles with the strips of black leather. Her long, slender legs were spread so wide that her panty crotch band, already soiled from Rover's vigorous assault with his tongue on her sex-starved pussy, opened wide on either side to reveal the soft curling fleeciness of her sparse blonde pubic hair.
'Christ, look at that,' Mark breathed admiringly. 'She's a natural blonde.' He reached in through the side of her panties and curled his middle finger into a rounded set of springy gold hairs.
'Oh – please don't do that,' their spread-eagled blonde captive pleaded. 'Please – that's – that's wrong.'
Franklin laughed and looked back at his wife. 'You hear that, honey. It's wrong.'
Cleonora made a little smile, but she was vastly amused. Laura was probably the most innocent thing she'd ever run across in years of seducing – with Mark – beautiful and relatively unworldly girls. She'd bet that the voluptuous young blonde had never even been fucked until she was safely married.
Mark wormed his finger in still further, encountering the soft moist outer flesh of Laura's recently warmed little pussy. Their beautiful young captive moaned and threw back her head. She had become measurably aroused despite herself, and now the shame of it was enough to make her want to conceal her flushed and glowing features. She didn't dare let them know!
Mark laughed as he sensed her attempt at concealment. But it was not possible to stop off the flow of smooth cuntal moisture that was seeping so easily from between her tingling pussy lips. He pushed his finger in farther through the sacred portals, partway up into her cum-slick vagina.
'Oh God, no,' she gasped, 'you're hurting me. Don't move it. Don't… aaaaaggghhh!'
'Sweetheart, you have one tight little cunt. I'll bet Ralphie can't even get into you properly.'
'Go on,' said Cleonora, 'stick your finger in. Hard. She seems to be enjoying it. Harder, Mark.'
