Abducted Ch. 08

Chapter 8 – Master Hans Takes Charge

Emma saw a figure seated behind a large mahogany desk, perusing a bundle of papers. She recognised her rescuer of Friday night. He didn't look up.

"Thank you, Madam Amira," he replied in a gruff voice. "Leave her here; you may go."

"Quick, take off your robe and kneel down," hissed Amira. "This is your Slave Master."

Obediently, Emma let her robe fall to the ground, and knelt submissively in front of the desk, her gaze lowered towards the floor. She heard the door close softly behind her as Amira left.

Hans remained silent. He continued to study his papers, making the occasional note in the margin, apparently ignoring his pupil. Emma studied the intricate pattern in the luxurious hand-woven Persian carpet, and surreptitiously allowed her eyes to wander around the room. It appeared to be about ten metres square, with dark masculine furniture. Behind the large desk, a well-stocked bookcase covered the entire wall, and a comfortable black leather three piece suite was set around a large coffee table. A Bang & Olufsen television set stood in one corner, next to a radio and CD player by the same manufacturer. Several doors led off, presumably into adjoining rooms; from where she knelt, Emma could see four, two on each side wall.

Finally, after what seemed an age to Emma, she sensed him looking in her direction. He coughed gently, and rose from his chair. "I see somebody has already started your training," he remarked. "Madam Yasmin?"

"Yes, Master."

His voice was deep and strong. She recognised it from their first encounter, three days ago. She tried to place the accent – slightly Germanic, she thought, but probably from the South, or from Austria.

"Not bad, but needs improvement. Hold your head higher. Yes, like that, but lower your gaze. Good. Head high, but gaze lowered. Shoulders further back – show off your tits better. It'll probably help if you clasp your hands behind your back."

He reached out to stroke the upper surface of her right breast. Instinctively, she flinched slightly. "You have lovely breasts," he said appreciatively, "but you must learn to accept my touch – to welcome it even."

"I… I'm sorry, Master," she murmured. "I wasn't expecting it."

"You will learn," he asserted. He squeezed her breast gently, allowing his thumb to play over the nipple, which hardened further at his touch. "Oh, yes, very nice - excellent," he murmured approvingly, as if to himself.

He released her breast, and stepped back to study her further. "I want your thighs further apart," he announced finally. "I want to see your pussy more clearly. Ideally, the lips should just protrude, like a bud about to burst."

Emma forced her thighs further apart, and shifted slightly, to move her pubic area forward slightly.

"Excellent! Very good!" he expressed, encouragingly, and with obvious admiration. "That will be Position One. Can you remember that?"

"Oh yes, Master, I think so."

Emma smiled at his approval. Without thinking, she raised her eyes to look at him.

"NO!" he shouted. "You will NOT look at me unless I give you permission. You will keep your eyes lowered at all times!"

"Sorry, Master." Quickly, Emma lowered her gaze to the floor, but remembered to keep her head high.

"Now for Position Two. Stay on your knees, but put your hands behind your head," he ordered. "Now force your elbows back as far as possible, and thrust your bust forward. Good. You see how that makes your tits stand out?"

"Yes, Master."

"Very good. Later, we'll do it in front of a mirror, and you will see more clearly. For Position Three you need to stand up.

Obediently, Emma got to her feet, and stood with her hands by her side. She felt his grey eyes explore her body. "No, hands behind back, clasped together. Shoulders back, thrusting out your breasts. Head up, looking proud. Remember, you are a beautiful woman, and you always want your Master to be proud of you. But place your feet about 40 centimetres apart, so that I can access your pussy if I want to. Yes, that's good; I can just make out the lips poking through, invitingly. That is a perfect Position Three."

Emma felt his hand slide up her soft inner thigh. A finger parted her pussy lips, and explored within. "And already a little damp," he whispered approvingly. "I believe I am going to enjoy your training. I can hardly wait to get my cock up there, and believe me, it will get up there a lot!"

Roughly, a second finger joined the first in Emma's cunt. She winced slightly, but then relaxed as, with surprising gentleness, he caressed her cheek with his free hand, and brushed her freshly painted pink lips with his.

"Unfortunately," he murmured into her ear, "there is no time now; we need to prepare for the Inquest."

Emma's vagina felt empty as Hans removed his fingers, and moved behind her back. She sensed his piercing eyes moving over her body. He patted her buttocks approvingly. "Yes!" he announced. "You'll do very well. Lovely skin. Beautiful features. Nice tits. Great firm bum. Hard to fault you – except that your hair needs to be longer. You look to be in good shape, in spite of the marks from your punishment, but I think we'll have to watch your diet, and keep you fit – you look as if you could put on a bit of weight quite easily."

"Yes, Master," Emma agreed.

"I'll arrange an hour at the gym every day, and appoint an instructor to take care of you. How supple are you? Keeping your legs straight, can you touch your toes?"

"I think so, Master, but I haven't tried since I left school." With obvious effort, Emma just managed to touch her toes.

"Could be better," he remarked. "I think I'll arrange Yoga lessons for you as well; that will improve your suppleness, and help you to move better. Dance instruction might also be good. I'll think about it. No, stay as you are!" he commanded, as Emma made to straighten up.

Emma felt a palm on each of her buttocks, and sensed Hans bending down behind her. He pushed gently on her round globes, opening the crack in her backside. "Oh, yes, very nice!" he exclaimed. "That's the best-looking arse I've seen in ages!"

Emma felt a finger dipping into her vagina from behind, and then tracing its way backwards towards the tiny puckered opening of her rectum. The finger probed. "Hmm," he pondered, "ever had anything up there?"

"Only a fingertip, Master. Some of my lovers liked exploring up there while they made love to me, but I didn't like it much."

"What you like or don't like is of absolutely no interest to me," he burst out, angrily. "What is important to me is that when His Highness gets around to taking your little virgin arse, he will enjoy it. And after that, once he's broken you in, I will enjoy getting my own cock up there, as and when I feel like it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," she murmured, not wishing to increase Hans's obvious anger.

"OK. Stand up straight now. NO – POSITION 3! Hands behind back, head up. Yes, like that, but I shouldn't have to remind you every time!" Hans returned to his desk and sat down. "In general," he continued, "I am pleased with you. You show promise. I think I will enjoy training you, but you have much to learn. My name is Hans, but you will always call me 'Master'. If you have cause to speak to anybody else about me, you will refer to me as 'my Master', not as 'Master Hans'. You will speak only if you are asked to. If you wish to comment or ask a question, you will ask permission first. If permission is not granted, you will stay silent. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master."

"But the problem remains – what shall I call you?"

"I don't know, Master. 'Leila', I suppose. That's the name they gave me when I arrived here."

"No, I don't think so. I don't think it's a very appropriate name. It means 'Night', and I don't see you as 'Night'! I wish they would think about names first, and not just use the next one on the list. For the moment," he pondered, "I'll just call you 'Girl', until I decide on something more suitable."

"Very well, Master," agreed Emma, not daring to suggest a return to her real name.

"But sometimes," he went on, "especially if I'm displeased with you, I'll call you 'Cunt'. It's not the most pleasant name, but it will remind you what you are. Most of the time, you will be treated as a walking vagina; the most important bit of you is between your legs. You need to remember that, Cunt, and I will remind you from time to time."

"Yes, Master," murmured Emma, silently horrified. There were a few seconds silence, as Hans rearranged the papers on his desk. "M… Master…" she stammered querulously, "m… m… may I say something?"

"Yes, Girl, go ahead."

"When you rescued me the other night," she began, "you called me 'Little One'. I liked that. It made me feel safe."

He chuckled. "OK," he agreed, "I'll call you 'Little One' sometimes – especially if I'm pleased with you. That gives you three names, which should be enough for now, Little One!"

"Thank you, Master."

"Next," he said, "we need to attend to your collar and cuffs. These have been specially made to your measurements." Hans held up small five black suede belts. "They are hand-made from the finest and softest kid suede, with hand-crafted bronze fittings. The largest one goes round your neck."

He rose from his chair, and deftly surrounded Emma's neck with a suede collar, buckling it snugly in place.

"Hold your hands out in front of you," he ordered. Emma complied. "These small ones go round your wrists like this."

As he fastened the bracelets, Emma could admire at close hand the craftsmanship, the tooling on the suede, and the intricate patterns on the bronze fittings. "They are beautifully made," she gasped.

"And the middle-sized ones will fit your ankles perfectly," he continued, kneeling to attach them. "You will wear these at all times, except in the bath or shower, or if you are undergoing strenuous exercise in the gym. There are other matching items, for your waist and thighs, for example, but we will only use them rarely. These five will suffice, and mark you as His Highness' slave. All of them bear his emblem – crossed swords surmounted by a rose – see?"

"Oh, yes, Master. I see."

"These fittings are ideal for rapid use," explained Hans. "If I take your wrists, I can attach the hook on your left wrist to the ring on the right wrist, and you are effectively hand-cuffed, like this." Expertly, with a skill derived from many years practice, he attached her wrists together. "Or I could attach your feet together, or your wrists to your ankles, or your wrists to your neck collar – all very quick and simple."

"Yes, Master."

He released her wrists, as deftly as he had earlier attached them. "Next," he went on, "I will show you around. Follow me." He moved towards the first door on the left wall. "Through here is a small kitchen, with a dining area. We will have many of our meals here. Do you cook?"

"Yes, Master, of course, but not well," Emma answered modestly.

"You won't need to cook much – just occasionally. Most of our meals will be brought to us, but it is good to cook for oneself occasionally. The next door is my private bedroom. You will enter only if asked, otherwise it is strictly out of bounds." Hans crossed the room to the right-hand wall. He opened the door nearer the main entrance. "This is the bathroom," he announced. "You will see it is fitted out with everything you could need."

Emma looked in to find a large room, about four metres wide by six metres long, furnished in pale green marble. The main feature was a circular sunken bath, about two metres in diameter and one metre deep, obviously fitted with a Jacuzzi system. Further back was a large double shower and a smaller conventional bath. Nearer the door were two basins, two WCs and two bidets.

"And finally," she heard Hans say, "behind this door is our playroom."

Emma struggled to comprehend what she saw. The room was about ten metres square, decorated in sombre dark brown and maroon, with the most unusual furniture Emma had ever seen. She recognised a frame similar to that to which she had been attached during her ordeal with Boris and Clyde, and shivered involuntarily. Glancing upwards, she noticed several pulleys set into the ceiling. Ropes were neatly coiled and placed at intervals around the walls. In the centre of the room were two large vertical wooden posts, with hooks set into them. Large cupboards surrounded the walls. One was open and Emma spotted a collection of whips and riding crops. In one corner was what appeared to be a wooden vaulting horse, and next to it a large wooden drum; both had metal fittings. Hanging from the ceiling were two large wooden crosses, a Latin cross and a St Andrews cross. Emma couldn't imagine to what use these items could be put, but had a distinct foreboding that in time she would find out, and that the discovery would not be altogether enjoyable.

"I can tell you're impressed," laughed Hans, pulling back a large maroon curtain that partitioned one corner, to reveal a king-size four-poster bed. "In time we'll get to play with all of these toys, and a few others as well. You will sleep here. In the dressing table you will find all the toiletries you need. Most of the time here, you will be naked, but in the wardrobe are a few clothes, and three sets of traditional costume for use out of doors. Through that door is a toilet, a small shower and a wash-hand basin. Use the toilet now, and come back to my desk when you've finished."

"It's OK, Master. I don't need to go just now, thank you."

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear enough," he said sternly, his eyes seeming to pierce through her body. "When I say, 'Use the toilet', I mean USE THE TOILET!" His voice grew to a bellow. "You will use the toilet when it suits me, NOT WHEN IT SUITS YOU!!! IS THAT CLEAR, CUNT?"

"Yes, Master. Sorry, Master," Emma replied, hurriedly moving towards the door to which Hans had pointed.

When Emma returned to the main room, Hans was again seated at his desk. He had moved an upright armchair in front of the desk, facing him. "Come and sit down, Girl," he commanded, "but put your robe back on first. Your naked body is making me quite randy, and we just don't have time for that now. We have work to do."

Quickly, she complied, and sat facing her Master, her hands held demurely in her lap, and her gaze submissively downwards.

"You may look at me now," he said, a gentler tone in his voice.

Emma raised her gaze, and for the first time was able to study her Master. Immediately, she was struck by the strength in his face. His deep-set grey eyes promised wisdom and fairness. He looked to be in his forties, but might have been a little older. His thick dark hair was greying slightly at the temples. A well-trimmed beard adorned his chin; it too showed signs of encroaching greyness. She realised that he was shorter than she remembered – less than 1.80 metres, she suspected. His body looked trim, with little sign of excess fat. He smiled at her, creases showing around his eyes. "I said you could look at me, Girl, not stare at me!"

"I'm sorry, Master," she said, hurriedly lowering her gaze again.

"OK, let's get started," he went on. "It's now almost two o'clock, and the Inquest starts at six. Here I have copies of your statement, and the statements of all the others involved. I have highlighted possible discrepancies; we need to go through them in detail and get any amendments to the Inquisitors by five o'clock. After that, we can have a meal, and then set off for the Inquest."

"Six o'clock, Master. That's very late!"

"Yes, it's a throwback to the old days, before air-conditioning, when it would have been too hot to carry out inquests and tribunals in the afternoon. Of course, it would be OK nowadays, but this is a very traditional country, and things take a long time to change. The Inquest will probably last about four hours, after which we will return here – assuming, of course, that neither of us is ordered to be locked up by the Inquest."

"Why? Are you on trial as well, Master?"

"You must NOT ask questions without permission!" he interjected. "I shouldn't have to keep reminding you, Girl!"

"I'm sorry, Master. I will remember in future."

"Good. To explain further, it's not a trial, as such – it's an Inquest. Officially, nobody has been charged with anything. The function of the Inquest is to establish the facts, and then decide if anybody is culpable and needs to be punished. I don't think either of us really needs to worry. The most likely culprits will be your two friends Boris and Clyde, and Madam Yasmin, of course."

"Madame Yasmin?"

"Yes. I think it was rash of her to leave you to those two, and she will have to explain that to the Inquest. But first, I need to ask you a very important question. During your captivity with Boris and Clyde, did you have an orgasm?"

Emma blushed. "Yes, Master," she agreed quietly.

"How many times?"

"I can't remember exactly, Master, but several – at least three."

"We need to be more precise. Let's go through your statement."

Slowly and methodically, Hans went through Emma's statement, asking searching questions. Eventually, Emma agreed that she had cum four times, and was on the brink of a fifth when Boris and Clyde had returned to prepare her for their friends. "How did these orgasms compare with any you have had before?" he probed.

"I don't understand it, Master, but two of them were the most intense I have ever experienced. At the time, I was in so much pain that the experience overwhelmed me and I almost fainted. I don't understand how pain and pleasure can be intertwined like that."

"Mmm. That's very interesting. It is something we will pursue in detail over the coming months, but it seems to me that you are especially suited to your new position. You are a very lucky girl!"

"Lucky, Master? I don't think so!"

"We'll see," he replied mysteriously.

Without further comment, Hans reached for the telephone on his desk, and dialled a number. After a few seconds, he spoke. Emma could hear only one side of the subsequent conversation.

"Good afternoon, Excellency; this is Hans. I have interviewed the slave Leila…

"Yes, indeed, as you suspected, Excellency…

"Four times for certain, Excellency, and almost a fifth…

"Very intense, Excellency. Two were the most intense ever, according to her…

"Yes, Excellency, very much. I believe she will be quite special…

"I hope so, Excellency. Goodbye, Excellency."

Hans replaced the receiver. "That was the Grand Inquisitor," he explained. "He was anxious to know, before the Inquest, if you had derived any pleasure from the experience. Now, here are copies of the other statements. Read through them carefully, and point out any items with which you would take issue."

For nearly three hours, Emma and Hans perused the various statements. Hans made copious notes. Emma was impressed at his quick mind, his decisive comments, and the speed with which he summed up a situation. At last, he pushed his chair back from the desk. "Good," he commented, "I think that's enough. You've worked hard, Little One. It's just half past four now. There's time for you to take a shower before we eat at five. Use the big bathroom, and take off your collar and cuffs first. I'll get someone to take these papers across to the Grand Inquisitor."

Emma showered, dried and wrapped a luxuriously soft full-length towel around her petite body. A voice called her from the kitchen, and she entered to find the table set out for a simple meal of steak, salad and fruit. "Just one glass of wine, Girl," announced Hans. "We will need clear heads for the Inquest. Perhaps we'll finish it later."

Music emanated from the CD player. Emma recognised the supremely beautiful tune soaring heavenwards, and sighed gratefully.