Slavegirls of Dragon’s Lair


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by John Savage

Ace girl reporter Lynn Carter thought she had come upon the training camp of white slavers when she spotted a string of nearly naked and bound girls being marched through a forest far from anywhere. She followed, and discovered a house where there were naked women all over the place, bound in stringent and painful ways, enduring torture and sexual abuse, all apparently victims of the white slavers.

Determinedly on the trail of this great news story, Lynn infiltrated the house and found lovely women suffering unspeakable punishments deep in the dungeons. She had no idea there is a secret to this hidden house; a secret that would surprise the girl reporter and force her to confront her own inner needs and desires. All too soon she is feeling the tight ropes crushing her arms and legs into helplessness, and harsh gags filling her mouth.

Published  1 / 2010         No. Words  60,3000


For a moment Lynn had the wild idea of helping the poor, frustrated girl by teasing her imprisoned body into a climax. It should not be hard to do, given her already high state of arousal; she was borderline climax already. And that would certainly defeat the purpose for which the white slavers had put her there.

But then she shook her head. She was here to get a story, not to play games with unseen white slavers. Or their slaves.

Leaving the girl still bound to the post, still moaning softly, the vibrator still happily humming its tiny song of joy, Lynn walked to the door and tried it. It was unlocked. Opening it slowly, she peeked inside to find an empty hallway.

As Lynn entered and slowly closed the door behind her, she did not see       the action happening where she had just been standing. The bound girl’s moans increased, as did her hip action. Quickly, her struggles built up until she was straining violently against the ropes, shifting her knees and what she could of her hips from side to side in a hopeless but frantic effort to free her trapped body. Fingers fluttered in the twilight, the head shook back and forth, and a strange combination of moans and tiny cries issued forth. Suddenly the body went rigid, legs ramrod straight, heels digging into the ground, head pulled back the tiny amount allowed, and her hands clenched into fists. A prolonged, muffled but heartfelt moan escaped the gag as the feminine body tensed every muscle against the unmoving wooden post and its embrace of ropes.  The body held that position for impossibly long seconds, and then trembled all over. Human muscles finally gave in and the body went slack, knees bent, fingers hanging down, head bend forward.

Yet somewhere within that lovely package of feminine nudity, a small but powerful tool of modern technology continued to function. The helpless girl’s body could not ignore what teased and tickled her so intimately.

She began with a sharp moan of anger and a shake of the gagged head, as if crying out to the world, “No, not again!” The nipples, which had remained taut as if knowing more was to come, began slowly rising and falling in time with her increased breathing. The hips began slowly grinding and the soft moans started up again.

During the entire sequence of events the girl’s eyes never opened. She knew no one was going to come for a long, long time. And if anyone did, it would be only to tease or inflict tiny tortures on her imprisoned body, neither of which she wished to witness coming. In her unspoken thoughts, the shapely, bound up girl both cursed that crotch rope holding the vibrator deep inside for it to do its insidious work, and thanked it for providing just the right friction and pressure to send her crashing into blinding ecstasy not once but many times more in the long night to come.

Meanwhile, Lynn was making her way down the hallway, ready to turn and flee at the first sign of discovery. The thick carpet softened her footfalls into silence. There were several doors on each side and one at the end. All were closed; none gave any indication of what might be hidden behind the heavy oak panels. She chose the first door on the right, no different from any of the rest. With her ear against the wood she listened, but no hint came of what might be hidden within. So she opened the door and peeked. It was a small room, lit by a single overhead light, and bare except for a nude girl standing in its center. Lynn slipped in and closed the door behind her.

It was the same redhead Lynn had seen yesterday on the trail, the one whose arms had been bound, elbows touching, tighter and crueler than the others. She was sort of standing. One foot was on the floor, but it looked as if she were holding the other foot behind her. Lynn circled, keeping near the walls, not knowing if the girl could see her in the dim light.

The redhead was definitely in an enforced stand. Her right arm was stretched towards the ceiling by a metal cuff around the wrist and a chain. It appeared to Lynn as if someone had cut a pair of handcuffs in half and welded on a chain. The other end was locked to a ring in the ceiling next to the light. The girl’s right leg was bent at the knee and pulled up towards her left wrist, which in turn was pulled down to meet it. What kept them together was a pair of handcuffs, one bracelet around the wrist and the other around the ankle.

It was a carefully executed piece of torture. Her upper arm was pulled so high that only the ball of her left foot could reach the floor. And under that foot was a piece of triangular shaped wood, sharp edge up. It was painful to have to put your weight on the inverted “V” of wood, but more painful to hang by the chained wrist. And that raised leg pulled down on the other wrist, forcing the metal edge of the handcuffs to dig into tender flesh. Perhaps the girl could force her leg up and take the strain off the wrist and ankle. But that could only last a while before the muscles would grow tired, the leg would sag, and the heartless metal would again dig in.

As Lynn performed her inspection, the redhead’s eyes followed her where they could. There was pain and strain showing on that beautiful face, but also some puzzlement. Finally it was the redhead who broke the silence.

“Who are you?”


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