Author Unknown

Illustrations by Robert Bishop

Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w

"I think now you are ready to begin your education in bondage as an apprentice slave, young lady," Jack Brandon pronounced.

Myrna Gentry's emotions at hearing these words can hardly be described her naked bottom burning and throbbing to remind her of the humiliating experience she had just suffered at the hands of her ruthless, audacious captor, the awareness of her own female nakedness which was embellished and made even more lustfully appealing to a male by her outrageous "costume" of hose, pumps and rosettes, pinions and gag, had rendered her incapable of choate(sic) reasoning or speech.

She wept now, but not entirely for her fall from pedestaled invulnerability; the sting of her first and furious spanking had caused such a crisis of nerves and acute awareness of physical discomfort that most of her tears were drawn by that consciousness.

Now, removing the gag, he let her exhale her woes and plaints, but as she began wildly to denounce him and threaten him again with reprisals, he silenced her by fitting on the punishment helmet, which had holes only for her nostrils, covering head and face completely, blinding her as well as silencing her, since at the place of the mouth as a thick oblong rubber pad which forced itself between her lips.  The helmet had a sturdy metal ring at its top, and now, lifting her and dragging her under a pulley rope, he fitted the end of it with a secure knot to the helmet ring.  Then, untying her wrists only to pull a single-glove restraint device over her long lovely creamy arms almost to the shoulders, a glove with a ring in it like the helmet, he now attached a short thin but strong linked chain from helmet ring to glove ring; then, going to the wall, touching a lever, he hoisted her into the air; the frenzied scream of terror which the helmet all but suppressed made him shiver with ardent anticipation: decidedly, Myrna Gentry was far from being the overbearing heiress as when she entered his bondage house!

He would be Pygmalion to her Galatea, and turn her into the most servile slave, he had already determined.

Now, going to her and watching her try to kick and reach up for the pulley rope with her compressed, gloved arms, he dragged her arms behind her tightly, and looped a thick narrow leather strap round her thighs and calves, thus pulling up and doubling her beautiful long legs behind her, the strap engaging round the chain between helmet and glove and thus compressing her lithe long-legged body painfully.  Head tilted up and back, her body shaped like a kind of S, she writhed in the air about three feet off the floor.

"Mfmfmfmahahahahahmmffff!" she moaned pitifully, trying to speak to him, ready now to sue for mercy.

He divined this, but resisted the impulse to make her prove her newly, painfully acquired submission; no, Myrna was to undergo many ordeals till, suppled and submissive beyond her own wildest dreams, she would be ready to exist only to serve his merest whim!  This, truly, was the credo, the very ethos, of bondage subjugation!