artists & models
		by Van ©2012
		Chapter 6

Sometime during the night—Madison assumed it was night—she roused herself and sampled the "monkey chow."  Her stomach insisted.  She hauled herself to her hobbled feet, shuffled to the sink, and drank from the apparently endless, tiny stream of water splashing into the bowl.  Then, she knelt on the floor before the steel bowl of alleged food and tongued one of the thumbnail-sized nuggets into her mouth.  It was crunchy on the outside and moist on the inside, as promised.  Maybe it was the added sauce of hunger, but the taste wasn't all that bad.  She consumed about half the bowl's contents, drank some more water, then lay back down on the mattress.

The leather mittens encasing her fingers, hands, and wrists were snug, but with the rings at their tips secured to the back of the belt locked around her waist, she had slightly more freedom of motion than she'd had in Lyndal's rope box-tie.  That said, her shoulders were complaining about the many long hours of her arms being either lashed or padlocked in what was roughly the same position.  "At least I'm not gagged," she whispered to herself, then rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms, as best she could, and managed to go back to sleep.

More hours passed, then she woke and used the commode.  It had two steel foot pedals flush-mounted at floor level on either side of the base.  One was labeled "F" and flushed the bowl.  The other was labeled "B" and sent a stream of water to splash and cleanse her nether region.  "This must be the luxury prison model," she muttered under her breath, "complete with bidet."

Suddenly, a key rattled in the lock and the heavy door opened.  Beverly entered with Crystal a step behind.

Beverly was in sandals, designer jeans, and cotton blouse, as usual.  Crystal was in her Equestrian Bitch uniform of knee-boots, skintight riding pants, and sleeveless, V-neck blouse.  Both were smiling.

"Look," Madison huffed as she stood and took a hobbled step forward, "you have no right to—"

Beverly had stepped forward, as well, and placed her right index finger against Madison's lips.  "Hush," she ordered.  "Slaves should be seen and not heard."

Madison scowled.  "You can take your 'slave' shit and—Mrrf!"  Crystal had stepped behind her, thrust a ball-gag in her mouth, and was cinching the strap at the nape of her neck, under her tousled red hair.  Madison stamped her hobbled feet in frustration.  "Nrrrf!"

Beverly smiled her smug, infuriating smile.  "I understand you wished to inform us that people know you're here."  Her fingers were busy pulling stray strands of Madison's hair from under the gag's strap.  "Tighten that before securing the lock," she told Crystal.

"Mrrf," Madison complained as Crystal pulled the remaining strands of her hair free, tightened the strap, as ordered, and snapped a tiny padlock in the buckle's hasp.  Snick.

"Now, Fire," Beverly continued, lifting Madison's chin with her right hand, "people do indeed know you're here, and Ice, as well—or, as you would say, Erin.  In fact, it's all the buzz of the art district coffee houses that I've taken you two under my wing.  'Have you heard?  You know Erin, the photographer with the blue eyes?  She may be getting a one-woman show at Beverly Adair's gallery.'  'I heard Erin's been hired as the gallery's staff photographer.  She'll photograph Adair's shows at all of her galleries, worldwide.'  'Well, I heard she's going to travel around the world on an Adair Foundation photo-safari, and her girlfriend, the redhead, is tagging along.'  Yes," Beverly continued, "all sorts of rumors are flying.  Not that anyone's all that interested, of course.  But yes, people do know you're here.  I've seen to it."

"M'mpfh."

Beverly cupped Madison's breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze.  She continued kneading the pale, fleshy globes.  Her gaze was on the rings piercing Madison's nipples.  "No sign of any problems," she purred.

"I'll keep a close eye on them," Crystal giggled.

Beverly rolled her eyes.  "Of course you will," she chuckled.

"Nrrrmpfh!" Madison complained, stamping her feet, again.

Beverly locked eyes with Madison.  "Are you being difficult, slave?  You've been warned about what happens to slaves with attitudes."

"She has," Crystal confirmed, and reached for the mini-prod holstered on her corset-belt.

Madison's eyes widened.

Beverly smiled and shook her head.  "No, I think she remembers.  We'll chalk it up to being a sleepyhead."

"Mistress is kind," Crystal said.

"Do something about this mare's nest," Beverly ordered, lifting a strand of Madison's hair.  She focused on Madison's gagged face.  "And as for you, Fire, be a good slave."  She spun on her heel and left the cell.

Crystal stepped in front of Madison.  "Mistress is indeed kind," she purred.  "That's the one and only pass you're going to get today, Fire.  One more petulant display and the next time we see your girlfriend... she will know pain.  Do you understand?"

Madison fought to control her anger as she nodded.  You little bitch! she inwardly fumed.

"There's a good slave," Crystal smiled, then pulled the riding crop from her boot and gestured towards the open door.  "Off we go."

Madison hobbled out the door with Crystal close behind.

Crystal led Madison to the tiled chamber with the frame of steel pipes and clamped her neck in the collar.  She then strolled to a cabinet and returned with a comb and brush set and proceeded to use it on Madison's hair, gently eliminating the many snarls and tangles.  Once the "mare's nest" had been dealt with, Crystal plaited the captive's long, red tresses into a single braid and secured the end with a narrow black ribbon.  The collar was released and they were out the door.  Again, Madison was in the lead and Crystal followed.  Verbal commands accompanied by stinging taps on Madison's rump and flanks from the Evil Pixie-Bitch's riding crop provided navigational cues.

Their destination was what was unmistakably a gymnasium.  It had a high ceiling and an array of treadmills, stationary bikes, step, elliptical, and rowing machines, and various resistance stations—the usual.

Crystal led Madison to a treadmill with steel side-rails.  "Up you go, Fire."

Madison stepped up onto the machine, then watched sullenly as her Crystal lifted four dangling chains and padlocked them to rings on either side of her waist belt.  When her "handler" was finished, the steel links formed a drooping "X" centering her over the track.  Next, Crystal deftly unlocked and removed Madison's hobble-strap.  And once again, I can do nothing to stop her, Madison sighed through her gag.  The diminutive brunette had knelt in a position where one of the machine's side-rail struts prevented Madison from even attempting a kick—not that a kick would have accomplished anything other than punishment—or, if the Evil Pixie's threats were real, punishment for Erin.

Crystal stepped to the front of the machine, unlocked and lifted a clear plastic cover, and began punching buttons.  A small screen flashed and a menu appeared.  "All you have to do is walk," Crystal announced as she selected a program.  An electronic beep sounded, a motor hummed, and the track began to roll.  Madison had no choice but to start walking.  "You'll walk for a while, then run, then walk... run, walk, run, walk, and so on," Crystal continued, smiling her infuriating, gloating smile.  "This program is for beginners and has no hill work.  The track will remain level, but it is a long one.  I'm afraid you're in for a monotonous morning, Fire.  If you get too bored, let me know and  I'll be happy to provide a little entertainment."  With that "witticism," the little Bitch turned and walked to a set of lockers against the nearest wall.

Madison continued walking.  She had no choice.  Her ankle cuffs were no longer connected so her steps were unencumbered, but the waist chains prevented her from stepping off the track.  Her mitten-encased hands remained useless, of course, and the ball-gag absorbed all complaints.  She watched as Crystal sat on a stool and removed her boots, then peeled down and removed her long socks and riding pants.  The blouse was next, leaving the Evil Pixie in a thong and bra, both of black, whisper-thin material.  She removed them as well, then began a series of stretching exercises.  Madison noted the fair-skinned, athletic little munchkin's crotch was neatly groomed but unshaven.  She had a full, triangular pubic bush.  Also, her nipples weren't pierced.  After about a minute of lunges and twists, Crystal climbed onto a stationary bike and began pedaling.

Functions aside, Madison noted that all the machines in the room were of two distinct types, those with attachment points and dangling chains or straps, and those without.  Crystal's bike was one of the later.

The track under Madison's feet was well-padded.  No doubt to compensate for bare feet, she surmised.  It wasn't excessively soft, but something like firm beach sand.  It continued to roll, the chains rattled and chimed, and her ringed tits swayed and bounced, just a little.  She continued walking.

Crystal continued her nude workout, as well, pedaling and watching Madison's "progress" with her usual infuriating, gloating smirk.

Minutes passed and Madison could feel her blood beginning to pump.  Then, the machine beeped, again, and the track began to pick up speed.  The screen on the control console was painting a graph with a pulsing point tracing a rising curve.  Madison had no choice but to quicken her pace, transitioning into a jog.  The track continued to accelerate, and the jog became a run.  There was a third beep, the slope of the graph leveled out, and the track's acceleration stopped.  Madison continued running.  Now, her breasts were definitely bouncing, as were her nipple rings.

More minutes passed... and Madison began to sweat.  This was turning into a serious workout.

Crystal climbed off the stationary bike, walked to a small refrigerator, and produced a plastic bottle with a stiff, curved straw protruding from its cap.  She opened her mouth, squeezed the bottle, and a stream of greenish liquid splashed into her mouth.  She swallowed as she strolled to Madison.  "Gatorade," she explained as she tucked the end of the straw in the corner of Madison's ball-gagged mouth and squeezed.  "Nice, slow swallows, Fire."

Madison was grateful for the hydrating liquid, and was equally grateful Crystal was delivering it in doses small enough for her to handle.  She put her head back and found she could do a sort of half-swallow, despite the mouth-filling gag, allowing the fluid to trickle down her throat.  Finally, after the slow delivery of about a pint, Crystal withdrew the straw and stepped back.

The naked brunette took another hit from the bottle as she returned it to the fridge, then strolled to one of the resistance stations, a restraint-free, not-for-slaves model, of course.  Madison watched as she made various adjustments, then sat on the padded saddle and began a set of leg-lifts.

Madison continued running... and sweating.  Eventually, the track beeped, slowed, and she was walking again... and walking... and walking.  More time passed, then the track accelerated and she was running... again.

Crystal worked her way from machine to machine, pausing between sets to hydrate herself and her slave.  Madison continued walking, jogging, or running, as required.  She also continued sweating.

Finally, the machine beeped three times in quick succession—beep-beep-bleeeeep—and the track ground to a halt.  Madison stood in her bonds, panting and sweating, her nostrils flaring and bosom heaving.

"That wasn't so bad, was it slave?" Crystal said as she toweled herself dry and began to dress.

Bitch! Madison fumed, continuing to pant.

Back in her Equestrian Bitch drag, once again, Crystal restored Madison's hobble, unlocked the machine's chains, and led the flushed, glowing redhead from the exercise room.  "Lunch," she explained, tapping Madison's rump with her crop to urge her along.

Madison was returned to her cell and Crystal unbuckled her ball-gag.  She noted her "monkey chow" bowl had been refilled.

"I want you to empty the bowl this time," Crystal ordered as, ball-gag in her left hand and riding crop in her right, she sauntered back to the open door.

"Wait," Madison gasped, licking her lips and working her jaw.  "Let me see Erin," she begged.  "Please?"

Crystal's Lulu bob swayed as she shook her head.  "Ice is enjoying her lunch."  She pointed at the bowl of brown nuggets with the crop.  "Eat.  You're going to need it."

"Please," Madison reiterated, but the door closed and the lock turned.  She sighed, stared at her "lunch", and shuffled to the sink for a preliminary drink.  Madison wasn't in an obedient mood, not by any means—but she was hungry.

Madison emptied the bowl.  It was a matter of need, not obedience.  She then decided to take a nap.  Why not?  She was tired, her feet hurt from all that barefoot running, and as far as she knew, her day-planner was free.  She consciously ignored Crystal's warning that she should eat because she was "going to need it."

She snapped awake when the door lock turned and the portal opened.  It was Lyndal, this time, and rather than Equestrian Bitch drag, she was wearing a skintight, French-cut, sleeveless leotard with a scoop neck.  Without a word, she thrust the now familiar red sphere of a two-inch ball-gag in Madison's mouth, tightened the strap, and padlocked the buckle.  She then took hold of the end of Madison's braid and led her out the door.

Madison shuffled down the corridor with the smiling blonde on her heels.  There was a pause while Lyndal unlocked and opened a gate of iron bars, they crossed the threshold, and Lyndal locked the gate behind them.  The journey continued and they made a left turn.  A staircase loomed ahead.  The pace slowed to accommodate Madison's hobble, and they reached the top landing.

Lyndal unlocked and opened the door, then led Madison out onto an airy veranda.  It was barred on three sides and looked out on a small garden and the woods beyond.  But for a basket full of rolled, upended mats and a large, flat-screen TV on a rolling cart, the space was empty.

Lyndal made a sweeping gesture.  "The yoga studio," she announced, then grinned.  "I don't use it much, myself.  I prefer the lawns or the tea-house deck out by the lake.  There's nothing like hot-yoga in the middle of a rainstorm."

Madison watched as Lyndal rolled the TV to the middle of the room, then unrolled a mat and placed it a few yards in front of the screen.  Lyndal next removed Madison's hobble, then unlocked the rings at the tips of her mittens from the back of her belt.  "Wearing" mittens, ball-gag, belt, and unattached ankle cuffs, Madison stood and stared at the grinning blonde.

"I'm going to teach you several of the most basic yoga positions—standing, supine, prone, and sitting.  In time, we'll increase your flexibility and give your muscles an even development.  Eventually, I'll introduce you to hot-yoga and the real progress will begin."  She picked up a touch-screen remote from the TV stand and began tapping her way through a menu.  The TV's screen flashed and the image of Lyndal appeared.  She was dressed in a different leotard.  "I know you'll be clumsy at first," Lyndal said—the real Lyndal, not the TV Lyndal—"but try your best and I won't punish you."

TV Lyndal sat on her TV mat and real Lyndal pointed at the real mat in front of Madison.  "We'll begin with a centering exercise.  Follow my moves as best you can.  I'll correct any errors."

Madison glared at Lyndal.

Lyndal went to the TV cart and picked up what Madison recognized as one of the mini-prod punishment devices.  "The promise of a more flexible and hotter body isn't enough for you?" Madison inquired.  She held up the flashlight-size, pain-giving wand.  "There are alternative methods of motivation."

Madison sighed through her gag, then settled to the mat, mimicking TV Lyndal's pose.

Two hours later, Madison was all but stumbling down one of the subterranean corridors and heading for her cell... she hoped.  Lyndal had a hold of her braid, again.  Her hobble had been restored and her mittens were once again locked to the back of her belt.  Her muscles burned from the workout in the morning and her introduction to yoga in the afternoon.  She found herself actually looking forward to a "nice" bowl of monkey chow and her soft (albeit narrow) mattress.

It turned out she was wrong about their destination.  Lyndal led her into yet another new chamber.  It was about three times the size of her cell and was paneled with what might be blond oak.  The floor was covered with plush carpet and lit by a multitude of glowing, taut strings of LED fairy lights crisscrossing the high ceiling.  In the center was a long, narrow table with a padded top.  It was only a couple of feet off the floor and was covered with what looked like a green silk sheet.

Lyndal pointed to the table.  "On your stomach, Fire," she ordered.

Madison shuffled to the table and obeyed.  She flopped onto its cool, smooth, green surface and settled onto her tummy and breasts.  Lyndal secured her ankles to the bottom corners, using additional leather straps similar to her hobble, then walked to the head of the table and extended another pair of straps.  Madison watched as her mitten-encased hands were released from the back of the belt, one at a time, and secured to one of the straps.  This left her in a loose spread-eagle on the soft, mattress-like surface.  Finally, Lyndal unlocked and removed the belt and dropped it to the floor.  Madison sighed through her gag, then flinched when Lyndal playfully patted her naked rump.  Whack-whack-whack.

"You were a good slave this afternoon," Lyndal said, "and even though it was only your first lesson, you show promise."  She leaned close and planted a kiss on each of Madison's firm, pale butt-cheeks.

Madison sighed and watched Lyndal stroll out the door.  The heavy portal closed and the lock turned.  Its back matched the room's paneling and the door all but disappeared.  Dammit!  Her handlers weren't making mistakes.  She wasn't getting any chances to escape, and she'd seen no sign of Erin.  Madison decided all she could do was bide her time, stay alert, and not give up hope.  She closed her eyes and let her sore, aching body relax.

Minutes passed...  Madison may have drifted off to sleep... but then she lifted her head and focused on the door.  A key was rattling in the lock, again.  The door opened and Crystal entered.  She was still wearing her Equestrian Bitch costume, complete with riding crop tucked in her right boot and mini-prod holstered at her side.

"Lyndal had good things to say about your first yoga lesson, Fire," Crystal said as she strolled to the table.  "I was pleased with your first workout, as well."  She patted Madison's rump, as Lyndal had done.  Whack-whack.  "Such a good slave.  You'll be pleased to hear that Ice was also a good slave today.  No punishment tonight for either of you."

Madison sighed through her gag.  She surmised Erin had also had a full day of exercise and yoga, but probably in the reverse order of yoga in the morning and the treadmill in the afternoon.

Meanwhile, Crystal sat on the side of the table, her rump nudging Madison's waist, and began removing her boots.  Her socks followed, then she stood and peeled off her riding pants and thong.  "I know you're sore, Fire," she said.  Clad only in sleeveless, V-neck blouse and leather corset-belt, she carried her boots, pants, and thong to one of the walls.  She pressed the edge of a panel and it swung open, revealing a small closet.  The smiling pixie placed her boots on the closet floor, hung her pants and thong from a hanger, then unbuckled her belt and unbuttoned her blouse and hung them up, as well.

Madison lifted her head and glanced at the riding crop and mini-prod on the floor beside her table.  Crystal had left them behind.  She tugged on her mitten encased hands in frustration.  The potential weapons might as well be on the moon.

Crystal strolled back to the table, now completely naked.  "Don't think I didn't see that," she purred, bent at the waist, causing her black, Lulu-cropped hair to fan forward, and picked up the riding crop.  She slid the thong over her wrist, twirled the crop with a deft flip of the wrist—Swish—then delivered a stinging slap to Madison's left butt-cheek.  Thwack!

"Mrrf!"

"Slaves aren't allowed to have thoughts of escape, Fire," Crystal said.  "It's probably best for you to have as few thoughts as possible, except for how to please your Mistress, of course."  The crop dangling from her wrist, Crystal walked to the wall opposite the closet and opened another panel, revealing a cabinet of drawers and shelves.

Madison watched the diminutive brunette's dimpled rump and pale back as she opened a drawer and pulled out a towel and a small plastic bottle.  The spreadeagled captive buried her feelings deep as her "handler" returned, and forced the anger from her gagged face (she hoped).  Someday, you little bitch, she silently promised herself.  Someday.

Still smiling, Crystal dropped the towel to the floor, than climbed onto the table and straddled Madison's body, settling a little of her weight on the helpless redhead's thighs.  "Now," she said as she squeezed a dollop of clear lotion on her hand from the bottle, then rubbed them together, "just relax, Fire."

Madison flinched at the first touch of Crystal's hands, but soon did relax, and much to her surprise, she actually shivered with delight as Crystal's palms and fingers slid across her back.  A massage was just what she needed, and if a sadistic munchkin was the only masseuse available...  And it's not like I have any choice in the matter.

The massage continued, and Crystal didn't appear to be in a hurry.   She was also very thorough and skilled.  Madison's back, shoulders, arms, butt, thighs, and legs received her focused attention.  Then, repositioning the straps enforcing the spread-eagle one at a time, she flipped the redhead onto her back and massaged Madison's front.  Again, the grinning pixie addressed every limb and muscle group with firm, gentle pressure.

Madison lay in her bonds, utterly relaxed.  Crystal had climbed off her body and was wiping her hands with the towel.  She watched as her fair-skinned handler returned the towel and lotion bottle to the cabinet, opened yet another cabinet and began gathering  a veritable armload of leather straps.  They were of various lengths and all were the same weight and color as her current restraints.  She carried them to the table and dropped them to the floor in a rattle of dangling buckles, clips, and rings.

Madison remained relaxed as the new bonds were applied.  Resistance was useless, and the warm, post-massage daze was too good to waste on pointless struggling.

When Crystal was finished, cuff-like straps had been buckled around Madison's thighs and clipped to the sides of the table, and her ankle cuffs and straps had been shortened and reattached, leaving Madison's legs bent at the knee and widely splayed.  The belt was back around her waist and it was now attached to the table.  Finally, a strap above her breasts further pinned her in place.

Why, Madison wondered.  Is she just being cruel?  She lifted her ball-gagged head and watched Crystal walk to another hidden cabinet, open the door, and return with—"Nrrrf!"—what was unmistakably a wand-style vibrator with a long, trailing cord.

"This will help you relax even more," Crystal purred, an evil smile curling her lips.  The vibrator had a rounded, saddle-shaped knob, nearly the size a child's fist.  Crystal thumbed a switch and it began to hum.  Buzzzzz...  "This is a very clever design," Crystal continued.  There are actually three separate vibrating heads under the saddle, and a dozen settings vary the power of each of the heads, setting up all sorts of harmonic wave interactions and other technical stuff.  I'm not an engineer, but I can vouch for the results from personal experience."  She gently pressed the saddle against Madison's taint, the region between her genitals and anus.

"Mrrrrf!"  Waves of titillating energy washed through Madison's crotch.  "Nrrrrr!"  Crystal was moving the head of the wand in a slow, clockwise orbit... up her left thigh... across her lower tummy... down her right thigh... and back to her taint.  The squirming prisoner's now flushed and quivering labia were carefully avoided.  "Mmmmmm."

"Yes, it feels good," Crystal chuckled, "doesn't it, Fire?"  She delicately played the head of the saddle across Madison's labia, then pressed it against the taint, again.  "Yes, very good."

"M'mmpfh!"

"We'll take it nice and slow, Fire," Crystal purred, "nice and slow."  She continued exploring Madison's pale, firm flesh with the buzzing saddle.  "This is only the first setting.  Wait 'til it starts oscillating between vibrator heads."

"Nrrr..."

""We'll built to a nice, crashing multi-gasm.  Then, I'll let you rest an hour with the wand tucked between your legs on low.  After that, we'll do this again.  I think you're going to sleep very well tonight, Fire."

"Nrrrf."

"Hush."  Crystal pressed the saddle firmly against Madison's labia, nudging her clitoris with its upper edge.  "It's good to be an obedient slave, isn't it Fire?  The kiss of the vibrator is much better than the sting of the prod.  Don't you agree?"

"M'mmpfh!"  Madison writhed and struggled, fighting her bonds with her remaining strength.  You little bitch!  Madison tried to glare at her grinning tormentor, but she was sooooo tired...   And the vibrator felt sooooo good.  "Nrrf."

"Bad slaves are punished," Crystal whispered, "but good slaves..."  She pressed the saddle firmly against the upper labia, and thumbed up the switch, increasing the power by one notch.  Buzzzzz-ZZZZZ...

"Nrrr."  Bitch!  You little bitch!  Madison went rigid in her bonds.

"You're a randy slut-slave," Crystal giggled, and returned the vibrator to its lower setting.  "Are you, Fire?  Are you a randy slut-slave?"

Madison shivered and tugged on her wrist bonds.

"I wonder how Lyndal is doing with Ice?" Crystal mused aloud.  "I wonder if your photographer friend is also a randy slut-slave.  I can't wait to compare notes with Lyn."

Madison continued fighting her bonds.  Her ringed breasts heaved and nostrils flared as she panted through her ball-gag.  Her peachy-pink skin was flushed and shining with sweat.

The vibrator's saddle continued gliding across Madison's shaved pussy, and Crystal continued her evil smile.

Buzzzzz...