Chapter 2

"Heather, I'm home!" called Katie, as she came in through the 58th Street entrance, as usual. The only time she used the Central Park South entrance, was to go out for her morning runs.

Much had changed in Katie's life, since she'd moved in with Heather, two years ago. She had her first period a few week after taking up residence. Heather had given her "The Talk", so she knew what to expect.

Her dad also talked to her, but Heather did a better job.

Soon after, her breasts started to grow. She now wore a 34B bra, and, according to Heather, she shouldn't grow any larger.

What hadn't changed, though, was her height. At age eleven, she towered over her classmates. Now, at age thirteen, she was average. Soon she'd be short. At her last check up, her doctor said that she was not going to grow much more; an inch at most. Like her aunt, Katie was going to be a short woman. No more than five foot one.

Katie saw there was no post-it on the door, so she went downstairs. As she walked down, she heard a woman's voice she didn't recognize. It had a vaguely European accent.

"You know, Heather dear, I have always been a fan of the good old fashioned riding crop. But I am starting to see what you like about this leather paddle you designed."

Katie turned the corner of the stairs, and saw a sight she could never have imagined.

Both Cecil and Cecile were naked, except for metal devices that covered their genitals. They were hanging from the ceiling by their bound hands, about six feet apart, back-to-back. Their feet were kept apart by a foot long black pipe, that was cuffed to each ankle. The pipe, in turn, was tied to the floor. They were both stretched to their limit, with a ball gag in their mouths.

It was evident, from the red marks all over their bodies, the two pets had been whipped numerous times by both a paddle and a riding crop.

Heather was standing in between her two pets, wearing a white leather corset, that left her pale white breasts exposed, a white g-string, and knee-high white leather boots. On her head was a short white wig. In her hand was a black leather paddle. It had and eighteen inch long, three inch diameter handle. The paddle itself was made of black leather. It was three feet long and one foot wide. Unlike most paddles, this one had no solid inner core. This one was completely flexible. It reminded Katie of a pet door.

The woman talking was a head taller than Heather. She had a pinched face, piercing blue eyes, and a large mane of straight blond hair, that flowed down her back. It was almost certainly a wig. She wore a tight black body suit, that clung to every contour of her body, including her incredibly large breasts. It had no sleeves, but covered her legs and feet, down to her black six inch stiletto pumps.

She was hold in her hands a three foot riding crop.

"It's not like you have to give up one for the other, Inge. My paddle is just another tool."

Inge stood indecisively for a moment. "I know," she said, finally.

"Let us see what our recipients think." She pulled the ball gag out of Cecil's mouth. "Which do you prefer, slave? The crop or the paddle?"

Cecil stretched his mouth a bit, then answered. "Whatever Misstress Heather desires."

Inge was impressed. "Ooh! What a good slave you are." She tossled his spiky hair, then slapped both cheeks at the same time.

"You have trained your slaves well, Heather."

Heather just nodded her head. Acknowledging the obvious.

"Cecil, I know my desires are paramount. But if I had no opinion, and left it up to you, which would you choose?"

"The paddle, mistress."

"Why?" asked Inge.

"I like the way the paddle wraps around me, like a searing blanket."

Inge took the gag off Cecile. "And you, sweet thing. If Heather were to give you a choice, which would you choose?"

"The crop, Miss Inge," the Asian girl said at once.

"And why?"

"I like the abrupt, focused intensity of the pain."

It was then that Heather saw Katie at the top the stairs. She gave her ward a quick jerk of her head upward, telling her to get the hell out of there.

Katie complied.

"It is like I told you," said Heather, not missing a beat. "It's not like you have to give up one for the other. My strap paddle is just another tool."

"I know, I know. It is just that once I start..."

Katie heard no more of the conversation, as she closed the door at the top of the stairs. She went to her room, and sat on the edge of her bed.

Thoughts started tumbling through her mind. So that's what's been going on downstairs.

Cecil and Cecile are not pets, they're Heather's slaves. It's like before the Civil War. Except they're voluntary slaves. Why would anyone willingly be a slave? You have no freedom, and are whipped and abused at your owner's whim. She needed to talk to Heather about this.

She then thought about seeing Cecil and Cecile almost naked. Cecil's penis was encased in a cage made of rings, and Cecile was wearing a bikini brief made of metal, with padlocks on them.

Katie had seen a penis before.

In a similar incident, a few months before her father died, Katie came home from school, needing to pee. She ran into the bathroom, only to see her father stepping out of the shower, naked. "Eep!" was all she said, before she fled the bathroom.

She didn't see much in her brief glimpse of her naked father; mostly hair and a flash of skin color.

This time she got a better look. Though partially concealed, Cecil's penis was much thicker than her father's. It wasn't erect, because of the cage, but it was trying. It kept twitching and pushing against the metal rings. A stream of clear fluid was dripping off its end.

Similarly, fluid was leaking from under Cecile's metal underwear. The Asian slave had larger breasts than any of her classmates in gym, but were small compared to Inge's. Cecile also had a ring pierced through each nipple.

Katie had trouble understanding her emotions. She wasn't feeling happy, sad, or afraid. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she was having trouble sitting still. She wanted to pace, or do push-ups, but didn't. She instead folded herself into the lotus position, and tried to center herself.

As she was trying to meditating, Katie realized that her nipples were rock hard, like she had just gotten out of the pool. They were pushing against her bra, making it uncomfortable to wear.

Keeping her legs crossed, Katie pulled off her Savate tee shirt, then unhooked her bra, and tossed it on the floor.

Katie looked down at her pale pink nipples that were jutting out. If anything, they were harder than coming out of the pool. Both points seemed to ache and throb.

She gently touch the tip of her right nipple with her right middle finger. Katie let out a gasp, as a tremor went through her body.

She tried the same thing with her left nipple, with similar results.

Soon she was massaging both breasts, running her fingers over the erect nubs. She had never felt anything like this before, and didn't want it to stop.

After a few minutes, Katie felt wetness in her shorts. Her period wasn't due for another week, so she was concerned. She unzipped her shorts, her legs still crossed, and saw that her panties were soaked; but the fluid was clear, not red.

She touched her underwear, and examined the moisture. The fluid was slippery, with an oddly pungent and salty smell.

Just like Cecil and Cecile, Katie realized.

Now that she'd stopped fondling her breasts, Katie realized that the little numb above her vagina was also throbbing and aching. She pulled out the waistband, to take a look.

The little bump was flush and swollen, just like her nipples. Katie reached down to touch it. The tremors that went through her body were ten times more intense than her breasts, if not more. She let out a gasp. Her legs flew out of lotus position, and she kicked off her shorts and panties