A-Matter-of-Degree

Gerald Swanley was the first to move across from the motor launch onto the platform at the side of the yacht M.V.Paradine, as one of its burly crewmen held the launch in place. It was almost dusk, and the yacht had anchored half a mile out to sea from Falmouth, still protected, so that the waves were just a gentle undulation. Gerald did feel slightly rude to be taking the lead like this, but had decided it was best to set an example and prove that the exercise was a safe one.

The three women he had brought with him, all in pinstripe jackets and short skirts, plus white blouses and leather calf-length boots, were still sitting on the launch's leather bench seats, watching carefully as Gerald was grasped and moved to the stairs up to the yacht's deck. Miss Ashton was his secretary and personal assistant; she wore her straw-blonde hair pulled back into a short pony tail, and was wearing heavy-rimmed glasses she didn't need to improve her sight - but helped give her the image of a businesswoman, and also included a radio receiver. Mistress Mala, five foot eleven tall with long, gently waved black hair, carried a lightweight portable computer; she was one of the Better Trained Wives trainers. Mistress Domina, next to her, had shorter, moussed dark hair with a reddish tinge, and was almost as tall - she was, for want of a better term, BTW UK's Head Mistress.

With one hand on the steps' rail, Gerald was able to help steady the way for his three companions. Should he regret bringing them into what was potentially a dangerous situation? He smiled briefly to himself, sure that Mistress Domina, "MD", was probably having similar thoughts about the advisability of his being in the party.

Certainly, this was an unusual situation, but Gerald had been to school with Ibrahim, and could hardly have ignored his carefully worded plea for help. And playing at being James Bond would make a pleasant change... if the outcome didn't involve a prolonged nap with the local herring population. John and Robert had come down to Falmouth too, in one of BTW's larger delivery vans, and ought now to be busy in the harbour.

Gerald helped Miss Ashton, Mistress Mala, and Mistress Domina to pass him and move up the steps, breathing in the fresh, slightly salty sea air, with a tinge of diesel from the launch and the yacht's power generator. He smiled, and shook the crewman's hand before following them up to the main deck.

The yacht was perhaps five years old, and a big one, the type you are more likely to see moored in the Monaco Marina - but what went on on board would not have been possible in such a public place. There, the young women would have worn bathing costumes, and been relaxing on sun-beds... here it was different. There were a couple of remarkably beautiful women on deck - but they were tautly chained to the wall on either side of the main doorway into the command cabin, ball-gagged, blindfolded, and with many whip-marks visible, some more recent than others, along with some recent bruising. There was an aura of fear about the place, fear and desperation. This wasn't bondage as orgasm delayed, this was torture.

Ibrahim appeared in the doorway, in the blue blazer, white trousers, and yachting cap you'd expect; his smile was broad, showing relief as well as strain. Alongside him was a gorgeous yet steely-looking ice-blonde, in tight-fitting leather trousers and a black leather bikini top; she must have been at least six foot three, Gerald decided - but she was wearing high heels, and his companions were not. Three men in similar trousers, plus black turtle-neck tops, trailed alertly behind her.

"Ibrahim, you old pirate - it's been too long since I've seen you", Gerald began, striding forward to grasp his friend's hand. "And this must be your lovely wife, you've been hiding her from me and I don't blame you, I'm already smitten!"

Ibrahim took Gerald's hand in both of his gratefully. "Gerald, my dear friend, when I heard you were spending a few days down in Cornwall it seemed the perfect opportunity to invite you here - allow me to introduce my dear lifemate, Sophia - Sophia, this is Gerald Swanley, we were at school together."

Sophia accepted Gerald's just-released hand cautiously, and gave him a hard look before smiling. "Ibrahim has told me very little about you, Gerald Swanley, but he obviously holds you in high regard."

Gerald raised her hand to his lips, and gave it the appropriate air-kiss. "Oh, I run a training company along the South Coast from here, all boring stuff for jet-setters like you I'm sure. I hope you don't mind me bringing three of my secretaries along, but they've been such hard workers lately I thought they had earned a special trip like this."

"This yacht is indeed... special", Sophia agreed, and clapped her hands loudly, which brought two serving-maids out from beyond a curtain, each carrying a tray of small canapes. It would have been a nice hospitable touch, if the girls hadn't been naked and chained. A harness constricted their breasts, squeezing them and pushing them forward, and chains from their nipples kept the trays level - the backs of the trays seemed to be attached to some sort of very tight chastity belt arrangement. Their arms were kept tightly behind their backs not in regular monogloves, but in the kind where each arm is bent back at the elbow against itself. Their ball-gags were exceptionally large, and they were already drooling helplessly; some whip or cane welts were visible on their breasts and flanks. Again, there were bruises too, some of them obviously recent.

"Ibrahim did suggest we had similar interests", Gerald remarked, carefully taking one of the heavier canapes. Mistress Domina took three from the other tray, passing one each to Mistress Mala and Miss Ashton. "Miss Ashton, do we have any news from Robert yet?"

Miss Ashton paused, holding her canape warily; none of the women had tried to eat theirs yet, and neither had Gerald. "Everything is secure, Sir", she told him. "Our acquisition department is fully prepared."

"Do try the canapes, Gerald - they are from an old family recipe", Sophia said - she reached out in mild exasperation and pinched the side of one of her slavegirls' breasts hard, causing a muffled gasp and some sliding of canapes towards the far side of the tray.

"That old family wouldn't be the Borgias, would it?" Gerald's voice was surprisingly mild. His companions had put their canapes, and other items they'd been carrying, on a convenient table, and moved apart. "I'd heard that you have been getting into some bad, cruel habits, Sophia - and now I see that it's true. These girls of yours are not exactly volunteers, are they?"

Sophia smiled, showing very white teeth. "They were fools - and now they suffer for it." She licked her lips hungily. "Perhaps you don't need three secretaries, eh Mr Swanley? Maybe I could keep one or two."

Mistress Domina moved forward, her arms casually folded in front of her. "You're welcome to try, girl", she said pleasantly. "Do you fight for what you want, or do you beg, drug and steal...?"

Things moved very fast then. Sophia pushed the slavegirl aside so hard that she fell against her husband and the other girl, and they all three collapsed onto the ground. Sophia launched herself, arms and fingers forward, with wickedly long, sharp fingernails, at Mistress Domina, who had uncrossed her arms and moved sideways. Sophia's three male henchmen moved forward, too - Mistress Mala avoided a hastily-thrown punch, and grabbed the arm and pulled it sideways. Miss Ashton grabbed hold of a second henchman, and Gerald was left facing the third, who seemed slightly uncertain whether to commit himself, but after a short delay launched himself forward.

Mistress Domina avoided Sophia's fingernails, and pushed an elbow into the woman's stomach. A henchman had his hand in Mistress Mala's hair - until her knee made contact with his groin. He folded up soundlessly, and Mala was able to deliver something remarkably like an old-fashioned karate chop to the side of the head of the man grappling with Miss Ashton, so that he too took a dive into the carpet. The third henchman made to punch Gerald, but his fist ended up in Gerald's open hand - and a sweep of Mala's leg got him onto the floor too, where he seemed content to stay.

Sophia was still full of fight, though, and only a swift sideways move saved Mistress Domina's cheek from being bloodied. Ibrahim was helping the two slavegirls to their feet, having already detached the trays' chains from their nipples. Gerald stood over the henchmen, ready to risk his knuckles if they tried to get up. Miss Ashton moved around the edge of the room towards Ibrahim and the girls, and began to unlace one of the monogloves. Mistress Mala watched the fight carefully, but did not intervene.

Mistress Domina swerved and gave a big open-handed slap to one side of Sophia's face, as she moved forward - Sophia seemed slightly dazed for a couple of seconds, and MD took her opportunity, with a perfect right hook straight to her chin. Ibrahim was standing now, letting Miss Ashton care for the two girls. One of the yacht's sailors had appeared at the door, and looked stunned at what he saw.

"There's a motor launch approaching, sir", he said, after a very brief pause. "Should I...?"

Ibrahim gave a kind of reverse shrug, and a smile. "This is a small domestic disagreement, Perkins. I rather think the launch is expected, let it come alongside."

"Yes, that will be my people, Ibrahim", Gerald told him, watching as Sophia finished slowly slumping to the floor at Mistress Domina's feet. "They'll bring a few things up, and then we can finish our work here. Well done, everyone."

* * * * *

The two girls chained up outside had been released, now; the two who'd been serving the canapes were out of their elbow monogloves and chastity harnesses, and were having their arms carefully massaged by Mistress Mala. Four more girls had been retrieved from below decks. All were naked still - as was Sophia now, who had been strapped into the more regular full-length kind of monoglove by Mistress Domina, who was now putting a discarded ball-gag into her mouth while she was still groggy.

"I must say you really let your wife get out of control, old man", Gerald remarked mildly, holding a small glass of brandy and sitting beside his friend on a sofa. "It may take longer than usual to get her properly trained for you, though I have every confidence in Mistress Domina's methods."

Ibrahim smiled weakly. "I know - take however long you need, I can think of no wiser investment for my money. I was weak, and she was strong - do you train husbands to be the true strength in a marriage too?"

Gerald shook his head gently, feeling rather glad not to have taken any damage in the fight. "We will instruct you in her care and feeding, don't worry - but what about her three helpers - and what about the eight young women?"

"The men were my employees, they can stay as crew or they can leave, I do not blame them for following the stronger personality here", Ibrahim said. He was still wearing his yachting cap, though at an unintentionally rakish angle. "The women... well, they were recruited to be submissive, but things got well beyond my control... I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't been able to contact you, my good friend."

Gerald thought for a moment. "The treatment they have received has been despicably severe... but if you are willing to sponsor them, we can use our training system to move them back to a more normal way of life... I am sure we could arrange to have them all end up as loving wives to gentle but strong husbands, but it will take time, and specialist care."

Ibrahim put down his own glass, and stood up. "I am rich, and I am responsible - I'll make a bank transfer to you on Monday, and you tell me every month how much more you need - I know I can trust you to do your best for everyone."

Gerald put down his glass, still half full, too, stood, and shook Ibrahim's hand. "That is what we will do, Ibrahim, and everything will be put right, you have my word."

"My thanks to you, Gerald, and your wonderful ladies - you have saved me from a life of disgrace, and I will always be grateful."

Mistress Domina strolled across to join them, casually picking up Gerald's glass, and taking a delicate sip, before grinning at the two men. "Oh, if you think you're grateful now, just wait until you get my new best friend Sophie back in a couple of months, complete with a full range of accessories and a detailed operating manual - trust me, you'll be most pleasantly surprised!"

"A Matter of Degree"