Bound for the Tour Read online

  Bound for the Tour

  by Commander James Bondage

  Copyright 2013 Commander James Bondage

  Published by Strict Publishing International

  Cover picture from artwork by Strutter

  Gallery of the Bound at Erotic Illusions

  Chapter One: The Interview

  Emily Thayer had never been so nervous in her whole life. The slim blonde sat up stiffly in her chair, her knees pressed tightly together and her hands knotted in a ball on her lap. The whole future course of her life depended on the impression she made on the man sitting at the desk in front of her. The next few minutes would be the most important ones in all the 23 years of her existence.

  The man was around fifty years old, with steel gray hair cut an inch long, bushy gray eyebrows, a strong, square jaw and a forbidding expression on his face. Since Emily had entered the room he had been studying papers in a manila folder that was open on his desk, and he had not yet given her any sign that he was aware of her presence in the room. His name was Roderick Traynor, and Emily believed he was the greatest living golf coach, and the only man in the world who could help her.

  By the time Traynor finally finished studying the file and acknowledged Emily’s existence by looking at her, she was trembling so badly that she was afraid she would not be able to speak when he asked her a question. With a great effort of will, she pulled herself together, reminding herself that she could not afford to fail this interview.

  Traynor’s gray eyes fixed with laser-like intensity on Emily’s sky-blue ones. “So, tell me why I should take you on as a pupil here, Miss Thayer,” he said in a gravelly baritone. “Persuade me that I am missing out on a great opportunity if I decide not to take you on.”

  Emily took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. “I am a very talented golfer, Mr. Traynor,” she began. Her strategy was to appear bold and self-confident, and impress the great man with her seriousness. “I was a top-ten finisher in the NCAA championships three years in a row, I was an All American selection for…”

  “You were a big deal in school and college,” Traynor interrupted harshly, “and a bust on the pro tour. You got your Tour card right out of college, and couldn’t win enough money to keep it the next year. You’ve been through three coaches in two years since then, and all those hacks have done is make you worse. As a last resort, you wrote to me, begging me to take you under instruction, because, let’s face it, little girl, this is your absolute last chance. Does that about sum it up?”

  Emily was stunned and offended by Traynor’s blunt, unflattering summary of her career. She opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again, dropping her eyes to the desktop. “Yes, Mr. Traynor,” she said in a low, almost inaudible voice. “That is exactly right.” She squeezed her eyelids tight shut, trying unsuccessfully to keep a tear from leaking out of the corner of her eye.

  Traynor held up a sheet of paper, which Emily recognized as her application letter. “I get a hundred of these a year, all from girls who have accomplished as much as you, or more. You know I only take on one or at the most two students at a time. So turn off the waterworks, cut the crap and tell me why I should take you instead of one of the others.”

  She looked up at Traynor, her eyes locking on his. “Because I am willing to do anything, absolutely anything to become a success on the Tour,” she said. “I have the talent and the determination to be a professional golfer, and that is the only thing in the world that matters to me. Just try me, that’s all I ask.”

  “Humph,” he grunted. “That’s what I was hoping to hear from you. That’s why I picked your letter from the rest. But I want you to be sure of what you are getting into, just as I have to make sure of what I’m getting before I take you on.”

  He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, Miss Thayer, so I’m going to give you a little background. I was the most successful golf trainer on the WPGT for fifteen years. I coached the winners of fourteen majors and over sixty regular tournaments in this country alone, and more than fifty events on the Asian and European Tours. And what did I get in return? Well, money, yes, but not a shred of gratitude from those bitches.” His face hardened and he seemed to stare at something or someone far away. “Not only were those cunts ungrateful, but they spread malicious gossip about me. Finally, I decided that I had had enough of them. I had made enough money that I did not need to put up with the bullshit, and I went into semi-retirement, teaching one or two students at a time, by my own methods. My last graduate was L.L. Soong.”

  Emily was taken aback by the bitterness in Traynor’s tone and put off by his language. She was offended to hear women referred to as “cunts” and “bitches”, and for an instant she considered saying something to him. But when she heard the name of his last student, she forgot all about such petty matters.

  L.L. Soong had been the WPGA sensation of the year. The little Korean had been a mediocre player on the Asian Tour for years, just winning enough to keep her card. Then she disappeared for a whole year. When she re-emerged, she qualified for a card on the U.S. tour, and proceeded to win five tournaments, including a major (the Shop and Bag Tournament in New Jersey), rolled up a total of twenty top-ten finishes, and was unanimously voted Golfer of the Year.

  “You coached Soong?” Emily asked, staring.

  “Yep,” Traynor agreed. “She was a little bit of a slow study. It took her a whole year to learn my system, but eventually she got it.” He leaned forward again. “So are you still game?”

  “Oh God, yes!” Emily exclaimed. “Just tell me what I have to do, Mr. Traynor.”

  He held a sheaf of documents in his hand. “You have already signed these agreements. This one says that my fee will be $250,000, of which the down payment is $100,000, with the rest to come from your tour winnings over the next two years. If you do not win enough to pay it off, I will refund the entire amount, including the down payment. I have never had to give the money back yet, and I do not expect to do so.”

  Emily nodded. One of the things that had convinced her Traynor was the real thing was this guarantee.

  “This is your agreement that you will stay under instruction here at my school for as long as I deem necessary for up to one year, that you will communicate with the outside world by approved letter only, and that you agree not to have any visitors during that time,” he continued. “I do not want my students to have any distractions.”

  Emily nodded again, a little more hesitantly. This requirement had troubled her. No cell phone, no e-mail, no Facebook? But any sacrifice was worth it if she could get her Tour card back, she told herself.

  “This waiver gives me permission to make audio and video recordings of you while you are here, to keep them thereafter and to use them in any way I see fit,” he went on. “This is just a little safeguard for me in case you develop second thoughts after you graduate.”

  This was an odd one, Emily thought. She had gone over it with her lawyer, but they could not figure out what the purpose of the waiver was. In any case, she had signed it.

  He rose. “Then there is just one more thing before I sign the papers and accept you as my student.” He walked around the desk to stand over the still-seated Emily. Traynor was not very tall, but he was massively built, with powerful shoulders, bulging forearms, rippling pecs and abs, and meaty thighs. He was very intimidating as he towered over her.

  “I require your absolute and unqualified obedience while you are under my instruction,” he said, his face grim. “I do not want it sometimes, or with qualifications, but all the time and total. Do you understand, Miss Thayer?”

  She looked up at him, now genuinely frightened. “Y�
� yes… I think I… do…” she stuttered.

  “I don’t think you do,” he said. “Get up and take off your clothes,” he ordered

  Emily was sure that she had not heard him correctly. “I’m sorry. What did you say? It sounded like…”

  “I said ‘Take off your clothes’,” he cut in. “So either strip down right now, or get the fuck out of my office, bitch.”

  Emily gasped. Was he kidding? One look at his face told her that Traynor was in deadly earnest. How could he ask her to…?

  “You have exactly thirty seconds to strip,” Traynor said, looking at his watch. “If you are not naked by then, you will be ejected from the premises and you will never, ever, get another chance.”

  Emily began to disrobe in a frantic rush. She ripped her blouse open, not wanting to take the time unfasten it, sending buttons flying everywhere. She frantically tore at the zipper of her skirt while simultaneously kicking off her shoes. By the time Traynor announced, “Fifteen seconds,” Emily was down to socks, bra and panties. She unhooked her bra and threw it away, then slid her panties down, taking her socks along with them. She just stepped clear of her last sock when he called, “Time!” and looked up.

  Emily blushed in her shame and tried to cover herself with one arm across her breasts and the other protecting her sex.

  “Stop that foolishness right now,” he snapped. “Stand straight, chest out, chin up, both arms behind your back, hands together between your shoulder blades, feet shoulder-width apart. Don’t move until I give you permission.”

  Reluctantly, Emily followed his instructions, exposing herself completely to his gaze. Her nude form was superb. Her firm breasts thrust out impudently from her chest, her legs and buttocks were smooth and well muscled, her body that of an athlete in top condition. It as easy to see why Emily had been in such demand as a sportswear model. Indeed, with her beautiful, innocent face, her long blonde hair and her fabulous body, she could have easily made a lucrative career in modeling.

  Traynor walked slowly around the nude girl, carefully inspecting her. He stopped in front of her and his hand casually cupped her golden-furred pubic mound.

  Emily was startled. She exclaimed, “Oh!” and stepped back, away from the unexpected touch.

  Traynor was clearly displeased. “Didn’t I tell you not to move, bitch?” he asked, his complexion darkening in anger. “You promise to obey, and then ignore the first order I give you.” He turned away. “Let’s just call the whole thing off. I have another interview set for tomorrow.”

  “No, no, please. It was just an accident; you surprised me,” Emily blurted frantically. Having gone this far, she was now determined to see this through, no matter what perverted plans he had for her. She realized that L.L. Soong, that all of Traynor’s students, must have gone through the same thing. If they could stand it, so could she. She was as mentally tough as anyone.

  “You see, Mr. Traynor,” Emily said, resuming the humiliating pose, “I’m standing just the way you told me to. I won’t move again.”

  With seeming reluctance, he returned to stand close to the girl. His hand returned to her sex and he began to stroke her with the palm of his hand. “I’m going to warn you just this once,” he said. “When I tell you to do something, you will do it. I am not going through this nonsense every time I give you an instruction. Is that clear, cunt?” As he spoke, his fingers began to explore.

  “Ah, ah… yes, Mr. Traynor…” Emily gasped, keeping in position with an effort as he continued his intimate examination. “I… understand.”

  He took his fingers away from Emily’s sex and moved around behind her. His hands settled on either side of her slim waist, and then slid down to hold her smooth, compact bottom-cheeks from below.

  “I have neither the time nor the patience to keep repeating myself until you sluts feel like listening,” he continued. He pressed his body close up behind her, and Emily felt the stiffness inside his trousers pushing into the valley between her globes. His hands released her hindquarters to glide up and around to her belly, then slipped further up to cup her perfect breasts. As his fingers squeezed and twirled Emily’s nipples, Traynor said, “I trust this will be the last time I have to say it.”

  Emily did not take his last remark to be a question, so she did not respond. Her body, however, was beginning to respond to Traynor’s handling. Her tumescent nipples were broadcasting powerful signals of pleasure through her body even as her mind reeled in horror at the casual way this stranger was manhandling her. Emily had never stripped herself naked in front of any man while the man was still clothed, not even her fiancé, nor had she ever played the part of a submissive in sexual games.

  But here she was, standing naked and motionless while a golf coach she had met only ten minutes earlier stroked, fondled and caressed whatever parts of her he pleased. He was already dominating her so thoroughly that she did not even consider protesting or questioning his actions. Even worse, her body was responding to her helplessness, her surrender. In a few minutes, her breathing was rapid and shallow, and a sexual excitement greater than any she had ever felt before was building between her thighs. Her thoughts were becoming confused and hazy.

  “Bend down, hands flat on the floor, elbows and knees locked, back arched,” he suddenly ordered. “I want your ass up as high as you can get it.”

  Without hesitation, Emily threw herself into the position as instructed. Traynor remained behind her, resting his hands on the smooth flesh of her ass-cheeks.

  “ Above any other quality, a professional golfer must have the ability to block out distraction and concentrate on the task at hand to the exclusion of all else,” he said. “If you do not possess this ability, you must learn it. If you are incapable of learning this mental discipline, you are wasting your time and mine by trying to achieve the impossible. I am going to do a little test to see whether you are capable of the necessary degree of mental control. Remain in position.”

  He walked to a small bookcase beside his desk, selected a paperback, opened the book roughly in the middle and laid it on the floor directly underneath Emily’s eyes.

  “Start reading,” he directed. “This book is called ‘Golf in the Kingdom’, and you will be reading it and applying it to your lesson here, assuming I decide to let you stay…”

  Emily twitched in shock. Had she not yet done enough to prove herself? If he decided against her now, she would never be able to live down the humiliation she had put herself through for nothing.

  “Read aloud, and don’t stop for any reason,” Traynor said. “And remain in position, no matter what. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily replied. She wondered how long she could remain like this. The blood was already rushing to her inverted head and she was starting to become a little dizzy already. She began to read. “…‘So it is with golf. There’s no use…’ Ah! Ow!” She cried out as she heard a thwack and felt something trace a line of pain across her outthrust bottom. She lurched forward and half-stood, clapping her hands across her burning posterior.

  Emily looked back over her shoulder to see Traynor holding a thin rod in his hand, which she concluded was what he had used to strike her. Before she could say anything, he growled, “I seem to remember that I told you remain in position and to continue reading no matter what, about maybe twenty seconds ago. Is it possible that your brain is so tiny that you have already forgotten my instructions?” he asked, his sarcasm making Emily flinch.

  “I… I’m sorry, Mr. Traynor,” Emily said quickly, resuming the stance. “I didn’t meant to move, but you surprised me when you, um, hit me.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “That is the whole point of the exercise, Miss Thayer,” he explained with exaggerated patience, as if he was speaking to a backward child. “The rod is the distraction. You are supposed to ignore the distraction. Have I made myself clear enough for you yet, or should I break it down into simpler terms?”

  Emily blushed from a combination of shame and rage at the mocking wa
y he spoke to her. She forced hot words down and answered through clenched teeth, “I understand it perfectly now, Mr. Traynor, sir.” She muttered something else under her breath.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Thayer, but I don’t think I quite heard that last remark,” Traynor said, putting a hand to his ear.

  “It was nothing, sir,” Emily hurriedly replied. “I was just talking to myself.”

  Emily thought she was getting to understand how her new coach’s mind worked, but Traynor’s reaction to this statement took her completely by surprise. He lashed out with his foot, catching Emily square on the tailbone and sending her flying across the room to land in a heap in the corner. He strode quickly after her and dragged her to her feet by her long, blonde hair. Emily was amazed at his strength. He handled her as if she was made of balsa wood.

  Traynor began slapping Emily across the face in a steady rhythm, forehand and backhand. “I will not tolerate a student who lies to me, even about the smallest matter…” Slap, slap, slap. “Do not do so again…” Slap, slap, slap. “…unless you really want to make me angry.” Slap, slap, slap. He released her hair and she immediately fell to the floor, only half-conscious.