Cute Girls

To Love, Honor, and Obey Ch. 02

*”Passion Flowers”*

Kneeling at the front of the Master Charles’ garage with their hands clasped behind their backs and illuminated by the glare of the Mercedes headlights were two young women, identical in their absence of dress, their hairstyles and everything else about their bodies. Twins, fresh-faced brunettes with sensuously flowing shoulder-length hair and slender, nicely shaped bodies.

Had they been there all night, waiting for Master Charles? Or had they been warned of his arrival by some unknown signal? In any case, they were there, waiting with heads bowed and ’submission’ writ large across their demeanor.

Michelle wondered if Amanda knew these women. Were these young trainees, who served beneath Amanda, the bride-to-be? Were these naked beauties Amanda’s rivals – competitors for their Master’s affections? Or, perhaps, even Amanda’s eventual replacements?

The car eased to a stop with the chrome grill slightly indenting the twins’ breasts. Neither of them flinched, or moved an inch. “Well-trained, indeed”, Michelle thought.

When Master Charles killed the engine, each woman rose and walked to either side of the car. Kneeling again, they opened the car doors, and waited, their hands again behind their necks.

Master Charles turned to Michelle and spoke. “Emily and Ellen are my latest acquisitions. I obtained them from the Master who introduced them to slavery, as a gift. And so I could have the honor of training them for their life’s calling. And as you will hear later this evening, they are also accomplished vocalists. They will sing the arias of love and devotion at my wedding to Amanda. Now, Michelle, place your feet on the garage floor so that Emily may greet you properly.”

“It is my pleasure, Miss Michelle. Thank you, Sir,” Emily called out.

Hearing her named called out by Emily set Michelle to wondering. How much of tonight’s activities had been scripted in advance? Had the Masters’ trade of their prime slaves been pre-arranged? This onion already had many layers to it. And there would probably be yet more to be revealed.

Master Charles showed Michelle by example, swinging his feet onto the floor. Without further bidding, Ellen crawled forward and buried her face in her Master’s lap. The crisp sound of a zipper being lowered and the sounds of a wet mouth engulfing a hard cock told Michelle all she needed to know.

Michelle spun her ass around on the seat and swung her legs out of the car. With her dress still pulled up, her pussy was ready and eager to have the lovely Emily perform her greeting ritual for her. Michelle pulled herself to the edge of the seat and spread her legs wide.

“Come here, sweet one. I am ready for you. Taste me.” Michelle said.

Michelle was quickly captivated by Emily’s rapidly fluttering tongue. It was like being licked by a cloud of butterflies. The sensations were incredible, so powerful and so gentle at the same time. It was something that could not really be translated into words. Michelle wondered how such a talented tongue felt when wrapped around a rigid pole of a cock, dancing butterfly dances on the head and beating a hundred delicate wings against the shaft. The sighs of contentment emanating from the driver’s side of the car confirmed that Ellen was equally as talented as her identical sister.

In a few minutes both Michelle and Master Charles were near the point of no return.

“That will be all for now, girls. You will get to show off again later. Now, attend to Michelle. Prepare her for me.” Master Charles said.

Emily and Ellen dutifully lifted up their smiling faces from their works-in-progress. They knew that they would get another chance tonight. Michelle was sure of it.

“Sir, where shall we take Michelle to be prepared?” Emily asked. The twinkle in her eyes told Michelle that the choices were numerous, each ripe with its own unique possibilities.

“Take her to the conservatory. I will enjoy her there tonight.”

“Yes, Master” Emily and Ellen chorused together, eliciting a giggle from both of them.

Master Charles turned and looked over his shoulder at Michelle before leaving to go into the house. “Do as the twins tell you, Michelle. While they are both lowly novices; to you, tonight, they act on my orders.”

“I understand, Sir. I will do as you say,” Michelle said as she stood up and let her dress fall down over her thighs.

When Master Charles departed, the lissome twins visibly relaxed. No longer on guard, they came up to Michelle and hugged and snuggled her.

“I’m so glad to meet you,” one of the said.

“Are you Ellen or Emily,” Michelle laughed.

“I’m Emily. Do you want to know how to tell us apart?”

Michelle’s eyes swept over the pair of identical nudes reclining seductively against their Master’s car with their hands intertwined. “Impossible,” she said. “There is not even a mole or a hair’s worth of difference between you.”

“Oh, but there is!” Ellen giggled. “Here,” she said pointing at her pussy. “Look. Master pierced my clit hood with a silver ring. He gave Emily a gold one.”

The two girls spread their cunt lips for Michelle’s inspection, to prove their point.

“See?” Emily confirmed. “We are different. We enjoy different things, too. Ellen has a special thing for rimming and tonguing Master’s asshole, or mine, or whoever’s; while I prefer the ‘C’s.”

Ellen chimed in, “That means cunt, clit, and cock, if you didn’t already guess!”

Emily moved behind Michelle, and began to unlace her corset.

“Mmmm, thank you,” Michelle sighed as she was released from the tight confines of her leathers.

“Don’t thank us just yet,” Emily warned. “Master does not permit his slaves to wear clothes on his property – unless, we are entertaining guests and he wants us to be dressed like sluts and whores. And you are not likely to have an easy time of it tonight, if I can guess what is in store for you.”

“Yes, sister of mine, you are so fucking right!” Ellen chimed in. “Michelle, the fact that you have been given to Master for the night means that you will be sorely tested. We’ve seen it before, with others,” Ellen added.

As the women talked, Michelle was swiftly and efficiently undressed. Emily expertly folded her dress and made a neat pile of dress, stockings, shoes, and corset.

“Are you submissive to Amanda?” Michelle asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Of course. We are the house slaves,” one of the twins answered. “Miss Amanda is a slave like us, but we are the lowest ranking, least experienced and least valuable slaves that Master owns. Amanda is a wonderful slave, totally dedicated to Master. We love her and we would do anything for her – and for Master.”

Michelle was too embarrassed to look at the speaker’s clit ring to try to remember whether she was Emily or Ellen. “Are you jealous of Amanda?” she asked.

The other twin - Emily, Michelle confirmed - answered. “Do we envy Amanda’s position with Master as his wedded slave to be? Of course we do. We would like nothing more than to be in Amanda’s place – both of us together as sister-wives to our Master. But he has chosen Amanda, and we respect and honor his choice.”

Left unspoken Michelle knew was the desire that, should Amanda ever falter or displease her Master, Emily and Ellen would love to take her place. Such was the competition and the rivalry among slaves, in many households.

“And now,” Emily directed, “On to the conservatory. It is not what you are expecting, I think.”

“Your leash, Michelle.” Ellen indicated the dog collar and leash that had appeared in her hand. “I am required to lead you on a tether.”

“I have been collared and leashed before,” Michelle replied. She bent down to accept the chain around her neck. “I am used to it.”

“On to the conservatory, then, and to what is waiting for you!” Emily announced. She emphasized her statement with a playful slap to Michelle’s ass.

Ellen led Michelle outside the garage, holding Michelle close to her on the leash, as if she were a dog likely to bolt and run from her owner. Emily walked alongside Michelle, her arm wrapped around her waist. To Michelle, it seemed like the twins were shepherding her to a destination that she might not otherwise go to of her own free will. Like leading livestock to the branding iron – or worse.

As soon as they had exited from the garage into the lavishly maintained gardens behind Master Charles’ home, two huge German Shepherd dogs bounded up to them. They growled and pawed the ground with an aura of menace and savagery that raised goose bumps on Michelle’s skin.

“Down, Cain! Down, Abel!” Emily scolded the dogs. “Not now. Michelle is not some fresh meat for you. Your fun will come later.”

Michelle quaked at Emily’s words. Did the ‘later’ imply that the dogs were going to have her? While she had been given to men and women freely, never before had she been required to submit to an animal.

The twin dogs sat on their haunches and licked their chops as Ellen paraded Michelle past the canines.

The three naked women passed them without incident, though Michelle could feel the dogs’ presence behind her as they walked. They were following in the women’s tracks; their noses sniffing out the telltale scent of wet cunts - the pheromones an aphrodisiac to humans and animals, alike.

The brick path beneath Michelle’s bare feet was cold to the touch. A full moon illuminated the garden in the washed-out colors of the night. Up ahead, the conservatory loomed large and dark. It was a building made of wrought iron and glass, an upscale greenhouse, really. A dim light shone from within, one that failed to reveal anything of what was inside the glass-paned structure.

The dogs continue to pace alongside and behind Michelle, moving restlessly from side to side, and making short lunges at Michelle, only to be shooed away each time by Emily or Ellen.

When the arrived at the conservatory, Emily paused and pressed her hand against Michelle’s breast. “Before we take you inside, be aware that you might see something that surprises you.”

Michelle gave a small, tentative smile in reply, as a shiver ran down her spine and goose bumps erupted all over her skin.

Emily opened the iron and glass door, and motioned for Ellen to lead Michelle inside.

Once they were inside the conservatory, the scent of damp soil and the unmistakable perfume of orchids told Michelle that Master Charles was a connoisseur of flowers as well as of women. And once she crossed the threshold and her eyes began to adjust to the dim light cast by a circle of flickering candles set in a circle on the dirt floor of the conservatory, Michelle saw the person who was already there, waiting patiently for them.

It was the redhead. The one from the fitness club. The one who had flirted with her during and after her masturbatory dance class, and had spoken with her in the swimming pool, while Michelle had been luxuriating in the water with her ass plug and dildo inside her. The one who undoubtably had been the culprit who had stolen her clothes and who had helped to set her up to be assaulted and fucked by the cop who had turned out to be one of Michelle’s Shadow-Masters. Gang-fucked by him and six of his closest acquaintances.

The redhead was oblivious to their entrance, for reasons that were all too clear. She was kneeling on a large stone slab, with the candles arranged in a circle around her. But it was her bondage that Michelle found most erotic.

The tall, slender woman was completely naked. Her breasts were tightly constrained by a harness made from rough hemp ropes. Her upper arms were bound severely behind her back, so tight that her elbows were touching and her shoulders were pulled back farther than seemed humanly possible. Her wrists were tied to her ankles, which, in turn, were lashed tightly to her thighs, making it utterly impossible for her to move.

Most amazing was the fact that her hair was braided with ropes and her head was pulled so far back that she was staring at the ceiling. The ropes tied to her hair were also bound to her ankles behind her, making it impossible for her to turn or move her head. The ropes attached to the spreader-ring which held her mouth wide open also descended to join the wrist and hair bindings at her ankles directly beneath her head.

The redhead would have been staring at the ceiling, except for the rough linen blindfold that shrouded her eyes. And she was still unaware that she had visitors. The headphones that covered her ears, with their music audible even to Michelle standing several feet away, made sure that the slave was caged within her own, very private world.

“You have met before, haven’t you?” Emily (”or was it Ellen?”) asked.

“Yes, under very interesting circumstances,” Michelle answered. “She approached me when I was being directed in a real-world play where I was a willing, but unaware, actress. She was being directed by my Master or by one of his comrades – I call them the Shadow Masters - at the time. I know that now; though I still do not know her name, or who she belongs to.”

“Her real name is irrelevant. Here, in this world, she is Silk,” one of the twins declared. “And she asked to be here tonight, for you. She is not an owned slave, not yet anyway. She has not had her collaring ceremony. She wishes to be owned by… by your Master, Michelle. Silk is a novice who wishes to submit herself to Master Damien.”

“Oh,” was the only answer that the surprised Michelle could create.

“She works at a retail establishment that Master Charles’ owns,” Ellen explained. “She’s a fashion buyer. He saw her potential, and he is developing her, and training and testing her, as a favor to Master Damien in return for… well, let’s just call it a favor, to see if she is truly worthy of being owned. Her participation that day, with the Shadow Masters, was one of those tests.”

“I see.” There was more to her Master’s world than she had seen – or even imagined.

Emily and Ellen led Michelle in a circle around Silk, so Michelle could admire her bondage from all sides.

“Bite her nipples, Michelle. Bite them hard. Let Silk know that you are here,” Emily said.

Silk’s nipples were long and fat and hard; a telltale marker of her arousal. Michelle knew that, even in her own private purgatory, that Silk was hot and wet, and eager to please.

Michelle knelt in front of Silk. Funny, she thought - how her slave name suited the tightly bound, fair-skinned woman with the dark red hair roped into immobility on the stone altar in front of her. When she leaned forward to close her teeth around Silk’s left nipple, her warm breath gave her presence away.

Silk jerked and trembled at the puff of exhaled air against her breast flesh.

When Michelle drew close enough to open her lips to take the erect pink eraser-point into her mouth, Silk strained against her bonds to lean forward, to make the only signal she could that she wanted Michelle’s lips to touch her engorged flesh.

Michelle bared her teeth and clamped down on the nippleflesh. Her teeth dug deeply into Silk’s nipple. When she gauged that she was close to drawing blood, Michelle began a slow sideways sawing motion with her teeth, rotating Silk’s nipple back and forth. And at the same time, Michelle began to draw back, to pull on the bound slave’s breast, stretching it like a piece of elastic.

Silk was in agony. She was squirming and twisting against her rope bondage, both loving and hating what Michelle was doing to her. Michelle could taste the fear and the pain radiating from Silk’s body, along with the fresh sheen of sweat that covered her pain-wracked skin.

At the last moment, Michelle let go of her nipple with a pop. It recoiled and jiggled for a moment before Silk’s tit returned to normal – normal, that is, except for the angry, red, inflamed color of her savaged nipple.

Then, licking her lips, Michelle did exactly the same thing to Silk’s right nipple. Feeling the same stretching, sawing and tearing pain again, knowing in advance what it would feel like, must have been sinfully wicked for Silk.

This was the first time that Michelle had inflicted real pain on another slave. And, somewhat surprisingly, and guiltily, Michelle found that she liked it – a lot.

*”Trading Sensations”*

Emily and Ellen lifted Michelle to her feet and led her away from the still quivering Silk.

“It is your turn now, Michelle.” one of the twins directed. “Over here.”

Michelle looked to where she was being led on her leash. Around a bend in the curved path in the conservatory and on the other side of a large flowering shrub; a second, identical stone slab awaited them.

The twins led Michelle to the granite pedestal and directed her to crawl onto it. “You already know how to pose. Assume your position, slave,” one of the ordered, while the other removed Michelle’s collar and leash.

Michelle knelt on the cold stone and clasped her hands together behind her back. A quick, involuntary shiver ran down her spine. A moment after she closed her eyes, the slave twins were weaving the rough hemp ropes around her body, binding her breasts and arms and legs into an identical statue of bondage like that which constrained Silk, a few feet away.

Emily and Ellen worked quickly and expertly. It took them only a few minutes to have Michelle completely immobilized and to begin tilting her head backwards to bind her hair to her ankle ropes.

As the twin slaves’ fingers wove Michelle’s prison, and tightened the ropes around her body and limbs like a nest of pythons; Michelle was staring at the moon above the clear glass of the conservatory roof. It seemed so improbably large and so very white and mysterious tonight.

“How many other women are seeing the same sight, while they await a Master’s pleasure tonight? Did Silk get to admire the silvery moon before she was blindfolded?”

Michelle opened her mouth to accept the spreader ring that was to be hers for tonight. Just like Silk’s ring. Would they be screaming out in concert into the darkness of the night, through their identical mouth-spreaders? Rings like these were not intended to gag or muffle a slave. No, they served only two purposes – to force a slave to accept something being inserted or poured into her mouth, or to prevent her from stifling her own screams. Each alternative was equally forbidding to Michelle.

It was like this for her each time she was shared with a different Master. Feeling like an awkward, virgin slave - mot knowing exactly how to react, and how to best please the man who was using her for the first time. Each man used his women differently. Some were gentle and tender, others rough and demanding. Tonight would veer towards the latter, Michelle concluded. Without a doubt, she would scream her lungs out at the moon above before the rosy hues of dawn chased away the moonlight.

A moment later, a complete and impenetrable darkness descended over Michelle as she was blindfolded. And then the sweet sounds of a soothing piano concerto filled her mind as the headphones covered her ears and crowded out any other sounds. Only the sounds of her breathing and that of her blood pounding through her veins told Michelle that she was still of this world.

Michelle was left to dwell in the prison of her own body for – how long? It was impossible to tell. It could have been only minutes, or it could have been years. Then, teeth – sharp, hungry teeth – brought Michelle back to her present reality. Teeth on her nipples, pulling them, sawing at them, biting them. The twins were doing to her what she, herself, had done to Silk.

Michelle leaped up as she flailed and thrashed against the cage of her rope bondage. She didn’t move so much as an inch, the ropes were that well tied around her torso and limbs. And she moaned her anguish up at the moon for the first time that night. Loud and long. It was as if Emily and Ellen were vampires with sharply filed and honed teeth. But after a terrifyingly long minute, the twins receded into the darkness, leaving Michelle gasping for air and trying to calm her body. That had been excruciating – and extraordinary.

Anne pressed a bell on the desk. No sooner had Helen and Polly settled in deep arm chairs, Lucy and Anne on the large sofa, than the door opened and one of the Greek Gods appeared with a tray of coffee which he placed on the low table beside Helen. He then went. During the conversation, she poured four cups of black strong coffee and handed them round.

‘First, tell us something of the corrective establishment you were deputy governor of.’

‘It was a home for young women who had become unmanageable at home or who had been abused by their fathers or other member of the immediate family. You’d be surprised how cruel some members of a family can be to their own female relatives.’

‘What were the ages of these young girls?’

‘From eighteen upwards. There were separate establishments for younger people.’

‘And their backgrounds?’

‘Varied. But many were from middle-class, respectable families.’

‘What was the purpose of the establishment?’

‘We were to teach the young ladies better forms of behaviour. The problem was often sexual frustration in the adolescents. This often meant correcting them with corporal punishment, since they had been brought up to believe that was essential for absolution. I am aware of that myself, since I was often punished by my father, though it was a mainly playful and erotic experience. Only when mother insisted did father beat me in anger. But even then I revelled in the pain, and the obvious signs of arousal in father’s trousers gave me extra enjoyment. I would fantasise that he was fornicating with me as the slipper thudded against my sore bottom until it was swollen and burning crimson. Then I reached my orgasm.’

‘Do you masturbate?’

‘Frequently! Often with self flagellation.’

‘Good! Tell me something of the house of correction.’

‘ A new inmate would be asked about her back-ground. Evidence from the family had already been taken separately. Any sexual abuse was referred immediately to a special counsellor, with treatment under carefully monitored conditions. Some of the girls, though, felt the need for correction to continue, because they had become accustomed to accepting thrashing as their only form of absolution. It then became our task to help them to overcome this fear.

‘For some girls, however, it had become their main means of excitement and sexual arousal. With inmates such as these we arranged one-to-one therapy sessions. The girls often felt the need to retaliate against their thrashing. Physical revenge! We would act out that need as surrogates.’

‘Can you give an example.’

‘Yes, young Penny. Penny was a slim girl. She had the body of a waif, really. Small budding breasts with tiny nipples, and narrow hips. Thin legs which did not meet at the thighs. Her groin was covered with thick curls of mousey-coloured hair. She was unusually hairy down there. Her brown eyes were very large and innocent. Her head was often bowed in supplication and her demeanour subservient.

‘In fact, Penny was the daughter of a senior captain of industry - since ennobled by the Queen - who was often away from home. During his absences, her mother would keep track of Penny’s misbehaviour. So when her father returned, she would be punished for all of them during one week-end. Each misdemeanour had its own level of punishment. Being disobedient, for example, called for five strokes of the leather strap. Any sexual breaches six strokes of the cane. Not doing homework, or minor offenses, three strokes of the slipper. And so on.’

‘What sort of sexual breaches?’

‘Well, Penny told me that her mother would be waiting at the door for her coming home to examine her briefs for tell-tale stains resulting from sexual arousal. This might happen after a goodnight cuddle with the current boyfriend. Or, she might even discover her in his arms in the front porch, perhaps fondling his manhood. That would count a double punishment!’

‘I see! Go on!’

‘In a perverse way, Penny came to look forward to these corrective activities. She found them exciting because she remembered the reason for them and re-lived it in defiance as the smacking was going on. Though painful, she was able to orgasm more intensely after them.

‘One day, Penny lost her temper with her mother who happened to be in her negligee at bed-time. Not an unusual occurrence. She’d been drinking. Again, not unusual! When Penny came in from the cinema, she was told to remove her briefs. Well, Penny had been on the back row with a boy, and there’d been some heavy petting. So, of course, her knickers were well stained and very wet.

‘Her mother was horrified! “I shall keep these as evidence for your father when he comes home,” she threatened. “You dare!” Penny shouted back. There was a tug of war with the knickers and Penny lost her temper. “Right! That’s it!” And she ran into her father’s study followed by her mother, railing at her. “You slut! Man crazy! Let any man feel you down there, between your legs, I suppose.”

‘Penny took the cane from the drawer of her father’s desk. Her mother turned pale at the thought of what her daughter intended. She backed away but stumbled and fell into an arm chair. “No! You daren’t!” she pleaded, scrambling to her feet unsteadily. Penny leapt at her, forced her over the arm of the chair, raised the hem of her night-dress to expose her mother’s bare buttocks and thrashed her mercilessly.’

‘Didn’t the mother struggle?’

‘Oh yes! To begin with, but Penny had her knee on her neck, so she soon submitted herself to the punishment. When Penny had recovered some of her composure, she saw how swollen and scarlet her mother’s bottom had become. She realised she’d gone too far. It was also the first time she had seen her mother’s genitals. They were surrounded by mousy-coloured curls, now glistening with juices aroused by the beating. The lips were a dark brown, wrinkled, inflated and obviously aroused.

‘Penny told me that at that moment she realised that her mother must be sexually frustrated during her father’s long absences. By this time, her mother was sobbing bitterly in the cushion of the arm chair. Her father kept a large red candle on his desk in case of power failures, which were fairly common at that time. It was one of those sugar-candy sort of candles, but much thicker than the usual Christmas affair. It was stuck in a short wooden holder.

‘Penny swept it up, holding it by the wooden base, and placed it against the wet entrance between her mother’s thighs. When her mother eased her bottom towards it, Penny realised that she was in need of solace. So she thrust it deep into her gash, pushing it in and out with firm regular twisting strokes. The sobs turned to whimpers of sadness. Then to sighs of happiness. Finally to a cry of triumph as she reached an orgasm.

‘Penny felt disgusted with herself. And with her mother, though she couldn’t understand why. She replaced the candle on the desk, leaving her mother slumped in the chair, and went to her bed.

‘The episode wasn’t mentioned after that. But it was with some apprehension that Penny waited for her father’s homecoming. She was not disillusioned. On the evening of his return, dinner was taken normally, though conversation was strained. When the meal was over, her father, as was his custom, changed into his dressing gown for comfort.

Eventually, Penny was asked to go into the study for her regular punishment. There, she was made to bend over the very same arm of the chair she had used to thrash her mother. Standing to one side, her mother watched with a smug smile on her face. Her father took hold the hem of her dress, threw it over her hips, and dragged down her briefs to expose her bare cheeks. And her secret flesh!

‘As I said, Penny was very hairy. She was secretly proud of her profuse growth. It aroused the boys! Besides covering her genitals, her fleece spread down each thigh, and reached up the crease of her bottom as far as to the brown puckered orifice. But now, in front of her father’s probing gaze, Penny was mortified with embarrassment. Although she had been spanked many times, it was always with her cotton knickers covering her bareness.

Nothing was spoken until her father had the cane ready in his hand, swishing it about. Penny was waiting with some excitement mixed with trepidation. There was a thrill of sexual anticipation stirring deep in her belly.

‘You know what you’ve done!’ her father barked. ‘I’ll not repeat the offence. But you shall repay your mother with twenty-four lashes.’

Penny was shocked! Her throat dried up and the colour left her face. Twenty-four lashes! Could she stand it?

She steeled herself, stuffing the side of the cushion into her mouth to bite on. Then came the first lash. It stung and burned. Searing pain convulsed her body. Then another on the other cheek. The pain exploded in her mind as her loins jerked in response. The third was equally severe, crossing the previous stripes, stinging her with blinding agony. Penny could feel the flesh swelling as the blood pounded in the weals.

‘The fourth; the fifth; the sixth followed in quick succession. Three biting slashes. There came a welcome pause. The throbbing pain engulfed her loins. Her little button, however, was burning with desire. Surely her father would see her sexual arousal in her crack, seeping onto the tufts of hair surrounding it. Then the lashes continued. Penny felt the strokes less and less as a numbness engulfed the buttocks. Suddenly, unable to control herself, a golden jet spurted from her, trickling into the folds of her skirt hanging over the chair arm.

‘”Filthy bitch!” her mother cried as her father laid on with renewed vigour.

‘There was a pause after the next half-dozen. Penny could hear her father breathing hard with the effort. She was aware of her soaking genitals amidst the heat of the throbbing cheeks. There was an atmosphere of steaming sexuality. Opening her eyes, Penny saw through her tears that her father was standing at her side. Her eyes opened even wider when, inside his dressing gown, she saw his thick shaft, rigid with arousal!

He must have been seriously stimulated. Penny’s attention was distracted from the painful strokes he now inflicted on her burning cheeks. She studied his shaft swing from side to side as he swung the cane. She wanted to feel it! Inside her! Her incredulity was increased when, after the next six strokes she watched a bead of liquid formed on the end of his pleasure rod. She had the mad desire to lick it off!

Then, quite suddenly, as the next stroke whipped her buttocks, Penny cried out as the surge of an orgasm slammed into her. Her buttocks twitched and jerked around. Her father, of course didn’t recognise it as an orgasm. He thought she had finally succumbed to the beating.

‘There were yet more surprises in store for Penny. When her father had finished the beating, she felt her passage entered roughly, filling her to full stretch. It wasn’t her father. He was still stood beside her, his stiffened manhood now openly displayed before her eyes. The intruder was rammed in and out, stimulating Penny as she kept her eyes glued to her father’s stiffness, waving about in front of her eyes.

‘Then she realised what it was! Her mother was wreaking revenge with the very same candle Penny had used on her! To her shame, Penny impulsively reached out and grasped her father’s stiffness, feeling its iron-hard stiffness. It jerked at her touch. It was wonderful!’

Listening to Polly’s story, Lucy’s eyes were now shining with excitement. ‘My God! What an erotic experience!’

‘Well, just then, her father struck her insensible bottom with the willow cane, and knocked her hand away from his manhood, but not before it erupted. Penny reached a second, even more intense orgasm as her father’s cock sprayed his sperm over her buttocks. The candle was withdrawn and her parents left her sprawled indecently over the arm of the chair, buttocks on fire. Her face wet with tears of pain and shame, she rubbed the cheeks very gingerly, spreading her father’s emission into the skin, trying to soothe it.

‘It was a long time before the burning abated, and Penny was able to stand again. In all this time, darkness had fallen. Chastened, Penny crawled her way slowly and painfully up the stairs to her room.

‘Passing her parent’s bedroom door on her hands and knees, she had her final surprise. There were distinct sounds of flogging from within the room. The door was ajar and through the dressing mirror, she saw reflected, her mother laying on the edge of the bed, legs splayed wide open. Her father was stood naked between his wife’s thighs, thrusting heavily in and out. She was striking her father’s buttocks with his slippers in rhythm to his lunges. At that very moment, her father exploded deep into his wife’s nest. Then they saw her!’

‘So, that’s how she came to be referred to your establishment.’ Lucy asked.

‘Yes! She had become so used to regular punishment that we often beat each other. In fact, we became lovers until, eventually, she met a sensible young man who reformed her approach to sex. She later told me, though, that she and her now husband enhance their sex life with the occasional bondage and punishment.’

‘What about your own family background?’

Polly told them of her father’s disappearance and of her own erotic spankings by him up to the time of his journey to Greece.

‘That all seems more than satisfactory. I take it from your earlier performance in this room that you are bi-sexual and enjoy spanking and bondage with both sexes.’

‘Indeed!’

‘Good! All that remains now is for you to correct Anne and myself. Helen will help you. We have spied in your love-making and deserve to be punished.’

Polly stood with an air of indignation. ‘Spied on us?’ she barked. ‘Voyeurs demand a special punishment. Stand up!’

The two ladies obeyed. Polly and Helen began stripping their clothes from their bodies until the two stood before them in only their silk panties. Their almost identical breasts were small and rounded with stiffened nipples pointing upwards. Narrow waists with flat bellies, covered where the thighs join with blonde curls glittering with trapped sunlight. Wide hips, well-cushioned behind with soft cheeks, smooth and alabaster. Their legs were breathtaking, perfectly shaped and of equal length. Polly was again excited by their elegant figures.

‘Stand with backs to the window. Place your hands round your calves!’ Polly barked. The two did as she asked, folding their bodies to display buttocks against the silk fabric stretching over the rounded cheeks. The cotton gusset already darkened with moisture.

‘Look! They have the impudence to become aroused and coat their knickers with their private nectar! That will require additional stokes.’

‘Don’t be too hard on us, please!’ cried Lucy with fear in her voice.

‘Gently, Helen. Don’t be angry with us!’ begged Anne.

Polly and Helen had stood on either side of the two bent women flexing their canes, swishing them through the air to practice the swing. The miscreants were waiting with anticipation for the first assault.

Polly nodded! Swoosh! Smack! Both canes struck the centre of the cheeks simultaneously. The buttocks winced with the sudden sting. Red weals swelled up beneath the silk where the canes had struck. Swoosh! Smack! The second swipe cut across the beautiful globes of soft flesh, raising another long weal on the writhing cheeks. A third and a fourth in quick succession forced Anne to cry out with the stinging pain.

Lucy still bit her lower lip, absorbing the hurt with a flinching movement. She lasted out the two final lashes with tears streaming from the corner of her eyes. The buttocks burned with thrilling fire as Anne whimpered in delightful agony.

Polly and Helen put their canes down and carefully peeled the silk knickers down the women’s legs. They recoiled with the soreness of the dragging silk until the garments were stepped out of. The tormentors examined the swollen, bruised lattice-wok of angry flesh.

‘To show there is no anger intended,’ Polly told them, ‘we will lick your wounds.’ She and Helen knelt behind the moaning women, applying their wet tongues to the burning flesh. The women flinched to begin with but were soon enjoying the soothing nature of the healing tongues. Of course, their punishment had aroused their womanhood. Pink lips were pouting with glistening honey begging for attention from the tormentors.

Polly finally obliged Lucy’s desire, pushing her mouth at the damp opening, prodding her stiffened tongue under the little hood. Helen did likewise for Anne. The moans turned to squeals of gratification, the buttocks pushing gently against their intruders.

‘That’s enough,’ Polly cried standing. ‘But stay where you are.’ The bowl on a table by the window was full of various fruit. Selecting a large banana, Polly placed its end between the swollen lips, pushing the cool length slowly into the waiting passage. The feeling of a cool object filling the burning orifice added greatly to the thrill of being penetrated.

After pausing with it fully inserted for a few seconds, Polly began pulling it out and pushing it in, slowly at first, but gathering pace until Lucy was crying out with exhilaration as her excitement grew within her. Her loins flexed, her groin shook and her thighs trembled until, with a long wail her body lurched and convulsed with orgasmic release.

Anne was similarly affected. If anything, the banana Helen selected was rather longer than Polly’s. The result was the same, though, Anne following Lucy’s animal cry of joy as an orgasm ripped through her loins.

Polly kept swallowing hard to clear her throat of the acrid sperm. Coming out of her reverie, she felt a blunt object nudging at the moist opening. Thinking it was Ulysses, unable to resist her charms, she thrust her loins towards it, inviting it to enter her. She longed for him to take her virginity. But, to her disappointment, the fat knob slid upwards and pushed its way slowly into her other passage. It had collected sufficient honey from her vulva to ease its passage. Polly gasped with the sheer intensity of pleasure; loins were ablaze, being soothed by this thrusting shaft. But she was desperate to have her vagina penetrated. To feel her orifice being filled, expanding its contours with a sensation of ecstasy. Polly let out a long strangled cry of despair.

She pleaded. ‘Please, Ulysses. Fuck me properly!’

But there was no response. Only the rasping breath of effort as the phallus plunged with enthusiasm into her arse.

It wasn’t long before she heard the butler’s grunt of release, loins jerking in muscular spasms, as his sperm gushed in copious spurts deep into its passage.

Later, over coffee and candies, Ulysses conceded that Polly had almost persuaded him to break with his policy of copulation only with the daughters of the world’s aristocracy. He explained to Polly that got his pleasure from punishing these ladies of breeding and grace, his concubines, subjugating them to his domination.

After her trial, Polly had been taken into a luxurious bathroom by Lucy who had been watching the proceedings from the corner of the room. She now assisted Polly in repairing the damaged skin, bathing the body in warm, oil-scented water, anointing her stripes with soothing creams. A comforting glass of brandy helped. Lucy explained to her during the treatment that Ulysses was kind to his women, even though he was a sadist.

They all found his correction exciting and satisfying. But none of them had actually seen Ulysses copulate with any woman. Nor had he been seen to ejaculate by any of the slaves he kept. He kept his own fornicating private. Quilp was something of a nuisance, but he was only allowed the rear entrance of women. They were happy to keep their rear passages stretched.

Polly and Lucy returned to the large room to join Ulysses, now sitting alone in a deep leather arm-chair, wearing his white robes, sipping a large rye whisky.

‘You’ll do well, Polly. I have a job for you. You fly out on Tuesday next. You’ll take a boat to the island. You’ll like it. I’ve arranged for you to stay overnight in the Athens Hilton.’

Polly’s heart missed a beat.

‘Is something the matter?’ Ulysses asked.

‘No, not really. But the Hilton is where my father was staying when he disappeared.’

‘Disappeared?’

‘He was on a business trip, negotiating a big deal for a client. He just disappeared. All his belongings were found in tact in the hotel room. Only his brief-case and business suit were missing.’

‘What sort of business?’ Ulysses asked with suspicion.

‘That I don’t know. His name was Hubert Raddles. If you come across him I’d be thrilled to know. He might even be dead, I suppose.’

Ulysses eyes narrowed. He paused before he spoke.

‘I’ll throw out some feelers, Polly. But whatever happens, whatever you do, don’t try to locate him yourself. You never know what dangers you might let yourself in for. In fact, on second thoughts, it might be as well if you went straight to the island. I’ll fix it.’

It was explained to Polly that she was to carry secret information to one of Ulysses secret agents. The matter was far too dangerous and delicate to trust the information to the usual methods of communication. The secret papers were on microfilm. They would be hidden in a pair of Chinese love-eggs. These would be inserted in Polly’s vagina - tucked deep behind her maidenhead - for the journey and removed only by Lucy who would accompany her as chaperon.

Polly was also to offer herself to Ulysses’ agent, where she would be introduced as a slave with insatiable resistance to punishment. She would be well rewarded, for the agent moved amongst the world’s wealthiest men.

‘Now, Polly, I am particularly anxious that Cronos - that is his name - and his friends are properly rewarded for their hospitality.’

‘Do you doubt me, Ulysses?’

‘No, I don’t. But please give them all they desire.’

‘They shall be given all they deserve.’ Ulysses looked startled at this. ‘But don’t worry; what they deserve, is what they desire anyway!’

‘A lot hangs on this encounter, Polly, for me personally. More than I can tell you.’

‘Then don’t bother telling me. It does for us as well, in a more practical way! But I’ll not let you down, I promise.’

The young man was really getting worked up! Lucy nodded to him in an invitation for him to show her his penis. He got the message immediately, slowly undoing the waistband of his jeans and unzipping the front. Sliding his back up against the cabin wall, he pushed the jeans down to his ankles before resuming his cross-legged sitting position. His hips and waist were now entirely uncovered, stiff cock fully in sight, low-slung testicles hanging low. He was dark haired in the groin, though not thickly covered.

His hand was slowly working his shaft up and down. Lucy watched fascinated as the knob slipped out of the foreskin as the hand reached the base, and back again as the hand returned up the shaft. The knob was glistening with his seepage.

‘You can turn round now, Polly. He’s tossing himself off. Show him your crotch.’

Polly turned to watch the youth stimulating himself. Then, without taking her eyes off the youth, Lucy removed her panties, now soaked with her leaking juices. She stood straight again, parted her legs and taunted the man by thrusting her bare loins at him, feeling her soft lips lasciviously. He was getting more excited at this display.

When Lucy tossed her panties to him, he caught them with his free hand, lifting them to his nostrils to sniff deeply at the sweet aroma of woman’s secretions. His legs started to tremble, his loins to lurch. With a jolt, his groin pushed forward, spraying jets of milky fluid onto the deck between his legs. Lucy managed a diminutive orgasm as she rubbed her button, encouraged by the sight of sperm ejaculating from the penis.

‘That diversion passed the a little time,’ Polly smiled. The young man was still sniffing deeply at the panties as he squeezed out the last drops of semen.

There was a small cabin aft, which they had been shown before setting sail. They smiled sweetly at the young man as they left him to retired into the cabin. There was a toilet to one side of the cabin with a lavatory and wash-basin.

The covers on the bunk in the cabin were reasonably clean. They were able to sit without fear of soiling their dresses. Polly decided she would explore the boat a bit further, to find out where the Captain’s cabin was. No one was about. She went forward. There was a muffled smacking sound coming from somewhere. Polly stopped to try to determine the direction of the sound. It was coming from one of the cabins. She eased her way down the walk-way until she reached the door the noise was coming from.

Looking through the porthole to the side of the door she saw a strange sight. At the side of a bunk was a naked female, tied by the wrists and ankles to rings in the bulkhead. Her body was against the wall, but Polly could see that she had a slender body, olive in colour, with small pert buttocks. At the moment this part of her body was being flogged by the Captain with a leather belt.

He was naked from the waist down, back to Polly. The sight of his huge quivering buttocks nauseated her. As he swung back his frame from the hips to increase the force of the blow, she caught sight of a stiff horizontal penis below the sagging bulk of his belly.

Polly listened to the muffled voices, quickly taking in the untidy cabin, unwashed clothes scattered round, empty alcohol bottles, dirty linen hanging half from the bunk. Pieces of equipment were lying about. A car battery stood in the corner, claw-leads attached to an electric charger. The cabin was a mess!

‘You a young slut!’ Leon was shouting at her, his bulging arms bringing down the belt across her blotched cheeks, with fiery red weals of swollen flesh. The lean hips recoiled and winced. She shrieked as the leather bit into her flesh.

‘No, master. I never!’ she wailed.

‘You make eyes at Robbo!’ He lashed at her again. She screamed and jerked with pain.

‘No!’ she cried.

‘Your cunt it is wet through! You think of him! I thrash you for insolence!’ Another stinging blow. ‘You a bad girl! You deserve to die! Open legs!’ The sobbing young woman braced herself against the bulkhead presenting her defenceless womanhood to his domination.

Leon approached the half-sagging form, pushed her legs further apart with his foot. Still grasping the belt, he took hold of her waist, his heavy bulk thrusting against her stinging buttocks and began plunging at her. Polly assumed that he was now penetrating her as his mountains of flesh juddered. The girl was whimpering with pain as the fat belly slapped against the sore, pert cheeks. After a few minutes of exertion he began to tire.

‘Right! You suck!’ He withdrew from here, and unfastened the knots in the rope securing her to the bulkhead. The woman slowly slid down the partition, collapsing into a beaten heap. Even though released from the ropes, one ankle was attached to a length of chain padlocked to a heavy ring set in the floor.

Leon kicked her in the side. ‘Suck, bitch!’ He yanked her up by the hair, raven black. She screamed with pain. Leon lay back on the bunk, the woman between his open thighs. Between their burly, hairy flesh hung tight testicles covered with black curls, the stiff shaft protruding from the tangled mass. As the woman turned to place herself between his knees, Polly noticed that she was a Eurasian girl with beautiful features, now stained with tears of torture. She rolled her doe-like eyes in terror, dutifully taking hold of the stiff penis to place its knob into her mouth.

‘Suck, bitch!’ Leon roared, as he slashed the leather belt against her buttocks once more. She yelled with pain, straightaway bobbing her mouth up and down rapidly on the cock. It was not of unusually large dimensions but the girl clearly had some discomfort getting it fully into her mouth. She choked with sobs and whined, croaking as her head pumped and sucked the nauseating muscle.

Finally, Leon lurched, his loins shuddering, letting out a loud groan. His sperm was splattered into the mouth of the Eurasian. She stopped her movement, lifting her head from the groin. Leon pinched her nose forcing her to swallow the vile slime he had ejaculated into her. Then he thrust her away from him to collapse in a heap at his feet.

Polly studied the woman. She had beautiful features, almond-shaped doleful-eyes, high cheek bones and a small nose. Her breasts were petite but with almost black nipples on large, prominent areolae. The figure was slight, thighs slender with smooth skin, olive-sheened. Her mound was protected by a small expanse of black curls, reaching down between her thighs.

In what seemed no time at all, Polly heard the heavy snores as Leon fell into a deep, whisky-induced sleep. His reclining body resembled a huge whale; his softened penis drooping over the tight testicles. It was an obscene picture! Normally, Polly enjoyed studying the reclining form of a male, his genitals at rest after coitus. But not this one!

With great care, Polly turned the door handle and pushed the door open very slowly. The Eurasian woman felt the disturbance of air, lifting her head in apprehension.

Polly lifted her finger to her lips. She approached the girl. ‘Who are you?’ she whispered softly.

‘Marina,’ came the almost inaudible reply. ‘Leon keep me slave for fuck and suck,’ she added. ‘He nearly kill me.’

‘How old are you, Marina?’

‘I nineteen.’ Polly raised her eyebrows in surprise. She looked far younger, but these Eurasian women with taught skin and smooth complexions always appeared several years younger than their real age.

‘Would you like to escape from Leon?’ A look of hope flickered in Marina’s dewy eyes, but quickly disappeared.

‘I like, but he follow me and flog me to death,’ she murmured sadly.

‘I’ll think of a way to take you with me. Where does he keep the key for the padlock?’

‘Under his pillow.’ But Leon’s head was on the pillow.

‘I’ll come back later.’

Polly backed away softly to return to Lucy, explaining what she had seen. They worked out a plan of campaign. It would have to wait until they had docked and the provisions were almost unloaded.

They finally arrived in the small, pretty harbour at the foot of the cliffs. A flat lorry was waiting with two young men to unload the provisions. They looked strong and clean looking. Lucy checked the items, ticking them off against a bill of lading as they were transferred to the dock-side. The crew and the Captain were busy supervising the work as Polly quietly slipped away to the Captain’s cabin, after giving an unobtrusive nod to Lucy.

Marina was huddled in the corner of the cabin in the semi-darkness. She looked nervous, her doe-eyes widened as Polly felt under the pillow for the key. It was there! She crossed quickly to the girl. Stooping, she inserted the key into the manacle round Marina’s ankle and unlocked it. The chains rattled unexpectedly. Polly caught her breath, remaining quite still for a few seconds. The sound of voices continued unbroken from outside. With a sigh of relief she replaced the key.

‘Now, creep to the rear of the boat. Keep out of sight whatever happens. When you see me get into the truck and start the engine, jump from the boat and into the back of the truck. But, whatever you do, keep silent and try not to be seen. I’ll draw their attention away from you.’

‘I’m scared!’

‘There’s nothing to be scared of if you keep absolutely quiet. I’m going.’

But as she turned the huge bulk of Leon appeared in the doorway. Polly took a step back, her mind racing.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ he growled. ‘This cabin it is private. What you steal?’

The massive figure was closing in, his hands unbuckling the wide belt round his waist. Polly retreated to the end of the cabin, Marina cowering on the floor. His breath stank of stale whisky, his perspiring body reeked of sweat.

‘I flog intruders,’ he snarled. ‘Teach them lesson.’ With a flick of the wrist, the leather belt curled through the air. It struck Polly on the hip with a stinging blow. She tried to fend it off with her arms but Leon grabbed her by the wrist, twisting her round into a half-Nelson. The strap was flailing her buttocks with stinging blows.

The large man fell onto the bunk, pulling Polly across his lap. The biting strap never stopped beating the cheeks of her bottom and the tops of her thighs. Polly was kicking her legs but to no avail. The brute was strong. She was powerless! The noise outside as the crates of supplies were transferred to the wagon drowned any sound of the scuffle within the cabin. Besides, the others were at the other side of the boat.

Polly’s kicking had pushed the hem of her dress as far as her buttocks, presenting her white neat panties to the glazed eyes of the punisher. The tufts of golden hair escaping from the side of the briefs aroused Leon’s libido. The spreading dark stain in the gusset was evidence that the lady’s libido was also aroused.

Leon decided he would fuck her. She was an elegant lady of great beauty and refinement. But, like all ladies, she would enjoy being fucked, he thought. Very few turn down the offer of a stiff cock. He paused in his whipping. Hanging the belt over his shoulder he smoothed his callused palm over the sleek nylon panties, covering the blotched crimson swelling of her buttocks. Polly winced at the sharp pain. When he peeled the panties over the buttocks, Polly became alarmed.

‘I want fuck you!’ he said slowly with hoarse lewdness. ‘You enter my cabin for fuck, no?’ His fingers had found the delicate lips of Polly’s secret folds, now fattening with desire in spite of her revulsion. They pushed their russet lips from out of the plump vulva, wrinkled and soft. The honey was leaking from the pink opening, staining the golden curls. Leon’s eyes were rivetted. His stubby fingers stabbed at the entrance.

‘You ready for screwing,’ he said. ‘I feel your oils.’

‘No!’ she told him.

‘Yes! You want Leon fuck you.’

Leon stood, still keeping Polly in the half-Nelson, pushing his ducks down with the other. His erection had sprung into action. He tore Polly’s briefs from her burning, fiery bottom. She yelped in agony as the fabric scraped the tender sores. Leon had become wild with lust. He flung Polly into the corner of the cabin stumbling frenziedly out of his trousers’ Polly saw the angry shaft protruding from the black greasy curls, the tight testicles swinging lewdly between his massive thighs.

‘Suck first? You want suck Leon’s cock?’ he enquired as he stood astride her exhausted body. Polly noticed the car battery at the side of her. She reached for the leads, wrenching them from the charger. Leon was too drunk with desire to notice what she was doing. Hypnotised by the glory of her superb vulva, plump and inviting, his eyes could only stare at its beauty.

As he lowered his groin over her breast, Polly aimed at the genitals, dribbling and spilling over with lust. She jabbed the open claw of a lead at one side of his testicles, then the other one.

‘ARRRGH!’

The effect was stupefying! Leon’s huge bulk was tossed in the air with a great bellow of pain. The twelve volts seared through his testicles with a jolt of ultimate agony. Polly had managed to attach one of the claws to the skin of his sac. She rolled away, leaping nimbly to her feet as Leon crashed to the deck in anguish. The other claw-lead hadn’t attached to his balls.

She stooped to pick it up again, clasping it over the base of the rigid shaft. Leon gave another roar of pain, his thighs jerking wildly, his knob spurting its vile jets of sperm over his fat belly. Polly didn’t wait to study the effects of a twelve-volt current through a man’s genitals. She took Marina by the wrist, dragging her swiftly out of the cabin, round the forward deck and down the gang-plank. Lucy caught sight of her as she raced round the wheelhouse, Marina in full flight behind her and fired the engine into life.

The loading of the produce was complete. As the two women vaulted onto the lorry, Lucy let in the clutch with a squeal of skidding tyres. The crew members looked in amazement as the lorry accelerated up the slope away from the dockside.

Tags: Fetish, Story