by Argus, JJ
I let out a gasp of pain and lost my position, if momentarily, and he barked out a curse, reaching for me, jerking my hair back even more harshly. His voice rose in an angry string of words which I could not understand, and he stepped back
I could not see him now, for I was looking up towards the ceiling. I felt the movement of his arm, however, and groaned as the flog snapped across my belly once more. It fell again, harder, and then again, still harder, the strips snapping and biting at my belly and abdomen as I stood shakily, gasping and moaning.
And then as I began to adapt to the infliction of this pain the flog snapped down across my breasts. This drove me back, even while I held my position, for the pain was quite intense. The next blow was more forceful, the pain greater still, and again I staggered back, my buttocks now pressed up against the desk as he moved forward to follow.
The flog landed more quickly, blow following blow as he whipped first one breast, then the other. I found that my eyes were blurry and my cheeks wet as tears streamed down my face. My breasts burned and ached, and each fresh blow brought the level of pain closer and closer to the point where I knew I would be unable to maintain my position.
The urge to twist away and cover my breasts with my hands was almost overwhelming. Only the certainty from my experiences with Mistress that the pain would be redoubled should I do so kept me from moving.
And then he roughly twisted me about and forced me over the seat of the chair once more, thrusting himself into my gasping, exhausted body as he had before. He rode me harder than before, either through excitement or anger, his hips slamming painfully into my bottom so that I grunted weakly. I hoped that surely he would finish with me now, for there was no longer a part of my body left for him to whip.
Suddenly, there was another knock at the office door, and he called out. The door opened and a thin, middle-aged man in a suit came in. The man hesitated at sight of me, then moved forward, looking nervous and uncomfortable. His discomfort raised the same sensation in myself, and I felt some embarrassment as he stood before the desk, apparently trying very hard not to notice me there.
The two men spoke, and the man read from a paper of some kind, his voice hesitant, as if he were having difficulty concentrating. The man using me, my new master, apparently found this to be quite amusing, and used longer strokes, deliberately spreading my legs and thrusting into me with long, deep, fast strokes, then withdrawing slowly. His hand gripped my hair, then, and forced my head up and back. I groaned in pain as he pulled harder, and my chest was forced to arch, raising it up off the desk.
He reached beneath to grope at my aching breasts, speaking in a casual voice to the man before the desk. I saw the man had an erection now, and he had turned his hips slightly to one side in a desperate effort to hide his arousal. He seemed very eager to be off, and twice turned to leave, only to be barked at and turn swiftly back.
Finally he was permitted to leave, and almost ran from the room as my master chortled in amusement.
He pushed me back down on the desk then, and slapped my bottom.
"Spread your legs more, slut," he barked.
I obeyed, raising my bottom as he began to pound himself into me with greater speed and fury. I ached a little inside, but even so felt a strong sense of lust and excitement as I was so rudely and cruelly used.
"We will see how much discipline you have," he said, grunting each word as he finished with a final series of thrusts.
Chapter Seven
I was taken by a blank-faced young woman up several flights of stairs and then down corridors which seemed progressively less like those of an office building and more akin to that of a palace. The rear of the building gave on a view of extensive gardens and fountains, and despite my uncertain situation I could not help admiring them as we passed by floor to ceiling windows.
I suppose I had feared, and almost expected her to take me to a cell-like room where I might be locked in like any prisoner. But there was no need for that here. For there was nowhere for me to go. We left the broad, thickly carpeted corridors for a narrow wooden hall, and then paused at one of the doors. She opened it, gave me a curious look, then turned away and left me.
The room was considerably larger than any I had ever had before, larger than any of those of my friends or acquaintances, either. The centre of the room was taken up by a very low, but comfortable looking bed. There were no posts to this bed, for it rested directly on the floor, little more than a gigantic mattress framed by polished redwood. The matching tables beside it were of a similar type, and both no more than a foot off the floor.
On the left side of the room, beyond the white carpeting, was a tiled floor, and in the midst of it a large, sunken marble tube. There was a fireplace, a small bathroom, and several chests of empty dressers. A small window looked out on the garden, and I opened it to let some of the hot, stuffy air out.
"I am Kira."
I whirled around to see a dignified looking Asian woman in her late thirties standing just inside the door. She wore a long robe, like me, but hers was considerably heavier than the thin silk caressing my own naked flesh. She was a diminutive woman, with her hair done up in formal style, and seemed to fairly glide forward, clad in dignity and confidence as her eyes inspected me with open doubt.
Her face was extremely beautiful, oval and golden, with the softest eyes and the smallest, most dainty nose.
"You may call me mistress Kira," she said softly. "While you are here you will act on my word and bring all questions to me. It is given me to teach you civilized behaviour and a civilized tongue. You will be expected to work very hard at learning both. You will not be forgiven for failure. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Speak more softly, with more humility, and lower your head as you speak."
"Yes, mistress," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Sit," she ordered, then sank to the floor.
I sat down awkwardly, only to be ordered to rise again. Again and again we practised sitting on the floor, sinking down in a slow and stately manner amid our gowns. My legs quickly grew weary, and Kira informed me that I would have to exercise in order to strengthen my "soft" body.
"Remove your robe," she said, voice still very soft.
I slipped off my robe, and she did the same. Her body was quit thin, her breasts small, but very firm.
"Position your body as mine is," she ordered.
Sitting on our crossed legs, we practised the very basics of Mandarin until my legs were cramped and my bottom sore. I wanted to ask her to at least move over to the bed, but her attitude was not open to such suggestions.
We began by moving through some of the same positions I had with my original mistress. Kira would speak a word or phrase in Mandarin, and I would kneel or lay back and spread my legs, or stand, or turn.
But there was more, for I must also learn the words for a variety of foods and drinks that my master might require, so that if he wished I could bring it to him. And also for other services he might desire, such as my help in bathing or clothing him. Sex, it seemed, was merely a part of the duties of a good Asian slave.
Kira herself was Japanese, and had been owned by Chow Lei, the provincial governor, since she was a young girl. She had long ago resigned herself to her life, and advised me to do the same with all speed. No defiance or resistance of any kind would be tolerated by Master Lei, and punishment would be swift and painful.
At last, Mistress Kira rose, as smoothly and gracefully as if she had not been sitting on crossed legs for hours, and I, groaning and stretching, rose, as well, awkward and feeling clumsy under her disapproving eyes.
"Come," she said, turning her back on me.
She donned her robe, but as I reached for mine she shook her head and I reluctantly dropped it. We went to the door and then out into the hall, and I felt my shoulders turning inwards as I hesitantly followed. I crossed an arm over my breasts and let my hand dangle before my groin as we walked down
the small hall and into one of the broader, far more brightly lit corridors.
"Do not hide your body," she said, frowning.
"I'm not used to... being naked in a big... public place," I said awkwardly.
"If you behave as if you are shamed then you will be," she replied shortly.
We passed into a shower room. Walls and floor were of simple brown tiles, and a row of faucets projected from the right side. On the left were sinks and mirrors, and in the middle a number of long, thin, padded tables. There were several naked men beneath the showers, and one at the sinks, and my heart skipped a beat as they turned to stare at me.
Kira led me over to one of the padded tables, then called out in her singsong voice. Several of the men responded, and she selected one who was beneath the showers with a small nod. Dripping naked, but not the least ashamed, he walked across to us, his penis dangling between his legs, then with an appreciative look at my breasts, sat on the table.
"Kneel," Kira ordered.
I knelt, very embarrassed as all the men stared at me, and she filled a bucket with water and handed me a rag and soap.
"Clean his feet and lower legs," she ordered.
I felt indignant at that, but obeyed, only to have her pull me back.
"No," she said.
She removed her robe then, and knelt gracefully before the man. She picked up one foot in a most gentle way and laid it between her bare thighs, then dipped the cloth in the water and squeezed it over his foot. She applied the soap, next, always very slowly and smoothly, and used her hands to caress his foot as it lay clasped between her thighs. Her fingers began to deftly massage the foot, and she showed me where to push my fingers, how hard to press, and to stroke.
"You must worship the foot," she said sternly, which seemed desperately odd to me.
But soon the foot was between my thighs, and I had to caress and stroke it as the man looked on with a grin.
"Now take it between your breasts," she ordered.
I hesitated, and she reached forward, gently lifting the foot, sliding the sole up my belly and until it rested just beneath my breasts. Then, crouched behind me, she reached beneath my arms and took my breasts in her hands, gently pushing them together around his soapy foot.
This, I should add, was only the beginning, for after doing both feet and lower legs, the man lay back on the table, and I must then straddle him and gently soap up his body with my hands and the rag, and spend long minutes slowly stroking him with first my hands, then my body itself.
With my breasts, groin, legs and belly layered in slippery soap, I knelt on the table straddling him, my thighs together around his hips as I bent forward, pressing my chest against his back and slowly grinding back and forth. Kira stopped me frequently to correct my movements, which must be slow and careful, smooth and lacking any sense of vulgarity.
First I was to use my hips to grind my pelvis up and down, starting from a position where I sat above his thighs, until I was straddling his back. Then I was to bend forward and use my upper body, my breasts, principally, to caress him from shoulders to thighs.
While he was on his belly this was less difficult, but as he rolled over I saw that he had a strong erection. I looked to her questioningly, but her face gave no indication that I should attend to it. Yet neither could I avoid it, as I slid my body forward along his thighs I felt the hard heat of it against my pussy each time I slid over him.
"You may attend him between your breasts," she said.
I had no idea what she meant, at first, but then as she cupped her own breasts I realized she intended that I take his male organ between my breasts as I had his foot. The idea was strange, at first, yet the feel of his soapy member between my breasts was not unpleasant. And in truth, by then I was, while still embarrassed, more than a little aroused, as well.
I bent far forward, letting my breasts press heavily against his abdomen, then sliding them back an forth over his erection. He stared at me eagerly, and I smiled, reaching down and squeezing my breasts together around his cock, sliding them from side to side over the soapy layer as he began to roll his hips and groan in pleasure. His cock stroked against my breastbone, and I continued to massage my breasts against it until his come fountained out of the end and he slumped back with a sigh of relief.
Once this happened I had to straighten up and use only my thighs and groin, sliding slowly up and down his body for a time while he relaxed, then dismounting the table and letting him sit up.
"You will learn better," Kira sighed. "Clean yourself."
She pointed towards one of the shower faucets and I padded naked across the tiles and stood beneath it. There was a naked man on either side of me, both shorter than I and both fascinated by the sight of me. I felt my embarrassment rising once again and tried to ignore them as the water poured down over my head and rinsed away both soap and semen.
"You must learn to be less shamed at naked flesh," Kira said from behind me.
"I'm sorry, Mistress," I said.
"Your apologies are without value."
After I had towelled myself somewhat dry she led me from the room and further up the hall. She was once again robed while I remained naked, and I cringed slightly each time we passed someone and they stared at me
We turned down a stone-lined hall and I felt extremely odd padding along naked. The walls were at least forty feet apart and the roof almost that high. We passes a number of people, some male, some female, but all startled and staring.
Then we came to an intersection where the hall met another similar one. We waited there, and she was silent, simply poised and unmoving for long minutes.
"What are we waiting for?" I asked finally.
"You must learn patience. You are a slave. When it is desired that you know something you will be told."
Finally a man arrived, clad in simple black and wheeling a cart. He bowed slightly to Kira, ogled me briefly, then took a six foot high golden pole from the cart and stood it on the floor. It was no wider than my thumb, and I looked down I saw the bottom slip neatly into a small hole in the floor.
He then placed a second pole, this one only a foot high, a few feet from the first and Kira, silent until then, turned to me and motioned me to stand between the two. Puzzled, I obeyed, then spread my legs apart at her command.
There were two other small holes in the floor, and the workman produced two inch long plugs which locked into them. Each plug had a narrow gold chain, and attached to the chains were thin gold rings. Startled, I observed as he fit each of the rings around my big toes, tightening them in some fashion so they would not come off.
I was instructed to raise my hands up and then back behind my head. There they were bound by another thin gold chain which was then pulled down firmly, until my back was sharply arched. I felt fingers at my rectum, and a thin plug was inserted there which seemed to hook up against my tailbone, and attach somehow to my wrists, holding them back behind me.
Kira herself moved forward then, smiling serenely. She clipped two more small gold chains to my nipple rings, then led them up and out, pulling harder and harder until my nipples stretched out, and then the areolas behind them. I winced in growing pain, slowly rising onto the balls of my feet in an attempt to relieve the pressure. At that point she clipped the chains to the pole before me.
She took another small gold chain off the cart, and this time knelt between my legs. Her finger gently caressed my bare slit for a moment, then spread the lips of my sex apart as she clipped the chain to the ring piercing my clitoris. This chain was pulled down, and then back between my thighs. I cried out softly at the pressure exerted, but she judged things in her own manner, then fastened the chain to the smaller pole directly behind me.
"You must learn to be less shamed by your body," she said.
And with that she and the man left me there alone.
I moaned as I looked after them, my nipples already aching and my lower belly feeling slightly queasy from the pull on my sensitive clitori
s. Yet I could not move at all. A man walked by, licking his lips hungrily as he passed, then two more in the other direction, staring and whispering.
Two young women approached me, huddled together, eyes wide, faces showing both embarrassment, shock, wonder, and amusement. They were about my age, wearing long skirts and business jackets, long straight hair hanging past their shoulders. They moved so closely together their shoulders were touching as they moved past me, their eyes wide. One pressed a hand over her mouth in and effort to hide embarrassed giggles, then the two hurried down another hall.
I was terribly embarrassed, but there was, of course, not a thing I could do to hide any portion of my body. Each time someone passed they inspected me with varying degrees of amusement, scorn, or excitement, not failing to note the rings stretching out my nipples or clitoris.
My legs ached, and cramps made me groan from time to time, but my toes hurt more, and I was not at all sure how long I could remain so precariously balanced on the balls of my feet. My skin felt hot and moist, for the air, even in the stone corridor, was quite hot and humid. I was soon sweating, and panting softly, my legs trembling.
Hours passed, and the pain in my feet proved too much. I had to lower myself so that my feet were flat on the floor, fighting off tears of pain as my nipples were pulled out that much harder, stretched taut and pulling my areolas up and then the soft, heavy flesh of my breasts, burning with a hot, sharp pain.
The hall became quickly much busier, with groups of people walking back and forth in all directions, all staring at me as they passed. Then fewer and fewer passed, and the halls became quiet and deserted. My stomach grumbled and my throat was parched. My skin was coated in sweat, and I was exhausted and aching all over.