“So, I take it that you would agree with Littlehawk,” Traynor said. Behind him, Carole made a muffled sound of protest. Traynor had tied her ankles to a spreader bar and then secured the French woman’s wrists to her ankles behind her back, bending her slim body into a painful curve. He then drew a rope down from an overhead pulley, which he hooked to the bar. He hoisted the rope, lifting Carole off the floor to a height of three feet, where he had left her to dangle while he tormented his two young students. He had silenced her by forcing a ring gag with a plug into her mouth and strapping it securely behind her head.
At the sound, he dropped the rod to the floor, turned and stood close to Carole. “I’ll play with you later, sweetheart, I promise. Don’t be impatient.” He took her nipple rings in his fingers, turned them in a complete circuit until the brown flesh was twisted in a painful spiral and then, as the blonde woman groaned in agony, pulled up and out. Emily felt certain that the woman’s nipples were about to be torn from her body, but when Traynor released her, Carole’s breasts were still in one piece.
“Now you just stay there quietly and watch,” he said. He slapped her face hard enough to leave the imprint of his hand on her cheek. To Emily’s dismay, he returned to the horse, picking up the slender plastic rod from where he had dropped it.
“I think I’ll give you ten on each foot,” he told the captive girls. “More than that and your feet will be too swollen to walk on tomorrow.” Without further delay, ignoring Shelly’s feeble attempts at protest, he began to slowly administer the strokes to the former child prodigy’s foot. Traynor waited a full minute between strokes, withholding each new blow until the very worst of the pain from the prior stroke was fading before delivering another. It broke Emily’s heart to watch her friend and lover fling her body around in helpless agony under Traynor’s rod, while she was unable to do the slightest thing to help her. When her turn came, the strokes seemed to last for ten hours rather than ten minutes. Before Traynor had lashed her foot for the final time, Emily’s head hung low in exhaustion, her sweating body limp on the horse. Shelly’s skin gleamed with perspiration as well, as she slumped wearily forward.
Traynor surveyed them, hands on hips, with an air of satisfaction at a job well done. He turned back to Carole. “Now we can spend some quality time together, my rug-munching cutie,” he said.
He moved behind her, ducking his head under the spreader bar to stand between her thighs. He reached forward and flicked and teased with his fingers. Carole’s weary head hung down toward the floor as he casually handled her, making her body respond to his touch.
“I know you think it’s disgusting having a male fuck you,” he said, as she began to become aroused at the physical manipulation of her sex. “But if you think about it, your preference for women is all in your head. As you can see, your pussy doesn’t know the difference between my hand and dear Inga’s.”
He bent his head to the junction of her thighs and put his mouth to her sex. Carole made faint sounds of protest, but her hips twitched with each flick of Traynor’s tongue and each suck of his lips.
When he sensed that she was close to coming, he released her and raised his head. “Likewise, your pussy particular about whose tongue is playing with it. It seems you are about ready now. Would you like me to fuck you?”
Carole shook her head and mumbled, “Nnnn!”
“I am going to do you a favor and ignore that,” Traynor said. “I think you’ll come like a geyser when I slip my cock into you. Do you want to bet me?” he asked. Carole shook her head again, and again made a sound of denial.
Traynor now pressed his cock into her. He grasped Carole by her hips and pulled her towards him, working his rod inside her. Carole swung in the ropes, helpless to do anything to stop him. As he moved her up and down on his pole, her pussy gripped him as she approached her climax.
Carole made futile noises until the instant of orgasm, “Nnnn! Nnnnn!” shaking her head. She came reluctantly, helpless to contain her body’s animal needs.
“You see?” Traynor asked. “A cock will get you there as well as your bitch’s tongue can.”
He pulled away from her and moved around to where her head drooped in defeat. He lifted her by the hair, popped out the plug in the middle of the ring gag, and replaced it with his turgid organ.
“You give good head, for a lezzy,” he remarked. After only a few strokes, he went off, and stepped back away from her.
“I think the girls have had enough excitement for one night,” he told her. “You just wait here while I get them back to their rooms, OK?” He patted her bottom in a parody of friendliness.
He released Shelly and Emily from their perches on the metal horse, taking the dazed Shelly in his arms and carrying her away as easily as he might have lifted a down pillow.
He soon returned to lift Emily with his amazingly powerful arms and take her out of the room. He brought her to Shelly’s room and laid her gently down beside the younger girl. Then he said something so strange that, thinking back on it later, Emily was not sure that she had not imagined it.
“Take care of her,” he said softly. “She may end up as the greatest ever to play the game, but only if she can count on you as her friend.”
During the remainder of the weekend, Shelly and Emily were left to their own devices. Traynor told them he would be too busy entertaining his guest to give them any instruction for the next two days, and advised them to take the time to relax. He then disappeared. They did not see Carole again after the first night, except for a one brief glimpse on Sunday afternoon.
Emily was so surprised at first that she did not know what to do. Eventually, at Shelly’s suggestion, they set out to explore Traynor’s rambling combination home and golf school. They wandered everywhere, discovering an indoor pool and a well-furnished gym.
On Sunday, they heard agonized screams echoing faintly down a hallway in a remote part of the house they had not seen before. They ran to find the room from which the screams were coming. Emily tried the door handle, which turned easily. Cautiously, she opened the door and peeked inside, Shelly crowding close behind her, looking over her shoulder.
In the middle of the room they saw Carole Duvet. It was she who was producing the blood-curdling screams. She wore a metal yoke that held her arms out straight to the sides. Her legs were fastened to the floor well apart, and she stood on the tips of her toes, pulled up by the tension of two wires that came from above and were tied to the rings embedded in her nipples.
Traynor was behind her. He was so intent on his suffering victim that he did not even notice the intruding girls behind him. His face looked like something glimpsed in a nightmare.
As they watched, he raised a small silver object about the size of an electric shaver to Carole’s armpit. The device had two little projecting points on the business end. Emily could not guess what it was.
Traynor touched the points to Carole’s underarm and said, “I love the way your ass grabs me when I zap you, cunt. Do it again.” They heard a soft buzz and saw a flash of blue radiance jump from Traynor’s device to the woman’s flesh. She screamed again piteously.
“No more, Master,” they heard her say. Her eyes were wild. “Please stop. I cannot endure any more.”
By way of answer, he reached around her body and triggered the silver gadget below her left nipple. The French woman closed her eyes and shrieked again.
Emily stepped back, closing the door as slowly and quietly as she could. She looked at Shelly. The other girl’s face was pale with shock at what she had just seen.
“I’ve never seen him like that. He looks like a maniac,” she whispered, looking back at the door to the room nervously. “Do you think we should do something before he really hurts her, Emily?” she asked.
Emily thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head. “I think she’ll be all right. He’s been doing things like that to women for years and he hasn’t done any of them any serious injury yet. He must have enough control to stop before anythi
ng really bad happens.” I hope, she added silently. “Anyway I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
They heard Carole scream again. “Come on, “ she said, taking Shelly’s hand, “let’s just get out of here before he finds out we were spying. I’m sure she’ll be OK,” she said, trying to sound more certain than she really was. She drew Shelly away, back to the main part of the house. They did not see Carole Duvet again.
Chapter Eight: The Tour
It was the second anniversary of the day Roderick Traynor watched Emily strip naked in his office. She lounged on a pale green leather sofa in her new Palm Springs house, gazing through the glass of her patio doors at the eighteenth green of the Desert Sands Country Club. She never tired of looking at the green, because that was where she had clinched her first Tour victory, the International Harvester Tournament. The prize money from that victory had paid for her fabulous new home.
She looked up as a tall, elegant figure wearing only a towel wrapped around her slender frame entered the room. Emily smiled up at the newcomer, who returned the grin and shook her head.
“If I bought a house on every course where I won a tournament…” She hesitated, then left the thought unfinished. “Anyway, you know you were lucky to win the Harvester,” Shelly Littlehawk told her. “If I hadn’t caught that tree limb with my second shot on the sixteenth…”
“You can’t expect to win all the tournaments, lover,” Emily interrupted. “We mortals have to score an occasional success. Otherwise, nobody would bother to play against you, and what kind of Tour would it be with only one player?”
Emily was exaggerating, but only slightly. Shelly had dominated the WPGT the previous season, winning six events, including one major championship, and had been named Player of the Year by her peers.
Shelly towered directly over the blonde. “It’s no use flattering me, Emily Thayer. I know you’re just trying to get into my pants.” She let the towel slip to the ground, exposing her lovely nude form.
Emily laughed. “What pants might those be?” she demanded. “I don’t see any pants, you shameless young hussy.”
“That was just a figure of speech,” Shelly explained. She lowered herself to the couch, pressing close against Emily.
“I suppose I may have been a bit immodest,” she admitted. “Maybe I need a lesson in the importance of modesty for a properly brought up young lady.” She stretched herself across Emily’s lap and wagged her luscious, oval bottom cheeks enticingly. “Do you know anyone who might have the time to correct me, Mistress Emily?”
“As it happens, I know just the person. It’s high time somebody taught you manners, girl,” Emily said briskly. She seized Shelly’s wrist and bent her arm up behind her back until she gasped softly in pain and raised her sleek hindquarters to an even more vulnerable angle. “We’ll start you with off with a good, solid spanking, and if that doesn’t do the trick… well, I’m sure I’ll think of something that will.”
Emily raised her hand and brought it sharply down to smack hard enough into Shelly’s bottom globe to leave a dark scarlet imprint on the rosy pink flesh.
“Oh!” Shelly exclaimed, wiggling at the stinging blow. She smiled. “I’ll bet you will think of something, Mistress. I don’t doubt it for a second.”
The End
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