SlavesofMistressDespoiler

by Bruce McLachlan

Two more, she told herself, two more and she would be purged of her sins.

  The penultimate stroke brought tears to her eyes, the impact fuelling a more distinct ache in her rear. The last fell with full force, catching her at the join between upper thigh and buttock, these utmost tender regions having her break into a sobbing fit, breathing erratically, dragging herself through a long strain of enduring the distress, waiting for it to dwindle.

  “There, all done,” announced the Mistress, gently rubbing the assaulted flesh as she set aside the paddle.

  Lynn fell into a stolid pose, every muscle relaxing as she breathed deeply, sighing from extreme relief.

  The Mistress arose, and true to her words, turned off the light and left her to her isolation, laying in the dark, thinking on what she had done, and why she had been punished for it.

  Lynn also dwelt on the slave in the next room, bound and tied just as she was. She was already planning to punish him again, plotting the acts she would inflict on him the next time she had the opportunity.

  The long period of her loneliness was uncertain, for without a clock, without clue to the world outside because it was night, she had no real idea how long it was before the door opened again.

  To her shock, three sets of footfalls casually prowled in. She turned to see, and was blinded as the light suddenly jumped on, dazzling her gloom dependant eyes, making her close them and get used to the light before slowly squinting and fighting to see what was going on.

  Of all the things she expected to see, what she beheld was far from anything she could have predicted.

  The Mistress sauntered aside and leant to the wall, monitoring Lynn’s angst at the sight of her unannounced guests.

  The man was tall, his body toned from expert use, of dedicating himself to creating a stern physique that did not swell into the travesty of a body builder’s mutated anatomical farce. His countenance was handsome but stern, his eyes seeming lifeless, but with a skulking intensity that wove behind this impassive first impression. His head was shaven to the scalp save for a woven plait at his crown. The black braids and strands were fixed with beads of tungsten, the long ragged cascade falling down to his waist.

  Bands of the same material were set in his ears, and a necklace of the metal hung about his neck. He wore a mesh top, with several bangles of metal and studded leather encircling his wrists.

  Laced leather trousers were held with a studded belt, and heavy boots with numerous buckles and ornate lacing covered his feet.

  The man clutched a large leather case in one hand and in the other he held a lead, the chain links reaching back to the collar of the female behind him. She was young and astoundingly comely, a beauty queen turned into a slave, and Lynn was amazed at how she was seeing someone of such radiance for real instead of just in aloof fashion magazines. A person of such pulchritude had no business existing in reality, only in carefully managed and doctored photographs.

  The woman had a mane of curling red hair, the vibrant red striking and shimmering in the light of the room. The detailed spirals fell about her features, almost hiding the gold band fitting snugly around her neck, drooping a jewel of fire opal at the front.

  The manicured and perfected nails on feet and hands were coloured the same as her gem, and other than this token adornment, she was completely naked, every other inch of her shaven to a silken smoothness.

  Lynn almost felt intimidated by the sight of her, of someone so much more alluring than she. What was she compared to such a specimen?

  “Slave, I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine. This is Grand Duke Tungsten, and this is Fire Opal,” she stated, waving to each of them as she spoke. The man gave a token nod of acknowledgement to her, and the girl merely continued to look across Lynn with a ravenous hunger.

  “This is the slave I was telling you about,” she added.

  “Has she been fully trained yet?” he asked, his voice a growling bestial sound, grating its way free of his throat. It was bloated with severity, filled with power, the accent clearly American. Was this a friend of the Mistress from abroad?

  “No, not yet, we’re just starting out. I’ll know soon enough if she’s worthy.”

  “Really, the amount of effort you go to. It’s absurd,” he added, putting down the case and throwing its latches. Opening it up, he removed a slender cane, the bamboo pale, like ivory.

  “Everyone has their individual ways. I enjoy the subterfuge,” stated the Mistress, putting the paddle back and taking her own cane down from those on offer.

  “But England? Are you sure you couldn’t have found somewhere a bit further?” he commented with sarcasm, and then looked to the woman before pointing to Lynn.

  “After that fine specimen Duke Silver snagged from this island? I just had to continue fishing for myself.”

  The sultry beauty strolled forward, her lithe body shifting like satin, her grace matching her beauty in full. The woman knelt between Lynn’s splayed legs, causing the eyes of the bound slave to widen in fright, intimidated and scared as to what was going to happen.

  The cool flesh of the woman lowered and laid atop Lynn. Her naked breasts settled on her shoulders, the nipples distinct into her back. Her legs remained together, and her arms reached under Lynn’s armpits before looping up to cradle her, using the rounded joints as handholds.

  Lynn’s breathing was rapid and vexed, the red springs of her companion’s hair falling about her vision as the stranger kissed her neck, nuzzling in to comfort her, as though she could feel the distress seeping through her frame.

  “What about this other one? The male? Does he know what’s going on?” stated the Grand Duke, and there was a whistle of air and a sound thwack. The woman atop her stiffened and gasped softly under her breath, tightening her hold on Lynn’s shoulders.

  “Not yet. But he will. He’ll be staying mine though. This little flower on the other hand? Well, we’ll see what can be done,” said the Mistress, and applied her own pernicious hack into the woman, making her vent a tiny whimpering pip.

  “You think she’ll accept?” he said, and applied a new stroke to his slave.

  Lynn could not believe how erotic she found the scenario. She had been frightened by the sudden arrival of these strangers, but now she had this beautiful slave clutching her as she suffered under the lash. Each time they spoke, they took their turn in slamming a new stroke into the hapless slave girl, who withstood the assault with only the slightest signals of duress, her training extensive, her obedience total.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. If not, I’ll keep her all to myself.”

  “That would be a little selfish.”

  “The Sect’s loss is my gain.”

  “Aldridge’ll go ape-shit if he finds out about the male.”

  “So what? I bet he’s got a few choice colts in that palace of his. And I bet plenty of other nobles do too. You think because we’re not supposed to, we aren’t going to do it? Since when do rules mean a damn to us?”

  “Nobles of the world unite?”

  “Or at least those of home. Mind you, the other sects are nowhere near as permissive as ours.”

  “His Jade-ness must take a lot of flak for that.”

  “No doubt, but he can handle it. We’re powerful enough to tell any other mewling nobles to shove it if they get into an interfering or judgmental mood.”

  “You going to the next annual thing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. All that desert though? I’ve been in England too long, I’ll probably melt from the heat,” stated the Mistress with a jovial tone, and struck the woman again, continuing the lambasting deluge.

  Lynn could feel sweat upon her, the slave perspiring as she strove to keep still and take what had been ordained for her. Salty tears dropped onto the back of Lynn’s neck, and she felt envious of the slave. To be so well conditioned, to be such a prize specimen. The feel of this woman suffering on top of her, displaying such a grand feat of courage in the face of such trial, she was jealous to the
point of insanity. She wanted to be like this, to attain such a state and eclipse it. If she could be an even more superlative slave, then she would be more prized than this woman, and to be superior to this salacious female would be a dream come true.

  “By the way, I have that belt you wanted. Is it for the male?”

  “Yes. I’ll install it the next time he does something bad. Complete chastity does wonders for the submissive nature.”

  “Do you want one for this slave?”

  “Probably. I have a feeling she’ll start pleasuring herself on the sly once we get more into our roles here, and we can’t have that, can we?”

  “Indeed not. You want me to measure her before we go?”

  “I think that’d save some time.”

  “So, speaking of time, how long before you come back?” he asked, replacing the Mistress’ stroke with one of his own brutal and precision lashes.

  “I’m going to pursue things here for a while, maybe use the contact magazines they have, see what else I can find.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “If I find anything that’s any good, I’ll sell it to the Sect. Even if they aren’t up to it, having other slaves here will get these two used to the concept, help ease them into their roles for our return.”

  After delivering her turn of the cane, she stepped back as the Grand Duke moved in once more.

  “I must admit, Fire Opal has developed nicely,” she added as the swish of the cane poured through the air before slamming into the buttocks of the girl, making her jolt upon Lynn.

  “It wasn’t easy, she’s my magnum opus. It’s taken years and a lot of effort to get her to this stage. I can’t wait until she goes Jade.”

  “Perhaps you should hold a party for it. A coming of age type thing.”

  “Not a bad idea. By the way, it’s your stroke,” he commented.

  “Sorry,” the Mistress absently remarked, and returned to add her own contribution to Fire Opal’s dismay.

  “You’re going to stop this ridiculous charade then?” stated the man with derision, waving a hand and indicating the house.

  “With the money you made from that last deal with that Parisian Sect, I would have thought you able to buy Buckingham palace by now.”

  “I like to work inconspicuously. I’m an assassin in the shadows, not a tank and ticker tape parade through the streets kind of gal,” she replied dryly before continuing with a more blasé demeanour, like friends chatting over coffee, except that instead of a steaming beverage, it was a whimpering beautiful slave whose rear had to be scorching to the touch by now.

  “But yes, I’m going to step things up around here a bit. Do some redecorating, that’s for certain. But I like this place. It’s sort of cosy.”

  “You are really, really odd,” he tutted, and reached his cane forward. The woman turned and sniffed back her tears before kissing the tip and removing herself from Lynn’s body.

  “I mean, how long have you hidden everything about yourself? It’s been like two years of complete fabrication. I hope this was worth it?” he commented, accepting the leash as the women knelt before him and offered it up.

  “You’ll see, Grand Duke. You’ll see,” she smirked, and settled beside Lynn, running a hand down her back, the skin marked with a sheen of dampness from the perspiration of the suffering slave.

  “Well, do I get to sample this creature or what?” he asked impatiently.

  “Maybe,” the Mistress uttered slowly, looking into Lynn’s eyes.

  Lynn was livid with worry, terribly afraid, torn by the things she had heard, the secrets that had half revealed themselves, exposing that far more was going on here, but not what it was or meant or what would follow. Lynn didn’t want another using her, was afraid of it, but the Mistress was reading it easily in her eyes and knew she needed to be defiled such so she could really and fully appreciate her dominion.

  “I think so,” she finally permitted, smiling as Lynn shook her head and burbled her pleas not to do this to her.

  “Now you be good and do as your told. You’re mine, you have to accept that I shall appoint others over you. My male slave accepted it, and so should you if you want to make me happy,” she stated, instantly causing Lynn to dedicate herself to trying to accept this, for otherwise the lowly slave next door would have outdone her, and after her recent vow to develop herself into a perfect slave, she could not fall at the first hurdle presented to her.

  The Mistress stepped back and let the man replace her. The mattress sagged under him as he sat beside her, and she stiffened when his hand began to wander up and down her body.

  “A bit timid, is she not?”

  “Very.”

  “Intriguing. A strange blend. She is slender and frail looking, delicate, inviting chains and bondage with this sickly sweet air of innocence and helplessness. You would expect her to be naturally submissive, yet she recoils at a touch.”

  “I’ve been spoiling her. She’s had a rough time with the men of her life, so I’ve been treating her solely to females.”

  “You mean you?”

  “Of course.”

  A hand closed about her breast and another cupped her stinging rump, making Lynn splutter and panic, the sense of being demeaned, of being molested by a stranger was intense, and the only thing keeping her from completely losing control was the presence of the Mistress.

  “Well, I can see we shall have to change her mind one of these days. But in the meantime, we shall see what she feels like. I take it you have no objections?” he asked of the Mistress, not even deeming Lynn to have an opinion worth noting.

  “Go right ahead. It’ll assist her training. Call it aversion therapy,” she chuckled, sauntering over and kneeling at the head of the bed, holding Lynn’s face and feeding on her anxiety.

  The man clicked his fingers and indicated back to his slave. The woman knew what was expected of her and fished in the case, removing the candle and lighter, she lit the wick and presented her master with the black rod.

  Moving between her splayed legs, he lifted the waxen shaft over her buttocks, wafting it back and forth as it continued to eat away at itself. A slight tilt and molten rain descended onto Lynn’s rear. The hot teeth gnawed into her skin once more, making her whimper, her eyes fixed to those of her Mistress.

  The Grand Duke continued, dripping the wax into the cleft of her rear, making her fight her bonds, shaking from side to side in a bid to find shelter, unable to hide from the pursuit of the hounding candle. She burbled her begging solicitation for mercy as he targeted her inner thighs, devolving her into a maenad of frantic movement.

  For a long period he assailed her thus, finally stopping and blowing out the source of her consternation. Some vigorous picking removed the residue and he ended with a hearty smack that made her jerk from shock, though more from the unexpected loud noise than the effects.

  “Prepare her for me, Fire Opal,” he commanded, moving away and letting the woman replace him.

  Lynn felt hands draw aside her underwear and then with force they defeated her token resistance and spread her cheeks. When a squirming tongue touched her rear she fought to deny access, squeezing her cheeks as hard as she could. But Fire Opal was stronger than she looked, and by hooking nails into the flesh of her buttocks, Lynn was punished for her attempts.

  The lips of the woman kissed her rear and suddenly the tongue opened her and slithered in. Lynn squealed in shock, the bizarre sensation making her stiffen and try and drive out the intruding organ. Soft and wet, it pawed within her, driving deep, the long organ of the woman exploring her insides.

  The Mistress sniggered and kept a wide grin at the sight of Lynn’s confusion, the new experience one that had her senses in a storm of contradictory messages. It repelled, yet pleasured, so she was torn how she should react.

  “That will do, slave,” stated the man, and the woman made way for his approach.

  The sound of his trousers being opened reached Lynn’s ears and she went pal
e with horror. The Mistress saw the reaction and stroked her hair.

  “Sssh, don’t worry. It’ll be over soon if you’re good. There are such treats in store for you after this. But be good, you have to impress before you get your prize,” she whispered.

  The Grand Duke took hold of her hips, lifting her up a little and then steering himself into the wet hole. With a gradual drive he started his insertion, stretching her rear terribly, paining her more than she could take. Lynn whimpered and shook, striving to endure, but it was too difficult.

  “Damn. What is she? A virgin? I couldn’t even fit a finger in here,” he cursed with a hint of amusement, removing himself and letting Lynn calm herself.

  “She’s just inexperienced, she needs tuition,” commented the Mistress, running a finger down Lynn’s face, capturing one of her tears as it ran for her jaw line.

  “Fire Opal, loosen this slave up a little will you?” he ordered.

  Lynn flung her head aside and saw the woman concealing a smile as she started to don a harness about her abdomen, the jelly dildo jutting out and hanging loose, the toy possessed of considerable size.

  Walking around to her rear, the strap on waggled limply, the purple length slapping her thighs as it drooped. The Duke passed her and watched with folded impatient arms, but equally he was eager to see this act of female-to-female intercourse.

  Fire Opal ran her gentle hands down Lynn’s rear, running them over the imprints her nails had left behind. Once more the woman’s mouth kissed her, her tongue gliding gracefully through and lubricating Lynn in readiness.

  The Mistress placed a hand to each of her slave’s cheeks and held her steady, keeping her face forward and meeting her own gaze, intending not to miss one moment of Lynn’s reactions.

  The tip of the phallus reached her rear and started to slither in, the soft material giving greatly. Rocking back and forth, the opening was made more amiable to intrusion, and Lynn slowly began to accommodate more and more, her sphincter being taught through constant drives to accept the full width. With a final plunging drive the entire shaft was pushed into Lynn, the flexible rod negotiating the twists and turns within her to sheath itself to the root.