The embrocation cream made her shriek, her eyes screwed shut as the heat burned at her sex, making her cavort upon the dildo, plunging herself deeper onto it and by no design of her own, spreading more of it into her. She wriggled and squirmed, the effects subsiding a little, but still afflicting her with their baleful malediction.
The Mistress started to rock back and forth, diving deep into Lynn, testing her absolute depths, filling her entirely as she choked with delight, the molestation more than outweighing the gloom of the searing cream.
Hands reached under as she was thrust into, the fingers taking the clamps as she braced herself, trying to fight off what she knew would happen when the weighted curses to her breasts were removed. No sooner had the clamps departed than she was screeching at the top of her lungs, the air spilling around the gag as her teats snatched back their power of feeling and squealed at the compression they had been forced to endure, their voices previously kept silent by the crushing pinch of the clamps.
Thrown into delirium, she spasmed and wept, finally settling back into the pleasure of being strung up and taken by her owner, the Mistress continuing to bury her adopted manhood into the belly of her slave.
Without the pain of the clamps, and with the dwindling in effect of the cream, climax started to swiftly beckon, and locked within the tight prison of the Mistress, Lynn suddenly set free new soul-torn wails as the first orgasms bored into her, intense and delectable, sweetened by her containment in plastic, leather and rope.
Drawing out a few more bursts of ecstasy, the Mistress finally withdrew, leaving Lynn a stolid ruin in her bonds.
Lynn was barely aware of her surroundings as she was taken down and the trammels removed from her, the plastic cut off and she was left huddled on the floor in a weak ball.
“What do you say, slave?” she asked.
“Thank you, Mistress,” she wheezed softly, barely cognitive.
“Good, slave. You did well. Now, I’m going to take a bath, you will get changed and meet me downstairs. We have a slave to dominate,” she crooned, and patting Lynn’s head, she strolled from the room, leaving Lynn huddled in recovery.
Chapter Eighteen
For seemingly hours he waited. Night must have fallen, Mistress Lynn had to have returned. Would he spend the night in this cell? Would Mistress Lynn be sleeping just without? The prospect of having her with such access was worrying, for she was sure to open the door and apply her own cruel deeds and leave him in suffering all night. The depriving of even more sleep would add to his lethargy, and tomorrow it would promote punishment from Mistress Despoiler.
As though the mere thought of her conjured her into reality, the door opened and the slender countenance of Mistress Lynn appeared, the stronger light from without haloing her and dazzling his eyes. Once more she had changed her attire, this time into yet another new outfit. She had a penchant for regular, incessant changes of garments, and this trait obviously extended beyond mere club-wear.
Her braids had been removed, her hair now loose, hanging about her tapered features. A gloss leotard flowed down her body, its sculpted cups cradling a milk white cleavage, the thin straps rising over her shoulders. The high design of the thighs lodged by her hips, the front a burnished pane that flowed down and rose up behind, bisecting her pert rear with a garrotting thong. Across her buttocks he could see dark lines rushing along her skin in streaks, the welts angry and fresh.
Her thigh boots continued down her legs after the brazenly exposed zone of bare, pale thigh, and her arms were still submerged within the silken folds of her opera gloves. The fingers were fixed to the handle of a wiry crop. The pale riding implement had an ivory handle, tipped on each end with silver, the white leather hoop at the end flopping with her movements. It was a new addition, one she must have bought after work, purchased especially for her new role, equipping herself with her own arsenal.
“Are we finished, slave?” she asked as he squinted within his hood and tried to see her.
“Yes, Mistress Lynn.”
“Did you do it all as Mistress Despoiler said?”
“Yes, Mistress Lynn,” he replied, his dolour rising as she unscrewed the lid and regarded the milky interior.
“Liar,” she purred softly and puckered her lips.
“What are you doing?” he quizzed fearfully.
Her hand flicked out and stung his cheek with a backhand slap, restoring a more compliant nature.
“What did you say?” she asked firmly.
“I’m sorry Mistress Lynn,” he whimpered.
“That’s better wretch.”
Gathering spit, she drooled a line onto the collected sample before closing the lid once more. His heart sank.
“You little cheat. You didn’t do as you were told. Mistress Despoiler will hear of this, and the way you lied to cover it up.”
Her slender hand grabbed his chin and pushed his head further back into the wall, lifting his gaze to the ceiling with the stringency of her shove.
“And don’t you dare contradict me, slave, because the tape is waiting to be heard,” she smiled.
“Please, Mistress Lynn, don’t. Not this, I can’t take this. I’ve kept quiet, can’t you show mercy?” he implored.
“You mewling filth. Listen to you, you make me sick. You think I should show mercy to a pathetic little pervert like yourself? Why on Earth would I want to do that? No. It’s far more amusing to see you suffer.”
“Why? Why are you being like this, I thought we were friends!” he sobbed, torn by the prospect of this nightmare ordeal.
“You thought wrong. The moment I joined this scenario, you became nothing more than an annoying freak at my heels. I’ll torture you and enjoy every moment of it. I couldn’t give a shit for the friendship of a slave, all I want is its screams, its pain, and its obedience to me. Do you understand that, maggot?”
“Yes, Mistress Lynn,” he uttered morosely.
“And what’s this? You removed the butt plug too? My you are being bad. But you wanted mercy right? Well I’ll grant it and not reveal this particular crime.”
With a cramming jab the plug was shoved back into him, opening him suddenly, making him yelp with shock. Quaking in his restraints, he rolled with the avalanche of hot pain rolling out from his rear.
“Well if you can’t even thank me, than I’ll just have to show her the evidence,” she announced, and made him croak with pain as it was tugged out in a single tearing motion.
Flinching with the riots of harrowing in his anus, he gathered his words as quickly as he could.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Lynn. Thank you for showing mercy. Please put it in me, and I’ll be good,” he sniffled, still trying to come to terms with the mayhem in his sphincter.
The tip touched his opening and started to enter, stopping and retreating again, the Mistress pushing it back and forth, riding it into him, making him tense and grind his teeth with strain. The pain of it was almost too much to take, the hot spikes of torment flashing through the bruised tissues, her merciless hand controlling the cone, opening and closing him to hideous degrees while she spoke slowly, continuing the assault.
“I don’t know slave, you don’t sound very sincere,” she questioned.
“I am, oh please, Mistress Lynn, show me mercy,” he sobbed, humiliated beyond measure at having to acknowledge her generosity, despite the fact that she was betraying him to the wrath of Mistress Despoiler, deliberately delivering him to the most heinous of punishments.
“You’re sure?” she asked softly, continuing the play, studying his energetic dance under her thrusting attention.
“Yes, yes, Mistress Lynn. I swear it!” he strained, his head flopping from side to side with the fight to keep his screams under control.
“Very well. I’ll leave it in and not tell Mistress Despoiler about this little lapse, after all, you have enough problems to face,” she laughed, and shoved it in, ending the torment with a pinnacle of distress that had him cavorting against his bonds f
or long minutes.
“Thank you, Mistress Lynn,” he managed to say through chattering teeth.
“Good. Now I have to go and reveal this crime. And you can just sit here in the dark and think on how that cold semen is going to taste, sliding down your throat.”
With a soft mocking titter of a laugh, she strolled away, turning out the light of his cell and closing the door, leaving him in oblivion as she went to inform his owner as to his transgression.
He groped blindly for the pot, but found that she had taken it with her, denying him a chance to empty it in advance and avoid this fate. Slamming a fist to the ground he tried to vent his frustrated angst. Please let her not inflict her professed punishment, please let her see through her assistant’s deception.
Mistress Lynn appeared once more, opening the door, blinding him with the light that flooded in from without, his gaze having quickly grown comfortable with the deep depths of gloom.
Immediately she began to untie him, setting free ankles and collar. With a tow she moved him out and padlocked the wrist cuffs up his spine, connecting them to his collar with a short chain, confining his arms, leaving him more vulnerable.
“Mistress Lynn, I’m begging you, don’t do this to me,” he whimpered.
“Be quiet you maggot,” she spat, and slapped his cheek, jerking his head aside and filling it with heat, the mask doing little to absorb the ferocity. The stroke wilted his resolve and made him lower before her, terrified of her revenge should he continue to resist.
Grovelling on the floor before her, she snapped a leash to his throat and with a stern wrench hauled him aside, dropping him onto all fours. He released a pained yelp as the lithe weapon that was the crop quenched itself on his rear, the leather tip sinking into his buttocks. It passed its effects unhindered through the latex leggings, briefs and skirt, depositing a line of scorching heat that had him buck against the lead and then shrivel into a ball, cradling the welt.
“My new weapon has been christened. Did you like it?”
“Yes, Mistress Lynn,” he said through grated teeth, knowing that he was to be thankful for all, and to worship the weapons of those who ruled him.
A stifled croak jumped from his larynx and he shuddered, his jaw quivering as another bite of the tool ate into his rear, crossing the first, forming a rosy X beneath the opaque sheath.
“Thank you, Mistress Lynn,” he burbled, tears welling in his eyes from the effects of the scourging.
“Oh, that’s not it all, slave, that was a little warm up. I promised to thrash you when I got home, and thrash you I shall.”
Grabbing his ponytail, she yanked him upright and set aside her weapon, applying the inflatable gag to silence his impending screams. Fixing the straps, she had the bulb bloat in his mouth with a few pumps of the inflator, and screwed the dust cap on to prevent it from withering when his gnashing teeth assuredly began to chew on it. Wheezing through his nose and the underwear still fixed there, he was dropped back to the floor, supine before her.
Her gloved hands hoisted his skirt and drew down his leggings over his knees, the curled garments proving excellent fetters. The briefs were gathered and drawn into the crease of his buttocks, falling to the offending plug, opening more naked flesh to her spiteful ravages.
The patent heel of Mistress Lynn dropped to his shoulder, slipping under his twisted hands and forcing him down, pressing his chest to her carpet. The weight increased drastically as she stepped onto him in full, her other foot at the base of his spine, upon the rolls of skirt.
Leaning over, she placed a hand to the wall to steady herself so that his writhings would not topple her, and the crop hovered in her grasp with frightful peril in mind.
He fought for breath, her body weight crushing him intensely, the heels digging in, making his ribs fight to gather breath against the burden atop them.
“I’ve had a hard day, slave. And I’ve been looking forward to this,” she whispered softly, shifting her weight, punishing his body all the more before using her new implement to scorch him.
The crop fell with a swift rhythm, the blows rapid and severe, eating fiery welts into his buttocks, making his legs pump and kick, acquiring burns from their spasms against her carpet, his body and arms unable to do anything. The squeals of torment were locked behind the balloon of the gag, emerging only as pitiful squeaks that in no way competed with the dull thwack of the crop to his defenceless flesh.
His mind burned as she exacted her fury, whipping him with terrible power, her lithe form riding atop him like some mode of rubber bound surf board, one controlled and steered by the deluge of harsh crop strokes.
Tears flowed freely as he screamed, seeking only to evade this horror, and when she finally stopped and stepped from him, it was as though she had stolen his life. Her crop was a vampire, pillaging his vitality, leaving him a whimpering wreck, barely able to move.
The buckles of the gag were played, and she deflated the balloon before pulling the spit-saturated orb from his lips.
“Thank you, Mistress Lynn,” he muttered, the words burning his throat from having to show appreciation for her wanton havoc.
“Do you want more, slave?” she panted, her breath racing from the work out.
“No, Mistress Lynn,” he sputtered.
“You dislike my attention, you think it inadequate?”
“No, Mistress Lynn, I just don’t want you to over exert yourself.”
“You slimy little toad, you dare lie to me?”
“I’m sorry, Mistress Lynn.”
“Well sorry is not good enough. You insult me, after I dress up especially for you in my new attire?” she growled, placing a heel into his back and turning the dagger to make him shake.
“I didn’t mean to, Mistress Lynn, please forgive me.”
“Do you lust after me slave?” she asked.
He froze, unsure of what to say. If he agreed, she might punish him for such desire of her, deeming it a gross affront. But if he denied it, would she not deem this a similar slur, an insult to her beauty? Rather than offend his owner by acknowledging the beauty of another, he went with what was closest to the truth, for while she was a delightful sight, her malevolence countered it.
“No, Mistress Lynn, I would not wish to offend you with my base desires,” he offered, hoping his explanation make her rethink the obvious trap for him.
Using her heel as a guide, she turned him over, leaving him floundering on his back.
“So you think me ugly, repulsive?” she hissed, a flickering sneer rippling her lips.
“No, Mistress Lynn.”
“Well you can’t think me attractive, and yet repugnant, one of those is a lie, which is it?”
“I…I..please, Mistress Lynn, I find you attractive, but I don’t lust after you,” he blurted.
“Well I can see that I will have to teach you otherwise. I want you to desire me, I want you to hunger for me, because I want to starve you. I’ll make you lust for my body with all your heart, and you’ll never have it. Won’t that be amusing slave?”
He kept still beneath her as a heel settled back into his belly, her form towering over him. She could not successfully perform this, he was too in love with his owner.
“Now I know you think I can’t do this, but you forget…” she said, and removed a tape from behind her books.
“I have my own little indoctrination programmes. I’ll sneak in and surreptitiously replace this tape for the rules of your owner. This education will have you seething with desire for me, and I’ll parade this alluring form before your eyes, and never ever let you gain it. You’ll be gibbering at my heels just to kiss my behind,” she laughed with derision, replacing the tape until such time as it would send its words deep into his subconscious.
“So as a special treat, I’ll give you a quick precursor to such a prize.”
Settling down, she set her legs on either side of his body, and lowered her rear over his face. The naked behind, divided by a valley of deep set vi
nyl hovered over his features, promising to smother him.
“Ask to kiss me, slave,” she crooned, knowing he would have difficulty with the words, in the acknowledging of another. The only arousal here was the concept of being so effectively broken to another’s will.
The crop descended like lightning, sinking into his thigh, making him jolt his legs and strain his arms beneath his chest. She was going to beat him until he relented.
“Please, Mistress Lynn, may I kiss your rear,” he burbled.
“Say it again, slave.”
“Please, Mistress Lynn, please let me kiss your rear.”
“Tell me why?”
“Because you are so gorgeous, I just want to worship you, to kiss your rear.”
“Tell me what you see.”
“Your buttocks, your leotard, the—” he ended with a croak of suffering, her crop having cut off his words with its mordant gift.
“Tell me properly, let me know that you worship it.”
Swallowing for strength, he eroticised his words, developing them into a humble chant of adoration.
“I see the creamy cheeks of your rear, smooth and firm, hanging over me, the band of your leotard stretched tight between them, dividing the flesh, impermeable and divine, denying you to me.”
“Tell me what you want to do.”
“I want to kiss them, to adore them with my tongue, to have them smother me. I want them more than anything, but I know I can never have them because you rule me, Mistress. I can only worship you from afar.”
“Go on then, slave,” she beamed, her feet and shins clutching to his sides as he stretched his neck forward.
Watching from beneath, she lifted his goal, keeping it just out of reach as he strained to kiss the loitering flesh and end this misuse.
“Come on then, you can do better than that. If it means that much to you, you will succeed,” she purred, toying with him.
“Almost, slave, just a little closer,” she chuckled, the tendons of his neck pronounced, his muscles burning from the quest.
Lowering a little, she grazed the skin to his puckered lips and after this brief touch pulled away.
SlavesofMistressDespoiler Page 26