Persephone hung her head and gave it a shake.
“How many?”
“Two.”
“I guess you can afford a good lawyer then. Want to take a chance on a third?”
She shook her head.
“Get stripped, both of you.”
“But I wasn’t….” Miranda shut up as he turned to her and slapped the nightstick on his palm. The two mistresses swapped anxious looks and slowly reached for the fastenings of their blouses.
“Come on,” the cop urged. “You can do it here or when I’ve charged you down at the precinct. It makes no difference to me.”
All hesitancy vanished. Their clothes quickly landed on the dusty ground. Naked but for their shoes and jewels, they regarded him warily, cheeks flushing red.
“That’s a nice set of tits,” he remarked, eyeing Miranda’s jutting, up-tilted globes before lowering his gaze to the coppery triangle of hair at the apex of her tightly closed thighs. He pried them apart with the tip of his nightstick and rubbed the wooden baton back and forth over the fleshy crescents of the lips between. She gasped and blushed a deeper shade of red. Persephone hissed when he pulled her nipple clip free and then squeezed each of her small breasts in turn after he had slipped it into his pocket. “Hard as apples, Murphy. I’ll bet they’re sweet as apples too, eh, missy? Feet apart.”
Breathing hard, the blonde stared at him with wide, shining eyes and shuffled her feet wider. The sergeant rubbed his nightstick on the swollen pout of her sex. She gave a breathy sigh and her eyelids fluttered. The cops laughed. Beside Pam, the brunette slave groaned softly. The older cop withdrew the stick and ordered the two women to the door at the end of the alley, about twenty feet from where the others were lined against the wall.
“Hunker down there,” he said. “Backs to the door and keep your knees apart if you don’t want my nightstick across your asses.” When they complied he stood over them, looking at their exposed sexes for several seconds. “Okay, you came here to piss, so that’s what you’re gonna do.” He chuckled at their shocked expressions. “One of you is going to walk away still a Freewoman. Which one is up to you. When I tell you, you’re both gonna let go. The one who pisses furthest gets to leave. Simple as that.” The cop backed away to stand next to his colleague. “Go!”
Nothing happened. The squatting girls were staring in obvious disbelief, but the significance of the sergeant’s words must have dawned on them both at the same time. Persephone’s expression became one of intense concentration a split second before the strain showed on Miranda’s face. They both let go together, streams of glittering urine spurting simultaneously and arcing upwards to splash the ground of the dirty alley a good ten feet in front of them.
Pam looked from the pissing girls to the grinning cops and closed her eyes, cringing inwardly. But she could still hear the squirt and spatter of piss and all too clearly imagine the two girls straining desperately to force their flows the extra few inches that meant the difference between freedom and the hideous brutality of a hundred lashes. It was too tempting to see which one would win. Pam opened her eyes.
The twin streams slackened, fell away to a trickle and then stopped. Two pairs of wide, anxious eyes watched the sergeant step forward to examine the wet stains on the ground. Pam found she was holding her breath. Was Miranda’s marginally further? As the cop looked down, the brunette girl beside Pam suddenly sprayed her own stream of urine across the ground directly in front of him.
He jumped back as it beaded the toes of his shoes. “What the hell? Is this bitch crazy? Come here, you two.”
Carefully avoiding the tracks their piss had made, Miranda and Persephone approached the sergeant. They were both quivering. He waited for the slave girl’s flow to end before bending to examine the stains, obscured now by those she had created. With a quizzical glance in her direction he straightened up and shrugged.
“I guess we’ll never know. Back against the wall. Hands behind your necks. Come on; get your elbows back. Stick those tits out.” He poked the end of his stick into the round fullness of Miranda’s left breast. “Ever had a real cock in that Sapphic snatch of yours?”
She looked horrified.
“Well?” He poked her right breast.
“Ow! Yes, yes, of course.”
“Yes what?”
She shook her head, close to tears. “I… don’t understand.”
He held up a thumb and forefinger with a tiny gap between them. “You’re this far from a flogging and slavery. What do you think you should call me?”
Miranda swallowed. “Sir? No, not Sir, M… Master.” She was scarlet from her hairline to the tops of her breasts.
“How about you little tits?”
Persephone shivered. “Yes, M… Master, I’ve had cocks in me too.”
He raised an eyebrow at her flushed face and glittering eyes and began loosening the pistol belt around his waist. Laying it aside, he unbuttoned his frock coat. “Maybe a couple more will be enough to straighten you out, then. What do you think, big tits?”
Miranda took a long, shuddering breath. “I… yes, M… Master.”
“Yes, Master,” Persephone said, as he switched his gaze to her while unbuckling the belt on his trousers.
“Good answers.” He slid the belt free and doubled it in his right hand. “First you’re gonna get a taste of how the leather feels, and maybe you’ll think twice before you try anything this stupid again. You first, big tits. Get over to the opposite wall and lean your hands against it.”
“Oh, no!” Miranda clasped a hand before her breasts, a stricken look on her face.
“Wanna come down town with Murphy and me?”
She hurried to the wall and rested her palms on the brickwork.
“Get your ass higher,” the cop ordered, and she wailed as she slid her hands down the wall until her large breasts swung heavily beneath her and her bottom rose and stuck out more. He looked at Persephone. “You better watch this, missy, because you’re getting the same.”
Pam’s glance showed the blonde’s glittering gaze was riveted to her friend’s rearward-jutting buttocks. Her own bottom tightened, clamping her rear knot around the intruder filling her. A wriggle ran through her stretching membranes and, to her astonishment, all the way to her sex. Beside her the brunette panted. For a second the only other sound was the rasp of Miranda’s breath as she shivered in awestruck expectation of the first blow.
The sergeant swung the belt. It struck flesh with a crack like a pistol shot and the redhead’s tautly stretched buttocks seemed to vibrate under the impact as she gave a strangled cry and shook her ass from side to side. A broad pink line appeared on her trembling, pale-skinned cheeks, quickly followed by another from the second stroke the cop laid across it. Miranda’s rear bounced and the lines turned scarlet as his arm rose and fell rapidly. She squirmed frantically and the note of anguish in her cries rose higher with each smack and thud the leather made. Every blow landed across the centre of her rear cheeks except the last. The sergeant lashed it lower, where thighs and buttocks met and the twin swells of her pussy-lips peeped out. Miranda howled and shot upright, rubbing both hands to her torment. Despite their presence, the cop somehow managed to land a backhanded smack in almost the same spot. She howled again and danced on her toes.
“Nobody told you to move, you sassy bitch. Stay put or I’ll start over.” He waved the belt at Persephone. “Your turn.”
She dashed across the alley, pressed her hands low against the wall and arched her back to lift her narrow bottom. The sergeant swapped a broad grin with Murphy and peered at the fading stripes that still decorated the blonde’s buttocks from when Tania had caned them on the airship.
“Well, what d’ya’ know?” He lashed the belt down hard.
As the leather landed with a fierce crack, Pam tried to ignore the groan of the slave next to her and fought against the memories. Rick had used his belt, flicking it over breasts and belly and thighs as well as her bottom, its sharp,
fiery impacts teasing her towards arousal and preparing her for the deeper, more intense pain to come. Cruelly playful was how she had always thought of it, and all the more exciting because she knew it had aroused Rick as well as herself. A long tremor ran the length of her sheath. She shook her head in a futile attempt to drive the thoughts away.
The belt cracked a final time. Persephone gave a long, shuddering groan, wiggled her hips and made no effort to reach back to her hurts as Miranda had done, though her bottom was shining as redly as the other girl’s. The sergeant stood behind her and unbuttoned his trousers. His partner was doing the same. Fresh quivers plagued Pam as she saw the men’s erections. Again she remembered, but it was not images of Rick that suddenly made her dew bathe the tingling membranes of her pussy. What she recalled was Drake’s rearing cock and how it had felt between her lips. Her gut churned as she watched the sergeant position himself, grasp his shaft behind its broad head and press it to the rearward-pouting lips of Persephone’s pussy. They yielded to the hard flesh and Pam’s sex quivered maddeningly. The brunette slave groaned again and pressed her thighs together, pulling against the leather bands around her wrists. Murphy filled Miranda with equal ease and began slowly slapping his belly against her redly glowing backside. She gasped and whimpered as loudly as Persephone was doing under the sergeant’s thrusts.
“Hell, she’s got a grip like a clenched fist,” Murphy said, in mixed surprise and admiration.
“This one two. Must be all those rubber dicks they like taking.” The sergeant lunged hard enough to rock Persephone onto the balls of her feet. “You enjoying having some real cock for a change, missy?”
“Ooh! Oh! Yes, Master,” she said breathlessly.
“Then shake your ass and show me how much, you dirty bitch.”
She began thrusting backwards to meet his plunging cock, and at the same time making little circular motions of her hips.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Hell, it’s good. Where’d you learn to do that?”
“Wish my old lady could,” Murphy said tightly, as Miranda did the same to him.
The two men took them harder and faster after that, silent but for their grunts and sighs and the rasp of their rapid breathing. They paused long enough to ‘swap snatches’, as the sergeant put it, and continued for several minutes without showing signs of flagging. Pam only half-saw it, floundering amidst the memories of the sight and touch and taste of Rafael Drake. Why had he kissed her?
“Ooh! Coming! I’m coming!” Persephone’s hips writhed so much she almost fell. The cop gripped her tighter and continued thrusting. Seconds later Miranda also gave all the signs of having an enthusiastic climax and was joined by the trembling brunette slave, who shuddered and cooed ecstatically and filled the air around them all with the pungent aroma of her girl-musk. Pam shivered too, nervous, worried, alarmed by the heat spreading through her and the tremors low in her belly. God, was this what taking too much of that awful Venus Dust did to a girl?
The men climaxed with obvious pleasure and satisfaction, and withdrew from their panting victims.
“Now you can kneel and lick us clean like a couple of good slave girls,” the sergeant told them. “Then we’ll decide what we’re gonna do.”
If the two mistresses felt any distaste or humiliation they hid it well as they licked the cocks, and their red faces could have as easily been the result of their exertions as embarrassment at being treated like slaves. When their tongues were back inside their mouths and the men’s shrinking shafts back in their trousers the sergeant lined them against the wall again.
“Okay, I gotta tell you ladies I’m impressed. You were pretty damned good.” His grin no longer seemed so menacing as it had earlier. “I guess there’s a chance me and Murphy were mistaken about what we saw going on. What do you think?”
Faces alight with hope the young mistresses answered together. “Yes, Master.”
The cop nodded. “Tell you what. Get your snatches spread. If both your clits are still sticking out we’ll forget this ever happened.”
They instantly dived their hands between their legs, spread their nether-lips and arched their backs to give the cops a better view. The men leaned forward and peered closely at the wetly glistening pussies. Horrified but fascinated, Pam thought of the fate that awaited the women if they failed the final test. To her relief both were displaying a pink, shiny and firmly erect clitoris to their tormentors.
The cops chuckled.
“Well I guess you win this time,” the sergeant said. “No Judge Hankin for you. And maybe you’ve learned your lesson. Remember it when you sit down on your sore butts for the next few days, and think of how a hundred would feel. The ox-hide is a lot heavier than my belt. You’re not slaves and take my word you don’t wanna be. Keep your Sapphism indoors in future.” He waved his nightstick under their noses. “Don’t parade it around the streets. I don’t wanna see your ID. I don’t wanna know who you are. But don’t bet on being so lucky next time, so make sure there isn’t one.” He led Murphy to the mouth of the alley. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. If you’re still here I’ll take you down the precinct and put you in the lockup for the night.” Grinning broadly, he disappeared around the corner with his partner.
Eve and the other bodyguard pulled their pants up and retrieved their gun belts. The slave girls stood still, awaiting orders. Both looking stunned. Persephone and Miranda did not move. Miranda came to life first. She went to the brunette slave whose timely piss had possibly saved both mistresses.
“Tonight you won’t be chained,” she promised. “I’m giving you a dildo, and tomorrow you can play with your pussy all day long if you want to.” She turned to Persephone. “My God, that was absolutely terrifying.”
“And absolutely amazing,” the blonde said, still breathless. “God, just thinking about it is making me need to come again.” She slid a hand between her legs and rubbed hard.
“You’re crazy,” Miranda said. “They’ll be coming back.”
“But not for another five minutes.” Persephone continued masturbating.
After a moment’s hesitation Miranda copied her, and almost immediately they were both squirming and sighing in the throes of their climaxes. A moment later the brunette slave did the same. The two mistresses exchanged astonished glances and began to laugh.
*
Persephone stopped caressing the breasts of the two hotel slaves, smoothed her hands slowly over their bellies and loosed the ties that held their loincloths in place. The moment the material slipped from their hips she sank the middle fingers of both hands into the girls’ depilated sexes and kissed each of them on the lips.
“Feel the Venus Dust, darlings? You’ll forget everything but the pleasure, I promise. You’ll feel wonderful.”
The girls trembled all the way to the tips of their breasts as her fingers moved within them. They had been that way all through serving the dinner that had just ended, but it seemed that their eyes had grown brighter and their breathing quicker and shallower since they swallowed the drug.
Pam was feeling the Venus Dust too. She had been first to be made to take it. Its peppery effervescence lingered in her mouth and gullet, and its warmth in her belly had already spread lower, increasing the tingling between her thighs that had been there for most of the day. Similar warmth filled her head, soaking her brain and creating a soft, buzzing excitement, and curiously, at the same time a not unpleasant languor that seemed to slow every movement but the rapid beating of her heart. Feeling strangely detached from what was happening around her, Pam watched the ripple of muscles in Persephone’s taut and reddened backside as the blonde walked naked, lithe and catlike to the rack of punishment implements the hotel provided for the use of guests, and selected one.
“The deerskin, darlings. No, on second thought the horsehair.” She put her first choice back and plucked a horsehair flogger from the rack, smoothing its dozens of fine tails through her left palm. “I’m going to warm you up a little,” she told th
e two slave girls. “First those gorgeously cheeky bottoms and then your divine tits.”
Dreamily, Pam watched Ellen and Barbara kneel and turn up the full curves of their buttocks for the flogger. They were side by side in front of the glass doors that opened onto the wide balcony, and the evening sunlight was reflecting off the windows of the building opposite, casting patterns in light and shade across their naked bodies. The patterns danced over their skins as the horsehair swished and the slaves shivered under its kiss. Persephone dusted it over their pale rear cheeks, gently at first, but impatience soon had her swinging it harder and the girls bottoms were pale no longer but suffused with a pinkness that rapidly turned to red. The slaves rocked and twisted as the blows continued and their intensity increased.
Kneeling between Tania and Milly on the luxuriously thick carpet, Pam tried hard to keep thoughts of the hot sting that must be spreading over the girls’ soft skins from forcing their way into her mind. Did they find it as hard as she did to be continually at the beck and call of others and completely at the mercy of their whims? They showed no sign of resentment as they raised their hands behind their necks and pushed out their breasts to be stung by the horsehair, but surely it had to be there. The blonde plied the flogger skilfully, flicking its strands in turn across each girl’s out-thrust tits in fiery caresses to their undersides or rounded upper curves. Apart from the inevitable sway and jiggle of their breasts the slaves kept still, giving only an occasional mew or hiss as the blows quickened.
The drug was coursing through Pam’s veins. She had buried her memories deep, determined they would never resurface to haunt her and wound again her tormented heart, but she was weakening. She had hung from her wrist cuffs with her toes barely brushing the floor, nude, sweat-sheened, seeing herself in the full-length mirror as Rick had lashed her. Her breasts had jiggled and bounced from the impacts of the leather and she had watched the thin, scorching tracks appear on her white-skinned mounds. They had hurt horribly, but they had also been wickedly, tantalisingly exciting.
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