“I think our minds are becoming as devious as our hosts’,” Erik suggested. He took a paddle from the trunk and strut from bared ass to bared ass whacking each one until it was hotly colored. Even Laney’s ass took more abuse. Matthew followed with a riding crop, repeating the same rough treatment, and Jason added a few smart smacks of his leather spanker to Sandra and Elise’s roughed up behinds. Before they were finished, Matthew exploded his cum over Sandra’s spanked behind, and Elise, untied and pulled from the pedestal, took Erik’s erection into her mouth, sucking until the orgasm thundered through him and his cum spilled down her mouth and chin.
Resting from their tiring labor, the three men washed a few pretzels down with beer and finally untied their slaves, bringing them back to the fireplace on leashes.
In that remarkable hour, the nature of their stay on Marquis Island was written. No one had disagreed, there was not one protest—not even the thought of one passed through their minds. The transformation was complete, but eerie, even dreamlike, as though they were all the puppets of an unseen master who, with sleight of hand and wily schemes, directed their unspeakable acts.
Three slaves slept at the footboards of their master’s bed that night, contentedly, while in the minds of the men who relished the comfort of real mattresses, more wicked thoughts of domination appeared in their minds. They woke startled by what their dreams had to tell.
Chapter Four
The hypnotic winds whipping the island did not cease the next day—but seemed to blow harder still.
The next morning, the three collared slaves were turned loose in the kitchen to make breakfast, which they did naked, with gags in their mouths to prevent them from speaking. Matthew seemed to think it would be best that they did not talk among themselves. The others agreed.
When the meal was served, each slave sat at their master’s feet waiting for crumbs. More importantly, waiting for their gags to be removed. However, the meal continued with no reward in sight for the famished three. Instead of being fed, after their masters had eaten, the slaves were each chained to marble columns in the dining room, their arms strung up high so that they stood stretched out flatly against the cold stone. Their ankles were bound to the base so they could hardly move—just enough to stimulate their anxious pubic mounds, which seemed constantly raw now with arousal.
In this position, they took their morning punishment, as their asses brightened with the application of paddles and straps until all three charming derrieres were rosy hued and hurting. After letting them dangle a bit displaying their worked behinds, their masters took them down and removed their gags. As long as they didn’t utter a word, they were allowed to eat the leftovers from the meal. By then, they were so hungry that they would have agreed to most anything, so they obeyed.
Once the morning chores were complete—the kitchen had been cleaned and the rest of the main floor adequately picked-up—Erik led the three slaves into the library where they stood in a line at attention, like sexual soldiers ready for battle with their loins cocked and waiting.
“After you’ve been appropriately posed, we’re going to have our morning reading. Gentlemen,” he turned to his friends, and each swiftly positioned their slave in a manner that most suited them.
Laney was on the floor at Erik’s feet, her head to the wood, her hands clasped behind her. As Erik would read from Barth’s book, he’d keep a cane in his free hand and whack his slave on the thighs or ass as often as the notion struck him.
Nearby, Jason sat Sandra in a straight back chair—after she’d been forced to wriggle a greased plug into her ass. With her impaled pink cheeks pressed to the back of the chair, her arms were then pulled over the top of the back bar, and her hands manacled together in chains. In the awkward position her breasts were thrust out lewdly, her nipples adorned with clamps that pinched the flesh enough so that a tiny stream of pain constantly charged her nerves.
Finally, Elise was positioned straddling a spanking bench the men had pulled from a closet in one corner of the library. Her legs were tied widely apart so that, like Laney, her private parts were lewdly displayed. Matthew shocked her system even more with clothespins attached to each labia, which produced a dull aching sensation that grew more uncomfortable with each moment that passed.
The slaves ready, Erik read again…
“Chapter Three, The Use of the Whip—for Humbling, Sensuality and Punishment.”
He paused, looked to see that he had the room’s attention, and began the chapter.
“The whip is perhaps the most enticing of all sadomasochistic implements for its many varied uses. It serves extremely well as a correctional device, can be employed to quickly humble any slave, and is one of the most sensuous of any master’s erotic toys. Paddles and wood in general are primarily used for discipline and harsh punishment—something that every slave should know well. Straps, while sometimes sensuous, have the same correctional implications as the paddle, and unlike the paddle can be used for long, harsh sessions of punishment. It is the whip, however, that is the most intriguing in my mind, and so I focus on its use.
“While there are a variety of whips to choose from, I do have my preferences. An expertly wielded bullwhip can be an extraordinary tool, but it is also extremely dangerous in an unskilled hand. I do not recommend it for novices, especially when there are other whips as useful, erotic and far easier to employ. My favorite is a six-taloned ‘dancer’ made of three-foot lengths of braided leather with split or tasseled ends. The size makes the device easy to control and easy to wield, while its specific design can produce a shocking degree of cutting punishment or a deliciously sensuous spray of sensation—dependent solely on a mere flick of the wrist.
An effectively handled ‘dancer’ whistles in the air, while its blow offers a far reaching result, covering a good deal of your subject’s flesh—or if artfully applied, centering in on one particular physical target. The ‘dancer’ is also an effective implement for the stimulation and punishment of a slave’s forward body—belly, breasts, thighs and cunt. Applied with a minimum of practiced finesse, the ‘dancer’ can skim the surface of the flesh, or bite without severe damage. Even applied directly to your subject’s splayed cunt, the implement can be functionally administered without fear of injury.
A slave has not completely understood the nature of surrender until they have been soundly beaten about their tender privates. The ecstasy and the pain are breathtaking companions in the journey to total abnegation of the ego. The cry of your slave in the midst of such treatment inspires the sadist in their purpose and beckons them onward. In my experience, there is no implement quite so astounding for these purposes. Some masters will argue with me, that the cane can be as shrewdly employed. And though I find the cane a mesmerizing device, it does not animate master and submissive in the same joyous manner as a six-thonged ‘dancer’.”
Erik chuckled, pausing, “Barth was quite the romantic when it came to his craft. Perhaps I should have his ‘dancer’ not this rod.” He eyed the cane in his hand, then gave Laney a sharp cut on the rear. “Still with me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It would seem to me that we’ve gone too lightly on these ladies,” Jason piped up. “If this whip is so easy to use, I think it’s time we found one.”
Matthew was already on the move, rummaging through one of the library closets, which the men had discovered were great storehouses of S&M paraphernalia. “Here. I think this is the implement our host favors.” From deep inside the cabinet, he withdrew an awesome looking black whip with six leather talons woven into a braided handle. Drawing back the thongs, he whisked them meanly through the air so everyone could hear the whistle Barth mentioned in his book. Laney, Sandra and Elise shuddered perceptibly as the sizzle worked its way inside their quaking bodies. Even their masters seemed respectful of the sound.
None of the women could forget the suggestions that the master had made for the ‘dancer’s’ use. And while they understood the severe bite that
might work inside their backs and asses, they could not yet fathom the whip’s sting on their bare genitals. This was a torture beyond their comprehension; but because it had been so graphically described for them, their minds and bodies were already anxiously seizing on the idea.
Taking his new toy to the bowed and bound Elise, Matthew let the feel of the leather handle and its dangling thongs begin to work its magic. Desire crept up through his fingers and into his arm, the sensations of dominant lust then moving through his blood and bones, and into his belly and groin where his cock replied with throbbing pulses. Beginning a slow assault, Matthew let the words of the experienced master urge him forward as the whip’s six talons rained like sensuous nails across his slave’s back and buttocks. He spent some moments getting used to the varied ways in which he could administer his strikes—from the gently sensuous to the severely ruthless.
A harrowing chorus of replies peppered the air as his slave moaned erotically, then grimaced, tensed, and sometimes screamed in anguish.
“You should be glad I haven’t already turned you over,” Matthew informed her when one bloodcurdling cry splattered the room with sound. “Get used it slave, I rather like Mr. Barth’s assessment of this whip, and I won’t spare a target on your worthless body.” His words cut as meanly as the ‘dancer’ buffeting her skin. But neither word nor whip was without an erotic stimulus.
Holding her breath after each strike, Elise anticipated the next with longing she could taste on her lonely lips. Though her eyes filled with tears as the pain increased, when they splashed down her face, she found them almost as soothing as the next biting snap.
Rashes of red began to surface on her skin. Her back, her thighs and the plump centers of her ass brightened. She began to sway, making erotic movements against the flat board that held her body, as though she were making love to the inanimate thing.
“I want her on the dais,” Matthew suddenly stopped. With the glint in his eye lighting like a flame, he began undoing the ropes that bound his slave wife to the spanking bench. Having her freed, he pulled her to the corner of the library, where there was an unusual structure, the purpose of which having just appeared as a vision in Matthew’s head. This large, deeply rounded alcove must have measured roughly four feet on each side, defined at each corner by tall, fluted columns similar to those throughout the house. Like all the other stately pillars, these were fitted with a series of O-rings embedded in the stone at various heights. Between the four columns was a polished, marble dais about three feet off the floor. Though there were dozens of possible positions for binding a slave, there was just one in Matthew’s mind, the basis for it straight from Barth’s chronicle of the whip.
Already cuffed at the ankles and wrists, Elise was immediately bound on her back with her arms stretched high above her head and fixed to the columns in the corner; while her legs were spread and attached to the forward columns. For this session, however, her ankles were bound nearly three feet above her body. Ass, hanging free at the edge of the dais, her pussy was spread, which left her most private places vulnerable to the whip about to conduct a second reign of terror.
Mathew’s first move brought him to the dais, standing at his wife’s side looking down on the scared woman. She jumped anxiously; and her lips were parted as though any minute she would beg for mercy. Dangling the loose ends of the ‘dancer’s’ talons across her breasts and belly, her master gently teased her body and her mind, which was nearly numb with fright.
“You’re giving yourself away, darling slave.” He almost sounded kind; though the expression on his curled lip was too wicked to consider kind. He let his unbridled talons float about her pussy hairs and then dragged them over the sensitive open cleft where her clit and the tender tissue around it screamed in fear as dearly as Elise’s baffled eyes. “You’re wet,” he pointed out the obvious. Her startled pussy tightened, for the caress only doubled her arousal.
As he moved to her breasts he flicked the talons with more intensity, letting the ends come down with a bite; then harder still, until she struggled frantically back and forth in her useless attempts to avoid the strikes. Already, there were patchy places on her slight breasts where the leather dug into the softness.
“Ah, no, please,” her first audible cries bruised the air with a woeful tune.
Matthew was unmoved as he flicked the loose ends on her undulating belly. “Ah, nooooo!” she emitted another pleasured, painful gasp. Feeling the whip at her pussy, her entire body quaked end to end, and she thrashed her hips as far as she could. It was no use. There was no avoiding the mean ends of this whip.
Moving off the dais, Matthew took his position facing Elise’s open cunt and began raining down on the exposed cleft with a series of strikes—some mere caresses, others fierce with the intention to cause his slave great pain. The whip deserved its name, dancing off this victim’s private places, cutting into her thighs and occasionally grabbing at her belly with a painful snap. Elise shrieked while her hips continued to gyrate wildly.
“A dildo, Jason!” Matthew turned to his friend, who then rummaged through the library coming up with the requested device. “In her cunt.”
Jason obliged, shoving the thick plastic erection far into the slave’s wet hole, for several seconds thrusting the dildo like a dick, seeing how the penetration was turning the pain into something more. “Hold it there, slave.” As he backed off, Matthew began again, giving the shameless slut a thorough, yet artful experience in submissive lust. It wasn’t long before her body brightened, her back arched, and she climaxed with her muscles squeezing the plastic dick as though she might make the thing ejaculate.
Throwing down the whip, Matthew jumped to the dais and straddled his wife’s head with his knees. “You owe me, slave,” he informed her while he opened his fly and speared her mouth with his stiff organ pushing down her throat. She was as effective with his erection as the dildo and whip had been with her cunt. He splattered his seed from her throat, to her mouth, to her lips, to her chin and naked breasts. “There now,” he said as he pulled off, “you’ve been well whipped.”
The other slaves in the room were rocked with heat, while a surge of deviously dominant desire swam through Erik and Jason’s blood.
Picking up the whip, Erik strode back to his wife who was now humbled on the floor, and urged her with the biting talons toward the center of the room where Sandra remained bound in her chair.
“Watch, bitch, you’ll be last,” he said to Laney, positioning her to his right where she could plainly see the abuse he’d give the petrified blonde. Then gathering the ends of the talons in his left hand, he started his strike with his right hand, letting the ends go so that they landed together on the alabaster sheet of Sandra’s fleshy breasts. Her entire body stiffened, and again, each time he laid his calculated strikes against her skin.
While Erik worked, Jason crouched behind her, running a finger along her shoulders. “Does this hurt?” he asked her mockingly.
“Sheaahhhh,” she whimpered. Attempts to remain mute were swiftly dwindling away, as stroke after stroke of Erik’s genius played out on Sandra’s body. He struck the breasts, and her belly as it rose and fell like a breeze that causes autumn branches to rise and fall; finally her thighs—though tied as she was, he couldn’t hit her pussy. Her ass was still plugged with the fat dildo, and her hips pressed back far in the seat. When she squirmed, the action of the dildo in her was as painful as the whip on her skin. But her gyrations didn’t stop as the innately skilled Erik worked her body to a peak of impossible sensation.
“I think she needs this on her cleft,” he finally announced. “A direct hit.”
Thinking the same thing, Jason untied the writhing beauty. Though grateful solely for the change in position, Sandra’s moment of relief only lasted a few seconds. When the two men led her to the dais, from which Elise had just been released, they laid her on the floor, then tied her wrists together, fastening them to the floor above her head. Unlike Elise, they boun
d her ankles together as well, and lifted them straight up, attaching her bonds to O-rings in the balustrade above, leaving her ass just slight elevated off the dais. The anal plug remained like a fixture, shoved deep into her ass.
The whipping that followed was Jason’s first feel of the whip. Relishing the surge of power generated by its unrelenting feel, he worked Sandra’s pussy soundly, with strikes that bit and bit again. His style was more methodical than his friend’s, the gait steadier. But the intensity and the drama were not as harsh as Matthew’s more quixotic treatment; and the end came sooner. Sandra did not, however, climax from her punishment. The plug in her ass, while rigid and uncomfortable, could not massage the important places in her crotch.
“Slave,” Erik aimed the command at his wife, “use your mouth to work her cunt.”
For Laney, the thought of sex with her best friends could never be distasteful—even though it had not yet taken place. Never in her wildest imaginings, however, had she thought such a moment would come in this extraordinary way. Now crawling to the woman in bondage, her eyes were glued to the sight before her, the pink marked flesh, the struggling, swinging ass, the long legs tethered to the rings above and Sandra’s beautiful pink cunt throbbing before her face. This was not the way she imagined it. There was no intimacy, no kisses, no breath on breath, or smile, or ticklish nibbling, or any of the things she might have expected from female/female love. It was mouth on pussy and nothing more—or so she thought—but regardless of its less than sensuous aspects, Laney dutifully dived into the task, with the faint hope that there would be some degree of pleasure for them both.
Licking the moistened hole, she felt Sandra’s body stir with desire. It seemed to sweep her system quickly, arousing her animated moans of delight. Laney could feel Sandra’s pulse quickening, and sensed the spasms begin to build in her belly. Working her tongue around her sweet-tasting clit, she knew that each delicate measure brought the bound blonde closer to the end. So intent on Sandra’s climax, she hardly heard Jason barking out his order.
The Marquis' Book of Pleasure & Property of the Marquis Page 6