The Slave

by Laura Antoniou

  Teamed with a brief skirt and the fancy jewelry that was provided for her, she knew that it had looked cute during the party. It also encouraged the guests to make free use of her exposed breasts, and her nipples were already aching and itching for more attention. But now, they seemed nothing but slightly numb. Raul had affixed large, decorative clamps to them before leaving, and the weighted ball that hung suspended from the clamps bounced against her pubic mound every time she as much as stretched.

  Her fingers clenched the sky again. It was bad enough to be bound. It was always worse to be bound while in high-heeled shoes. Before Monica arrived, she had experimented with easing the pain by slowly lifting one leg and then the other and flexing her ankles. Now, she held still and tried to look as dignified as the circumstances allowed.

  But she felt like she wanted to die. “Is this what you wanted me to see?” The not-Monica woman asked.

  “Yep. Want to stay for the entertainment portion of our evening?”

  “Hell, yes!”

  “Good. Look over there in that chest and see what the boys have left us to play with.” Robin felt someone move in front of her, and then the lifting and release of the weight that hung in front of her body. It swung out and bounced between her legs several times, and she gave a slight moan.

  “Are you having a happy New Year?” Monica asked, letting the weight swing back and forth.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Robin said. Her teeth clenched as the weight was removed, followed by the clamps. Heat rushed back into her nipples, making them tingle and smart.

  “Oh good. It’s about to get happier, isn’t it?”

  Robin couldn’t help but smile. “Oh yes, ma’am.”

  “Cheeky little slut, isn’t she?”

  “Oh they all are. What did you find?”

  “Good stuff. See?”

  “Great.” Monica’s body pressed against Robin, the warmth and the scent of a woman filling Robin’s senses. “But you know, let’s try to keep it low key. I want to get as much use out of her as possible before I collapse from exhaustion. The question is, do we leave her here or get her down?”

  “Well, she’s no damn use to me with her mouth all the way up there!” The two women giggled, and Robin pressed her lips together to keep from joining them.

  “Oh, poor baby,” Monica whispered in her ear. “We’ll get you down soon enough. Those boys are dressing you up like a little fashion doll, aren’t they? Well, we don’t need this kind of wrapping on our presents. April, come here and help me raise the boys’ costuming budget this year.”

  With more laughter, the two women stripped the tacky lingerie off of Robin by tearing it in long strips. Each tug forced Robin to pull against it, to brace herself on her stretched legs and the balls of her feet, and the women were quick to use slaps and pinches to get her to move in the right direction. As the material deteriorated into long, tangled strands, they plucked them away, or wrapped them around her limbs, making spiral designs against her thighs and upper arms. Still, the blindfold remained on, and Robin remembered the night she had with Chris and Rachel, which suddenly seemed like such a long time ago.

  When two fingers pushed past the ribbons and last remaining lines of netting that barely covered her pubic mound, she unhesitatingly pushed back. They entered her smoothly, and she heard Monica’s pleased laugh.

  “Yes, she likes it,” Monica said out loud. “And after so many months in a houseful of men, who can blame her? Do you like to eat pussy, slave? Do you like to lick cunts, and nibble on a woman’s body?”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “What a surprise. And how fortunate for you. I think we’re both in that kind of a mood tonight. Would you like to play with her pretty little tits while I warm her up, April?”

  “Why thank you, Monica, you’re too kind.”

  Robin felt Monica come up behind her, and then felt the woman’s arms wrap around her, pulling her back so that her ass was thrust out a little more. A light tap on the inside of her thigh told her to spread her legs wider, and with a groan, she did.

  Monica wrapped her arms around Robin’s body and lifted her breasts into her hands, as though offering them to April. While she was that close, the dark-haired woman nuzzled the back of Robin’s throat and then bit sharply. Robin gasped, and felt a new surge of wetness between her legs. Oh this is nice, she thought, feeling the slight sting of pain when Monica’s mouth moved away.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when April suddenly cupped both her breasts in her own hands and squeezed harshly. Robin moaned deeply, and April let go of the captive breasts to pinch the sore nipples and roll them slowly between her fingertips. Robin could feel the bite of long nails.

  Gradually over the space of several long minutes, April began to increase the force of her compression, making Robin twitch and gasp with random strong pinches. But Robin hadn’t been in this house for a year without a lot of playing on those poor portals to pleasure. As the pressure increased, and as April began to change from rolling to twisting, Robin groaned but also sighed, and couldn’t help it as she pushed her ass even further back, to encounter Monica’s body again.

  “Sweet slut,” Monica murmured, biting Robin’s neck again. “You’re so hot for us.” She pushed Robin forward violently, and Robin’s body smashed into April. “Bad girl,” Monica said, raising her voice over April’s laughter. “Should learn to keep your balance! Now, we’re going to have to punish you!”

  I’m sorry, ma’am, please forgive me, ma’am,” Robin wailed, struggling back onto her feet.

  “Too late! On with the punishment!” And with a delighted laugh, as though she had just gotten a long-awaited present, Monica began to smack Robin’s ass cheeks, alternating sides. “Oh you’re going to get it, my little slave girl. All night long, you’re going to get it.”

  “Hey, she ran into me, I should be spanking her!”

  “Well, then get over here and let me play with her tits for a while.”

  They switched places, and April began a slow and heavy spanking, rubbing her hands all over Robin’s cheeks and cupping and spreading them. But in front of her body, Monica began a soft and teasing exploration of Robin’s breasts and nipples, being as deliberately gentle as April had been deliberately cruel.

  It was its own exquisite cruelty. Monica trailed her fingers around Robin’s breasts in soft spirals, first along the sensitive skin of her chest and underneath their swell, then closer and closer to the aureoles and the sore nipples. Then she would make lazy circles away from them.

  April got bored with spanking very quickly and began to use one of the short quirts she found in the chest. For this, Robin couldn’t hold still. The two leather thongs on the end of the braided handle whistled and wrapped around her curves as April flicked them back and forth. But now, when Robin’s body jerked away, she was bumping against Monica.

  Monica reacted by bending down and taking one nipple between her teeth. The sharp pinching was expected and wonderful. But when April continued to lash away at Robin’s buttocks and the backs of her legs, Robin couldn’t hold herself still. She wriggled and writhed under the lash, only to find that Monica wouldn’t move at all.

  She was in effect making Robin put more pressure on her own nipple. And meanwhile, Monica’s fingers never ceased their wandering; tracing larger and larger circles, they began to drift over Robin’s ribs and her sides.

  As April’s punishing strokes from behind pushed Robin’s body forward, Monica met each thrusting movement with a light touch of fluttering fingers and the pinching sting of a bite.

  Within minutes, Robin was whimpering steadily, dancing on the edges of pain and delight, her body maneuvered one way or another without her participation or awareness. All she knew was sensation, on one side and then another, a burning touch here and a lewd caress there, the feathery teasing below and the pulling from above. By the time one of Monica’s fingers reached the top of her pubic mound, the only thing that Robin could do was thrust her hips forward agai
n, even though this cost her the last of her stability and stretched her body out to the fullest.

  “Jeez, she’s having all the fun,” April complained as Monica laughed and danced away from Robin’s hungry body.

  “We can’t have that,” Monica agreed. “Time to get that mouth down?”

  “Way down!”

  And Robin next found herself lowered to her knees and presented with a wet and musky female delta; the two women stood above her and embraced each other while she blindly caressed the flesh before her. The warmth of their legs surrounding her body was like a secure prison, but made of bars she longed to throw herself around.

  The form before her was soft and round, with a light covering of closely shorn hair. In seconds, Robin knew it had to be April. She remembered her from earlier―a curvaceous, substantial woman who looked as though she had been poured into a long gown with a wide sash around its waist. She had not arrived with Monica, but gravitated toward her during the evening. It had been clear that they were old friends.

  Robin concentrated on pleasing. Her tongue darted out and flicked, explored and kissed. She kept it all gentle until one hand grabbed her hair and pulled her sharply in. Above her, she could hear more muffled giggles. She renewed her efforts, this time being bolder and more energetic. She washed the flat of her tongue over the exposed soft inner folds of April’s labia, and sucked them into her mouth to lick the edges and work them back and forth. And when April bent her knees slightly and tilted her pubis a little bit more, Robin knew what to do, and nosed directly for the clit.

  April’s was large, and slightly extended. It was a delight to caress, a swollen knob that made its owner quiver when Robin sucked it into her mouth.

  It was a new kind of torture when Robin felt herself pulled away, and hands pushed at her body until she turned around to find a new pussy suspended before her face.

  “Get the idea, slave?” she heard from above her. “Keep going back and forth, whenever you’re tapped. And keep your mind on what’s down there!”

  How could she not?

  From one woman to the other, Robin was trapped in a circle of steamy musk. She began to cry; it was all too much, being surrounded, being drowned in women’s flesh. Her body ached and tingled from her lengthy bondage and the punishing stripes of the quirt, but she kept moving, from one side to another, back and forth, until she realized that she had forgotten which woman was before her. It would always take a few seconds to figure it out, and each new bout of mystery thrilled her even more.

  “I need to do this on my back,” April finally announced in a throaty moan. It was Monica who pulled Robin from her position on the floor and jerked the comforting blindfold off. Robin blinked as the lights in the room blinded her even more than the heavy silk had, but she was given no time to adjust. April was on the bed, her legs spread and knees pulled up, and Monica simply pushed Robin into place, on her hands and knees, face firmly down into a well of cunt flesh.

  Behind her, Monica began to spank again, this time in a quick rhythm. Robin moaned, and began to lick. April didn’t have her waste one second where it wasn’t needed. As the spanks grew in intensity and stinging pain, Robin’s face was forcibly pushed and pulled over the spot that April chose, until the reclining woman began to shudder and rock, thrusting her hips up to meet Robin’s searching mouth. She was more than ready; reaching down, she ground Robin’s lips against her flesh and cried out, a long, inarticulate cry of pleasure.

  When Robin was pulled away, she saw April’s look of languid contentment for about three seconds before Monica pulled her off the bed. From the floor, Robin watched while Monica slowly and carefully disrobed, and when the woman sat down in the low wing chair that faced the bed, Robin crawled between her legs to minister to her as well.

  It was exhausting, exhilarating. By the time the two women were finished with her, the sounds of the continuing party had all ended, and the rest of the house was shrouded in silence. April and Monica tangled themselves up in the bed, and before turning out the light, Monica had said, sleepily, “You can stay, kiddo.”

  Which was what Robin intended to do. But first, she crept about the room, picking things up and hanging up the two party dresses the women had worn. It was easy for her to do, now that she was so familiar with the layout and where things were stored. Then, she tip-toed out of the room to get another bottle of mineral water; the two guests had finished the one that was in the room already. Downstairs, she paused to look at the detritus of the party. It had been quite a rocking affair. But she had been invited to stay with a guest; until she was called for work, she had to fulfill the guest’s wishes.

  Not that it was any hardship.

  Happy New Year, she thought to herself as she drifted off. She slept as comfortably and heavily as the two women in the bed above her. Maybe even more so.

  Chapter Twenty

  Another problem with living in paradise, Robin reflected, was that you didn’t have the powerful seasonal changes. The heck with snow, she could learn to live without that. But the fact that the trees and shrubs were never bare made springtime all the more difficult to discern.

  But it was only her second spring out west. Two autumns, two winters. Maybe as she spent more time here, she would begin to see the differences that must be there.

  She was earnestly trying not to remember that, in the coming autumn, she would have to renegotiate her contract. That is, if Eric and Jimmy wanted to keep her. If not, she could always opt to get back on the block.

  But we’re not thinking about that, she sternly reminded herself. We are thinking about a pre-Columbian fetish doll and whether it’s worth the trouble of acquiring it versus the negative publicity the auction is bound to receive. It was all the rage now for people to acquire such items and then give them back to the native tribe they belonged to. Activists in costume were beginning to attend the bigger galleries and houses, knowing that anyone who actually bought one of the contested items would have to face a press that would ask tough questions about property and value and religion.

  It was only worth it for people who were able to somehow donate the items in question to some non-profit organization, like a church or a museum. Then, you could put it down as a juicy tax deduction and get the benefits of some positive press. Get your picture taken with someone in native dress. Talk about correcting centuries of abuse as though attempted genocide could be bribed away by returning stolen property.

  Oh boy, you are in a mood today, she reflected. Maybe it’s the wrong time to think about controversial acquisitions and follow up on some old business.

  She had several investment pieces out on the market now, testing the waters before she brought out the more important items. Art and collectibles went in strict cycles. And now, she had expertise in more fields than she could have imagined in her years back in New York.

  It would be so easy to get a great new job if she left slavery behind her. She could even set up her own office and....

  Damn. Doing it again. Robin pulled one hand through her hair and took a couple of deep breaths. Got to concentrate!

  “Rob?” Carl poked his head in the door. He had taken to calling her that from time to time, a little bit of a joke. “Downstairs.”

  Grateful for the interruption, she nodded and got up to follow him. He was still a great friend to have, although they had pretty much stopped screwing around on the side. The last time they fucked, it had been for Jimmy’s amusement. Anal sex out on the deck, bright lights shining on their oiled bodies. Jimmy idly fucking Jeff’s mouth for almost an hour and a half, alternating pulling away and then thrusting violently, easing back and then almost choking the slave.

  It had been a hot night all around.

  Downstairs, Jeff and Raul were already in attendance, Jeff on his knees with his hands clasped behind him and Raul standing. Carl and Robin joined Jeff on the floor, facing their two masters. Eric looked a little annoyed; Jimmy looked downright exasperated.

  Eric got right t
o the point. “Eve Panski hasn’t found the earrings. They must be here.”

  Well, they were all waiting for that news. Panski had been over to the house the previous weekend with her new husband. It had been a friendly visit, the masters hosting a small celebration of her marriage and welcoming Tom into the society of the Marketplace. It had been just fine until the day the guests were packing to leave, when Eve reported that a pair of emerald earrings, her engagement gift from Tom, were not where she had left them the night before.

  A search was launched immediately. Nothing was found. And although Eve was very careful not to even mention the possibility of their being stolen, it was on everyone’s mind. What made the situation even worse was that no other guests had spent the night. If the earrings had been removed by someone, it had to be the owners, or the slaves. Both possibilities were beyond belief.

  But Tom, who didn’t know exactly what kind of an accusation he was making (other than one of simple theft), asked out loud if it were possible to search the slaves’ belongings and room.

  Eric had colored instantly, but before he could deliver some kind of retort, Jimmy ordered Raul to empty the room the slaves shared, removing the four small boxes of personal affects, and the bedding. Shushing Eric by asking him to take the slaves outside and see “if he could find out anything new,” Jimmy then ushered Tom upstairs to conduct the search personally. Naturally, the search turned up nothing more interesting than Carl’s college ring and Robin’s old collar. There was certainly nothing that hadn’t been seen, handled, and approved of by the masters.

  The next day, Raul whispered to Robin, “As if one of us could be a common thief! As if he learned absolutely nothing about us!”