by Sean O'Kane
Bathed and relaxed, she took her time applying perfume under her breasts and between her legs. She took an age to apply exactly the right shade of lipstick and the right amount of lip gloss, in exactly the right way and only when she was quite certain that she looked as good as she could did she slip the dress over her naked body. The neckline plunged right down between her breasts, while over them it clung and moulded itself faithfully to every contour. Like the dresses the others wore, and which she had admired at the monastery, it was split right up to one hip. She walked and twirled in front of the mirrored wall of her bathroom and admired the way the material concealed and revealed by turns. But the crowning glory to her mind, were the fine chains to be worn at wrists and ankles, they had delicate silver bells attached, slave bells, which tinkled softly at every movement. Round her neck she wore a silk choker which matched the scarlet of her dress.
She dined alone with the Patriarch that night.
When she descended the main staircase and entered the dining room, he was waiting for her, immaculate in evening dress. He had even kissed her hand. But then he had stunned her as he led to the table.
“In your honour Paula, I have provided some entertainment. I think it will put us both in the mood for what we know is to follow,” he told her. She looked towards the other end of the long dining table and saw one of the other girls hung by her wrists from two chains which came down from the chandelier above her. Paula couldn’t tell which girl it was because she was hooded completely, the hood even incorporating a gag. Her nipples were clamped and weighted with heavy spiked balls.
“I’ll have her whipped while we eat,” the Patriarch said. Paula knew that the other girls would have envied this one the chance to display the pleasure she took in his total dominance. But even so the casual cruelty set Paula ablaze, as it always did, and even as she took her seat she found herself pressing her thighs together to try and stop the juice of her arousal soaking her dress. At a signal from the Patriarch another girl stepped forward and placed herself behind the chained one. She held a whip, Paula noted that it was not a particularly severe one, having many lightweight lashes, but it was one which a girl used to being beaten with heavier whips could take almost indefinitely and enjoy.
The Patriarch waved a hand as the girl who was waiting on them poured his wine.
“Indefinite number of lashes. Bring her round as necessary.”
The meal began to the heady sound of leather smacking on female flesh, and being answered by muffled grunts which slowly changed to groans of pleasure. As time went on there were more and more pauses while the chosen girl writhed and shook as orgasm after orgasm pulsed through her. Then the remorseless rhythm of the whip would start again, and Paula was deeply impressed by the girl’s ability to maintain consciousness under the barrage of ceaseless stimulation.
Despite the arousing spectacle of the whipping girl twisting and writhing at the end of the table, Paula couldn’t take her eyes off her master. She breathed in every detail of the way he so casually and gracefully accepted the subservience of those around him. She hung on his every word as he told her about his plans for reforming the evils he saw around him. All the time her arousal was being racked up by the steady Thwack! Thwack! of the whip on the body of one of his devoted slaves and she knew what she was waiting for above all. To belong to him utterly at last.
After a long meal, fine wine and a glass of brandy, the Patriarch waved at the girl who was handling the whip. It fell silent and at last the stretched body in chains was allowed to slump forwards as it was taken down. But he and Paula were looking only at one another.
“I will whip you now Paula,” he said quietly.
“I know Master,” she replied.
He took her to one of the basements and watched as she let the dress rustle slowly to the floor and lie at her feet. She raised her arms obediently as he buckled restraints onto her wrists and then tied her wide-spread arms to a steel bar and hauled her up till she hung in agony a foot above the ground. And then he whipped her. He used a long whip similar to the horsewhips she was accustomed to, but this had a lighter lash which prolonged the ordeal and slowed the long climb to ecstasy.
Paula felt as though a dam had burst inside her at the very first lash. She had waited so long, she forgot all her training and let her excitement grow as it would while she writhed and screamed under her Master’s relentlessly steady lashes. Her sex lips quivered and fluttered with longing for him, her belly burned with arousal and her breasts felt as tight as drum skins while her nipples thrust out in rock hard little points. She counted the lashes out loud and came at the fifteenth. He stopped and let her get her breath back before he continued. Another climax ripped through her at twenty five and at thirty lashes she went rigid as the brightest explosion of sensuality she had ever known burst deep in her belly and she almost fainted before he released her.
He took her on the carpeted floor of the room they were in and his powers of self-control drove Paula wild with desire. He took her first in her anus until she came again as the huge shaft stretched her tissues to tearing point, and his hands cupped her breasts and stroked her weals. Then he turned her and used her belly until she was limp and inert, just crying out as one orgasm after another shook her in every limb and her body jerked helplessly as he drove into her time after time. And only when he finally withdrew from her gaping sex did he allow himself his release. He rolled onto his back, grabbed her hair and thrust her face down onto his still, rock hard shaft. He pumped his seed deep into her throat and Paula, lost in an erotic dream and sucking on the huge member which had plundered her back and front passages and which now gagged her, distantly heard his cry of joy and swallowed as fast as she could with the very last of her strength until he slid out of her and she fainted.
A week later she performed her first task for him. The Patriarch summoned her to his office one morning and showed her a file. She was amazed to see that it concerned a very senior government minister.
“There is some legislation going before Parliament in the near future and this man can steer it through. It will greatly benefit the Church; therefore we must make sure we control him so that he does exactly what we want. I am going to offer you to him Paula.”
“Of course Master.”
“Men who are already corrupt are easy to corrupt even more. That’s why the Church needs the services of beautiful women. Let this man think he controls you Paula, let him think you are his slave. And he will be our slave.”
“The Honeypot, Master,” Paula said laughing.
He smiled at her and reached out to put his hand up her short skirt. He stroked the slit of her sex affectionately but wouldn’t be distracted. “Precisely Paula. The Honeypot. Now look at these and see what it is he likes.”
She looked at the sheets of the dossier. The research was thorough, it even stated that the riding crop was his preferred instrument of discipline but there was something else. And just as she was about to turn and ask her Master, he placed a handful of long, thin needles on the desk.
“These,” he said, anticipating her question, “he likes to use these. They can be inserted into the flesh in various sensitive spots. They cause a lot of pain but leave virtually no trace.”
Paula reached out and touched the wickedly sharp points.
“It will be something new Master,” she said smiling at him.
The minister was invited to dinner that night and she sat next to him. When his third glass of wine had been drunk she leaned towards him and placed her hand over his. He turned to her and Paula watched as his gaze travelled down her cleavage and then along her naked arm until it got to the chain at her wrist and the bells.
“I’ve listened to some of your speeches in the House,” she said, and then spoke softly, “I would say you have a… needle sharp wit.”
She looked steadily at him and he looked back for a long time. “Do you take an interest in politics... at the sharp end?” he asked finally.
Paula
laughed huskily, the fires in her belly igniting at the thought of her master giving her to this man to do as he pleased with. “I’m sure I could be made to,” she said.
The Arena Series
By
Sean O’Kane
The most talked about books we’ve ever published! The Arena series are cleverly interwoven novels which can be read and enjoyed singly or together. They all concern the resurrecting of the Roman arenas by the super-rich, rogue monarchs and oligarchs – only this time they are putting up squads of girls against each other.
For the pleasure of the crowds and the pride of their owners the girls compete in wickedly adapted boxing matches, they strain under the lash in log-pulls, they wrestle and race as chariot ponies.
Forum said of Girlsquad; “The relentless SM action is well written………every fan of heavy fem sub should fight to get a copy!”
The comings and goings at various stables, the plots that are hatched in various luxurious pleasure palaces, the auctions and the dungeon scenes are vividly brought to life.
The women are beautiful and the men powerful; the action is erotic and unmissable!
Into the Arena
The Gladiator
The Prize
Slave’s Honour
Last Slave Standing
Girlsquad
Naked Ambition
Coming soon; Lost Property.