Beyond Charybdis

by Bruce McLachlan

  Finally, the couple broke free of the lapping tongues and sucking lips of the slaves and fell into each other’s arms, their mouths locked together as their tongues circled each other’s, their passion raging. Dropping onto the sand, Tethys bent over and allowed her husband to slide into her pussy from behind as he ran his hands up and down her back. Driving into her with murmuring growls of delight, he held her hips and ran his fingers across her bared and inviting bottom. The two ponies and the serving slaves watched with gnawing frustration as the two Nobles made wild love on the beach, indulging themselves freely before those who had no such option. Kept chaste and obedient, the serving slaves would have to earn their relief through subservience, while Mina and Trisha would have to wait until they were alone in their stall and free of the crotch straps before they could satisfy the heat of their lust.

  Tethys tossed her head back, her mouth gaping as she groaned wantonly, feeling her lover swelling potently inside her as he approached his climax. Reaching down for her breasts, he cradled them in his palms and massaged them, his features tightening as his body stiffened and he drove deep into his wife as he climaxed, eliciting cries of delight from her.

  He rested across her back for a moment, pressing her cheek to the sand, and then slipped out of her. The two Nobles held each other for a moment, then a wave of his hand beckoned forth the forgotten serving slaves.

  The two young women eagerly crawled back towards the couple to resume their oral devotions and cleanse the sated Nobles, the act making them shiver with wanton ecstasy. Once they completed their task, they were brushed aside to await further orders as the couple rose and refastened their clothing, exchanging a final kiss before walking over to their mounts. Trisha and Mina promptly rose onto their hoofed feet as their owners approached.

  The setting sun touched the horizon in a dazzling riot of gold and red, casting a purple glow across sea and island as rubies sparkled on the crests of the waves.

  ‘Down girl,’ commanded Oceanus, as he removed Mina’s rein from the post.

  Settling into a crouch, she accepted the weight of the Noble as he swung into the saddle and drew on her reins to make her rise.

  ‘Do you want to race back?’ Tethys asked as Trisha strained to regain her feet, her eyes flashing with dismay at the prospect of another fight to try and beat the physically superior Mina.

  ‘No, it’s okay, let’s just take a nice wander, I’m in a lazy mood,’ Oceanus replied, his competitive nature seemingly put away for the day. His spurs nudged Mina’s hips and a flick of the reins urged her into a steady trot back towards the trees and the narrow trail.

  As they made for the house and stables, Mina saw other serving slaves emerging from another trail to gather up the day’s leftovers. She could see the hunger on their faces, not for food but for the sexual release each prayed would come as a reward for having served well all day. Of course, she knew some would be receiving punishment for inadequate work, a treat that would be as welcome to them as the joy of climax.

  The walk back to the stables was uneventful and pleasant as the forest darkened around them. Through the chinks in the armour of the forest canopy, Mina saw the first stars sparkling into view, and gathering strength as the blue vault of the sky faded to a deep and impenetrable black.

  Their stables were opened and the nobles dismounted, patting the rumps of their respective steeds before departing and leaving them to the care of an anonymous slave who entered the stall holding a black tackle box.

  ‘See to them as we specified, slave,’ Oceanus told the girl as he tied Mina’s reins to the wall.

  ‘You both did well today, and you’ll find tomorrow easier as we’ll be taking a gig out for a spin,’ Tethys said. ‘Sleep well, ponies.’ She finished securing Trisha’s reins and followed her husband out of the stall, leaving the pony-girls alone with the serving slave, a tall, shapely young woman whose golden curls were pulled back in a chaotic ponytail. The lids of her cool grey eyes were rimmed with coal and her lips were painted a striking red that matched her long nails. Perched atop ankle-high boots, she walked easily on the stiletto heels wearing shiny black gloves that rose all the way to her biceps. Her chastity belt was polished to a mirror sheen that matched her collar, and she moved with a regal and easy grace, at one with her position on Poseidon’s pleasure island. And as she drew closer, Mina noticed a small fixture at the front of her belt, the inch-round socket raised slightly from the surface of the steel band.

  Unfastening Mina’s reins the woman pulled them in, drawing her towards the wall until her collar touched the heavy metal band. A looped knot fastened Mina in place, keeping her on her feet and unable to bend over or sit down. Her crotch strap was then opened and pulled free, and the swift extraction of the dildos made her gasp.

  The same ritual was performed on Trisha, leaving the two pony-girls trapped on either side of the stable, unable to reach one another, let alone grant the relief each so fervently craved after the evening’s arousing displays of passion.

  The woman then opened the metal latch on the box she had brought and raised the lid. She extracted a set of surgical gloves and slid her painted fingernails into them, snapping the sheaths efficiently in place and interlacing her fingers to ensure they were fully stretched.

  Next she took a glass pot from within the box, unscrewed the lid and scooped out a generous portion of a white gel. She turned Mina so her face was pressed to the wall, and working the slippery substance across both her hands applied the viscous ointment to Mina’s bottom. The cool touch of the thin latex gloves combined with the warmth of the gel simultaneously irked and soothed Mina’s burning buttocks as her welts rebelled against being disturbed but accepted the calming effects of the curative gel. The woman continued to smear the slippery substance across her contusions, causing Mina to lean against the wall for support as her grateful discomfort beneath the soothing ministrations lulled her into a hedonistic stupor. Then the skilled fingers began working the greasy substance more forcefully into the crease between her bottom cheeks, driving through her buttocks to rub it against her sphincter. Mina lowered her defences, unclenching the muscles of her anus to permit ingress, and the fingers instantly slithered into her.

  At first only one digit slid into her bottom, making her sigh with contentment. Then it withdrew and was joined by another, and then another. The bunched digits rocked into her as one, diving almost to the knuckles. Mina pressed her breasts against the wall, sighing with pleasure as the forceful hand penetrated her.

  The extremities emerged and moved a little, locating her vulva and passing the gel across the moist lips of her sex. A moment later a pair of fingers thrust, eliciting a whimper of joy from Mina as two more fingers joined them. The slave rammed her hand up into Mina, making her ride the firm cone of her bunched digits, inflicting flashes of duress along with a warm, deep pleasure. Mina’s blissful sighs grew deeper, and were interspersed with soft groans of rapture. Murmuring and moaning wantonly, Mina felt herself being worked gradually towards orgasm, the piston-like action between her legs gathering potency and making her giddy with expectation.

  The hand withdrew abruptly, cruelly deserting her. Mina cried out with disappointment and writhed against the wall, her final release slipping through her fingers even though she clenched her legs together in an effort to catch it and make herself come.

  The woman returned to her ordinary chore of soothing the havoc in Mina’s welt-striped bottom, and then she gathered up a fresh handful of gel and moved over to Trisha. Applying her medicinal remedy, she began penetrating the pony-girl’s well-flogged buttocks. Mina turned around to watch the show as Trisha rode the bunched fingers of the slave, her lithe body jiggling softly as she was forced to endure the delightful purgatory of a hand plunging into her rectum. The woman continued teasing her for a while before finally switching to a different orifice, and Trisha literally sobbed with rapture as she was worked towards orgasm,
unable to resist the allure of it despite the awful foreknowledge that she would be deprived of a climax in the end.

  She mewled miserably when the woman retracted her latex-sheathed fingers and moved away. Garbled pleas for her not to stop spilled over her bit, the gagging implement rendering her desperate words all but incoherent. Mina suspected Trisha had fallen into a trap instigated by their owners. The woman was probably there to tease them and test them on how well ingrained they were into the pony caste.

  ‘Ponies do not speak,’ the woman declared. ‘They perform and do as they are told, without question, always.’ She smirked, overjoyed to see one of them fail so she could exercise a little dominance; Trisha murmured something in her defence, further compounding her offence.

  ‘You continue to speak, pony-girl? I was ordered to punish anyone who tried to speak, and I can see I have ample justification in applying the full discipline to you both. Yes, I’m going to make your fellow pony suffer with you. She was good, she didn’t speak, but because of you she’ll suffer just as terribly as you will.’ Leaning down, the woman removed a leaden orb the size of a tennis ball from the box. The globe had a single hoop set upon its surface from which ran a long, slender chain. The links extended for a few yards and then broke into two shorter lengths, both of which culminated in a clover clamp.

  ‘Now, little pony, I’ll escort you to a discipline chamber where you’ll be taught the price of disobedience all night long. Won’t that make tomorrow’s venture fun for you both? A nice night of distress before more exercise.’ She chuckled and stepped towards Trisha.

  The pony-girl panicked and started bucking, fighting the tether at her collar and kicking wildly to keep the woman away from her, obviously terrified of the clamps in her hands and the burden to which they were connected.

  ‘Bad pony!’ She backed off, and pulling a small tawse from the box thrashed the leather strap against Trisha’s cavorting legs. The steady smack of leather rang through the stable accompanied by Trisha’s stifled moans of distress as she was thrashed for her defiance. The woman chastised her with vicious strokes to her thighs, stinging the untouched regions again and again until Trisha was rendered a whimpering wreck hanging nearly limp from her collar.

  ‘Are we done?’ the woman demanded coldly, and skimmed the weapon across Trisha’s rosy flesh once more. The beaten pony-girl gurgled apathetically. ‘Good.’

  Mina was determined to be utterly compliant, for she had no idea what sort of terrible things this woman might do should she follow Trisha’s rebellious example. Already she was destined for a night of suffering, and even though she was looking forward to it in a strange way, she did not want to compound her misery. On the other hand, she was curious to be rendered helpless to this beautiful woman’s cruel intentions, whatever they were, so the seductive notion of doing as Trisha had done crept temptingly through Mina’s masochistic psyche. The denial of relief in orgasm had left her full of a dangerous hunger, one that was threatening to eclipse her reason and making her seek that which she might not be able to endure. But right now she did not care if she could endure it or not; she wanted to be tied, bound and punished, helpless to the woman’s vicious ministrations.

  ‘Now keep still or I’ll beat you some more, pony-girl.’ The blonde slave moved towards her and shoved Trisha’s slack legs open. The clamps swung in like steel hawks and snapped to a generous portion of flesh, taking her labia in their firm jaws and holding tight. The application of the devices made Trisha jerk upright and whimper in distress as the compression to her most tender parts continued unabated as her reins were removed, leaving her free of the wall anchor.

  ‘You can walk to the chamber now, pony.’ Her tormentor flashed the tawse across Trisha’s well-chastised bottom.

  Gurgling deep in her throat from the pain of the clamps, she lurched forward, only to have the chain snap taut and tug at the heavy burden trailing behind her. Trembling with the effort she managed to drag the heavy orb after her, the metal globe moving slowly as she towed it with her sex, the squeeze of the clamps increased by the pull on the chain. Whimpering in torment, she gradually made her way to the door, each step a hell of suffering monitored by the jubilant blonde slave.

  ‘Watch this well, pony, because you’re next,’ the woman warned Mina. ‘Come on you,’ she barked at Trisha, ‘I haven’t got all night.’

  The scraping of the metal ball faded along with the sound of uneven hoof beats as Trisha forced herself out into the corridor and to some unknown arena of chastisement. The time during which Mina awaited the return of the woman was long and full of angst as she wondered what was going to be done to her. And what psychological effect would the discipline have on her afterwards? Would the woman push her beyond her ability to find pleasure in the pain? Yet whatever was done to her, Mina was confident she would find the strength to relish the ordeal, no matter how humiliating or intensely difficult it proved to be.

  Finally, the sound of high heels approached the doorway and the woman reappeared, her eyes glinting sadistically. ‘Mm, that was fun,’ she purred, stepping forward with the chain and ball that had been affixed to Trisha’s labia. ‘And what’s best is that I get to do it all over again now.’

  Mina kept still and allowed her legs to be parted, refusing to give the woman cause to inflict additional harm. She stiffened and moaned as the first clamp took hold of her nether lips, and gave a whinny of agony as the second grabbed her tender flesh, wringing the sensation from it as it imparted a deep, arctic throbbing that surged up through her loins.

  ‘There, now, come along, pony-girl, and let’s see how you respond to the treatment I gave your partner.’ The woman removed Mina’s reins and slapped her rump with the tawse. Mina staggered forward, and gave a yelp as the slack vanished from the chain and the weight suddenly hauled at the clamps clinging to her vulva.

  ‘That’s it, pony, get moving.’ She subjected Mina to a hot flash of encouragement across her rear with the tawse. With quaking steps Mina moved towards the door, the weight dragging across the floor pulling at her sex lips and making her shudder with the stress of towing it behind her. The tawse snapped across her bottom yet again, and again, in whimsical strokes that kept her moving at a steady pace.

  Gasping and wheezing with the effort, Mina chewed on her bit as her eyes filled with tears, and flowed down her cheeks into her mouth. Trudging drearily onwards, her sex aflame with biting sensations, Mina was abruptly halted by the woman’s voice behind her.

  ‘Hey pony, back here!’

  Mina turned to see the woman standing a short distance down the corridor next to one of the doors she had passed. Scowling with irritation she turned around carefully and started back the way she had come, resentfully trekking across ground she had already covered to satisfy the spitefulness of what was in all reality just another slave.

  ‘There.’ She smiled, and opening the door let Mina trudge blindly into darkness. Once the burden of the ball was in the room, the woman closed the door behind her and flicked on the sombre lights, revealing the chamber in all its nebulous glory.

  The exact dimensions of the room were lost in the darkness. Only a single spotlight shone from above, firing a stark beam down onto the site of their duel torment, leaving the rest of the chamber draped in shadows. A stone slab evocative of a sarcophagus rose from the centre of the space, a smooth marble table with a hollow indentation, and lying within this shaped trough was Trisha. The sides of the interior groove bore a layer of black latex, the inflatable sheath pumped full of air so it pressed to her body from the sides and against her back from below, holding her body in a pressurised embrace. The top of the table was a glass panel, allowing Mina to see Trisha’s body crushed against it, her breasts flattened. It was as though her friend was sealed inside a skin-tight coffin with a glass lid against which she was hopelessly pressed.

  The glass tabletop bore several apertures, none of which served any functio
n other than causing further distress to the entombed pony-girl. Abrasive rope wound around her corseted waist and rose between her legs, the chafing length spilling through one hole to rest coiled on the outside of the table unattached to anything.

  Two more holes were drilled through the glass at the level of her breasts, letting her nipples peek through, each sensitive teat captured by a clamp from which hung a slack line of cord with identical clamps on the other end, awaiting application somewhere - and Mina knew where.

  The last hole in the table was the largest, leaving Trisha’s nose and chin exposed, her mouth stretched open, her bit removed so a squat candle might be thrust into her maw. Two small strips of tape ran over her cheeks to hold it in place, the wick as yet unlit.

  With Trisha in bondage, her eyes wide with dismay, Mina noticed the other portions of the table that would obviously incorporate her own physique, which would make her and her fellow pony-girl wreak havoc on each other through no fault of their own. Finally, running around Trisha’s head were leather trammels, the stern restraints open and waiting.

  ‘Come on, you,’ the woman barked, using the tawse to drive Mina over into the stern light. The clamps were set free and Mina jerked with the sudden detonation as her nerves screeched their protest at having been abused so by the voyage.

  Dragged up onto the table, her knees were placed by the uppermost corners and the restraints positioned there were set to her upper calves. Her shins were run parallel down the sides and caught in the fetters, leaving her legs spread wide as she knelt above Trisha’s face and the candle, the waxen sceptre aiming frighteningly towards her loins.

  Unable to resist, Mina had her collar snagged by the remainder of the crotch rope. Gaining insight she burbled and struggled, trying to free herself as the woman started to forcefully haul at the hemp line. Mina whimpered as she was bent backwards, her spine and neck stretching against corset and collar as the back of her skull was towed down towards Trisha’s garrotted vulva. Twisted into an agonising pose, the rope was tied off, leaving Mina and Trisha in a dark predicament.