Constance would have laughed, had her breasts not felt like they were providing dinner for a real live Jaws.
The next roll of the dice resulted in her being fitted with a red rubber ball gag, strapped tightly around her head, denying her the relief of even being able to scream. The plastic slave figure then progressed onto a square numbered twenty, with a picture of a cane. There was no need to wonder about the nature of that punishment.
Standing by the board, the transvestite master clicked his fingers in time to the beat of cane on quivering flesh as the Stablemaster administered twenty full-blooded strokes to her bare buttocks, each laying a livid red line on a fresh strip of pale skin. Constance would have been yelling for him to stop halfway through, had the gag not prevented her from uttering more than a hoarse whimper of protest.
It had not occurred to her that the sadistic board game might take much longer than a bout of Trivial Pursuit. The dice was rolled again and the slave figure moved to a numberless square decorated with an erect phallus. However, the result was not what Constance expected. The Stablemaster produced a long pink latex vibrator. He bound the two attached studded leather straps tightly around her thighs, then pushed the shaft of the object up into her sex. A pair of steel clips at the base of the phallus was attached to her labia, providing a painful counterbalance to the pleasure of the gentle palpitations when the vibrator was switched on.
Another roll of the dice earnt her two dozen stinging slaps of a wooden paddle, which toasted every inch of her already throbbing rear cheeks. She blinked tears from her eyes as she watched Truelove move the little plastic angel in bondage onto another square, depicting what looked horribly like a noose. The short length of thick rope the Stablemaster took from the wall had a hangman’s knot fashioned at either end. He draped the rope around her shoulders, slipped a noose over both breasts and drew them so tightly that the harsh fabric of the rope bit into her soft flesh.
Constance did not know how much more of this she could bear. There was no denying the pleasurable aspects of what she was being subjected to – the vibrator and arse-reddenings were particularly stimulating – but the point was surely not far off when the pain and discomfort began to outweigh the pleasure. As she was gagged, she did not see how she could let her tormentor know she had had enough.
The next punishment consisted of several round ice cubes being placed in the cleft of her tightly roped breasts and two more inserted in her rectum. The Stablemaster did at least have the decency to use a squirt of KY jelly, before subjecting her to the latter indignity.
Following the next throw of the dice a steel spreader bar was placed between her feet and strapped to her ankles. He adjusted the breadth of the bar until her legs were as wide apart as was possible without causing severe discomfort. She shuddered as rivulets from the melting ice cubes between her breasts ran down over her belly. Far worse, however, was the shameful sensation of icy droplets trickling from her bottom and their soft patter on the floorboards, just audible above the hum of the vibrator that was sensually torturing her clitoris.
‘At last, we leave the Dungeon!’ the Stablemaster announced, following the next throw of the dice. ‘I think we deserve a short break before the Slave Auction.’ So saying, he and his companion left the room, leaving Constance trussed up and the door wide open. Minutes ticked interminably by as she anxiously awaited their return.
Eventually she heard footsteps on the stairs, the sound filling her with a mixture of relief and trepidation. A young man appeared in the doorway, wearing a low-peaked black leather cap decorated with studs and chains. His faded jeans looked like they had been attacked by a razor-wielding maniac and his leather waistcoat was heavy with military medals and heavy metal regalia. A smile crossed his stubbled face as he stepped into the room, delighted by Constance’s look of wide-eyed consternation.
‘Hope you don’t mind me coming in for a minute,’ he said in a Cockney accent. ‘Bit careless of your master to leave the door open like that.’ He scanned the room. ‘Where is he anyway? S’all right, you don’t have to answer.’ He looked her up and down as if she were a mannequin in a shop window. ‘You’re a bit of a babe, ain’t ya? Wouldn’t mind ’avin’ you to meself for a while. Dear, oh dear! What’ve you done to deserve all this?’ He set her nipple attachments swinging and she winced in agony. ‘They must be hell on your poor tits. I see he’s given your arse a good seeing-to, as well.’ He smacked her left buttock. ‘Jesus, it’s hot enough to fry bacon on! You don’t look at all comfortable, darlin’.’
Constance kept her eyes on the doorway, willing the Stablemaster to return before this intruder was tempted to take any liberties with her. The coarse young man did not seem at all concerned by the prospect of being caught in the room. He stroked and prodded Constance, all the while crudely continuing to compliment her physical attributes. Eventually, much to her relief, his attention was diverted to the board game on the table.
‘I wonder what this is all about,’ he mused, leaning over to carefully study it. ‘Better not touch anything, just to be on the safe side. Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of your master.’ He turned back to Constance. ‘I wonder how long he’ll be gone for. Long enough for me to have a little fun with you, eh?’
She whimpered and vigorously shook her head.
He grinned. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Know what? I think I’ll take a chance and live dangerously. If your master does come back before I’m finished with you, we’ll just have to hope he understands. I’m sure you won’t object to me taking out your gag, will you?’
She hesitated, then shook her head.
He reached for the strap at the back of her head. ‘I didn’t think so. You don’t have to worry. I won’t hurt you. Just a quick blow-job an’ I’ll be on my way. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ Constance gasped as the ball gag popped from between her lips.
The young man unzipped his jeans, then wrapped both fists around a set of manacles dangling overhead, took a deep breath and raised himself off the floor. His powerful biceps bulged as he hauled himself up, until his stiff cock was level with Constance’s mouth.
‘Better ’urry!’ he grunted. ‘I won’t be able to stay up ’ere for long!’
Opening her mouth, she thrust her head forward. The purple crown and several inches of thick cock slipped past her red glossed lips and she went hungrily to work, temporarily forgetting the sadistic Stablemaster and his cross-dressing companion. The vein in the young man’s temple throbbed as he watched her lips and tongue slide sensually over his cock.
Constance had always considered the taste and feel of a hard, hot cock between her lips to be one of life’s supreme pleasures, but under the present bizarre circumstances, it was a particularly favourable treat. She just hoped the young master could hold on until she was finished.
From his groans and breathless exclamations, it was impossible to tell whether the agony or ecstasy he was enduring was the greater. His nostrils flared, his face turned a deep shade of pink and his straining muscles were sheened with perspiration. Constance sucked him with all the urgency she could muster, almost as desperate for him to climax as he himself was.
‘I can’t… hold on much… longer!’ he cried.
Her lips enveloped him in a silken clinch, her tongue slapping the crown of his cock. He uttered a long, loud groan that could surely be heard downstairs, then a hot burst of thick semen hit the back of her throat. She ravenously gulped down the powerful, creamy flood, so delicious she wished it would never end.
‘Can’t hold!’ the young man cried desperately.
His cock slipped from Constance’s mouth, the remainder of his semen splattering her chin and throat as he let go of the manacles and fell to the floor.
She was still licking her lips when he staggered back to his feet.
‘That was… fuckin’ amazing,’ he gasped, tucking his wet
tool back into his jeans. He wiped the semen from her with his fingers. After she had sucked them clean he kissed her for a few seconds, then whispered that it was time he was gone. Before leaving, never to be seen by her again, he replaced the ball gag in her mouth and secured the strap.
A few moments later the Stablemaster and Truelove returned. If they had any suspicions of her visitor, they kept them to themselves.
‘We now find ourselves at the Slave Auction stage of our game,’ the Stablemaster announced. ‘Time to free the slave from the shackles of the Dungeon.’
As soon as Constance had been released from her manacles and all her accessories removed, the game resumed. Truelove cast the dice and moved the slave figure onto a number six square and the symbol of a horse. The Stablemaster directed Constance to a crude wooden horse positioned near the table. The object was fitted with a black leather saddle, bristling with conical silver studs. When she hesitated to climb aboard, he reached for a riding crop and informed her that she could have a dozen lashes of that across her backside instead. She wasn’t certain which would be the lesser evil, but decided she might as well continue with the spirit of the game, at least for the time being.
The cold studs, though not sharp enough to puncture her skin, felt like nails gouging her tender nether cheeks. At the Stablemaster’s command, she slipped her wrists into the leather cuffs on either side of the neck of the wooden horse and he buckled them tightly. Her ankles were secured to the stirrups in a similar fashion.
The game continued with the dice being rolled again and the Stablemaster reaching for a harness from his collection of restraint devices. Cups of wet-look red latex, with nipple peepholes, were fitted over Constance’s breasts and secured in place by a strap at the back. Attached to this garment was a second strap of thick elastic. He ordered her to raise her bottom from the saddle, drew the strap down between her thighs and clipped the free end to the front of the rubber bra. The strap chafed unpleasantly in the cleft of her buttocks and between the folds of her labia.
‘Aha, a choice move!’ the Stablemaster exclaimed, following the next roll of the dice. From a box in one corner of the table he picked one from a small pile of black plastic chips, each the diameter of a two-penny coin. ‘You have a decision to make, Prize,’ he told Constance. ‘There is a symbol on both sides of this coin, which stands for a different form of punishment. You can call heads or tails and accept whatever punishment results, or you can choose the less painful option of answering a single question.’
‘What kind of question?’ she demanded.
He smiled mysteriously. ‘You won’t know that unless you first decide to answer.’
‘What if I don’t know the answer?’
‘You’ll know it,’ he assured her. ‘Well, what’s it to be, call or question?’
Constance suspected the latter would not be as straightforward as he made it sound. On the other hand, she was none too eager for another taste of whip or cane, especially with the game far from reaching its conclusion. She opted to gamble on answering the question.
‘What is your full name?’ the Stablemaster demanded.
‘Constance Elizabeth Brooking,’ she replied. The triumphant look that crossed his face made her instantly regret not having answered with a false name.
‘That didn’t hurt too much, did it?’ he smiled. ‘Throw the dice, Truelove. Constance is eager to get on with the game.’
The subsequent punishment brought yet another harness into play. Two bars of hard black plastic were bolted to the neck of the wooden horse. At the opposite end of these bars was a rubber padded iron collar, which the Stablemaster placed around Constance’s neck, adjusted to fit snugly, then padlocked at the back. A fresh set of clamps was then fitted to her nipples. These were attached to short bungee straps, which were hooked to the far ends of the plastic bars. She was now perched in an acutely uncomfortable position, unable to alleviate the painful tug of the straps on her nipples by leaning forward.
A further roll of the dice instituted yet further discomfort. A latex hood that matched the wrapping on her breasts was pulled over her head and joined to her collar by four steel clips. The tight-fitting sheath completely covered her eyes and the back of her head, leaving the lower half of her face uncovered. A strap at the back of the hood was hooked to the rear end of the wooden horse, tugging her head back and forcing her face upwards. Being unable to see what her masters were doing filled her with a greater sense of alarm than her state of near-complete bondage. They were now free to cheat at the game and administer their pet punishments, rather than leaving her fate to a roll of the dice.
For the next instalment of the game a thick roll of sticky black rubber tape was wrapped around her upper thighs and the middle of the wooden horse, binding her tightly to the studded saddle. She heard the rattle of the dice on the table top again, then the voice of the Stablemaster announcing that she had moved to the third section of the game – the Master’s Chamber.
‘Don’t leave me like this!’ she cried, hearing their footsteps as they moved towards the door.
Neither of her tormentors replied. She did not hear the door shut, so she knew they were once again leaving her exposed to anybody who should happen to peer in.
A short while after their departure she heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs. There was a momentary pause when they reached the landing, then the pair proceeded into the room.
‘Master, is that you?’ she demanded, in a trembling voice.
When nobody answered, Constance instinctively realised that she was again at the mercy of uninvited guests. As they moved around, inspecting the room and the helpless captive, she struggled in vain to free her wrists, in order to rip off her hood and at least be able to see them. She squealed when a sharp fingernail touched her left shoulder, pressed against the pale flesh, then began raking slowly down along her back, leaving a burning microgroove in its wake. The second intruder managed to work a gloved hand between her thighs from the front, burrowing into her slit with a long finger. The scent of expensive perfume caressed her nostrils, confirming that these two people were not the Stablemaster and Truelove.
She could not help relishing the gloved finger vigorously frigging her, even as the razor-like fingernails continued to rake her back, those of the other hand setting to work with equal cruelty on her sensitive buttocks. Following several long minutes of such torture, the fingernails were replaced by a silken tongue that lapped slowly over the throbbing ridges. Constance shuddered from the unexpectedly sensual sensation, unconcerned for the time being by the certainty that the person licking and kissing her was a woman. The heavy breathing from in front of her left her in no doubt that the other half of the duo was a man.
She had no idea how long the erotic torture lasted. The man continued to finger her until she eventually cried out in the frisson of a wondrous climax. When his soaked finger was then presented to her lips she sucked it clean of her juices, without the slightest hesitation.
She thought the couple might leave then, but instead of departing footsteps she heard the rasp of a zipper, followed by a soft murmur of pleasure from one and an excited grunt from the other. From the ecstatic moans and soft wet smacking sounds that ensued over the next few minutes, she concluded that the master half of the pair was having his cock sucked. Her taste buds tingled enviously.
The master moaned loudly as he climaxed. Seconds later, Constance felt a soft pair of lips brush hers. Instinctively repulsed by the thought of kissing another woman, she resisted momentarily, before lust gained the upper hand. The woman crushed her lips against hers and a warm, sticky stream of semen oozed into her mouth. Constance gulped it down thirstily. The woman’s semen-coated tongue followed and Constance sucked it as eagerly as if it were a cock. The lingering, feverish kiss was finally broken and the master and his slave slipped away.
Between the departure of the unseen couple and the return of
her masters, Constance had a few moments in which to reflect on what was happening. It was too convenient that the Stablemaster and Truelove should remain absent on both occasions, while her unknown visitors amused themselves with her. She could only conclude that sharing her with other members of the club was a part of the game they had decided not to tell her about.
Upon their return, the two men set about releasing her from the wooden horse. A throw of the dice commenced the Master’s Chamber section of the game. Truelove moved the plastic slave figure onto a square depicting a blackboard.
‘Looks like I shall be playing headmaster,’ the Stablemaster said. ‘Which means you, Constance, are my pupil.’ He reached for a cane on the wall. ‘Throw the dice again, Truelove. Let’s find out what our pretty pupil’s first lesson is going to be.’
The dice rolled and the slave on the board was moved to a square numbered thirty, with a symbol that Constance could not decipher.
‘Physical education,’ the Stablemaster announced. ‘I hope you’re as fit as you look, Constance.’
He placed a thick, curved black plastic phallus mounted on a rectangular steel plate on the floor and instructed her to squat over it, her arms raised high above her head and her legs wide apart. When she was in the required position, her labia brushing the head of the dildo, he informed her that she would now perform thirty squats, impaling herself fully on the dildo each time.
Even before a crack of the cane on her buttocks signalled her to begin, her face was showing the strain.
‘Keep those hands high!’ he barked as she lowered herself onto the shaft for the first time. ‘That’s it, take it all in. Aaaand up!’
She almost lost her balance as she rose back up. The phallus slipped from between her thighs with a soft plop. She took a deep breath, then lowered herself onto it again, fervently wishing that it were a flesh and blood cock, instead of a cold length of hard plastic. A stinging whack from the Stablemaster’s cane reminded her to keep her arms straight.
All for Her Master Page 7