Jova was still wearing the blindfold under his head harness, but while the audience clapped and yelled, Myhre cut the strap and removed it.
Jova blinked, then saw the cage and the crowd. For a moment, he looked like he was going to crawl back into the cabin and collapse. I observed Myhre's reaction. She had turned her back on us to face her lover. The panic in Jova's eyes gradually disappeared, replaced by calm resolution. He straightened up on his four limbs and, unexpectedly, tried to growl through his gag. The sound he produced was feeble, but there was no mistaking his intention.
The cheers grew louder. The show promised to be great.
Myhre led Jova into the cage and removed the leash after they were both inside. She directed Jova to a stool; he jumped on it and sat clumsily. Then Myhre withdrew a long whip from under her jacket.
The audience gasped. I heard Swomi moan behind me. Naari placed an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. I wasn't worried, though; I knew the whip was mainly for show. I also knew something worse was waiting down the road.
However, when the whip cracked in the air, I shuddered. And when Myhre applied it to Jova's ass, I winced.
Myhre directed Jova to the floor, then made him run around the cage on all fours, faster and faster. The tip of the whip hit his ass once or twice during each tour. When he passed in front of me for the third time, I saw his bottom was streaked with red lines.
I shifted uneasily on the seat, confused by conflicting emotions: fear, discomfort, curiosity, fascination. When Myhre commanded Jova to stop and sit in front of the lowest wooden bar to take a short break, I became impatient; fascination prevailed over the other feelings.
After seeing the series of barriers ahead of him, Jova showed signs of impatience, too.
"Stand up," Myhre said.
She picked up handcuffs from the floor and connected his hands behind his back.
"Now, go!"
When the whip whistled, Jova hopped over the first bar and raced to the next one, raising his knees higher each time. He jumped over the first four bars successfully, knocked down the fifth one, and balked at the last one.
The whip hit his back.
"Don't you get lazy on me!" Myhre shouted. "Start again. Quickly."
While Jova cantered back in front of the first bar, Myhre put the fallen obstacle back into place. During the next run, Jova made it over the fifth bar, but the last one fell down when he tried to leap over it.
"Again!"
Another crack of the whip, another round, another failure.
Jova was panting. His eyes showed anger and frustration. He looked at Myhre, then at the last bar, and groaned.
The sixth obstacle was too high for him, but Myhre didn't seem to care. Oblivious to his moans, she whipped him more severely than ever and put the bar into place for the third time.
As Jova started his fourth attempt, the audience clapped in rhythm to encourage him. Cheers exploded each time he jumped over a bar, but despite a longer approach, he knocked down the final bar again.
The crowd exhaled a loud, mutual sigh. People whispered. Some felt Myhre was too demanding, others thought Jova wasn't doing his best. No one would influence her decision, though.
"What do you think you're doing?" Myhre yelled at Jova. "You will jump over that bar if it's the last thing you do."
She made her intention clearer by aiming the whip at his thighs, which Jova jumped to escape. He looked miserable and kept his head down as if to hide his shame. The humiliation of failing was probably worse than the physical harassment.
"Don't you dare run away from me!" Myhre continued chastising him. "Bend over the stool. Quick!"
When Jova complied and made his upturned ass an easier target, Myhre gave him ten lashes.
I could practically feel his pain and had trouble breathing normally. I fidgeted. As my legs brushed against one another, I noted my seat was damp. The piece of lace I was using for underwear did nothing to hide my excitement.
The people around me commented on the performance.
"It's impossible to jump so high with your arms tied."
"Look at the marks on his back. How can he go on, let alone run, with such pain?"
Naari pulled me closer to him and put his hand on mine. I hoped he wouldn't feel me shiver.
"I've seen them perform many times before," he said. "Jova needs to be taken to his limits before he can truly enter the scene. This is harder for Myhre than it is for him. She's the one who needs to be strong and continue, although I'm sure she feels extremely uncomfortable right now. If the choice was hers, she'd stop. But after the moment of relief, Jova would be angry at her. His pleasure doesn't start until he's overcome his negative feelings like anger or despair. We're almost there."
After Naari's explanation, I watched Myhre more attentively. I had been so concerned about Jova, I hadn't thought this could be difficult for her, too.
In the ring, Myhre was leading Jova to his starting point. When he turned to face the bars and could no longer see her, she removed her jacket and brushed the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. I saw her chest heaving higher than usual. What I had taken for a foolish act of stubbornness was indeed an admirable sign of love. She would take Jova where he wanted to go, at whatever cost for the both of them.
"One more time!" she shouted, putting as much determination into her voice as she could. The whip cracked again, but only in the air.
In the audience, everyone had stopped breathing. The tension was unbearable.
Jova hopped over the first four bars in rapid succession, then jumped higher than necessary over the fifth one. I thought he had taken his best shot too early, and I dreaded the consequences of another failure. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the inevitable outcome.
The audience yelled loudly, and I looked up.
Jova was beyond the sixth obstacle, and the bar was still up. It didn't even quiver.
Like everyone around me, I stood up and applauded madly.
Because of his harness, Jova was unable to smile, but his eyes beamed with pride. He looked at Myhre for approval, and she grinned with relief and contentment. It was a very intense moment.
But the show was far from over.
"Good boy," Myhre said while she patted a very pleased Jova on the shoulder. She then unlocked his handcuffs and pointed to the bench. "Now, go lie over there."
Turning to face the crowd, she waited until the last cheers had died down, then waved to someone in the back. The main lights returned. Then Myhre announced they would take a short break, and snacks and drinks were available on the side.
"My friend, Megan, will assist you," she added, looking at me.
No sooner had she said my name that I heard various calls for my attention behind me.
"I'll help you," Naari offered, aware of my unwillingness to move.
On our way around the cage to the buffet table, I peeked at Jova. He lay perfectly still on the bench with his eyes closed. He looked peaceful, but the impression was deceptive. Once in a while, his face expressed a short spasm of pain, and he tried to shift his weight on the bench. I remembered how bruised his back and bottom were, and felt sorry for him. When I saw his wrapped penis standing perpendicularly to his body, its tip a terrifying shade of purple, I didn't know whether to feel better or worse.
I searched for Myhre in the cage. She had already removed the bars from the obstacles and was bringing them outside the cage. Then she entered the dressing room.
Shouts from nearby seats reminded me of my duty, and I hurried to place drinks and snacks on a tray before carrying them to whoever called me. Naari stayed by the table to help Southies get orders for their masters.
I was busy filling my tray for the third time when I heard a familiar voice yelling from the third row.
"C'mon, Megan, we're thirsty!"
It was Lodel, proving once again he didn't have any of the courtly tact his costume implied. I pretended not to hear him, but when he insisted, I walked up the
stairs with enough drinks to flood the Twilight.
"There's my girl," he said with mock sweetness.
At some cost to my self-esteem, I stayed silent and kept my eyes low while each of them took a glass off the tray. When I turned to go back to the table, a strong hand gripped my elbow.
"No, don't leave us so quickly. Everyone's served now. You don't need to go anywhere."
While one of his friends took the tray out of my hands, Lodel forced me to sit on his knees. His velvet pants were as soft as bunnies. His jacket, cut from the same fabric, was unbuttoned to reveal a bouffant silk shirt. Too bad his arrogance, genuine or forged, didn't match his sartorial elegance.
I resented being close to him, but spurred by my own costume or maybe the itch between my thighs, I decided to play the game for a while.
"Look," I started gently, "you're all very friendly, but this is not the right time. Myhre may need me for something else. I'd better go."
"Myhre doesn't need you at all. She's perfectly capable of tying up Jova by herself."
I glanced at the cage. Myhre had returned from the cabin with heavy straps. She had already wrapped one around Jova's ankles and was fixing the second one around his knees. Judging from the pile of black restraints at her feet, she would pin him to the bench very efficiently.
While I observed the scene, Lodel placed his hand around my waist and one of my arms, and pulled me closer to him. His fingers tickled one of my nipples through the flimsy fabric of the bustier. When I used my free hand to stop him, he anticipated my reaction and grabbed my arm before I could reach him. In a reflex, I tried to stand up, but he trapped my legs between his.
He laughed.
"You're an easy freegirl to capture, Megan."
Chastened, and undeniably aroused, I showed Lodel I was a good sport, all the while hoping he'd be reasonable enough to quit the game when I asked.
"Okay," I said with a fake smile, "you caught me. You win. Now, will you let me go, please? Myhre will be finished soon."
Jova was bound up to his chest, and there was only one strap left on the floor.
"Let you go?" Lodel sniggered. "Never! You can watch the show from here."
As he tightened his grip and moved one hand more decisively to my breast, my discomfort turned to fear. Should I call Naari for help? That would ruin the performance Myhre had so carefully prepared.
Try to reason Lodel or one of his friends? They wouldn't believe I meant it. They would just think I was playing along, rebelling for the fun of it.
Fight back?
At that moment, the lights went off.
I used the opportunity to struggle against my captor. I managed to free one hand and pulled on his arm as hard as I could to disentangle the other one. But I was a fool to think I could escape a man who was taller, stronger and definitely more experienced in these games than I. Before I knew what happened, he had brought my hands behind my back and, to my growing surprise, tied them up with a piece of rope. Rope must be as essential to a Northie as a hairbrush to a woman, I reflected. Never leave home without it.
"I will also gag you if you continue to resist," Lodel purred in my ear.
I took his threat seriously and stayed still when he replaced his hand on my breast. I can't say I didn't like his touch. He didn't hurt me. Nor did I sense any evil intentions. I resisted because I felt I should. Once I was helpless, though, I relaxed in his lap. He noticed the change in me almost before I did.
"Good," he whispered. "Now, watch the show and enjoy the–"
A loud exclamation from the audience interrupted him. Onstage, an arch of fire had broken the darkness. As my eyes became accustomed to the new source of light, I saw Myhre standing in front of the bench, holding the larger hoop half covered in flames. Silence returned to the room, save for a plaintive grunt from the cage. The fire impressed the audience, and terrified Jova.
"Please remain silent," Myhre asked the crowd. "This is very dangerous. I don't want to be distracted."
As if to test my compliance, Lodel chose that moment to pinch my nipple. He had slipped his hand under the bustier, and the sudden, direct contact made me gasp.
Satisfied, he cupped both breasts in his hands. While Myhre was waving the hoop in the air for effect, Lodel teased me until my whole body responded like the fire onstage was burning inside me.
Jova was in more serious trouble, though. Thanks to the hole in the open hoop, Myhre had passed it around the foot of the bench, on the side where Jova's furry feet were strapped. While thirty pairs of eyes stared at the flames, she slowly maneuvered the hoop along the bench. The flames were too high to touch Jova's body. However, the heat underneath them must have been stifling. And the thought of Myhre dropping the hoop, or even bringing it too low, was agonizing.
Enthralled by the show, I didn't object when Lodel raised my skirt to my thighs and spread my legs apart. With one hand still torturing a nipple, he brought the other one down to my sex. I didn't fight. I was tense and excited, and instinctively widened the gap between my legs to give Lodel better access.
With nothing more than a string of lace to stop him, Lodel stroke my labia. The stimulation brought by the scene in front of me merged with the sensations in my loins.
When the semi-circle of flames glowed brightly above Jova's waist, Myhre quickened the pace. In a few seconds, she had passed the hoop over her partner's chest and head, and brought it on the other side of the bench, then again high in the air.
The audience erupted in applause. Myhre bowed, put the hoop safely on a post away from the bench, and went for a bottle of water. After drinking half of it, she poured the rest onto Jova's harnessed head. It looked rude, but he probably appreciated the coolness on his face.
I would have liked a drink, too. All the liquid in my body seemed to have flown down to my sex. Lodel was tracing circles around my sex. Although I tried hard not to move – not so much to please him, but to keep his ministrations secret – I recoiled each time he brushed my clitoris.
When Myhre announced she would swing the burning hoop around the bench one more time, and the audience shouted its enthusiasm, Lodel inserted his fingers inside me. The noise covered my little yelp. However, silence had returned when he penetrated me deeper and fingered me in earnest. When a couple of men turned to see what was going on, I realized I'd whimpered too loud. The men smiled knowingly and returned their attention to the stage.
Once again, the flames were blazing above Jova's thighs. Myhre moved slowly, heating the tender flesh underneath.
I felt giddy, and moaned when Lodel pressed my G-spot. Then he got distracted, his fingers stopped moving, and I heard him talk to the friend seated next to us. One minute later, my mouth was clammed with a resina gag. I was shocked, but also relieved. The last thing I wanted was for everyone to hear me shout over my pleasure.
Lodel's hands resumed their tasks, one on my breast, the other inside my vagina. I surrendered completely and let my head fall on his silk-covered chest.
On the stage, Myhre completed a second loop and started a third. Jova was extremely agitated and no longer repressed his groans. I wished I could see the diodes on his beecee, but only Myhre would know whether he felt more pleasure than pain.
When she extinguished the fire around the hoop, I thought something had gone wrong. Jova's groaning had grown impressively strong and desperate. He was probably under more pain than he could handle.
Even Lodel was worried. His fingers froze inside me, and I pouted at his sudden lack of attention. I was getting close to climax; he couldn't stop now. Then I caught myself. How could I think of my sexual needs when a friend was in trouble? I sat straight and watched the shadows around me.
Forced to wait in darkness, the audience grew restless. I heard people whisper everywhere. A couple of horny complaints showed that I wasn't the only one deriving more than visual entertainment from the show.
When someone lost patience and called out for Myhre, the arch of fire returned. With flames burning
as fiercely as before, it took me a while to notice that the hoop was smaller than the first one. I shivered and felt feverish at the same time. I remembered Myhre's earlier warning to Jova. "When you think I'm done with you, I will just begin." She meant it. The pain from the heat would be more intense with the second hoop.
Myhre approached the bench and wrapped its leg inside the circle of flames.
Lodel forced me to lie down on him, and his fingers rekindled my desire.
Fire was everywhere ... inside and out.
I heard Jova's whimpers, but thought they were mine.
I watched Jova struggle, and Lodel locked my legs open.
The hoop stopped above Jova's hips. He cried.
Lodel pinched my clit. I bit into my gag.
With her free hand, Myhre touched Jova's encased penis. A second later, the tube was gone and his cock, crimson with pain but hard as a rock, was free.
Lodel rubbed me hard.
A fountain spurted out of Jova, frizzling in the fire.
A violent spasm drained me.
The fire went out, and darkness fell over us.
Chapter TWELVE
When I awoke the next day, I was suffering from a mild hangover coupled with an advanced state of perplexity. Carefully opening my eyes, I was relieved to recognize my own bedroom.
Although I had turned off the morning alarm system before leaving for Jova's party, I had forgotten to change the light settings, so the walls had begun to cast feeble rays of fake sunshine to indicate dawn. I could easily switch to nighttime again, but the control panel was by the door, three steps from the bed. Too far.
I turned my body to face the middle of the bed and the naked man lying on the other side. While he continued to sleep soundlessly, I tried to recall the events that had followed Jova's climax, and my own, the night before.
When I collected my senses after fainting on Lodel's lap, most guests had already left their seats, gotten drinks and congratulated Myhre. In the center of the cage, Jova lay on the bench, strapped, but free of his head harness. He was still lost to the world.
Worthy of a Master: The Tale of a Perfect Slave Page 11