by Leigh Turner
‘Merely ask, slave, and you will be released. The wank, the fuck, or the whip, which is it to be? Would you desire, perhaps, to taste a sharper whip? I sense you would.’
She walked in front of Greg again and instructed Vanessa to present herself nearer to him. As the waitress rose, turned, walked suggestively toward him, then turned and presented her rump within an inch of the limit of his extended cock’s range, the last vestige of will collapsed.
‘Yes, OK, give me, let me fuck!’ he proclaimed. ‘Whip me and let me fuck. Give it to me hard!’
Celia merely raised her eyebrows as she manoeuvred behind him and undid his bonds. Vanessa did nothing to move away and he held his cock and guided it within her. Pumping hard and fast, the wanton waitress was rewarded with his orgasm, though the quickness of his relief was surely not enough to have pleasured her fully.
Celia walked past the fornicating couple as they disengaged. Greg’s cock, softer now, was given a look of haughty distain, whereas the dominatrix spared a kindlier glance for Vanessa, as the exchange of subtly raised brows communicated confirmation that Greg’s efforts had been far too perfunctory for Vanessa’s innermost desires to be sated.
At the far wall, near the door where Sally and Jane had entered, Celia picked up an intercom receiver from the wall. After waiting 20 seconds or so, she had evidently had no reply, and replaced it.
Turning to Greg, she snapped, ‘No one is available to escort you upstairs. Stand in the corner, hands behind you. You may face the room and witness the treatment given to your colleagues while you reflect that your pathetic uncontrolled cock will be denied any opportunity of servicing them.’
Greg obeyed her, heading to the far corner of the room beyond the chrome bar where she pointed. He then turned, hands behind him, facing both the tethered females opposite and the three spectators at the further end. Expressionless, he seemed completely willing to cooperate in his humiliation.
Celia next walked behind Becky. After staring at her for a while, she swung her arm back and administered a fast stroke with her whip. Its speed was limited by the thickness of the cluster of thongs at its end, and the girl’s gasp came as much from surprise as from its sting.
‘Do you crave a more specialised tease whip, my dear?’ asked her tormentor. ‘I will make you beg for its touch if you let me wield it just once upon you.’
‘N-no, mistress. No.’ Becky had found her voice, one which had picked up on the preferred form of address.
‘Very well. Your endurance continues as you have refused the whip. Nevertheless there is nothing to stop me using it.’
Celia left through the door whence she had originally come, returning in short order with a longer, thinner whip. A good five feet long, it ended with just one strand of thin rope, knotted to a tassel at the end. This protruded only six inches from the solid rod of the rest of the implement.
Positioning herself near Fiona, Celia measured the range to Becky’s bottom. She pressed the last extremity of the rod onto the left globe, letting it linger. When eventually she took it away from the skin, Becky gasped in fearful anticipation. Before the full breath of her victim had been drawn, Celia flicked her wrist; this produced a movement at the end of the line and the instrument swished past Becky’s left side, leaving just the end tassel to contact her rear.
‘Haa-aah!’ The girl gasped again.
‘How do you like it?’
‘I … F-f … No. No!’
‘Were you about to request freedom, or perhaps a fucking? You are too easy. I will toy with you a while more.’
Abruptly, the corseted dominatrix addressed Tom, who had remained motionless throughout, standing just ahead and to the side of Inez’s chair. ‘Approach her!’
Tom did so. As Jane pointed to Becky’s rear, he followed her prompt and placed his hardened penis near her vaginal opening. At a nod from Celia, he began to move it in his hand, alternately pushing and making circling movements with its end as it touched her. This was no “wham bam” like Greg’s, but the measured and well-coached action of an experienced, unrelenting lover.
Becky had no prospect of defending against his incursion, with her legs spread as they were, and soon it was obvious to all who had a view that the penis was penetrating the moistened fanny with ease.
‘That’s enough, Tom!’ said Celia suddenly. ‘You’re going in halfway now; we must desist. Would you like him in to the hilt, my dear?’
As Tom withdrew, Becky simultaneously pushed her arse back as far as she could and tilted her head back.
‘Aaagh! No. No!’
‘What is that, dear? No do not withdraw?’
‘No. No, do not fuck me.’
Becky was breathing heavily now yet seemed determined to resist and claw back lost ground in the competition.
‘I see,’ said Celia calmly. With this she reached around in front of Becky with her left hand. The velvet glove must have homed in quickly on the girl’s clitoris, for she screamed in pleasure.
‘Aieee! Yes, yes.’
‘Yes what, my dear? Do you want more? Masturbation or fuck, which is it to be?’ Celia had removed her hand, but it remained near her victim’s crotch.
‘Yes both. Fuck me, wank me. Fuck me. Let me go and get him to fuck me. Please, please, fuck me!’
The resistance was over. Celia gazed across toward Inez, who spoke.
‘Fifty minutes, well done.’
‘Fuck me,’ Becky mewed.
With a flick of her head, Celia gave Tom permission to close in again. She had made no attempt to release the girl. Becky’s bondage afforded her enough freedom to thrust her hips back, away from the slanted board, and Tom, fit and lithe, was able to position himself to advantage so that his cock slid easily into the lubricated opening. He began to thrust rhythmically. As Sally viewed his tightly muscled arse moving, she began to wish it was her in Becky’s position. Her belief that Tom was gay had receded with this evidence. He was, if anything, bisexual and Sally wanted him. As she daydreamed, he reached his long arms around the girl and nestled his right middle finger in the top of the hairy crack. Within a moment Becky was wailing her gratitude as the finger worked her pleasure button. Increasing the vigour of his shafting, the naked stud tipped the neophyte into the flooding pleasure she craved, and she collapsed limply as far as her bondage would allow.
With studied indifference, Celia moved away from the couple as Tom disengaged himself. She moved over next to Inez and looked over her shoulder at the clipboard.
‘So, 50 and 28. How long has elapsed for the last contestant?’
‘We have 31 minutes so far,’ replied Inez.
‘So, pretty thing. You have exceeded the male, yet need to last 19 minutes longer to match your female rival,’ said Celia, approaching Fiona. She turned to Greg. ‘Untie the captive. Take her to wait with you in your corner. You are not to touch each other, save for your necessary manoeuvres in undoing her bonds. Proceed.’
She indicated for him to help Becky. He moved diagonally across the room with a brisk willingness and began to work on the buckles of the leather clasps.
Turning once more to Fiona, she positioned herself so that the tease whip could, at its full extent, just touch the captive girl’s bottom. The extremity culminated in a chromed ferrule through which the cord was threaded. With this she contacted each rosy cheek in turn. Tapping each at random intervals, very lightly and delicately, she teased the enslaved redhead.
‘So, you think you can last for 19 minutes? You have no chance, my dear.’
‘Becky was tied earlier,’ replied the captive. ‘It’s hardly fair. You started on us at the same time but she was tied earlier.’
‘Indeed. Life tends to be a little unfair at times, doesn’t it? Was that part of the arrangement, fairness?’
‘What do you mean? I don’t know.’
‘Well, I don’t remember a contract of fairness. You agreed to enter a domain of depravity here, my pretty, where proceedings move according to your mistresse
s’ whims.’ Celia laughed. ‘Would you like a little touch, my dear? A fucking like that you have just witnessed?’
‘Do your worst, you bitch!’
The defiant reply was greeted with amazement by Celia. Setting the whip down upon the nearest long couch, she marched purposefully to the far door and disappeared through it. Fiona tried to stifle a smug smile, feeling perhaps that the response had bought her a little time. It was, however, mere seconds later that the dominatrix re-emerged. In her hand she wielded a short wooden paddle, with a flat surface some three inches wide extending from the handle by just less than a foot.
Heels clicking as she came through the uncarpeted area near the doorway, she traversed the floor swiftly. Without pause or comment, having reached Fiona, she administered six fast, sharp strokes to each arse cheek in turn. The girl writhed and gasped, then regained some composure. She tugged at her bonds, less in any hope of breaking free than to demonstrate her spirit of rebellion.
‘Audacious wretch!’ Celia spat. ‘Do you not wish to succumb and end this pantomime?’
The girl, whose arse now glowed rosier, continued to oppose the outrageous fortune which had been inflicted upon her.
‘Do your worst. You’re just a bully and the director won’t let you go too far.’
‘How dare you?’ Celia spoke softly and menacingly as she uttered the rhetorical phrase. She administered nine more slaps with the paddle, but this time more slowly, contacting both cheeks with each stroke and leaving a lengthy pause between. The slaps were far less sharp; Celia knew that Jane was watching intently, mindful of the tender state of the helpless target.
Fiona closed her eyes and appeared to drift into some sort of meditative trance. Silent now, she showed nothing of her earlier venom as acceptance became her strategy.
Celia placed the paddle down and approached Fiona closer. She placed her forearm between the captive’s parted legs and her velvet-clad fingers found their way forward as she cupped the genitalia with her hand. The spectators could see nothing of what the fingers did, but it was reasonable to surmise that the middle finger had sought the clitoris in its skin-cloaked lair and teased it out of hiding, as Fiona’s head now tilted back and her mouth opened wide in silent and unashamed supplication.
The silence continued, enveloping the room in an electric atmosphere of anticipation. They waited for Celia’s prompt, the invitation to submission. The lack of it built up the tension as they witnessed Fiona’s pleasure trance and partook of it by weird osmosis.
Surely the girl must soon experience orgasm and end her resistance by default? Her head began to sway, but though enraptured, she did not show the signs of the sudden flood of delight for which Celia had worked.
Looking across at Inez, she received an answer as the Frenchwoman shrugged and then nodded. Celia slowly brought her hand away. After moments, as Fiona seemed to subside into a state of loose-limbed ennui, she spoke.
‘I grow weary of your resistance, my dear. Though you may be congratulated for having exceeded your competitors’ limitations. You will, though, submit to me. We cannot prolong this indefinitely.’
With that, she strode once more from the room.
Sally gazed at Tom and Steven, standing, hands behind their backs, to her right. The pair being just ahead of her, Steven’s closer proximity denied her the glimpse of Tom’s cock at which she had guiltily hoped to peek. Greg and Becky stood in the opposite corner, likewise adopting the pose of hands held behind back, which seemed to have become the default stance of the underlings in the presence of Celia and her fellow puppet mistresses, Jane and Inez. Vanessa, meanwhile, had settled on one of the leather benches as the vantage point of her voyeurism, and sat more casually, hands outstretched behind her, supporting her upper body. Her crossed, stockinged legs contributed to the eroticism of the gathering. Sally could see Greg’s cock had rallied from its earlier unbridled release, and was almost fully erect once more.
Presently, Celia entered the room again. She now wore, almost grotesquely in Sally’s eyes, a large black dildo securely strapped over her panty-girdle. Unabashed, she crossed to Fiona once more and picked up the wooden paddle. Slapping her systematically about the sides of the arse, which had hitherto remained unmolested, the Irish girl was brought to a baser level of consciousness, snapped from her reverie by the stings.
‘Ow! Fuck you, you bitch!’
Celia laughed.
‘No my dear, I must correct you. It is you who are about to be fucked.’
At this she put down the paddle and peeled the velvet gloves from her hands. Probing once more between Fiona’s legs, she appeared to be working further back than before, upward toward the exposed vagina.
A small rolling of Fiona’s hips betrayed her desire. Celia continued her exploration for a while longer, then withdrew her index and middle fingers. Turning to Greg she held out her arm, beckoning. ‘Come.’
Greg moved across to her, maintaining his pose, hands behind him.
‘Suck.’
After a moment’s hesitation, he complied, taking her two fingers in his mouth submissively. His cock now jutted in full tumescence.
Celia extracted her fingers and turned to address Fiona.
‘I have willing cocks here. Do you wish to avail yourself of them?’
‘No.’
‘Very well.’
Celia now positioned herself directly behind the disadvantaged protagonist. Manipulating the dildo in her hand, she found the unprotected opening and stimulated it by moving the thick, black instrument forward and back, alternating with circular motion. In her heels she was as tall if not taller than Tom, and as such was able, by bending her legs slightly, to obtain an advantageous angle from which she could probe the vulnerability of her submissive.
After a short bout of such treatment, Fiona’s rear end seemed to momentarily acquiesce to its treatment as her butt thrust back and paused. Celia, recognising the moment, pushed the dildo upward and was almost immediately the girl’s master, if such a word could be used, the dildo having penetrated almost to the hilt, easily and obviously pleasurably.
Fiona sighed with a deep murmur, drew breath, and exhaled with such a lascivious groan of pleasure that her imminent conquest was plain for all to perceive.
‘I weary of our little game, my precious,’ Celia said. ‘I have willing cock to serve you. Ask and you shall receive, using all males here who measure up. But I shall withdraw while you consider it.’
‘No. No.’
‘So you wish me to continue? If you do not now ask me to withdraw, it will be construed as a request for continuation and therefore a fucking.’
There was no pause this time as Fiona spoke, calmly yet aware of her surrender.
‘Yes. I mean, yes, fuck me. Keep the dildo in me, you bitch. Please. I want to fuck them. Give me cocks. Give me dildo. Untie me. I submit to you. Just shaft me now. Please.’
Celia, smiling, withdrew cruelly, provoking a groan of anguish from Fiona. Greg was still standing nearby.
‘Untie her,’ she commanded him.
Sally looked across at Inez, who glanced at Jane with a look of approval. Fiona had clearly scored highly.
Jane rose languidly from her seat and strolled forward in the centre of the room, surveying the occupants, while Greg busied himself freeing the squirming Fiona.
‘We have been here some time now,’ said the director. ‘Do any of you feel the need for some fresh air?’
‘Yes, madam. I would appreciate it.’
Tom’s voice behind her broke the silence. She wheeled and strode toward him.
‘And you?’ she asked of the meek Steven.
He nodded, and received a mild slap on the cheek in response.
‘Speak!’
‘Yes, madam. Please, madam.’ His voice cracked as he formed the words.
‘Very well. Come.’ At this, Jane beckoned to Inez, and nodded to Celia nearby. The two suspendered subalterns intercepted Fiona, whom Greg had just now freed. Grasping
an arm each, they frogmarched the redhead across the room to the corner, where she was told by Celia to follow her up the stairs.
This she did, with Inez behind her. Jane strode after them, trailed by Tom and Steven. Greg and Becky followed suit, prompted by a glance from Tom as he passed by. This left Sally behind with Vanessa, who addressed her gleefully.
‘Come on, girl. You’ll enjoy this.’
Sally brought up the rear of the strange procession, unavoidably watching Vanessa’s twin porcelain globes as the plump-arsed waitress climbed the stairs ahead of her.
At the top of the stairs Vanessa turned to the left of the alcove. Sally, following, saw that Celia had opened a heavy outer door. Negotiating this portal, she blinked in sunlight as she exited the house.
They were in an extremely large courtyard. On their left, in its corner, lay a vegetable garden, a small wall describing its boundary on two sides, the remaining two extremities being the kitchen wall and the west wing of the house. Opposite and to the right they saw renovated stable blocks, those across from them having doors more suggestive of workshops or livery storage. The building to their right was the modernised stable block they had seen the other day. This side of it incorporated several equestrian-sized doors, with most divided into two levels of opening panels, typical of such buildings.
A wall extended from the end of the building behind them, parallel to the end of this block. At the end a large, double-doored gate stood open, revealing the rear driveway. Through the opening they could see Max, who had parked the Jaguar near the stable building, and was polishing it. He was stripped to white singlet and blue shorts in the midday sun, his powerful arms glinting with perspiration as he drew a cloth across the roof of the car.
Celia continued to the centre of the expensively paved square, stopped, and turned. Pointing ahead of her and downward, she beckoned Fiona with her other hand.