The Instruction of Olivia

by Geoffrey Allen

  'We're supposed to be slaves?' Olivia cried. And before anyone could think of a ribald answer, Rita led the procession along the passage and through a pair of doubled doors held open by the beautifully costumed Effie.

  Chapter Nine

  When Olivia stepped onto the stage she wasn't sure whether it was outrage or embarrassment that brought a burning flush to her cheeks. What she assumed was a rehearsal in which she would 'learn the ropes' as Effie described it, had turned into a full performance in front a male audience.

  While the bejewelled Effie went through her introduction, Olivia stared at the floor not daring to look at the wide and rolling eyes gazing into her groin. She would have liked to cover it but the chains artfully prevented that. Neither could she cover her breasts, but could only stand, naked and chained, a veritable feast for the hungry eyes already devouring her.

  Sappho, who was behind Olivia wielding a whip that had magically appeared from nowhere, caught hold of her hair and jerked her head upright. Then, for no reason other than to punctuate Effie's speech, she whipped all four of the linked girls across their buttocks. Not a playful lash, but delivered with the full swing of her hips, designed to make the slaves jolt and rattle their chains, which had the audience sweating in their seats.

  Effie was getting near the end of her speech in which she had let it be understood that the slaves were indeed for sale, and to the bidder or bidders who guessed aright the amounts of money chalked on the girls' behinds. While the men debated amongst themselves, Sappho went from slave to slave, making a great play of fondling their breasts and then standing behind them and sliding her hand under their legs, rubbing it to and fro, producing gasps and sighs and wrenching of chains. If any of the slaves did not respond enthusiastically she whipped them, as Olivia soon found out. She gave her three on her bottom and another two on the backs of her thighs.

  'Now pant, you stupid cow!' she hissed in her peculiar blend of Creole and Cockney.

  She slid her hand beneath Olivia's legs and she responded with a barrage of fast, energetic gasps, which made her breasts bounce and nipples tingle.

  'That's good,' Sappho whispered. 'Now lower your eyelids and keep your lips parted - breathe deeply.'

  Olivia obeyed, this time her chest rose and fell with great heaves, and she saw the immediate effect it had on the men sitting in the front row. At another command from Sappho she resumed her panting and gasping, getting louder as she went.

  Sappho left the stage and began a slow swing of her hips along the front row, flicking her whip into the men's hardened pillars which raised the fronts of their trousers, and then fondling them with her hand. Olivia had a mental picture of her taking them all on at once, and wondered if her story were true. Seeing the way she now deftly manipulated her fingers she thought it probably was.

  Her thoughts were rudely interrupted as the bidding began. Olivia assumed that when her price was accurately guessed she would have to perform some light-hearted entertainment, such as offering herself up for a severe flogging, or having to bend over and display her wares while they too were chastised.

  Dora was the first to be released from the stage, and as no less than five of the participants had guessed correctly the amount chalked on her bottom, it was they who led her away still chained hand and foot.

  'What are they going to do with her?' she managed to whisper above the deafening shouts.

  Penny ceased snaking her shoulders. 'Anything they like, we're slaves remember, we're here to obey.'

  'But what if we refuse?'

  'Then Sappho will have you.'

  Penny had but finished her warning when her price was called, and beaming a compliant smile she waited until the chains binding her to Olivia were released and hopped off the stage. Only three men this time, Olivia noticed, hoping that the odds would keep on shortening in her favour.

  By now the place was heady and thick with smoke from numerous cigars and cheroots, and it was difficult to see who was bidding for her. The price, set at ten guineas, was called out more than once, she was certain of that, because the man in the front row who had called first turned round to see who else had rivalled him.

  Effie gave Olivia an encouraging slap on the bottom and she stepped down. The man in the front row leapt from his seat and, taking up the chain hanging from her neck, led her along as if he were a farmer leading a prize cow from market. In the smoky shadows there came the rumble of chair legs and hazy figures picking their way towards her.

  'Four of you!' she said aghast, as the chain tugged her through a pair of curtains and into a dimly lit chamber.

  'You've been let off lightly,' one of them remarked. 'At the previous auction the redhead took on a dozen. No wonder the poor bitch was bow legged for a month!'

  At that piece of intelligence the men broke into wild guffaws and scrabbled to remove the chains that fell away with surprising ease, which of course they were designed to do. 'Am I to be raped?' Olivia asked, sniffing back a tear.

  'That would depend very much on your definition of the word,' replied another.

  'Forcing me to do something I don't wish to do is rape.'

  'Perhaps we should seek the advice of the darkie - let her decide whether you're to be raped or not.'

  'Oh, please, don't call Sappho, she'll kill me,' Olivia blurted.

  'In that case shut up and do as you're told.'

  One of the men who had not spoken came forward and gently squeezed her breast, thumbing the nipple as he did so.

  'Now, now, gentlemen. That is no way to address a lady. Why, you have frightened her, and as she is so obviously a novice, perhaps we ought to treat her with a little respect. Hmmm?'

  'Yes please,' Olivia sobbed.

  'You shall not be raped,' he assured her. 'Indeed, our actions shall be guided by your consent.'

  'Then I am not to be ravished?'

  'Not here,' he replied, whisking his hand between her thighs. 'Effie has given strict instructions on that score.'

  'I don't understand you,' Olivia said, feeling herself goose bump.

  'You will consent to open both your mouth and your behind,' interrupted a more forceful tone. 'And in deference to my learned colleague, you are free to choose who goes where.'

  They were already taking off their trousers before Olivia could even come to a conclusion. But one thing she was certain about, that if she failed in her duty and gave cause for complaint, Sappho and/or Effie would punish her, and very heavily.

  And, she thought, she ought not to appear ungrateful; after all, Effie had seen fit to safeguard her virginity. The reason for this consideration never entered her head as she knelt compliantly to the floor.

  'I think that you have misunderstood, miss,' spoke the kindly man. 'You see, we intend to take you both ends at once, so to speak. So I would advise you to position yourself thus.'

  'Get down on all fours,' came an abrupt command.

  A belt that had been surreptitiously swinging behind her sailed across her shoulders. Olivia jerked and fell forward, landing appropriately on her palms. A pair of hands placed themselves on the insides of her knees and slid them open. She knew that one of the men had knelt between them, and she gasped as a finger rubbed some ointment into her bottom-cleft.

  On either side of her face the plums of two male organs smoothed into her cheeks, going in small circles and getting ever closer to the outer extremities of her startled lips. They met in the middle, hovering under her nose, impatient to be sucked.

  'I can't do both at once,' she protested, then she remembered Sappho's earlier observation and repeated it verbatim.

  'So, you're a one cock girl, are you?' the left hand organ said, giving her a cuff.

  By way of reply, Olivia grunted as the first man at her rear entered his plum. His companion seized her waist and held her rigid while the entire shaft relentlessly filled her. He let go and leaned over her back, placing his hands on the halves of her bottom and prising them open. She heard a throaty sigh of satisfactio
n and the intruder slid in another inch.

  Olivia let out her own sigh of relief and immediately the two plums jabbed into the corners of her mouth. Instinctively her jaw gaped, dropping open, lips stretched wide.

  'Methinks the lady has a big mouth,' the right hand organ observed, edging tentatively forward.

  'Room enough for the both of us, I should think,' uttered the left organ, thrusting a little deeper.

  Olivia steadied herself on one hand and cautiously lifted the other to encompass the organs threatening to choke her. With a skill she was unaware existed her fingers closed around the shafts and pressed them together until the plums were in line at the centre of her mouth. Then, taking a deep a breath as possible, she rocked forward and puckered her lips over the plums, and kept up her rocking motion until she felt them slip into the grooves.

  'Excellent,' the right organ complimented, as Olivia took her hand away and put it back on the floor.

  'See if you can fire off both barrels with the same trigger,' the left organ suggested.

  That was much easier said then sucked, for the man at her rear was pounding her buttocks without the slightest regard for his companions bulging Olivia's cheeks. His method of reaching his climax and also to obtain the maximum pleasure from Olivia's bottom was to penetrate her in a corkscrew fashion, by twisting his hips in as wide a circle as could be managed.

  The method was not lost on Olivia who clearly felt every turn, and it seemed to her that he was splitting her apart by degrees, forcing her buttocks away from the cleft, opening her up wider than the mouth of a bucket. She squinted her already closed eyes and tried to concentrate on the plums jabbing slowly to her throat. Another irrational fear gripped her imagination; what if they did fire both barrels at once, she would be inundated with sperm and like to drown.

  Get a grip, she told herself, you have done this before, just use your tongue and get the filthy business over and done with. That too was not as easy as she imagined it would be. Her mouth was filled to capacity. Not since childhood when she had stuffed her mouth with real plums had she been so engulfed. But she had been able to grind them to pulp between her teeth; try that now and she would surely suffer the consequences.

  Gingerly, she eased her tongue under the probing plums and, finding the grooves, wiggled it back and forth. She was learning from experience which parts to tease and would be most likely to produce the desired results. Unfortunately, the men on the other end of the organs were not quite as forthcoming as she hoped. They were well versed in the noble art of fellatio and could hold back for as long as they sought fit; hours if necessary, depending on the whore who pleasured them. And Olivia, they decided, was worth prolonging.

  While she struggled with her tongue the man at her rear had emptied himself and had slid out of her with a loud groan, and while her bottom hole remained stretched open his companion quickly filled it. His manner of entry was completely different. Instead of corkscrewing her, he took her with frantic and violent stabs as if he were as eager as she to get it over, which in fact, he was. He had seen how Olivia's mouth was performing and the ecstatic expressions on the faces of her recipients, and now longed to feel the same.

  The man who had spent himself reached under Olivia's body and began amusing himself with her breasts, squeezing and pulling on them, trying in his own evil way to cause her as much pain as possible. He overdid it when he pinched her nipples and Olivia bit on the soft flesh inside her mouth.

  'You clumsy cow!' one of the organs cursed, and rewarded her with a slap on the side of her head, which was soon followed by another on the opposite side.

  She would have apologised but could only utter a mumble that was taken as a protest, and would therefore be justly punished.

  'Use the belt on her,' an organ suggested. 'Give her back a jolly good leathering.'

  Olivia shook her head as if to say that was the last thing she needed. It simply wasn't fair. She was doing her very best and getting very little thanks in return. Slowly she was forming the opinion that the whole of the male sex were downright selfish and very inconsiderate.

  The man who had been milking her teats took up the belt and whipped her without compromise. He had his own theory that the more a woman was whipped, the greater her sexual appetite, not entirely dissimilar to that of Effie, who for her part had discovered that long ago when she also had spent six months in gaol, flogged morn, noon and night.

  The story that Sappho had told Olivia was only true in part; she had flicked her way to England on a ship and had got through the entire crew, but on arrival had been employed as a housemaid and had been seen by Effie during one of her working visits to the master of the house. Tall black voluptuous women were something of a novelty in England, and Effie had made up her mind straight away that she must have her. A considerable sum had changed hands, and Sappho very soon became one of her most sought after actresses.

  But today both she and Effie were not involved with the clients, and had retired to their own quarters at the top of the building.

  'What do you think of the new girl?' asked Effie, slipping out of her costume and folding it neatly into a cupboard. 'Green,' was Sappho's dull reply. 'And I suspect, a virgin.'

  She slipped off her chains and tossed them into a heap.

  'That's why I gave strict instructions that she is not to be deflowered. Whipped yes, buggered probably, fucked no.'

  Sappho opened a drawer and took out two long thick strips of leather, one of which she handed to Effie.

  'What you going to do with her?' she asked, cracking the strip onto the seat of a chair.

  Through the cloud of dust that rose from it Effie flexed her own strap, testing its strength.

  'I'm keeping her for them that likes little girls, and when the time comes I'll have her scrubbed and painted. I should say she'll fetch at least twenty-five guineas. With luck she'll pass as a virgin for a year or two.'

  They came towards each other, straps swinging by their sides.

  'Until her cunt is too well trafficked,' observed Sappho, gathering her strap ready to strike.

  They lashed each other simultaneously, slashing into their buttocks, but for the present standing apart and still, gradually increasing the velocity of the blows, whipping up their blood. They always began in that manner until, as if an understanding had been reached, they judged themselves sufficiently aroused, when they would slash at their respective bodies with the fury of the demented.

  Occasionally selected clients would be invited to watch the two women circling round each other like female gladiators poised to kill. A blazing fire brought them out in a sweat. It ran off them in rivulets, over their bouncing breasts and buttocks, lending their thighs a polished sheen, and dripping from between their legs. The shrieks of pain and pants of longing were genuine as they landed the straps with unerring accuracy into the forks of their opened legs. Sappho, who by far sported the largest breasts, took a fearful whipping across her jet black, pointed nipples. Effie, in return, took her own whipping across her bottom as Sappho circled round her with leaps of her long, agile legs.

  Watching them striping their flesh with countless livid welts, whipping their slits to a froth, one would never have guessed that they were lovers and this was but a prelude to their frenzied coupling. It was a trial of strength, a contest of powerful thighs and sturdy frames, of arms and shoulders tireless in their delivery. Lash after lash landed on their taut, quivering buttocks, and down the whole length of their backs and thighs. Snarling at each other they closed in near enough to start slapping with their free hands, usually at the breasts or sides of their faces, and if one of them lost her footing and fell the other would fall on top of her and continue the slapping, hitting to the point of exhaustion.

  Arousing though it was, the administering of pain was not enough to deliver the complete and final satisfaction that they needed. If there were men present they would take them one after the other - but alone they solved the problem in their own way.

>   Sappho, who had tumbled Effie to the floor, sat astride her pinching and punching her breasts, squeezing the nipples until tears flowed.

  'Yes, now!' Effie breathed, and Sappho went speedily to the cupboard and fetched out the phallus.

  When it was fitted, rising proudly up from her groin, she slithered between Effie's outstretched legs and plunged into her.

  Locked together with arms and legs and clinging like limpets they rolled over and over, back and forth across the carpet, Sappho riding Effie with powerful thrusts of her shining, ebony hips, and Effie in return with her hands on Sappho's buttocks, pulling her in deeper. They became as animals, a tigress and a serpent; Effie, coiling her legs and arms around Sappho's back, holding her in a death like grip while Sappho bit, tore and scratched. They wriggled and writhed, desperately trying to escape the gnashing teeth and crushing thighs, yet longing for it to continue. At each thrust Effie threw back her head and moaned aloud as if she were being burnt with hot tongs, for inside her whole sex was on fire. The phallus that Sappho pumped into her was piercing the very base of her womb, stretching open her lips until they ached.

  Sappho achieved her own climax by inflicting as much pain as time would allow. In addition to riding Effie she tormented her lover's thighs and breasts with savage bites. Her arms had gone under Effie's knees and raised them high over her chest, offering a long length of creamy thigh, which she bit without respite. Effie reached her climax before Sappho, and now on her back she bounded and jerked her hips, and it was all Sappho could do to remain mounted. As the climax died its death Sappho pumped her hips desperate to reach her own orgasm before Effie's strength wilted.

  Rocking over Effie's satiated body she drew up her knees, positioning them close to Effie's soaking buttocks, then with a sweep of her forearms lifted them from the floor. Effie hung suspended on the phallus while Sappho broke into a wild jerking of her loins. In the paroxysm of her climax, Sappho did not feel the sharp talons that sank deep into her buttocks. The tiny streams of blood that flowed into her groin were lost in the violent outpouring of her juices...