by Syra Bond
'This is the little slave who likes a spanking,' shouted a young blond man wearing only tight trunks. 'Fronto has talked about her. Apparently her thirst for pleasure is unquenchable.'
They all laughed as they gathered around her.
'Bring her over to the vaulting horse,' shouted another. 'There can be nothing better to secure a slave who has a desire for spanking.'
Caristia looked back at Magnus, bound by the hands and feet and lying on the ash covered ground. His red eyes looked away, as if he felt guilty for failing to protect her, and he lay back and opened his mouth, inviting the volcano to fill him with its fatal heat and take away his shame.
Caristia reached towards him but the young men dragged her away, pulling her into the middle of the training area at the centre of the colonnaded square. The clouds darkened overhead as heaving billows of ash-laden smoke filled the crimson sky, and the marble columns that surrounded the square were lit red like giant torches.
'Here,' shouted one of the young men. 'Tie her to the top. Bend her over so that her buttocks are exposed fully to the reddening sky and the spanking she is going to get.'
Two of them lifted her up and bent her over the side of the vaulting horse. She was draped across the suede leather top and her hands stretched around it until they reached her ankles on the other side. They bound them together with some used bandages and secured the ends to the feet of the timber construction. Caristia's blonde hair trailed down in a tangle as she stared underneath the horse. Everything looked red, everything looked on fire, everywhere looked like hell. Not far away she could see Drusus, hanging in his bonds, looking towards her helplessly, unable to save her, forced to watch her suffering. The sight of him made her think again of the escape he had promised, and under the vermilion turmoil of the boiling sky she was filled with a deep sense of despair.
The young men argued about who would be first and they pushed each other until one was chosen. He stood behind Caristia and circled her bottom with his hand. It was a young hand, soft and strong, and his touch was light. It tingled her skin and the image of Drusus faded in her mind as she waited for the young man to lift his hand away and sweep it down for the first delightful smack. The others urged him to get on with it as he continued to feel her buttocks, but he would not be rushed and, even as another distant explosion came from the erupting volcano, he waited. Caristia tightened her buttocks slightly, but she knew she must not respond too much; his gentle touch was not expecting a response, and surrounded by the hellish fire of impending doom, she closed her eyes and lingered under his delicate control.
She did not feel him lift his hand away, his touch had been so light, but she heard it cutting the air as he brought it down and the sound of its sharp smack filled her ears before the pain that followed it entered her mind. It was hard and sharp and smarted deeply, but again, before she had fully absorbed it, he circled her bottom with his hand, calming her, forcing her to wait. Again she closed her eyes before he lifted away and again she was only warned of the approach of pain by the swishing of his fingers through the air as he swept his hand down for a second time.
Another explosion from the volcano sounded only like a faint rumble of thunder to Caristia as the young man continued spanking her. She felt punished and yet she did not know what for, and she felt caressed even though the caresses brought pain. She knew her bottom lifted to his smarting smacks and she knew he could see her cunt squeezed tightly at the base of her buttocks, where they joined her thighs. When she thought of these things she felt a running heat inside the swelling flesh of her exposed slit. The smacks kept coming; solid, hard and sharp, rhythmic, paced, dispassionate. Caristia rose to each one more than the one before, and with each increase in pain she felt the approaching closeness of her orgasm. She opened her eyes for a moment and saw the redness of hell descending on the earth, then as the young man quickened his smacks she held her breath, bit her lip and let her orgasm seize her.
He kept spanking her until the last convulsion of her orgasm had passed, then stepped back and let another take his place. This one was harder, quicker and sent sharp stings through her sensitized buttocks but now it did not matter; she only wanted the feel of a hand on her bottom. She did not care how hard it was, how quick, how punishing, as long as it kept coming. As long as it thrashed her until another convulsion of ecstasy was drawn from her heaving body. She pulled her bound wrists against her ankles to increase the tension across her buttocks and, as the pace of the hand built to a rapid crescendo she finished again, groaning first then letting it go in a sudden screech of pleasure.
They all took their turn, spanking her first with their hands then with a cane, and her buttocks, at first smudged with redness from their palms were soon laced with sharp red lines from the rod. She rode it all, lifting herself to each smack as it came down, absorbing the heat dispensed to her from the slashing cane, revelling in the perfection of pain that coursed through her.
They cut her free and laid her on her back along the top of the leather-covered vaulting horse. Her legs fell loosely at the sides, stretching the muscles in her thighs, accentuating her hipbones. Her sex was pulled under the tension, lengthened by the strain of being stretched, the lips squeezed together into a neat oval. Her breasts were flattened against her chest, her nipples hard and her arms hung down limply, emphasising her shoulders. Her head hung back and her blonde hair draped, exposing her small ears and high-boned cheeks. She stared up into the angry red sky, completely vulnerable.
The young men fought with each other to be first to get on top of her. In the end one of them knelt between her thighs and held his throbbing cock in his hands. He pressed the glans against the tight slit and moved it sideways until he opened it. The moisture from within her flesh ran across the tip of his cock, making it shine red in the fiery light of the tormented sky. He leant forward and drove it into her, sinking it to the root in one long push. He thrust at her, and with each strong stroke she lifted her legs a little higher, first to the sides of his thighs, then his hips, his waist and finally she brought them up as high as she could and wrapped them around his neck. He kept thrusting his cock into her, then as he grasped her stretched buttocks in his hands she reared up and he finished deep inside her jerking body. She clung to him as he finished, sucking every drop of semen from him, drawing it out as if it was her last act. The others took her in the same way and she reared up on every one, letting the convulsions of her orgasms run into one another, allowing her pleasure to join into a single stream of blissful ecstasy.
Two of them pushed their cocks into her mouth and she sucked both as they finished at the same time, but increasingly they became aware of the ever-reddening sky and the ash falling about them. Some of them pulled on tunics but most left naked, heading for the exit of the town and the turmoil that lay beyond the enclosure of the Gymnasium. Caristia leant against the vaulting horse, breathing hard, still feeling the heat of pleasure inside her semen-filled cunt. She draped her arms over the top and pushed her bottom out, hoping that one of the young men would return and take advantage of her again, but they had all gone.
Another explosion roared from the bowels of the volcano and, as if woken from a reverie, Caristia turned to Drusus, still hanging where he had been tied. She ran to him and struggled to free him. When she finally managed to he held her in his arms and looked up into the sky.
'We must hurry,' he said, picking up a discarded tunic and wrapping it around her as protection against the falling ash. 'If we can only get to the sea I know we will be safe.' They ran past Magnus, and Caristia held back and tried to bend down to him. Drusus pulled her away and shook his head. 'It is too late for him,' he said breathlessly. 'But we still have a chance.'
He pulled her out into the street and back into the panicking crowd that thronged in a confused melee of fear and helpless terror.
Chapter 13
Death on the road to Stablae
Hand in hand, Caristia and Drusus ran along the cinder-strewn road t
owards the small coastal town of Stablae. It was as though they were inside a vast cauldron, coughing in the choking smoke, their feet burning on the fiery ash as it boiled around them. Suddenly Caristia stopped, frightened by the sight of two women tied to X-shaped crosses by the roadside. They were both naked, their hair sticking in straggling strands to their sweating faces, their mouths covered by leather gags, their arms pinned outwards and upwards and their legs widespread. Their wrists were bound tightly to the upper beams of the outward pointing timbers and their ankles were secured with leather thongs so that their feet were well clear of the ground. Their eyes, glowing with the fire from the sky, made them look as if they were burning from within their tortured bodies. Several soldiers taunted them, prodding with lances or pushing their faces between the terrified women's legs. The women flung their heads from side to side, as if trying to show they were resisting their torturers but, by their desperate actions, only proving their helpless captivity. A little further on Caristia and Drusus came across a group of men spanking a girl. Her naked body was passed from one to the other as each took turns in draping her slight form across their knees. She screamed in panic, struggling to escape their clutches, to run to the sea and hopefully find safety, but it was a pointless hope. Her upturned bottom, reddened by their hands and the light of the fiery mountain of Vesuvius, would provide the final pleasure for the men and the final pain for their victim.
At last Caristia and Drusus made it to Stablae, and barely in time. The deafening roar of the volcano had increased, its smoking plume rising ever higher into the darkened sky. The shower of hot ash, only a drizzle when they had left Pompeii, was now a full blown storm of fire.
'Drusus,' she choked, 'are we safe? Tell me we are safe.'
Drusus looked exhausted but did not show Caristia his fear.
'We are nearly at the shore,' he said. 'There we will be safe. Yes, we will find a boat and be safe. Soon, my sweet, we will be safe with the Arabs of the African desert.'
As they ran down the stony shore she saw just one small boat, surrounded by an angry crowd. The wretched mob fought each other in the hope of claiming a place in the already overburdened boat, which wallowed in the flat red swell.
'We are going to die,' she said, filled with despair. 'We will not be able to escape.'
'We will, my sweet,' he said, grabbing her and running towards the crimson waves. 'Just a little further.'
He pulled her into the crowd and she was consumed, as if by a massive swarm of bees desperate to surround their queen. Hands caught hold of her, pulling her in all directions, grasping her breasts, her cunt, her hair, her lips, and she was filled with panic.
'Drusus!' she screamed, unable to see him any more. 'Drusus!' she called hopelessly. 'Where are you?'
Drusus fought blindly with the wretched rabble, throwing himself towards Caristia's weakening voice, kicking at everyone around them, biting, anything to keep her from their grabbing hands. He gathered her up and managed to tear her away, and for that one moment, as she stared into his eyes, she felt free. It was as though at last they had escaped and were, on that reddened, violent shore, liberated from the tyranny of their cruel masters. But it was only for a moment.
The horde descended on them with renewed vigour, panic-stricken by their own fear of death, and even though Drusus still managed to hold Caristia high above them, he took the full force of their anger. He pitted himself with all his strength against the mass, but he sank slowly and irrevocably beneath their overwhelming power. She sensed his strength waning as still he struggled to carry her nearer the fragile boat, then with one final effort he flung her towards it. Already filled to the brim with fear-filled passengers, it was now being pushed out into the beckoning sanctuary of the sea.
As she was thrown down in the bottom of the boat she lost sight of Drusus. The last she saw of him was struggling beneath the feet of the angry mob, red ash billowing around him, as if he was being dragged down into hell by Satan's acolytes. She turned her face away, unable to face his suffering, and in the front of the boat, sucking avidly on a large cock as it drenched her face with semen, was Innocenti. Caristia's eyes widened, then as the glowing redness of a fresh eruption coloured everything with a deep crimson blush, she saw the man kneeling above the frail girl was Fronto. The boat lurched and she was thrown forward against the naked Innocenti. Her skin felt smooth and Caristia's nostrils filled with her soft fragrance. She looked up at Innocenti's face, pure and delicate, her upturned pigtails neatly braided at the sides of her head.
'Innocenti!' Caristia shouted. 'You are safe, but why...?' She wanted to ask what was going on. Why was Fronto, a cruel master who had subjected the girl to so much suffering now the subject of her passion? But she already knew the answer. It was written on Innocenti's eager, semen-soaked face, and on Fronto's glare of arrogant complicity. Innocenti did not reply, but encircling Fronto's pulsating cock with her delicate fingers she lapped at its tip, drinking everything that came from it.
'She is my wife,' announced Fronto, over the thunderous din of the eruption. 'I hope you didn't think she was a slave like you. But of course, she plays her part so well, her desire to suffer the punishment of slaves is so great, how could you know. How amusing. Yes, she is my wife, my little pleasure-seeking wife. It is one of her games. Does she not play her part to the full, little slave?'
Innocenti drew away for a moment, smiled, then again took his rigid cock into her open mouth and sucked. Her eyes closed as she swallowed it down and Caristia knew from the hollow tingling that filled her body the deep humiliation of intractable deceit.
Caristia, her world overturned and filled with blind panic, struggled to escape, to run back to the shore and find Drusus. But it was hopeless; the men in the boat fell on her like a pack of wolves, first tearing off her charred clothes then bending her over the central thwart and tying her tightly. They bound her wrists and ankles to each other so that her legs were bent wide at the knees and her buttocks were open. Her naked sex was fully exposed, its fleshy shape outlined by the red light in the sky. Fronto looked down at her as he stroked Innocenti's dark pigtails.
The men crowded around Caristia, seized with the panic of a final act, knowing their end was coming, desperate to fill their remaining life with action. Punishing her would be their last act, their last chance to obtain pleasure in the living world. She would be the object of all their pent-up passion, of everything they had ever desired. This subjugated form, this captive victim would be spanked by them all, then when the flesh of her cunt was swollen and heated and moist with passion, she would perform all their wishes. Then, when they were satiated, she would take their cocks and drink their semen. Caristia would satisfy them all before they were overcome, either with the fire or the fumes or the falling ash. She would bend for them in every way they imagined, fold herself forward and expose her bottom to them in all the ways they had ever wished. She would tighten the cheeks of her buttocks when they smacked her and would relax them between their blows so that they could see the perfect shape of her cunt as its soft flesh squeezed between her thighs. She would let them see the way it tightened again, anticipating the moment of contact, just before the flat of a hand landed in another punishing spank. She would lift her buttocks for them, imploring them to spank her harder, inviting them to use her in every way that pleased them. She would get down on all fours, dropping her forearms flat against the slopping wet boards of the crowded boat, submitting to them completely. And the end, the sound of their smacking hands reddening her bottom, already painted crimson by the fiery sky, would drown out the roar of the erupting volcano. The terror of the falling ash and the scorching heat of the choking air would be replaced with the flow of pleasure running from her swollen, moistened cunt.
The Diaries of Syra Bond
I felt the driver's fingers slip beneath the waist of my panties, lifting it away from my skin and peeling them down over my buttocks. He used both hands to expose my bottom, little by little. As he pulled the
soft cotton away from my vulva, I felt the warm juices of my pussy making the material stick to my labial lips, and when it came free, I relished the cool caress of the evening air against my nakedness. He drew the panties down my thighs, twisted the material and wedged it just above my knees before letting it go. My nipples hardened against my blouse and I swallowed hard as my mouth went dry with anticipation.
Imprisoned by a perverted captor, research student, Syra, is forced to write about the sexual misadventures that led to her captivity. She tells in explicit detail - and under constant censure and threat of punishment - how, in the heat if a long Spanish summer her cruel master, Galen, as part of an experiment in control, trains her to complete obedience. She recalls how she fulfils his every wish as, with a mixture of mental control and chastisement, he takes her to the limits of obedience where everything, real and imaginary, becomes part of the sexual world he contrives for her.
Syra's exposure to Galen's cruelty serves only to increase her desire for satisfaction from humiliation. But even though she submits to everything she is told - and there seems nothing that limits her desire for degradation - the final outcome proves to be an ultimate and unforeseen humiliation that sets the scene for the rest of her life.
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