She laid her arm across Betsy’s belly and wrapped her hand into her crotch. As Rob began thrusting into her, she began thrusting her fingers into Betsy’s cunt. It felt like she was channeling Rob’s sexual energy through her body and down her arm into Betsy.
Betsy began rocking her pelvis in time with Irene’s fingers.
Irene began squeezing Rob with her cunt muscles.
It felt like Betsy’s sexual energy was being channeled through Irene’s hand and back through her cunt into Rob’s cock.
Rob came like a beast.
Irene came even harder.
Betsy didn’t come at all, but she watched Irene’s contorted face in wonderment.
When Irene settled back to earth, she looked at Betsy and smiled. “That felt so good.”
Betsy’s eyes grew wider.
Irene worked her fingers around in Betsy’s cunt gently and said, “How about we get Rob in here when he’s ready to go again? Or would you rather I get back to work with my tongue?”
“Rob,” Betsy said.
“We’ll have to give him a few minutes.”
Rob groaned happily and climbed off Irene.
Irene snuggled Betsy’s head against one breast and Rob’s against her other.
The two young people looked at each other and, after a minute, began kissing. Rob reached across Irene’s chest to fondle Betsy’s breast. Betsy reached down to squeeze his butt.
Irene reached between his legs to gently fondle his cock.
All three kept doing what they were doing for a few minutes until Irene began feeling a slight swelling in Rob’s cock. She began massaging him in a gentle rhythm, sliding along his shaft and slipping his foreskin back and forth over his smooth, exquisitely sensitive head.
At the same time, she slipped her hands between Betsy’s thighs and began massaging her cunt in the same rhythm, not trying to penetrate her or play with her clit, but just working the whole vulva.
The two heads lying on her chest, still kissing each other began breathing hard and deep.
She removed her hand from Betsy’s cunt and brought it up to separate the two lovers’ heads. “Lie back, dear, and spread ‘em.”
She turned to Rob and said, “Go get her, tiger.”
He climbed over top of Irene to settle himself on top of Betsy. It took him a minute to get inside her – the younger girl wasn’t adept at tilting her pelvis to facilitate entry – but when both had the will, they found the way.
When he started thrusting, Betsy responded. Irene could see her experimenting, trying to find out how to get as much stimulation from him as possible.
She would never lie passively and let a boy just put it inside her again.
Betsy began telling Rob, “There. Deeper. Fill me all the way up.”
Betsy liked men a lot more than women.
When both were moaning and panting with enthusiasm, Irene slipped out of the bed.
She slid her housedress over her head, slid her feet into her shoes, and left the room.
Her work here was done.
* * *
When Irene put her hand on the latch to the professor’s front door, a voice behind her said, “We should talk, slave.”
She whirled about to find the professor’s friend, Moe, standing there.
“You scared me,” she said. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”
“I’m light on my feet for a fat man.”
“You’re not that fat.”
Moe hefted his belly with his hands. “Twenty pounds. Not obese, but I always think that a doctor should be in better health than his patients.”
She didn’t like the way this conversation was going. He was giving her the impression that he wanted her to say that he was fat so that he could get angry at her insult. “I don’t think that the professor is home right now.”
“He’s not,” Moe said. “Get inside.”
She didn’t want to be alone with him. “I’m sure that the professor would like to see you, but he’s not due back for hours. He has back-to-back lectures today.”
“My business is with you, not with him. I thought that I made that clear.”
“All my business involves the professor.”
“Bullshit!” He opened the door himself, grabbed her arm, and dragged her into the studio.
She struggled in his grip but couldn’t break his hold. He was a lot stronger than her.
“Don’t fight with me,” he said. “You won’t like how that turns out.” He slammed the door shut with his free hand.
She stopped fighting and stood still. “The professor won’t be happy when I tell him that you were here.”
Moe kept his grip on her arm. “You can tell him what you want. But if you start talking, be sure that you tell him the whole story.”
His confidence foreshadowed something terrible. Irene quailed inside but kept her face impassive. “What whole story?”
“The whole story about your business that doesn’t involve the professor. You be sure to tell him how you wait for him to be gone during the day and then you sneak out to service your lovers. Taking them two at a time. Both boys and girls. Like that lovely slut and her dirty fella that you were fucking today over on Twenty-Third Avenue. Or how about when you brought that lout back here a couple of weeks ago and fucked him right over there on that whipping bench.“
Irene remembered hearing the front door close after her tryst with Mr. B. She had been afraid that someone had come into the studio. She had been wrong. Moe had already been inside when she brought the boy here. What she had heard was Moe shutting the door when he was leaving.
“You can imagine my surprise when I stopped by and found the door unlocked. When I came in to see if the professor was all right, I was even more surprised when you arrived with your lover.” He shook his head. “It was a pity that I didn’t have my camera with me that day. I could have shot a lovely spread. But I didn’t make that mistake again. I’ve been brining my camera around every day that the professor is out and I have plenty of pictures of you going in and out of your little love nest with a few of your favorite boys and girls.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“You know what the professor thinks about his slaves having sex? Have you ever talked to him about it?”
She shook her head.
“He loves a chaste woman. He idolizes purity. Pure pain and pure intellectual pursuits walk hand-in-hand in his mind. If he ever found out that you were screwing around like a bunny in springtime behind his back he’d kill you. Strap you into his crucifixion frame, crank you up on your tippy toes and leave you hanging until you died. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d give to you Carl. Carl would make you wish that you were only being crucified. Carl has a lot of rats in his lab. He half-starves them so that they’ll push levers to get food. Can you imagine what it would be like to be tied down in a room with a hundred starving rats? Carl can. He imagines that every time he sees you.”
“What do you want?”
“You don’t have to worry about what I want. I’m going to take what I want. All you have to worry about is whether we’re going to tell the professor about it or not. I’m just making sure that you understand that if Ragnar hears anything, he’s going to hear everything.”
Moe didn’t bother waiting to hear what she had to say about that. He was still gripping her arm with his left hand. He grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her head with his right hand and dragged her across the room.
She saw what was coming. “No!” She’d had sex with many men since being enslaved. Often she hadn’t wanted to fuck them, but she had done it willingly because it had been her duty.
This was different. In principle, a slave cannot be raped because she does not own her body and, therefore, does not have the power to either give or withhold consent.
But principle wasn’t practice. The doctor wanted to rape her and he was going to make sure that she felt raped.
The slave still had a human spirit and rape i
s an assault on the spirit.
He didn’t use threats or extortion to make her cooperate. He didn’t want her to cooperate at all. He was a sexual sadist who wanted to overpower her with brute force. He wanted her to feel his physical strength when he was raping her. He wanted her to know that she was being raped.
She tried to fight him but she couldn’t reach him. She couldn’t break her left arm free of his grip. Her right arm flailed ineffectively behind her back at his right arm but he only tangled his fingers more tightly in her hair.
When he reached the equipment cabinet, he released her hair and used his free hand to open the cabinet and grab a pair of handcuffs. She tried to pry his fingers off her arm but couldn’t. She wanted to scratch his eyes out but didn’t dare. If she hurt him, the professor wouldn’t be able to save her from being nailed to a wall by the sheriff.
Moe wanted to use his brute strength, but they both knew that it was the fear of the sheriff that really subdued her.
He snapped the cuffs on her left wrist. Then he grabbed her hair again and pulled her to the pillory.
He caught her right hand in his and pulled her down to her knees in front of it. She resisted but she couldn’t bear his body weight. He wasn’t as buff as Carl but he still had almost a hundred pounds on her.
He pulled her hands around the post that supported the pillory and cuffed them together. Then he grabbed her hair and positioned her head in the stocks with one hand while he closed them about her neck.
She pushed and strained against the pillory, desperate to get out. It was hopeless.
She was bent double. Moe stepped behind her and raised her housedress over her hips and far up her back, exposing most of her body.
He dropped his pants and underwear and stepped out of them. Then he kicked her feet apart to expose her sex.
She tried to clamp her cunt muscles shut.
They were strong, but not strong enough. Her cunt was still slick from her sex with Mr. B and Betsy. And the anticipation of being raped had stimulated her treacherous body to secrete more lubrication.
He pushed his rigid cock past her cunt lips and then thrust himself deep into her.
She was horrified. She had experience with all kinds of sex. Every orifice in her body had been penetrated without anyone asking her permission. But this was different. This was the first time that she had wanted desperately not to be penetrated and could not stop it. This was the first time in her life that she had been raped.
His strong fingers dug into her sides above her hips to steady her and her shoulders banged against the pillory as he bounced against her buttocks with his belly.
She kept repeating, softly, over and over, “No. No. No. No.” She couldn’t reach high enough with her handcuffed wrists to wipe the tears from her face.
It didn’t last long. Moe had been drooling over her cunt for weeks and was so excited to finally rape it that he came almost immediately.
Irene wondered if all her deliberate teasing had made him so frustrated that he could no longer resist looking for a way to rape her. She had known that he was a sexual sadist and she had continued to taunt him with her body. Maybe she had brought this on herself.
Moe redressed and left the studio. He left Irene locked in the pillory with her housedress bunched up under her arms. It would be hours until the professor returned. And if he found her like this, how would she explain her situation?
She didn’t have to. Moe returned in a few minutes. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but heard a snap and rustling. A cold wet swab dabbed at her butt then she was pierced with a sharp pain.
“Contraceptive,” Moe said conversationally. “It was time for your booster. We won’t want any little Moe’s swelling up in your belly.”
He had been planning this down to the last detail. He had come prepared.
He walked around to her head. “This is how it’s going to be from now on. You’re not going out gallivanting around the neighborhood any more. Your ass is mine from this day forward. When the professor is at the university lecturing, you’re going to stay inside with the front door unlocked. If I find the door locked, I’m not going to knock, I’m going straight to the university, pull the professor out of the auditorium right in the middle of his lecture and tell him what you’ve been up to. I’ll show him a whole album of pictures. You’re going to tell him that I’ve been raping you and I’m going to deny it. I’m going to tell him that you’ve been slutting all over the neighborhood and he’s going to believe me because I have the pictures. So if you think that your life and the lives of your lovers are worth saving, you’re going to make damned sure that your door never stays locked after the professor leaves. Not even for a minute.”
He didn’t bother asking her if she agreed or even if she understood. He unlocked the cuffs from her hands, opened the pillory, and left.
She had to return the cuffs to the cabinet herself.
This was to be her life, now. Days when she was tortured, days when she was raped, and no joy in between.
* * *
Moe’s threat was not idle. Under the law, she had stolen her body from the professor every time she had fucked Avery and Rob and Betsy because her body was his property, not hers. She had given the boys something that the professor owned.
Slaves who stole were punished severely. There was a natural tendency among owners to forgive their slaves for crimes that they could overlook. A wealthy lord who fucked his favorite slave daily might not care if she stole a pair of his wife’s gold earrings worth only a hundred plaqs. He would flog her a little, replace the earrings, and forget about it. Even if he didn’t like the slave much, he wouldn’t want to lose her. She was worth several hundred times as much as the earrings. It would cost him too much to punish her so severely that it mutilated her and reduced her value.
Thus, if the law didn’t intervene, pleasure slaves would soon learn that they had a free hand to steal as much from their owners as they wanted.
So the law did intervene. If the sheriff discovered that a slave had stolen something, he would confiscate the slave and punish her most severely.
The best that she could expect was to be mutilated and then sold as a labor slave. Judges tended to get creative about making the punishment fit the crime. A slave who stole a pair of earrings, for example, might have her ears amputated and, for good measure, her nose as well. After that, there would be no question that she was fit only for a short life as a labor slave.
The worst that could happen was that she could be nailed to the wall at the rear of the courthouse by wrists and ankles and left hanging. Cruel people would force food and water into condemned slave’s mouths to ensure that they stayed alive and suffered for a long, long time.
Owners were understandably reluctant to expose their favorite slaves as thieves, but their wives had no such inhibitions.
The result was that few pleasure slaves dared steal so much as a crumb of food off the floor.
Irene had stolen a lot more than a crumb off the floor, so she had no choice but to do exactly as Moe instructed.
Lecture schedules were not secret. Moe knew exactly when the professor had to be at the university standing in front of a hundred students for an hour or more.
Irene would never dare to leave the door locked.
Under Moe’s new regime, the next time professor said that he was off to the university and locked the door behind him, Irene came down to the door immediately and listened to his footsteps recede down the sidewalk, then drew the deadbolt back.
Unlike most owners of pleasure slaves, the professor preferred that Irene not be naked at home. He only stripped her for torture sessions.
She was sitting in the lounge, wearing a yellow silk dress, reading about the Inquisition, when Moe came creeping up the stairs.
“I was expecting you,” she said. A second rape was inevitable. She didn’t want it, but if her only choice was to accept it, there was no sense making it any more painful than necessary. “How do you
want me to service you?”
Moe didn’t appreciate her cooperation. He wanted to dominate her with overwhelming force. It was more pleasurable for him if she tried to fight him off. It didn’t matter to him that she didn’t dare fight too hard lest she suffer an exceptionally painful execution. He expected her to flail around ineffectually, while he beat her into submission. And then leave her to try to explain her bruises to the professor without admitting to anything incriminating.
“I don’t give a damn what you want,” he said, pretending to misunderstand her offer.
He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off the sofa. He liked pulling hair.
It hurt and she screamed in shock, reaching up with both hands to grab him by the wrist and relieve the pressure on her scalp.
He dragged her across the floor, scraping her knees on the carpet. In the center of the room, he pushed her face hard against the floor.
She got her knees under her and pushed her ass into the air, offering herself to him.
He used his free hand to flip her dress up over her shoulders, baring her backside. Then he opened his pants to free his erection and shoved his cock hard into her asshole without warning.
She screamed in agony.
He began pumping hard and deep, loving the feeling of fucking her torn and bleeding asshole.
Except that it wasn’t torn or bleeding. She’d played this game before and had anticipated his move. After he’d raped her in the studio, she’d been lubing her asshole with butter and stretching it with a smooth, polished dildo that she’d turned on the lathe in the shop.
But she wasn’t going to let him know that he wasn’t hurting her. She screamed and beat her hands and begged him to stop.
As expected, he came in her asshole in less than a minute and then withdrew as abruptly as he’d penetrated her.
She immediately thrust her hand between her legs to cover her undamaged asshole with her fingers and sobbed, “Oh, God! Oh, God! You split me in two! Oh, God, that hurts!”
“Now you know what it’s like to get ass fucked by a real man,” he said.
She continued to wail as though in agony as she flopped onto her side and curled up into a fetal position.
The Fine Art of Torture (Slave of the Aristocracy Book 3) Page 14