Under the Lash

by Vashti La Soeur

  ‘Poor thing,’ said another. ‘Just wait till Lashley gets her hands on him. He’ll be wishing the dogs HAD got him. ’

  A hand ran over his prick.

  ‘Seems a shame all this going to waste,’ chimed in a third voice. ‘I fancy a suck. Lashley won’t mind, I’m sure. ’

  ‘Well, hurry up then, Hilda. It’s cold here. We don’t want to hang around all night. ’

  Cyril mewed and opened his eyes. A straggly-haired old woman was kneeling in front of him with an old sack draped over one shoulder, leaving one of her breasts uncovered. The old woman lifted his cock, mumbling as she crammed it in her mouth. As she chewed, he realized she had no teeth. Her hard gums felt like rubber pliers as they worked on his member, gripping and releasing him, bringing him moaning and twisting to a frenzy of pleasure.

  ‘He likes it, don’t he?’ said one of the other women. ‘He might as well enjoy it while he can. ’

  The friction on his cock was bringing him to a climax. Furiously, he thrust and withdrew his hips, yearning for more and more and still more.

  ‘Come on, Hilda. Don’t be selfish. Give us a chance, too. ’

  As the other woman spoke, a gush of spunk poured out of Cyril’s prick, making him gasp as it swelled and throbbed.

  Hilda grunted as the juice ran down her chin.

  ‘Tastes sweet,’ she said. ‘Good as a cuppa hot sweet tea. ’

  She sucked him greedily and pushed her fingers into his anus. Cyril gave himself up to the sensations running through him. Never had he been serviced so thoroughly before.

  At last Hilda stood up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  ‘Haven’t had a suck like that for a long time,’ she cackled.

  Another woman took her place on the ground.

  ‘Come on,’ she murmured to Cyril. ‘Give to Mamma. ’

  As she pushed his limp prick into her mouth, she caught hold of his balls.

  ‘Give, baby! Give - if you don’t want to suffer. ’

  Cyril knew she meant what she said. Furiously he thrust his hips forward, knocking her off balance.

  ‘That’ll teach ya,’ Hilda smirked. ‘Silly little bugger’s got nothing to give yet, have ya, wanker? Give him a chance to work it up. When I sucks ‘em, I sucks ‘em good. ’

  ‘I see. Well, just for that . . . ‘

  The woman he had butted came forward and grabbed his balls. The pain made Cyril scream.

  ‘Don’t injure him, Mary,’ Hilda said. ‘He’s Lashley’s and she won’t want her property spoiled. ’

  ‘Time we got back,’ said the first woman. ‘Don’t want ta be one of Lashley’s spectaculars, do we?’

  They released Cyril from the tree and dragged him along by the chain through his bum-ring.

  ‘Fix him to the whipping post in the hall,’ Lashley ordered. ‘I want him on display as a warning to the other slaves. Don’t gag him yet. I have a few questions to ask first. ’

  Cyril could see the Dominatrices and slaves assembling. When the last had arrived, Lashley turned to him.

  ‘You know what you’re in for, don’t you?’ she asked.

  Fear clutched him. He nodded, terror showing in his eyes.

  ‘Water,’ he gasped.

  ‘Oh, water?’ She turned to some slaves beside the stage.

  ‘Here, you! Come here. ’

  When they had climbed the steps, she said,

  ‘Water him. ’

  The three slaves directed their cocks at Cyril and peed upwards towards his face.

  Their aim was accurate. His face was soon streaming with the yellow fluid.

  ‘Don’t empty yourselves, fools,’ Lashley screamed. ‘Put some in his mouth, too. ’

  His jaw was pulled open and a spouting cock crammed inside his lips. As the urinating slave pumped himself dry, Cyril was forced to swallow hastily to avoid being choked by the fierce flow.

  In turn, the other two slaves repeated the action. At last Cyril’s own cock started to leak. It became a strong gush and a roar of laughter rose from the onlookers.

  ‘Push it in - take it out!’ they yelled. ‘In - out. ’

  ‘Now for the thrashing,’ Lashley announced. ‘All Dominatrices will form a queue. Ten cuts from each one in turn on this creature. Use your favourite instrument - cane, whip, bamboo, strap. Anything you want. Any slave found masturbating will be treated the same way. I want to see every cock standing up. ’

  When Cyril’s shrieks had died away, every Dominatrix was panting with the exertion. Lashley went round the hall feeling every slave’s cock, testing to see if there had been any sign of secret self-abuse.

  ‘He will be left there for a week,’ Lashley continued, ‘and will be used for practice sessions by any Dominatrix studying for her Final CP examination as well as for amusement. ’

  She turned to the miserable Cyril hanging from the whipping post.

  ‘What does “CP” mean? Tell us,’ she asked.

  He stuttered before he was able to reply.

  ‘C . . . C . . . Corporal Punishment, Great Mistress. ’

  Lashley laughed.

  ‘Good try. But you’re not correct. ’

  She brought her riding crop down across his balls, making him squeal again.

  ‘You!’ she pointed to Erica who was standing nervously in front of the stage. ‘You! French maid! Tell him - what does “CP” stand for?’

  Erica gulped. He dared not make a mistake.

  ‘C . . . College of Pleasure, Great Mistress. Please?’

  ‘Good. And what qualification is given to graduates of the College?’

  His eyes rolled as he strove to remember the answer.

  ‘“MCP”, Great Mistress. Meaning “Mistress of the College of Pleasure”, please. ’

  He shuddered as he spoke.

  ‘Very good, French maid. Your duty now is to milk this object - this miserable wretch - every hour. Then bugger him. But, of course, as a French maid, you can’t bugger, so use the dildo. Keep him fully milked and buggered so he won’t have the strength to run away even if he is unbound. ’

  She picked up a long steel dildo and waved it in front of Cyril’s eyes. ‘This is what you’ll be buggered with. ’

  She rammed the steel rod up his bum, making him scream and twist his body.

  ‘Now milk him,’ she ordered Erica. ‘Get every drop out. One speck left . . . and you’ll join him here. ’

  His eyes wide and breathing heavily with fear, Erica took Cyril’s cock and started working on it. On and on he went, paying no attention to Cyril’s writhing and pleas.

  Only when nothing more came did he stop. Cyril’s head had fallen forward and his body was twitching as a result of the milking.

  ‘Now bugger him with the dildo,’ Lashley ordered.

  A few more drops oozed from his battered cock. Cyril heard her voice cut through the haze.

  ‘Milk - bugger! Milk - bugger!’

  Chapter Twenty One

  Cyril’s strength was coming back. A young novice-Dominatrix was examining him closely when he opened his eyes.

  ‘Are you in pain?’ she asked in a low, husky voice that made him tremble as she spoke.

  He nodded.

  ‘Yes, mistress,’ he faltered.

  ‘You’ve been very naughty, haven’t you?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘Don’t you know men are born to serve women?’ she asked. Her tone was sympathetic and caring, as though speaking to a little child.

  He groaned.

  ‘Please, mistress, be kind to me. I got here by mistake. I didn’t ask to come. ’

  The novice-Dominatrix drew close, rubbing her body against him like a cat.

  ‘What would you gi
ve me if I set you free?’ Her question was almost a purr.

  ‘Anything, mistress. Anything you want. ’

  She rubbed her body against him again.

  ‘ANY-thing? Would you tongue my pussy if I put my crack on your face? Would you lick my clit?’ she wheedled him.

  ‘Oh, yes, mistress. Willingly. ’

  The novice drew away and laughed.

  ‘What about the Great Mistress? Would you tongue and lick hers, too?’

  As she spoke she took his drooping cock between her thumb and fingers, rolling it gently between them.

  A shudder ran through him.

  ‘I . . . I’d try, mistress. ’

  ‘So it’s not just me you want, is it? You’d tongue anyone who’d let you go, wouldn’t you?’

  Cyril saw she had been playing a game with him and did not answer.

  The novice trilled with laughter as she left.

  ‘Poor little wanker,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll make a special study of you for my project. I’ll call it “Memoirs of a Cock-busted Male”. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll have a permanent droop. ’

  Just then Erica arrived for the next milking session.

  ‘Come in, Frenchie,’ the novice called. ‘I might bring you into my project, too. I’ll push a walnut up your arse and tan you three or four times a day for the pleasure of hearing you scream. ’

  She burst into a frightening tinkle of laughter as she left the room.

  After she had closed the door behind her, Erica asked Cyril whether he thought she had been joking.

  Cyril was too nervous to answer.

  ‘I’d better get on with the milking,’ Erica said.

  He took hold of Cyril’s cock and felt it throb.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

  ‘If you love me, help me,’ Cyril replied in a shaky voice.

  The two men embraced and began a long, slow, deep French kiss. Cyril gave a huge sigh as Erica’s tongue entered his mouth.

  Gently he closed his teeth on Erica’s tongue which ran around inside Cyril’s mouth, touching his upper palate and the inside of his cheeks. Erica brushed his tongue over Cyril’s which was fluttering like a moth attracted to a flame.

  He pushed his fingers inside Cyril’s arsehole and waggled them slowly.

  This was the first tender embrace Cyril had since leaving Andrea. The emotions aroused in him were soft and genuine.

  ‘If I let you off the cross for a little while,’ Erica whispered, ‘will you go back again after we’ve made love?’

  Cyril promised.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he breathed.

  They embraced again after Cyril had been freed. As their kiss was ending, both men were weeping with joy. Suddenly, they heard footsteps.

  Guiltily they sprang apart. In vain Erica tried to fasten Cyril back on the cross before they were detected, but Vesta entered the hall too quickly followed by Thrushton, her slave.

  Vesta shook with laughter when she saw what had happened.

  ‘You’re in love, you two,’ she bellowed. ‘I’ll see you’re not separated, then. ’

  ‘Thrushton,’ she said, ‘put them on the long dildo, bum to bum.’

  Grinning, Thrushton picked up the long steel rod. He approached Cyril first and thrust the dildo in his anus, ignoring the scream of pain. Then he turned to Erica who was standing with his legs crossed one behind the other, his hands covering his prick.

  ‘Back on to this,’ Thrushton growled.

  Erica turned to run but he was not quick enough. Thrushton grabbed him and pushed him, bottom first, on to the steel rod now protruding between Cyril’s bum-cheeks. Erica squealed like a pig when the rod entered his sphincter.

  When they were bum-to-bum, Vesta began tickling their nipples, bring both of them to the point of explosion. Their bodies jerked agitatedly as their nipples sprang to life. They were unable to synchronize their movements and their frantic efforts to come were useless.

  The lovers were threaded on the long dildo like kebab. Their moans of pain and shrieks of rapture mingled with the laughter of Vesta and her slave, Thrushton.

  As their movements brought their bums into contact with one another on the steel rod, Cyril began to feel a yearning to have Erica on the end of his prick.

  The more his ardour grew, the harder he slammed his bottom against Erica’s.

  The movements rubbed the delicate membrane inside their bum-holes raw. Vesta titillated their nipples again, bringing their desire for each other to an unbearable pitch, making them scream helplessly.

  Unable to stand the torture any longer, Erica began to beg for relief, not stopping until Lashley arrived, accompanied by the girl who had found Cyril in the marsh.

  ‘Do you know this girl?’ Lashley asked him.

  Cyril was incapable of thinking clearly by now.

  ‘She’s my cousin, Great Mistress. ’

  The slash of the riding crop made him understand he had given the wrong answer.

  ‘So you’re a liar, too, are you?’ Lashley said. ‘We have ways of finding out the truth. A session in the gym will settle that. ’

  The gym mistress was wearing a tight white blouse and skimpy shorts through which the globes of her bottom could be seen thrusting forward as though seeking to be handled, as she entered the gymnasium.

  Seeing Cyril looking at her, she demanded to know what he was looking at.

  He swallowed but dare not lie.

  ‘I . . . I . . . was watching . . . ’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Your . . . your bottom, gym-mistress. ’

  ‘So you’d like to feel me, would you?’

  He looked tearful as he agreed.

  Her bulging biceps rippled. Apart from bruises on her thighs, there appeared to be no signs of her fight with Reneti. Cyril knew she was determined to maintain her reputation as a man-tamer.

  Her eyes glittered as she saw the two men linked bum-to-bum by the steel dildo. She knew the preliminary work in putting fear into them had already been accomplished. What was left for her to do, then, was the interesting part of humiliating them.

  Roughly, she pulled Erica off the rod. Then she yanked the other end out of Cyril, giving it a little twist as she did so, bringing tears to his eyes.

  ‘I’ll deal with you last,’ she said, pointing to Erica. ‘Watch this one being treated and pray my arm will weaken before it’s YOUR turn. ’

  She picked Cyril up off the ground with one hand and threw him across the vaulting horse.

  His bum and haunches trembled as she chose the thin cane she wanted for the job. While she was making her selection, he was softly begging her forgiveness. She paid no attention to his exaggerated promises of better behaviour in future and to the change in his story about his relationship with the marsh-girl.

  By the time he had exhausted his stock of excuses and promises and given his assurances he would never offend again, the gym mistress had chosen her instrument of punishment.

  She swished it a few times, listening carefully to its ‘ha-whish’ as it cut through the air. Then she laid it lightly across his buttocks, a movement that made him jump and squeal in anticipation.

  ‘Not yet, wanker-love,’ she softly. ‘Not yet. Y’r arse’ll feel on fire soon, though. ’

  Again she rested the cane lightly on his bum, making him jump once more. Then, without any warning, she raised it and slashed it down on his bare skin in one flowing movement.

  ‘That was a test-shot,’ she smiled. ‘Just to liven you up. Get you ready for the main course, so to speak. ’

  She ran her hand over his twitching flesh.

  ‘You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?’

  He groaned.

  ‘Yes, gym-mistress. I’
m afraid of you. ’

  ‘And your cock is rising too, isn’t it, wanker-love?’

  ‘Y . . . Yes, gym-mistress. My cock is rising. ’

  ‘So it needs to be tamed, doesn’t it?’

  He sobbed.

  ‘Answer me!’

  ‘Y . . . Yes, gym-mistress. My cock needs taming. ’

  ‘And the best way to tame it would be to thrash you, wouldn’t it?’

  Again he had to agree.

  ‘How many cuts of the cane shall we give you then, wanker-love? Answer!’

  ‘Er . . . ah . . . ‘

  ‘Tell me quickly, wanker-love. I’ll get angry if you don’t. ’

  His voice rose.

  ‘Fifteen, please, gym-mistress. ’

  She shook her head.

  ‘That’s not what I have in mind. Try again. And get it right this time. ’

  He was sweating now. Gobbets of fear ran down his face and between his bum-cheeks. This was probably his last chance.

  ‘Twen . . . twen . . . ‘

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Twenty-five? Please, gym-mistress. Make it twenty-five. ’

  It was as though he was begging to be thrashed.

  She laughed.

  ‘Bad guess. ’

  She allowed him to wriggle as he agonized over another guess.

  Would thirty be enough? Oh, God, please not more. Thirty . . . He’d never had as many as thirty before.

  A vision of Andrea flashed into his mind. She used to make him choose and count out loud, too.

  But THIRTY . . . !

  Before he could speak she laid her cool hand on his buttock and bent down to whisper in his ear. The fresh, clean smell of her carbolic soap filled his nostrils.

  ‘I was going to say eighteen . . . ‘ his hopes rose, ‘ . . . but since nothing less than twenty-five will satisfy you,’ she dragged out her words, ‘that’s what you’ll get. You’ll like that, won’t you?’

  He began to whine like a puppy.

  ‘Meh . . . meh . . . I’ll be goo . . . goo . . . ‘

  ‘And you’ll count them aloud,’ she continued. ‘Backwards - starting at 25. ’