‘Tell me about it,’ David said. ‘Paint me the picture.’ And Jacqui did, kneeling there side by side with him inside the locked cage in the bitumen-blackness of the dungeon.
‘My mother was brought up by parents who were extremely religious. And yes, before you ask, David, they were Catholics. They were also what you might call old-fashioned disciplinarians. My mother’s motto was ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’. She used to insist that it never did her any harm and she imposed a similarly strict disciplinary regime on me. Whenever I was the slightest bit naughty, she used to spank me hard on my bare bottom with the flat of her hand. Later, she progressed to using a wooden paddle and the stinging sensations I felt after a really heavy correction – and they usually were just that – caused me to masturbate. Mother started using a cane on me not long after that and these sessions invariably left me with a warm, tingling feeling even though they were always very painful and left bruises that took several days to fade. During those days I couldn’t keep my hands from out of my pants, I masturbated so much. I found myself deliberately being naughty more and more just so she would beat me and I’d get those delicious sensations again. Sound familiar, David?’
It sounded very familiar, uncomfortably so. ‘Yes it does rather,’ he replied flatly, careful not to let any emotion slip out.
Jacqui went on, ‘Once, mother caught me masturbating after one of her beatings and punished me for it by caning me so hard that I climaxed during my punishment. I became an even more persistent masturbator after that, fantasising all the while about being caned. It was a vicious circle.
‘After masturbation I discovered fucking – with men and women alike – but by then, thanks to my upbringing, I was already much too perverted to put up with a vanilla sex life. I developed a tremendous craving for something that would take the place of mother’s frequent beatings and I’d often resort in desperation to self flagellation while masturbating – particularly after I met a woman called Anne while I was at university, but that’s another story. All that self abuse – in both senses of the term – wasn’t anything like enough for me, though. It did not take long for my deep masochistic cravings to lead me to S&M sex clubs like Club Depravity and extreme fetish parties like the one where we got reacquainted so memorably a few months ago.
‘So, I have come a long way as a pervert in my young life but I trace the roots of it all to my upbringing. I still associate being bad – wilful, deceitful, treacherous, whatever – with the pleasure of being punished for it, with the pleasure of pain. And the person who’s dishing out the pain simply has to be female, echoes of my dear but not so sainted mother, I have no doubt. I don’t blame her for what she did to me, though, what she made me. I really like being a pain-slut. Words cannot express how much I do.’
‘Me too,’ David said. He had become turned-on despite himself by Jacqui’s vivid account, which resonated strongly with some of his earlier experiences in ways he preferred not to think about directly. He made sure that he kept the conversation in the hear-and-now by going swiftly on to say, ‘I love to be disciplined by Mistress. Being submissive to her is my whole life.’
‘When are your happiest, horniest times?’ Jacqui asked, a throaty catch in her voice.
‘Let me think now,’ David said, uncomfortably aware of the further stirrings in his loins as his imagination got to work. ‘I guess it’s when I’m on my knees and licking Mistress’s pussy, tonguing her to orgasm while my punished rear glows from the most recent beating she has given me. I love to kiss and lick her feet, to use my tongue to explore her anus, to do anything at all that Mistress tells me to, no matter how perverted.’
‘That makes two of us,’ Jacqui said. Her voice had become hoarse with excitement. ‘I love being available to Mistress, submitting to her every erotic and sadistic whim, giving myself completely to her. I love it when she orders me about, love it almost as much as when she beats me hard or fucks me senseless with one of her strap-ons.’
‘Me too,’ said David, who was getting as sexually excited as his young companion by all this hot talk. ‘Her orders always make me horny, I don’t really know why, but there we are, they do.’
‘How do you feel about always having to call her “Mistress”?’
‘I love it. Each time I call her “Mistress” I feel a definite erotic thrill. Real weirdo, aren’t I?’
‘Mois aussi,’ Jacqui said. ‘Weirdoes of the world unite, that’s what I say. You have nothing to lose but your liberty!’
There was silence for a lengthy moment and it was replete with sexual tension. Then Jacqui whispered in David’s ear, ‘All this talk of submission and punishment has made me feel incredibly horny.’
‘Now don’t start all that again,’ David warned. ‘Remember the last time.’
‘When Mistress used the hidden CCTV camera on us, you mean.’
‘Exactly.’
‘There’s no CCTV camera this time, is there?’
No answer.
‘Well, is there?’ Jacqui whispered hotly in his ear again. ‘You heard what she said.’
‘I did, but …’
‘I’ll bet you’re feeling just as horny as I am, David,’ she said and she’d certainly got that dead right. It was the proximity of her more than anything else that was doing it now. It was overwhelming his senses.
‘No, I’m fine,’ he lied, his heart racing. He could smell her, almost taste her.
‘So, if I were to reach out for your cock in a moment I wouldn’t find it rock-hard?’
‘No Jacqui, don’t …’ But David was done for and he knew it. She took hold of his shaft, which was indeed rigidly erect. It throbbed and flexed in her hand. She smeared her fingers with the tears that cried from its tip and began to stroke it. The more Jacqui stroked David’s cock, the faster she went, her hand going up and down in the precome wetness that now thoroughly coated it.
‘Do you want me to suck you off?’ she asked.
‘Y … yes,’ he stammered.
‘Then say it, say the words.’
‘I want you to suck me off,’ David said. Jacqui opened her lips and took his cock deep into her mouth. Her tongue licked its thickness, her lips kissing and rubbing against it so that it pulsed and strained against her mouth.
‘B … but what if Mistress finds out?’ David just about managed to stammer out, given his ever more feverish state of excitement. Jacqui stopped what she was doing, removing her mouth from his erection.
‘I won’t say anything if you don’t, I swear on my life,’ she said, adding, ‘Also I’ll swallow the evidence. Mistress will never be any the wiser. Trust me. You do trust me don’t you, David?’
‘Yes,’ he gasped.
‘Say it, then.’
‘I trust you,’ David, the idiot, replied, his cock now entirely doing his thinking for him.
It had been as black as pitch in the dungeon for several hours when all of a sudden the door opened and Isabella entered, flicking on the light. She looked in the direction of the padlocked cage and saw her two slaves kneeling as she had left them, about a foot apart. They both blinked in the abrupt glare of the light, trying to adjust their eyes, before adopting the most innocent expressions imaginable. David’s face was as bland as could be and Jacqui looked as if butter – or anything else – wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
‘I hope you two have had a nice chat,’ Isabella said, her own face expressionless. ‘Have you?’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ they replied in unison.
‘Glad to hear it,’ Isabella said. Her gaze had suddenly developed a hard edge. ‘I look forward with eager anticipation to listening to the tape recording I made of your conversation.’
David tried his best to keep any emotion from showing on his face but inside he was in a total panic. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! he cursed to himself. And well might he have done because there was no doubt about it: the shit had undeniably, irrefutably hit the fan now. Why, oh why had he done it? Why had he trusted Jacqui of all p
eople, for God’s sake? She had been the instigator, the one who had been doing all the seducing, the real culprit. Mistress would see that when she played the tape back, surely, wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t she?
Chapter Forty One
Isabella had listened to the tape. The inquisition was about to begin. Her two naked slaves stood before her in the dungeon as she strode from side to side, her arms clasped behind her. She was holding something silver in one hand but neither of them could see what it was.
‘Did you really think you’d get away with it a second time, David?’ Isabella asked.
‘Mistress?’ he said, barely able to meet her gaze. His heart was beating double time.
‘You know what I’m talking about,’ Isabella said, glaring at him so hard that she seemed to be trying to cook him with her eyes. ‘Allowing Jacqui to behave exactly according to type and letting her get all the blame for it. You’ve done it once before. Thought you had a winning formula, did you, eh?’
‘No, Mistress. You see I …’ But before David had a chance to say any more, Isabella slapped him hard across the face, causing a dark flush to stain his cheek. In slapping him she also caught his upper lip, which immediately began to swell. Blood mingled with his saliva.
‘Shut your lying mouth, David,’ Isabella barked. She turned her hard stare towards Jacqui who looked positively terrified, no acting this time. ‘You have always aspired to be my house-slave, haven’t you, Jacqui,’ Isabella said. It was a statement, not a question.
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘Consider yourself duly appointed,’ Isabella said curtly and switched the hard glare of her gaze back to David. ‘As for you, you fucking worm, let me give you some idea of what’s going to happen to you. First, and let me emphasise, this is just for starters – to soften you up before your real punishment begins – you are to remain in solitary confinement in this dungeon for as long as I consider it appropriate. There are perfectly adequate toilet and washing facilities here already, needless to say, so you can shower and shave and the like. As far as subsistence is concerned, Jacqui – who is not allowed to speak to you from now on, incidentally, ever again – will deliver two bowls to you each morning, one containing drinking water, the other some scraps for you to eat. That will keep body and soul together for you, just about, and even that’s more than you deserve because you’re the lowest of the fucking low. Do you agree with that assessment?’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ David replied. He certainly did agree. He was conscious that he’d begun trembling, couldn’t stop.
‘A couple of other matters,’ Isabella said, her mouth twisted with disgust. ‘When I first took you into my home you signed a slave contract that required you, among other things, to always do what I tell you without fail. You have blatantly disregarded that, which is utterly inexcusable, is it not?’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ he replied, his body quaking like an aspen now.
‘That slave contract agreement is no longer worth the paper it is written on because of what you have done.’
‘M … m … mistress…’
‘You are also under a standing instruction not to masturbate unless you have my express permission,’ Isabella went on, her dark eyes glinting savagely. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘For painfully obvious reasons I can no longer trust you to comply with that instruction. From now on I shall require you to wear this.’
Isabella produced the mysterious silver object she was holding from behind her back. It was a chastity device constructed of lightweight aluminium and she immediately proceeded to enclose David’s cock and balls with it. The device had a key closure, which she locked, and a drainage hole that David was going to have to rapidly get accustomed to using. The device was actually fairly comfortable but David knew that would drastically change if he started to get a hard-on. And, face it, he was always getting hard-ons. David started to anticipate the searing pain in his groin he was going to suffer, the appalling pressure he would be feeling there.
‘It was Mistress Kate’s idea,’ Isabella said. ‘She gave it to me as a gift this evening when we met for dinner. She’s never trusted Jacqui and thought you might be safer from temptation if you wore a chastity device. Too late, wasn’t she, slave?’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ David replied miserably. A torrent of guilt and shame and fear flooded through him.
‘And don’t think you’re going to get off lightly, Jacqui,’ Isabella said, turning to her new house-slave and giving her the most scathing of glares. ‘I intend to give some concentrated attention to thrashing that devious, deceitful nature of yours right out of you. I don’t hold out much, if any hope, of being successful, I’m afraid to say, given that it’s a virtually impossible task. But I’ll have a damn good try. Believe me, I am going to be an outstandingly harsh task Mistress.’
Jacqui believed her all right.
By the time Isabella had locked him in the dungeon, David was in a dreadful state: consumed with both profound remorse for what he’d done and infinite fear for his future. He was acutely aware from what Isabella had said that his solitary confinement was just the start, a taster of whatever punishment she had in mind for him after that. He remained thoroughly miserable for the entirety of his imprisonment, which went on and on. Days passed, weeks passed.
Even the darkest cloud has a silver lining, though, and the dreaded painful erections he had anticipated as a result of wearing the chastity device never materialised. But that was because David was too genuinely distressed and afraid to ever become erect. A combination of hopelessness, shame and fearful anticipation battled for possession of his head, blurring everything. He felt truly wretched the whole time he was incarcerated and terrified of what the future might hold for him.
During that time the only company David had, if you can call it that, came in two forms. The first was Jacqui’s silent delivery early each morning of his meagre rations for the day – neither of the slaves could bring themselves to look the other one in the eye. Second were the occasions every day when Isabella came into the dungeon to punish her new house-slave. These sessions always started with the same routine. Isabella would unlock David’s chastity device and give him a few moments to clean both the device and his genitals. She would then lock the chastity device back into place and tell David to kneel in the corner of the dungeon with his face to the wall and his eyes closed firmly shut. He saw nothing from that stage on, of course, but what he heard made his blood run cold.
He heard Jacqui’s pitiful sobs as she counted out each hard slap that Isabella gave to her face – all thirty of them, no less. He heard the sound of Isabella’s most savage flogger swishing through the air constantly, sounding like a nest of angry snakes, and Jacqui’s agonized screams that seemed to be being torn from the very core of her being as her backside was whipped what must have been red raw. He heard her squeal and beg for mercy as Isabella attached excruciatingly painful weighted metal clamps to her breasts and labia. He heard her anguished yelps and shivering moans as Isabella poured red-hot molten wax on her body. He heard with a sensation of mounting nausea the sound of Jacqui’s frequent gagging as, on Isabella’s insistence, she deep throated the strap-on dildo with which she had just finished fucking her ferociously hard. He could imagine the engorged tip prodding against the back of her throat, causing it to spasm horribly. He knew what Isabella was doing this time and all the other times. She was pushing Jacqui over and over again not up to her limit but beyond that limit – frequently way beyond – and it was an awful thing to have to listen to, but listen to it he had to ... And there it was again – that dreadful gagging noise. David began to weep silently, tears of mortification dripping from his eyes.
When he was back on his own he could not stop thinking about what he’d heard. The nights were the worst. He endeavoured to get to sleep in the only place that felt remotely comfortable for that purpose, which was the leather-covered bondage table, and tried desperately to empty hi
s mind. It didn’t work at all. The screen kept filling up with mental images of those hideous scenes he had listened to, the ones of Jacqui’s extreme torment and humiliation. They played through his mind in an uninterruptible loop like some obscene and endless horror film. All of this could so easily have been avoided, David was painfully aware, if he hadn’t proved himself to be such a weak, disobedient, deceitful bastard, such a pathetically useless slave to his Mistress. He suffered paroxysms of remorse.
David knew exactly where he’d gone wrong – that wonderful thing called hindsight again. He should never have disobeyed Isabella, that went without saying. But more than that, he should have given far more serious thought to the implications of the slave contract before signing it so readily when Isabella had first decided to take him into her home as her house-slave, having told him that he’d proved himself a good and loyal slave.
His attitude had essentially been that if his Mistress wanted him to sign such an agreement, it was fine by him, just like anything else she wanted him to do. But that had been to entirely miss the point of such an important document. He should have studied it very carefully first. Once he had given it the consideration it deserved and had signed it, as frankly there was no doubt he would have done, he should have stuck to its conditions come what may like super-glue.
By allowing himself to be seduced by Jacqui – not once but twice, for crying out loud – he’d ended up making a complete travesty of the slave contract, Isabella had said as much. By doing such a thing he thoroughly deserved the dire consequences that he was now suffering and would be certain to be suffering in the future.
Also, David told himself ruefully, when his Mistress had paid him the compliment of asking him his opinion for once – asking him whether he had any concerns about Jacqui coming back into the fold, as she’d put it – it might have helped if he’d given more than a nanosecond of consideration to the question before giving her his glib response. How profoundly he regretted that he hadn’t done that now that it was too late.
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