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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Passions Playpen part 2 of 14 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PASSION’S PLAYPEN
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Two
Kate lay within the bed. It was made of two furs, grey in
color and very fluffy, and both impossibly soft and comfortable. And
that was what made it so frightening and insidious.
Maria herself had bathed Kate, upstairs, in a special bath of
milk. Maria said she didn’t mind paying for the cost of filling an
entire tub with milk when the girl being bathed was as beautiful as
Kate. She said that milk was best for keeping a girl’s skin tender and
sensitive. Especially when the girl’s skin was, in Maria’s words,
“subjected to rough handling.” And Kate had no doubt that it would be.
Already her breasts had been struck underneath by Maria’s crop, leaving
a red burning line there. An older woman, perhaps, might hide the mark
due to a natural sagging of her breasts, but Kate was only 19 and her
bosoms stood out as firm and beautiful as if Michealangelo, in a randy
mood, had sculpted them himself.
Kate brushed her hand across her belly. It hurt too, a bright
set of lines where Maria had stung her, as if trying to abort something,
with her nasty crop. The brush of Kate’s own fingers reminded her of
how Maria bathed her: with bare hands, so that even a bath sponge
wouldn’t rub too harshly across Kate’s lovely porcelain skin. She’d
suntanned it a little bit and Maria scolded her for that.
“Dear Kate,” Maria had said, washing her bottom as Kate lay in
a shallow tub of milk, her arms huddled beneath her and her heinie
sticking up through the milk. “You must avoid the sun, dear, except for
the purpose of letting your master see a little tan to better show off
the absolute whiteness of your bottom. Don’t ever tan your bottom, or
your breasts. Those are for your lover to tan, using his crop.” With
anxious eyes Kate had looked back at her lover, who stood watching, his
pants a little full, she thought, and his belt removed so that it
dangled from his fist. Maria gave Kate’s bottom a shower of little
marauding kisses. Kate, afraid she would be bitten, as Lisa had bitten
her breasts, uttered up a scared little yelp.
They had not hurt her in the bath. Downstairs, she’d been
treated like property, suffering even a cucumber up her virgin ass, but
upstairs she was given the rights of a princess. Fruit had been set out
beside the bath, a pear, two apples, and a half of canteloupe. Maria
had insisted that Kate enjoy the fruit, and ask for more, if she wished,
and anything else that might please her.
“You are to be spoilt, dear. That is part of your training
also,” Maria said to Kate as Kate sat huddling her knees to her chest,
keeping her lover from seeing how excited her bosoms were by all the
attention she was getting. Lisa, having undressed to douche herself
while Kate was bathed, now stood ready to serve any of Kate’s needs,
though she had been hard on Kate downstairs and Kate, casting a
snub-nosed glance at her, felt determined not to like her.
Eventually, with a little persuading, the milk she sat in
getting a little cold, Kate accepted the cantaloupe from Lisa and
spooned it greedily into her mouth. She ate it right down to the rind,
and even ate the marachino cherry that came with it, though she
preferred fresh cherries. Maria ordered Lisa to bring cheddar cheese
and chilled chicken from the fridge downstairs. Kate sat like a hungry
little animal in the tub, her bath finished, and ate all the food they
brought her. Then Maria rinsed her off with warm water from a hand-held
nozzle and put her to bed.
Naked. That was the clincher, Kate thought, as she lay between
the fuzzy furs that kept her nipples perpetually tickled. She was very
nude, her skin still feeling tingly and refreshed from her bath, but her
left wrist had a pair of handcuffs attached to it. The manacle intended
for her other hand was cuffed to the headboard. It was a headboard with
many rails in it, between the left and right bedposts. It would have
been a simple matter for them to lift both Kate’s hands above her head
and cuff them both, with the chain between the cuffs behind a rail in
the headboard. But instead the cuff intended for her other wrist had
been attached to the rail. It was a symbol of her bondage, and her
freedom within her bondage. Kate had no illusions that she would find
herself bound both-handed in the cuffs before long, but for the moment,
as she lay in the darkness of the bedroom, she was free to use her right
hand as she wished. She passed it again over her belly, lower this
time, beneath the marks, just grazing the soft tuft of fur that grew
where her legs met.
How could she masturbate herself, knowing what they had planned
for her? Downstairs, sitting on the carpet, she had still been lost in
her post-orgasmic reverie. But now her senses had returned. She could
feel her bottom bulbing so sensitively underneath her, the fur rubbing
it softly, her skin dreaming, nightmarishly, of the crop that would flog
her there soon. At the moment her bottom was all comfy. She savored
the feeling of freedom and pleasure that rubbing her bottom against the
fur gave her. Yet her lover, and Maria, had promised her that she would
not be able to sit down in the carriage on her ride back to the center
of town. Nor in the cab that came to pick her up, after her master let
her out, for she would ride alone back to the college, he said. He
would be too busy getting to work to take her all the way back to the
college.
Kate flexed her thighs. Her ankles were secured to the
baseboard of the bed. She had watched them tie her feet. She wore
pretty red pumps. They had spikes on their heels. A soft white rope,
crossing several times over each of her ankles, and over the straps of
her pretty red shoes, bound her feet. They were spread wide apart.
Kate felt thankful for the fur draped over her body, for without it
anyone who came in the bedroom would have seen her muff. It was
well-displayed, under the concealing layer of fur, splayed and open and
too moist for a proper young college freshman. Kate wondered what her
mother would say, if she knew her daughter was skipping class and lying
here instead, feeling her bare bottom rub against the fur underneath her
as she tested the bonds that held her feet.
Yes. She was trussed quite tightly, like a turkey might be,
except turkeys could simply be open and spread for stuffing to be put
inside them. She was like a live turkey, Kate realized. She was
waiting for the butcher’s axe, or her lover’s penis, and she’d been
promised a date within the barn, no less, where turkeys might once have
been slaughtered for the Thanksgiving feast.
What was in the barn? Kate found herself wondering why a
cultured woman like Miriam, living within the city, in a proper
townhouse, would speak of having a barn out back, and animals housed
inside it. Just the thought of being taken out back to a real barn made
Kate desperate to pass her hand between her legs and rub herself.
They had not forbid her pleasure. Maria, kissing her
goodnight, had not mentioned the matter, like a mother who wishes to
turn a blind eye to her children’s sins. Yet Maria had directed Lisa on
how to bind Kate, what manner of rope to use, how tight the knots should
be made, and what posture Kate should be left in when it all was done.
Lisa had wanted to cuff both Kate’s hands, but Miriam had told her not
to. Kate’s lover, waiting by the door, watched it all in silence. He
still held his belt in his fist and Kate had feared he might beat her
with it when she was finished being tied. Perhaps, she had thought,
they left her one hand free to fend off his blows.
Now Kate lay in silence, squirming a little on the fur, nude
except for her heels and decorative earrings that hung from her ears.
They had denied her a pillow. They wished to admire the effect of
seeing her with her legs upraised, fixed to the posts of the bed’s
baseboard. After Kate had been tied Maria and Lisa and her lover stood
admiring her, watching her breath as it made her belly ripple and her
bosoms rise and fall. Perversely, Maria had given Kate a pacifier to
suck. Kate held it still between her lips, feeling the big plastic
nipple as it lay on her restless tongue.
Kate could feel her soft hair lying about her face. Maria had
braided it for her, after her bath, braiding just the strands in front,
leaving a little hanging free round her eyes and a great swathe of her
lovely hair free in back. Whenever Kate moved her head she felt the odd
duality of the braids, tugging at her head whilst her bangs hung down in
her eyes. She felt a luscious sense of being bound yet free, tied up
yet still able to move, to toss her head and flex her knees and rub her
bottom against the fur, while playing with her pubic hair with the
fingers of her right hand.
Surely she must be made to suffer for all this luxury. And she
knew she would be. She was like a sacrificial lamb, cared for and fed
and decorated with ribbons, only to be ripped apart by the priest.
Beside her, on the nightstand, lay yet more fruit, surrounded by ice
that Lisa had been forced to haul up from the kitchen downstairs. A
small bowl of cream lay beside the strawberries, for dipping, if Kate
should ever get hungry enough to stop playing with the curls of her
pubic hair. And next to the cream was a dish of cheese, and beside
that, all within reach of Kate, lay a bottle of wine, kept chilled in an
ice bucket. A little bell sat next to the bucket of wine, in case Kate
should need help in drinking it. The cork was already popped. Kate
could, she mused, merely pour the wine on herself. Nobody had told her
not to make a mess. Yet, somehow, she wished to be elegant, to be as
fine a creature as Maria and her lover wished her to be. She was no
longer a college girl, serious about her studies, and silly on the
weekends. She was a pinup, a poster girl, made for the camera. She was
a dream girl, fresh from her bath and ready for love.
And in all that luxury, in all the special and fine comfort,
Kate could only wonder and wait. She told herself to sleep but the
apprehension she felt about what they still promised to do to her kept
her awake. Kate looked at the little silver bell beside her bed. It
glowed at her, smugly, as if it knew what she was in for and cared not
the least if she suffered. It had seen other girls, she knew. Girls
who didn’t listen to their mother to study and be good in school and
instead ran away with a lover. To play wicked games. Games where
people lost their clothes and got fucked and spanked. And tied to a bed
between soft layers of fur, to wait for morning and a trip to the barn.
Kate felt a hopeless sense of longing brewing within her. She
tried to restrain her hunger, not that in her belly, which she’d fed,
but that just below, between her widespread legs. She’d been fucked in
her ass at the party downstairs, not her cunt. She longed to find her
lover in the room, his penis bare, pressing it between her legs and
forcing her to take him.
“No!” Kate cried. She tossed her head on the fur. She mustn’t
tease and play with herself, just below where she was touching, where
her pubic fur opened upon a wondrous cleft that begged for attention.
“Did you call?” a shy voice asked. Kate, who had squeezed her
eyes shut, to better fight her desire, opened them again. She saw a
figure in the doorway. The door was open again, but it was not her
lover standing there.
A girl tossed back long hair and braids.
“She has the same hairstyle as me!” Kate breathed to herself.
And she knew who had braided the hair that way. The figure in the
doorway crept closer. Kate saw a shirt but no panties. Between the
girl’s plump thighs she saw wisps.
The girl flicked on the light. Kate blinked. She had grown
accustomed to the darkness. The girl wore a man’s shirt. It was much
too big for her and one of her shoulders was bare, for the shirt on that
side of her body had fallen free of her and hung down round her arm.
The shirt was only partly buttoned in front. It left her bosoms mostly
uncovered, as well as her belly. Just one button was closed across her
middle to keep her modest. Where the shirt flared Kate saw hips as bare
as her own. Between naked legs a thatch of pubic hair grew. Kate
needed a cock but instead got a cunny, one to match her own, and perhaps
just as wet.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” the girl apologized.
She had a finger in her mouth, tentatively, as if speculating about her
presence. She was white, with her skin just tanned a little, but not
where her private parts lay, for both her bosoms looked like
marshmellows and there was a band of pale flesh where she wore her swim
panties in the sun. In her right fist she clutched a riding crop. It
was long and slender and it had a tassel on its tip, making her look
like a little elf who’d lost her reindeer. She seemed to be tensing her
bottom.
“You didn’t wake me,” Kate replied. Then, as if to make
conversation, she said, “I see you don’t have any panties on either.”
“No. Panties are a no-no here,” the girl replied. She had
glossy red hair and looked no older than Kate and her pubic hair, since
she was so young and obviously uncontrived, was the same color as the
hair on her head. Kate lay looking at her for a moment and then,
wriggling her feet, she asked,
“Could you please let me go?”
“Oh, you shouldn’t ask such a thing!” the redhead exclaimed.
She advanced closer to Kate. She seemed to find a bit of confidence in
herself and she drew in her breath, which made her bosoms rise so that
the pert nipples of her breasts popped free of the man’s shirt she
wore. The shirt had slipped from her other shoulder as she walked and
she had to stop and heft it back up again, lest she remain bare
bosomed. “You may ask for cake, and chocolate if you wish, and all the
liquor you care to drink, but you mustn’t ask me to free you,” the girl
said. She turned and inspected Kate’s food. Kate saw that the girl’s
shirt was pinned up in back. It left her bottom totally bare and
accessible.
“Could you bring me something?” Kate asked. It seemed the only
thing to say. Perhaps, if she were a princess, she could force the girl
to bring her a knife.
“Let me whip you first,” the girl replied. “Don’t you want any
of this nice fruit?” She probed the strawberries with an inquiring
finger. “Do you mind if I have one?” she asked. Kate didn’t reply, so
she picked one up anyway and popped it in her mouth. It was big for her
cheeks and it distorted her mouth and she had to concentrate a moment to
get it chewed and swallowed.
“What do you mean, whip me?” Kate asked. She had dropped the
pacifier from her mouth when the girl opened the door but now the girl
picked it up and offered it to her again.
“Here, suck this,” the girl said. She seemed as artless as a
new pupil at school, yet she made Kate open her lips and receive the
pacifier inside her mouth, shoving it into her face until Kate accepted
it. “You must be whipped on the backs of your thighs, to make you ready
for tomorrow when your bottom is flogged. I’ve brought some Estee
Lauder creme to soothe you after I’m done.” The girl fished in her
shirt pocket which, owing to the largeness of the shirt, hung down at
the level of her belly. She drew forth a squirt tube of creme. “Would
you like to roll over and take it lying face down, or would you prefer
to stand up for it?”
Kate sucked hard on her pacifier. She dared not speak. The
girl seemed serious about a whipping and twice now her questions had
only gotten her in trouble. The girl mused a moment. She drew back the
top layer of fur from Kate’s body and seemed to gaze at her as one might
examine a pony. The girl tossed her braids. “Standing up, then,” she
declared. “It’s less comfy than lying down but I like seeing how a girl
does a little dance when she’s whipped standing up, lifting her feet, as
if that will spare her!” The redhead, with as much equanimity as any
experienced mistress, opened the drawer of the nightstand which was
surmounted with food and drew forth a tiny key. She bent over Kate and
reached for the headboard. Dangling her bosoms, which fell from her
too-large shirt, over Kate’s eyes, she unlocked the cuff that had held
Kate to the headboard.
Kate drew her hand down to herself. She was free! All the
while a key had lain in the top drawer of the nightstand, within reach,
but Kate had been musing too much on her bottom to even go looking for
it. Now she pushed her way past the redhead’s bosoms and sat up in bed.
“Let me get your legs,” the redhead said. She kneed her way
onto the bed and crawled down to the baseboard. Kate found herself
staring at the girl’s bottom, the lovely crack and its twin chubby
cheeks on either side. Both were as white as well-mixed porridge and
the girl seemed not to mind that Kate had a perfect view of her cunny
and butthole. She dipped her back, her knees too far apart, as if she
feared closing them, and she tugged at the ropes on one of Kate’s ankle
and even bit into them.
“I have to use my teeth sometimes,” the girl explained, biting
into the ropes.
Kate, not wanting to wait on the girl’s benificence, reached
for her remaining ankle and began attacking the rope and its knot.
“DON’T break your nails,” the redhead warned, looking up from
her work. “It’s okay if I untie you but if either of us breaks a nail
we’re both in hot water!”
Kate looked at the girl. “My bottom’s in hot water already,”
she said dryly.
“Don’t be a smartass,” the girl replied with aplomb. “I’ll
have to give you extra strokes if you are. Mistress’s orders.”
“You mean Maria?” Kate asked. She worked as quick as she
could, yet she found that her long nails inhibited her ability to untie
the knot. She realized why the redhead favored using her teeth.
“You should learn to call her Mistress,” the redhead said. She
bit open the knot. With relief Kate felt herself able to draw her foot
free of the cords. She was just about to lift her foot and give the
redhead a swift kick out of bed when she noticed a shadow looming in the
doorway.
“You are both being good, are you not?” a woman’s voice asked.
Kate saw it was Maria, stripped down to a corset that held her tightly
about her ribs and waist but left her bosoms free, supporting them just
a little. The corset was made of black leather. In Maria’s hand she
held a large whip. Gasping, Kate realized it was nothing less than a
bull whip!
Maria tossed her dark hair back and strode within the room.
Unlike the redhead, who was barelegged right down to her toes, Maria
wore long black thigh boots that matched her corset. Her waist was free
of any covering and when she was within the lighted room Kate saw her
bush. Maria lifted a leg and put it on a chair near the bed. There was
a chamber pot lying beneath the chair, waiting for Kate if she needed to
use it (provided someone came when she rang the bell and untied her).
Maria bent forward a little and saw that the pot was empty. Still
holding the bull whip in one hand, she thrust two fingers between her
legs and spread her cuntlips and peed. Kate watched, astonished, as
Maria peed boldly right into the chamber pot, her leg lifted as if she
were some male dog out for a walk.
With her foot still up on the chair, Maria tossed her hair back
from her eyes when she was done. Then she smiled at Kate and dropped
her booted-up leg back down to the floor. “She has to do the backs of
your thighs, dear,” Maria said to Kate. “Stand up and clutch at the
ring where the lamp used to be and I’ll lock your cuffs for you.” Maria
looked at the redhead, who was still bent over the baseboard, looping
the rope around the baseboard’s left post so that it could be used
again.
“Cindy, have you been playing with yourself again?” Maria asked
the redhead. “You seem to have your legs awfully far apart, as if you
toyed with your cunny too much out in the hall.”
“No ma’am, I stood guard just like you said, waiting for the
time to come in, and listening for the bell,” Cindy replied.
“Stuff and nonsense,” Maria exclaimed. She gave Cindy’s bare
bottom a hearty slap, making both her own bosoms and that of the girl
bounce like apples in a bobbing contenst.
“OWWWW!” Cindy blurted. She yanked herself upright on the bed,
still kneeling, with her knees quite far apart. She put her hands to
her bottom and rubbed it.
“You were playing with yourself out in the hall and Kate must
have called you just as you were almost at orgasm,” Maria said to the
girl. “Then, coming inside, you began to feel guilty, hmmm? So you
pose yourself like a slut on the bed, keeping your legs apart lest you
cum even while you’re untying her!”
“No ma’am!” Cindy cried, but Maria yanked the girl from the bed
by her hair.
“Go stand in the corner,” Maria said. “Show me that naughty
bottom of yours that I’m going to test out my bullwhip on before I go
visit the barn!”
“Ohhh, Boo! Hoo! I don’t want to get whipped by THAT!” Cindy
cried, tears actually coming to her wide eyes, pointing at the bullwhip
as she nonetheless stumbled her way obediently toward the front corner
of the room, next to the door.
“Be good or I’ll make it snake around and hit your tummy,”
Maria said.
“Oh no! Don’t hurt my baby!” Cindy blurted.
“She’s three weeks pregnant and already she’s a worried
mother,” Maria tsked. Cindy faced into the corner and hung her head.
Her hips wriggled, as if needing something they weren’t permitted to
have. Kate saw the girl draw her legs close and watched as both her
hands dipped into her dell.
CRAA-A-AACK! The sound of the bullwhip shooting across the
room and finding bare raw flesh was electrifying. Cindy’s back
straightened and lurched into a rearward fling as her hands flew from
her dell to her bottom.
“OwOOOOOO!” Cindy howled. She tossed her face skyward and her
long lovely red hair tumbled frantically down her back like streamers
flung from a float in a parade. Her bare heels leapt off the carpet and
she stood on tippie toe for what seemed like an eternity, her head
thrown back and her hands clutching her ass. Finally her feet began to
stamp on the floor and she seemed as if she were marching in place.
After giving her bottom a thorough rub, and still holding it, lest she
be struck again, she turned around and faced Maria with teary eyes.
“That HURT!” Cindy pouted. The cheeks of her face were flushed
and she stuck out her lower lip as if that were an entitlement of
suffering a blow from the bull whip, an entitlement she’d now earned.
“You shouldn’t hurt me. I’m pregnant. You might hurt my baby!”
“Such a concerned mother,” Maria said mockingly. “I let one of
my studs screw you and now you think you’re special. You’d better have
a good whip hand, young lady, from practising in the barn, or I’ll give
you more where that came from. Now get over here, if you want to have
busy hands, and tie up Kate!”
Cindy marched herself over to Kate, holding her bottom and
skirting Maria quite widely lest the booted woman let fly with another
stroke.
“Put your hands up and grab the ring in the wall,” Cindy said
to Kate, still sniffling from her own whipping and keeping her hands
protectively over her ass. Kate, standing on the bed, reached up and
caught hold of the ring. She felt her bosoms press themselves against
the wall. It was made of stone, and it felt cold. And hard. Kate’s
nipples scuffed the stone wall and she was glad it was smooth.
Where her face rested, Kate found a thoughtful soul had covered
the wall with thick velvet. It ran from about Kate’s neck, right up to
where the ring was. It even stretched beyond, to the ceiling itself,
and around the entire room. Kate had not even noticed it until now.
She had seen the grey stone, and the deep, almost black purple above it,
but it had seemed a mere choice of design, serving no useful purpose.
Now she was grateful for the velvet and she pressed her nose into it as
she felt the bed dip behind her. Cindy mounted it, much surer footed in
her bare feet than Kate was, standing on the bed in her spiked heels.
The girl reached up behind Kate and took hold of the loose handcuff
dangling from Kate’s left wrist. She passed it through the big ring in
the wall that Kate was holding on to. With nimble fingers, and with
Kate feeling the girl’s bosoms in her back even as she pressed her own
to the wall, Kate watched as the redhead locked her right wrist into the
handcuffs.
Kate let go of the ring in the wall. She arched her hands
backward, stretching her fingers back like some Thai dancer, and she
tugged hard at the wall ring. There was no movement. The ring was
bolted deep into the wall and Kate’s handcuffs had now been passed
through it. Kate felt her bottomcheeks tremble and was aware of Cindy
passing her riding crop over her palm. Expectantly. Loving the feel of
the slim leather as it passed across her hand and knowing what it would
feel like impressed at great speed into Kate’s fanny.
Kate looked back over her shoulder. With her outthrust bottom
a ready target, she eyed the minx behind her with apprehension. She’d
already been struck on her breasts and tummy and thighs, in front,
earlier in the evening, and a low burn crisscrossed her in each place
where Maria’s favorite crop had left its marks. Now this girl, no older
than she, and perhaps less learned than Maria, certainly she had not
Maria’s control and talent, was about to deliver to Kate yet more
burning cuts. Kate could not help but feel the exquisiteness of her
posture, even as she dreaded the crop. Her breasts were heavy and hung
forward as she hung forward, their tips pressed against implacable
wall. Her nipples were hard and she wished they might somehow drill her
an escape route through the stone. But this was no cartoon. The girl
behind her might be a child, or childish in her ways, but she had eyes
that gleamed like a cat’s as she prepared to go mousing across Kate with
her crop.
“Spread your legs, darling Kate, or I shall have to bolt them
apart for you, with a spreader bar, and that would mean you’d get extra
strokes for my extra effort,” Maria warned Kate.
“Oh, please don’t whip me!” Kate begged. For an answer Maria,
smirking, picked up Kate’s pacifier from where it had fallen near the
baseboard and put it to the girl’s lips. “Open wide, babykins. I can
see you’ll need this!” Maria laughed. There was derision in her
laugher, yet Kate, the 19-year-old college sophomore, grabbed at the
pacifier with her teeth, for she knew that it would comfort her. She
did not want to grind her teeth or grit them. She’d seen a man tortured
once on T.V., fictionally, and he’d been given a rubber bit to hold
between his teeth so that he wouldn’t damage them. That had been his
sole consolation that his captors had given him.
So, realizing pleading was quite useless, Kate accepted the
pacifier as her only friend. Maria, with her foot up on the bed,
imposing her dominion over both Kate and Cindy, stroked her ass. “You
won’t have your hiney done until tomorrow,” Maria told Kate. “Try to
shit beforehand if you can, for you’ll hurt afterward, and it will be
hard to wipe for awhile.” Maria’s voice was controlled, like a doctor
or an anesthesiologist, or for that matter, a well-bosomed nurse,
briefing a patient before an operation. Yet there was nothing wrong
with Kate. They would make her sore, for no reason but their own erotic
pleasure. Kate wished that her lover were present. In front of him,
she might suffer anything, but he was elsewhere. Perhaps playing, with
someone else, while she suffered bravely for him in his absence. She
felt like a woman left in a maternity ward, worried about her husband’s
proclivities at home while she bore them both a child.
“How many?” Cindy asked Maria. “Can I give her lots?” Her
braids bobbed as she asked. Her eyes were wide and eager.
“Six,” Maria replied, stroking Kate’s bottom with her fingers
and then questing lightly down between her legs, tickling Kate’s cunny.
“Award her six. Slowly, mind you. I want her to feel each one for as
long as possible before the next is delivered. Let her absorb the
pain. She is getting these for her master, to show him that she loves
him and will do whatever he asks, and to prove to him and herself that
she is, or soon will be, after I’ve trained her, a woman.”
Kate jerked as Maria delved into her tight purse. “Lift your
bottom, Kate!” Maria said. “Show it like you are proud of it, for you
should be. It is perfect, and so white. I almost hate to see it
marked. Lift it, girl, and dip your back, or you’ll feel more strokes
than just the half dozen I’ve planned for you!”
Biting down hard on her pacifier, shutting her eyes so as to
block at least a little of the humiliation of the act, Kate opened her
legs even more and stuck up her bottom as sassily as she could. At the
same time she dropped her tummy as far as she could, yet she still
remained standing, clinging to the ring above her head, so that she
seemed like a well-offered female if ever there was one. The world, she
thought vaguely to herself, was based on this: the female offering
herself up like this to her chosen male. Earth would be quite barren
without it, she consoled herself.
SWICCKK! Kate bolted upright. The sound of the crop striking
into her taut thighs struck her ears even as the implement itself made
its mark upon her sweet columns of flesh. With a supreme effort Kate
kept her lips closed around her pacifier. She heard a whine as she
clenched her teeth and jammed her bottom cheeks together, rotating her
ass in a futile attempt to throw off the crop’s sting.
“Do not draw your thighs together!” Maria warned Kate in a loud
voice. Kate tried to press one knee into the back of the other, and
felt Maria’s well-manicured hand award her a sharp slap on her white
bottom.
“Oooooooh!” Kate whined behind the insucking presence of her
pacifier. She pulled one of her knees out from behind the other, yet
felt desperate not to, yet knew she must or the crop might well strike
at her lovely-peach bottoms, not just her thighs.
“That’s it, that’s it,” Maria complimented as Kate, struggling
against herself, opened her legs. It was a rude stance Maria made her
take, with her ass gyrating about even as she parted her thighs and
showed her cunt to her whipmistress. Kate flushed deeply as an image of
her own mother entering the bedroom flashed through her mind. She’d
been caught with a boyfriend once, at 13. What would mom say to this?
Kate felt like an animal trying to pee, her legs apart, showing her cunt
for all the world to see, dipping her back in expectation that if she
didn’t, she’d be punished.
“Yes, show yourself, show your cunt, don’t try to hide your
pretty sex between those lovely thighs of yours,” Maria laughed in a
voice that sounded like tinkling bells. “Let me see your cunt! What a
doll you are! Pray that you do not feel the crop swept up between your
legs to sting your cunt, young lady! But keep your legs open to show
your bravery. Another one, Cindy. Let me see her squirm even more
dramatically!”
Cindy obliged. Kate felt a burning line draw itself smartly
across her thighs and, instinctively, she jammed one knee behind the
other again. Maria’s hand was quick. Kate felt her bottom slapped and,
desperate as if to pee, kept her legs this time together, and refused to
open them.
“She will need seven,” Maria said to Cindy, and waved to the
girl to deliver another cut.
“Yeeeochchch!” Kate howled. Somewhere in mid-howl she dropped
her pacifier. Nobody picked it up for her this time. It lay upon the
coverlet, wet with Kate’s saliva. Kate’s eyes brimmed with tears and
she felt her face grow red as she performed most gracelessly in front of
Maria. She shook her bottom like some pagan nudist tribeswoman in Haiti
and felt just about as moral. She squeezed her cheeks, brazenly, as if
she were in private but, in fact, two women were watching her and, no
doubt, would report all her little movements to her lover and, perhaps
even worse, to anyone with him.
“She shook her ass so hilariously!” Kate could just hear Maria
crowing, in a far off bedroom where even now Kate’s lover might be
loosing himself into some fair maiden. A maiden without cuts across the
front and the back of her thighs, and under her breasts and upon her
soft belly.
“Give it again. She is not being good like she should be,”
Maria said calmly to Cindy, as Kate wept and pressed her face to the
wall and let her bottom sag and rotate untidily.
SWACKCKCK! A juicy cut slammed into Kate, and she shot herself
upright, howling at the ceiling. She pressed her tummy against the wall
and felt the old lines where Maria had punished her belly earlier in the
evening. Behind, just below her slapped bottom, her thighs shook and
fell open, Kate not daring to close herself now. Kate lost her foothold
on the bed and found herself dangling from the ring in the wall by her
fingers and her chained wrists. She scrabbled back up again, finding
her footing upon the bed, but it was too late. For her gracelessness
Cindy awarded her another hard cut.
The rest were delivered remorselessly, and when the job was
done they left her there, in the dark, unable to reach her fruit,
hanging from the ring with her ass bare and her thighs in flames. Sharp
lines of pain glowed across her legs. It was as if the little silver
bell had tortured her. It had transferred its glow to her thighs. Kate
cried and sobbed and rubbed her face against the felt, not caring if she
smeared her makeup.
An hour passed, or perhaps much less than an hour. Kate was
too busy weeping and feeling sorry for herself to keep track of time. A
large figure entered behind her. At first Kate thought it was a man.
When she turned her head, just a little, hoping for her lover, she saw
her visitor was a woman. The woman wore a white bonnet and had a
starched white apron on. She was heavy, middle-aged, long past any
honeymoon trysts. She turned on the light. She looked at Kate. Kate
turned away, mortified, sobbing fiercely, with embarrassment as much as
pain, for she felt foolish in front of this woman. She was old and
grey, yet prim and proper and sensible, while Kate was young and
beautiful, but stripped utterly naked and showing her ass, and her legs
beneath where they’d whipped her.
The woman said nothing. It was as if Kate did not deserve
conversation. Instead the woman picked up Cindy’s squirt tube of Estee
Lauder, left on the bed unused when Kate proved so undisciplined. The
woman opened the tube and squirted the balm across the backs of Kate’s
thighs.
Kate’s head shot up and she grimaced. The cream was remarkably
cool. It had a light, airy feeling to it and Kate knew it would never
have felt so unendurably wonderful against her skin if it hadn’t been
whipped first.
Pain, pleasure. It was a strange mixture. Kate felt her cunt
wetten as the woman, working slowly, rubbed the cream into Kate’s
thighs, just below where her cunny lips hung.
The woman never touched Kate’s cunt. She was dutiful in her
ministrations, not clever or mischievous. She only touched Kate where
she was permitted to, where the crop had left new marks. Kate found
herself yearning for the woman’s touch. Rudely she pushed her bottom
back at the woman in silent pleading. Touch oh touch oh touch me just a
little higher, higher, Kate begged in her mind. She would have spoken
but she feared Maria was listening, somehow, and judging her
performance.
When the woman was finished, she released Kate from the wall.
She shook her head as she saw how Kate had smeared her makeup. She
helped Kate, who found herself much stiffer than she might have thought,
lie down in the bed. Kate winced as her thighs came to rest on the
fur. She drew up her knees a little so they would not touch it.
“Do you wish to be covered?” the woman asked Kate. Her first
words. She stood holding the coverlet up with one hand. Kate shook her
head no, still weeping a little, saying nothing. She was hot from her
beating and she did not want the dual warmth of the fur enclosing her.
The woman dropped the fur so that Kate would lie naked, exposed the open
air. She did not bother to offer Kate any of the food by the bed. It
was obvious Kate was in no mood to eat.
“I shall empty the chamberpot, in case you have to go again,”
the woman observed, glancing into the pot by the chair. It was Maria’s
pee in the pot, but the woman did not know that. Kate did not bother to
tell her. Instead she bit her lip, feeling ridiculous. She wept
openly. She heard the woman grunt as she lifted up the pot. Maria’s
pee sloshed inside it as the woman carried it from the room. In a
little while she returned, and replaced it on the floor.
“Sleep. They will work you harder tomorrow,” the woman advised
Kate. Then she flicked out the light and went out, and this time she
closed the door behind her. And she locked it.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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