Chapter Eight
Elizabeth took a deep breath. This would be her most severe test yet, to be
lent to Jonathan for the night. Far worse than fucking Darryl and his friends.
They were amateurs; Jonathan was a professional when it came to dealing with
women like her.
'Another glass of wine?' Jonathan asked.
I might need this, she told herself. 'Thank you,' she said. It wasn't easy
to be dignified and sophisticated wearing no knickers in front of a fully
dressed man, but she thought it best to try. She stood and sipped the wine while
Jonathan looked at her. She saw how his eyes travelled down to her belly,
fastening on her bare shaven sex.
'Follow me,' he said after a while.
They went upstairs to his bedroom. It was much as she remembered it, except
that in one corner was a new item of furniture, a low wooden bench, the top
padded and covered in black leather. Jonathan led her over to it.
'Kneel,' he said.
There was a padded step on to which she climbed on her knees, bending
forward so that her torso was horizontal. Her head projected just beyond the
edge. Jonathan did up some leather straps around her knees, pinioning them
apart. Her wrists too he secured, with straps at the side. She was held securely
fore and aft, unable to move more than an inch or two in any direction. She felt
most horribly exposed, her bare bottom at his mercy.
'So,' said Jonathan, 'who's been a naughty little girl, then?'
It was bad enough having to confess her offences to Matt. Taking a younger
man seemed somehow, though she wasn't quite sure why, to be considered
irrefutable evidence of her licentiousness; it was held against her. To have now
to suffer Jonathan's leering innuendo, his condescending treatment of her as
some sort of naughty little schoolgirl, was demeaning. A sarcastic retort came
to her lips, but she bit her tongue. Best not to make it worse.
'I admit I broke the rules,' she said quietly.
'Well,' Jonathan replied, 'you know punishment is good for you. It hurts,
but afterwards you feel so much better with the slate wiped clean.'
It was true. It was Jonathan who had first taught her that her guilt for
the 'bad' things she did, or her guilt at even just thinking about 'bad' things,
could be purged. Once she'd paid the penalty she was free of the negative
thoughts about herself that had always plagued her before. Jonathan had shown
her that if she let her guilt and shame come out, it could be dealt with. She
could pay the penalty, then move forward. No need any more to let her feelings
gnaw away at her. Before she had met him she had for years had obscure longings,
dark desires she scarcely even admitted to herself, could not admit to any man.
Longings to be fucked by crowds of anonymous men, emerging from the shadows to
take her over and over again. Longings to grovel in the dirt, to be ground under
the heel of some fascist beast in shiny black boots, longings to be bought and
sold to the highest bidder, longings to be a slave bound naked to a post and
flogged before a crowd of onlookers. All these thoughts she had harboured deep
inside her, experiencing a terrible excitement when they surfaced as she
masturbated secretly, and afterwards feeling shame, debasement, feeling that no
one else in the whole world was a dirty little girl like her, and if others knew
it they would despise her and shun her.
Jonathan had made her admit to these things, made her face them, had, when
their relationship developed enough to give her confidence, forced her to stand
before him naked and confess her shameful desires while she fingered herself
under his supervision, admitting to her sharp and urgent lusts. He'd make her
bring herself near to orgasm, then he'd punish her for her wickedness.
Afterwards he'd bring her to a climax, and then she'd weep tears of gratitude.
She had much to be grateful to Jonathan for. But that didn't stop her
feeling shame all over again now, at the thought that he should know her lusts
were not yet under control, that she could not stop herself from offering her
body to a stranger. She supposed that the reason it sounded worse, the man being
so much younger than her, was that it implied it was pure lust on her part. Why
else would she spend time with one so young?
Jonathan opened a cupboard fixed to the wall at the far end of the room.
Lifting her head, Elizabeth could see that it contained a wide range of
implements hanging from hooks: wooden paddles, floggers, riding crops, whips,
leather straps. In a rack on the back of the cupboard door were several canes of
varying thickness. Jonathan selected one, a thin rattan cane with a polished
wooden handle. He came back towards her, swishing it from side to side. The
sound made her cringe. This was going to hurt, it was going to hurt a lot.
She was grateful that he did not begin to beat her immediately. Instead she
felt him stroke her buttocks, gently at first, then more firmly. Soon he was
squeezing them hard. He pulled the cheeks of her ass apart with his hands and
she could feel his eyes on her, sense him peering at the little puckered mouth
of her anus, and then he put his thumb on it, pressing softly, not trying to
enter.
'You always had the best ass I ever saw. Or ever fucked,' he said.
Suddenly he smacked her with his hand, not hard. He smacked her again,
several times, first on one buttock then on the other, a little harder each
time. Her bottom was tingling now, partly through the spanking, partly in
anticipation. The spanking continued for a while, her buttocks growing warm. She
imagined how red they must be already.
At last Jonathan picked up the cane.
'A dozen,' he said. 'And hard. Very hard.'
She knew she had to count. That had always been the rule. The cane swished
and struck her full across the centre of both buttocks. The pain was intense.
Elizabeth caught her breath and gritted her teeth. She was determined to bear it
bravely. Matt would expect it. If she cried out she felt she would be letting
him down; still worse if she should beg for mercy. But it was going to be an
ordeal.
'One,' she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She knew that
Jonathan was a skilled practitioner when it came to beatings. He knew just how
long to wait between each stroke to ensure the maximum effect. He knew exactly
where to plant the cane to extract the most pain. His hand was steady, his aim
unerring.
The second stroke landed with deadly precision on top of the first.
Elizabeth could scarcely stifle a low moan. She clenched her fists tightly. Get
a grip, girl, she told herself.
'Two,' she muttered.
Jonathan raised the cane again. It swished and landed on Elizabeth's rump
with a dull thud.
'Three,' she said through clenched teeth. God, but it hurt. She wished he'd
get on with it, wished it could be over soon. But Jonathan continued in his
methodical rhythm.
'Four,' Elizabeth said. There was something about a cane that was different
from any other implement she had been beaten with. It seemed to deliver a far
more concentrated pain, one that bit deep into the flesh of her buttocks.
'Five,' she counted as another stroke seemed to slice right into the
muscles of her ass. She was trembling now. She wasn't sure if she could get to
the end with any degree of self-control remaining.
'Six,' she grunted. If her hands had not been bound fast she would have put
them behind her to protect herself, no matter what the consequences.
'Seven.' The pain was so intense that she felt herself almost swooning. It
was carrying her away, into that subspace she had heard about and which she had
only come to believe in the night she had been whipped in the stable. It was a
place where pain and pleasure became one, where the responses of her body became
almost the opposite of normal, where the sensation of the beating became
transformed into a new kind of experience altogether, one in which anything
could be borne, anything endured. Especially since it was all for Matt. For his
sake she suffered, to make him proud of her, which made her proud of herself in
turn.
'Eight,' she said. The force of the cane had engendered a heat in her
buttocks which now suffused her loins.
'Nine.' She could feel it spreading between her legs, feel the lips of her
cunt swelling, feel her clit tingling. As she sensed the next stroke of the cane
falling, she raised her bottom as far as she was able, eager to embrace it.
'Ten.' Her body seemed to sing now, as if the cane had set all her tensed
muscles and tendons twanging.
'Eleven.'
'Twelve.'
Elizabeth could hear herself panting. Her bottom burned so fiercely she
thought it might almost be crackling out loud. She heard Jonathan set down the
cane, then he put the palms of his hands on her buttocks. They were deliciously
cool and soothing. He held her for some moments, then she felt his fingers reach
between her legs, stroking the outside of her cunt softly. One finger slid
inside her, then slipped out again, spreading her wetness up over her clit.
Jonathan's finger circled her clit slowly.
'Come for me, baby,' he said. 'The way you like to.'
She could tell he remembered just how she preferred it, not pressing hard
on top of the clit but moving insidiously around it. It was good to feel such a
practised hand manipulate her. Confident that she would come without a hitch,
she tried to make it last, but she was too excited to postpone her climax long.
When she'd finished Jonathan took his hand away and went to a drawer in the
bedside table. She knew what he was after. He stood behind her again and she
felt the cold lubricant being spread around her asshole, a finger pushing some
of it up inside. When he had lubricated her to his satisfaction he unzipped
himself and pressed his cock against her anus.
'Open for me, baby, the way you used to do. Take my cock right up into your
lovely ass.'
She pushed against him, dilating herself, feeling his cock slide into her,
filling her tight. He began to move inside her, gently.
'So good,' he murmured. 'Just the perfect fuck.'
He came slowly, the semen seeming to seep out of him instead of spurting.
She imagined it filling her, soaking into her bowels, the hot sticky stuff
slurping around in her ass. As Jonathan withdrew she could feel it already
starting to ooze out of her.
He untied her. 'Get into bed,' he said. 'We'll sleep together. But first I
have to bed down Daisy for the night.'
'You're going to fuck her now?' Elizabeth said, with a twinge of jealousy.
He laughed. 'No, I'm fucked out right now. I just have to take her to the
toilet again, give her some bread and water. I shan't be long.'
When he returned she was already asleep.
When she awoke in the morning she could hear Jonathan in the shower. She
got out of bed and went naked to join him. She stepped in under the water-jet
and took the soap from his hand. Carefully she washed his chest and under his
arms, then his belly. Kneeling, she soaped his cock, loving the feel of it
rising in her hands. Tenderly she soaped his balls and rinsed them. She turned
him and washed his back and buttocks, soaping around his anus and rinsing it
clean. She turned him back again and took his cock in her mouth. He let her suck
him for a while, then he raised her and turned her round, pushing her so that
she was leaning forward against the white tiles. He thrust his cock slowly up
into her cunt till he filled her. For a while he held still and she squeezed the
muscles of her cunt around his cock. Then he began to fuck, with long and steady
strokes. She put a finger between her legs and brought herself off just as he
came.
They rinsed off again and afterwards she knelt and dried him. Before he
dressed he kissed her tenderly on the mouth.
'Matt must be very proud,' he said.
'I hope so,' she smiled.
Elizabeth went to her room to dress. Matt wasn't there. She slipped on a
white cotton bra and a matching thong with a T-shirt and jeans. She didn't know
what they were doing that day. If these clothes aren't suitable I can always
change, she thought. When she came downstairs Matt was eating breakfast in the
kitchen. Jonathan was seated beside him drinking coffee. She knew they had been
talking about her, since they fell silent when she entered the room.
'Sleep well?' Matt said, then winked at Jonathan. Elizabeth blushed. She
hoped they weren't going to discuss her performance in front of her.
'Yes, thank you,' she said.
'Got to go and check on Daisy now,' said Jonathan, getting up.
Elizabeth was relieved to see him go. Matt started talking about what they
might do that day. Eagerly she responded, glad to get the conversation on to
something not too personal.
'This afternoon we can do a walk,' Matt said. 'Jonathan says there are
trails through the woods. So it's just a question of this morning. What would
you like to do?'
Elizabeth smiled. 'Shop?'
She knew Matt hated shopping, at least the kind she did, wandering round
clothes stores. It always drove him mad when she went back to one she'd already
visited. 'You've just been there!' he would protest. 'Just need to check back on
something,' she'd mutter.
But to her surprise he agreed immediately to her proposal. Why is he in
such a good mood, she wondered? In the mall they found a really classy underwear
shop, full of glossy and expensive European designs. She tried on a bra, a
flimsy, gauzy creation in purple lace. In the changing room a girl stared at
Elizabeth's steel collar.
'Is that your Master out there?' she asked. 'The older guy?'
Elizabeth nodded. She'd forgotten how obvious a symbol the collar was;
obvious to those in the know, anyway.
'He could Dom me any time,' the girl said.
Elizabeth came out of the changing room and told Matt the bra was a perfect
fit. He held up the matching little thong that went with it. 'Aren't you going
to try this on too?'
'They won't let you try on knickers,' she said. 'Surely you know that? In
any case, do you think I'm going to let another woman see my ass, the way it is
right now?'
She could feel the bruises every time she sat down. She had sneaked a look
while she was dressing; livid red parallel marks, already turning darker.
They got some lunch in a cafe then drove back to Jonathan's house. He
didn't seem to be around. It was now a warm afternoon and Elizabeth went to put
on something cooler than her jeans, stepping into a little pair of denim shorts
that showed off her long legs. She knelt and laced up her hiking boots.
They didn't have to drive long before they got into unspoiled country.
Parking the car down a woodland track, they set off through the trees. After an
hour of steady walking Matt called a halt in a small clearing. They sat on a
tree-stump and sipped water from a bottle. It was delightfully quiet, with only
the occasional song of a lark above the trees.
'Show me,' said Matt. 'Show me what he did last night.'
Hesitantly Elizabeth got to her feet, looking around to see if anyone was
approaching. She unbuttoned the waist of her shorts, unzipped and pulled them
down over her behind. She pulled down the white cotton thong too, then turned
her back so that Matt might inspect her. She was blushing slightly. It was
awkward to have to display herself in this way.
Matt whistled softly. 'You certainly got your come-uppance.'
He let her stand there, shorts about her knees, while he continued looking.
'I hear you played the whore for him this morning, too.'
Elizabeth blushed again. She'd rather Matt hadn't known about that. He
stood up and took her arm, leading her towards a fallen tree at the side of the
clearing. He bent her over the tree; its bark was rough against her belly. Matt
knelt behind her and began to rim her ass, his tongue circling the tiny puckered
hole, spreading spittle, pushing it inside her. After a while he stood and spat
in his hand and rubbed it on his cock. He positioned himself behind her, then
she felt him thrust into her. He was rougher than Jonathan had been and it hurt
a little, though she made herself spread wide for him, pushing down to dilate
the tight little hole. He thrust his cock right in deep, then began to fuck her
hard. She knew what he was doing. It was like a dog, she thought, marking its
territory by spraying, but this was her Master taking possession of his property
by putting his sperm into the place another man's had been. She was sure
Jonathan had told Matt that he had buggered her.
He came quickly, grunting with pleasure as he spurted into her, then
withdrawing immediately. By the time she turned round he had zipped himself up.
She knew there was no chance she would be allowed to come too. That wasn't what
this was about.
They walked on for another half an hour, circling back to the car. When
they got back to the house Jonathan and Daisy were sitting in the kitchen
drinking coffee. Daisy greeted Elizabeth like a long-lost friend, which she
thought a bit presumptuous. After all, they had only ever exchanged a few words,
and that some time ago. Daisy chattered on, showing no embarrassment at the fact
that Matt and Elizabeth had seen her the evening before in such humiliating
circumstances.
Jonathan got out some drinks and they all had a cocktail. Elizabeth
remembered how deliciously dry were his martinis. The four of them chatted of
this and that. Jonathan looked at his watch. It was 6.30.
'Dinner is at eight,' he said. 'Stella's proposing to excel herself. We
should all dress in honour, no?'
'Yes, indeed,' said Matt. 'We'll go and start getting ready now.'
Elizabeth got up to go upstairs. As she reached the kitchen door she turned
and saw Matt standing over the seated Jonathan, telling him something. Daisy was
listening intently. Elizabeth resented them all three talking about her in this
way. What were they hatching up?
She ran a bath and lay soaking in the warm scented water. Matt came and sat
on the edge of the bath, chatting in a friendly way. She felt very close to him,
very intimate. Yet she felt sure something was afoot.
When she got out of the bath he dried her, tenderly and delicately. She
walked into the bedroom and saw some clothes laid on the bed.
'What's this?' she said, picking up a garment of black satin.
'It's your new corset,' said Matt. 'I had it specially made for you, to
your exact measurements.'
He helped her put it on. It did up at the front, hooks and eyes all the way
down. At the back laces threaded through little metal eye-holes. Matt pulled
hard on them and Elizabeth felt her waist squeezed tight.
'God,' she said, 'no more. I can hardly breath.'
'You'll get used to it,' Matt said. 'It's meant to be tight. It's a corset,
remember?'
At the top there were straps, placed at the sides to leave the front
unencumbered. The corset was cut so low that the entirety of the top half of her
breasts was visible, and some part of her nipples too. The tightness of the
corset made for an impressive embonpoint, pushing her breasts upwards and
inwards. She glanced in the mirror. She'd never had such a striking cleavage.
Below, the corset nipped in at her waist then flared out over the top of
her hips, cutting off just above the pubic mound. At each side there were two
suspenders for her stockings, elasticated, with chrome-plated fastenings.
On the bed was a pair of new stockings. She broke open the cellophane
wrapping and sat to put them on, drawing the silky material up over the sleek
skin of her thighs.
She stood up. On the bed was a box. She opened it and inside found a pair
of patent-leather black shoes. They had the highest heels she'd ever worn. Could
she even balance in such shoes? Marvelling at their elegance, she put them on,
then walked cautiously about the room. Matt watched, admiringly.
'So where's the dress?' she asked.
'There's no dress,' he said.
'No dress?'
'No dress. No knickers either.'
'Come on,' she said. 'You don't expect me to go down to dinner half naked?'
'That's exactly what I expect,' he said. 'Why ever not?'
'It's hardly seemly,' she said. It was an odd word, she knew. She wished
she could find a better one.
'Seemly?' Matt echoed, considering the word. 'Is a woman who lets herself
be fucked by a boy she meets in a lift seemly? Is a woman who lets her ass be
caned by a man who is not her Master seemly? Who sucks his cock the next
morning, from pure lust? Is that seemly?'
Was it pure lust that had made her suck Jonathan's cock? Or was it more a
gesture of friendship? She was in no position to bandy about words; she could
hardly claim the high moral ground. She looked down at the ground, knowing she
had no choice but to accept Matt's instruction.
'So this is how I'm to go to dinner? Wearing nothing but this?'
'Oh, I think we could allow you some make-up. And jewellery. And even
perfume.'
He was making fun of her again. She said nothing but sat at the dressing
table with her make-up box. While Matt took a shower she did her eyes, then
glossed her lips scarlet. She wondered what jewellery would complement her steel
collar. From her jewel case she chose some silver ear-rings and a silver
bracelet.
Matt came back from the bathroom. She watched him dress, in a suit she had
helped him buy the previous month. Such an elegant man, she thought. Such
inherent good clothes sense, and yet never expensive in his tastes. She wished
he would let her spend money on him, but she knew he wouldn't care for it.
He stood behind her as she sat looking into the mirror of the dressing
table. He picked up her hair brush and began to brush her dark locks, which,
following his instructions, she had let grow out until they now reached down to
her shoulders. It was wonderfully sensuous to just sit there and have him brush
her hair, perform this service for her. She loved the way her hair shone, richly
dark and glossy for him. At last he put the hairbrush down.
'The perfume, where?' she asked.
He took the bottle and dabbed some behind her ears, between her breasts, in
the small of her back above her bare buttocks and on her shaved mons.
'Give me your lipstick,' he said.
Seating himself while she stood in front of him, he painted the hood of her
clit with the bright red gloss. When she looked at it in the mirror it was
almost obscene to see the bright splash of colour there, a beacon, a sign; the
badge of the whore, she thought.
She was ready to go. She wondered what Daisy would be wearing. Given her
behaviour in the past, she could hardly appear as Little Miss Modesty.
'Come here,' Matt said.
Dutifully she stood before him. From his pocket he took a long chain with a
velvet handle at the end. He fastened it with a clip to her collar.
'This evening,' he said, 'you will do exactly as you are told. No more, no
less. Do you consent?'
'I consent,' she said.
He held his ring for her to kiss it. Then he led her downstairs. When they
got to the door of the study, Matt said, 'Kneel.'
She got down on all fours.
''When I say "heel", you sit back on your haunches, hands behind your back.
Understand?'
'Yes, Master,' she said.
Matt opened the door and yanked on her chain, pulling her forward behind
him. She crawled after him across the floor. She looked up and saw Jonathan
dressed in an elegant linen suit with a polka-dot bow tie. Daisy stood beside
him wearing a shiny black latex skirt, short and tight, showing off her pert
little ass, which Elizabeth could not deny was cute. On top she wore a matching
black latex bustier, cut low to reveal a good view of her round breasts. Her
legs were bare but for little black ankle boots with high heels.
'Heel,' Matt said. Elizabeth sat back as she had been ordered. She kept her
legs together, trying to preserve at least a modicum of modesty. Daisy looked
down at her and smirked while Jonathan fixed Matt another of his dry martinis.
There was nothing for Elizabeth. The three of them stood over her, chattering
and laughing as if she was invisible. It was so disorientating, one minute she
was ignored, the next Matt was full of tender concern. He had said he was aware
of her even when she was apparently neglected, but right now it wasn't easy to
feel that. She knew what was going on, that he wanted her to feel knocked off
her even keel, never knowing what was coming next. That way she was more
amenable, more pliable; more obedient, in a word. But she didn't like it very
much. Each time she was ignored she wanted to speak up for herself, insist on
recognition. If she dared to, she would be punished, she knew, especially if she
was disrespectful to Matt in front of others. But she had got close to a moment
of rebellion once or twice already.
Stella came in and announced dinner. She glanced at Elizabeth kneeling on
the floor, her ass exposed, but she registered nothing. Evidently she had seen
it all before.
Jonathan took Matt's arm and led him into dinner. Matt yanked on the chain
again, dragging Elizabeth after him. Daisy brought up the rear.
'My, my,' she said, spying Elizabeth's bruised behind. 'Who's been a
naughty girl then?'
Elizabeth nearly retorted that from what she had seen Daisy's ass was in no
better shape, but she thought better of it. In the dining room she saw that only
three places were set for dinner. Guess who's not coming to dinner, she thought
glumly.
Matt indicated she should kneel by his chair. Daisy sat between the two
men, Jonathan attentively holding her chair for her, while Matt offered to pour
her some wine. The three of them conversed animatedly while Stella brought in a
souffle. I could use a drink too, though Elizabeth; at least he could give me a
drink. But during the first course she received nothing, not a sip of wine, not
a morsel of food.
Stella brought the next course, a daube of venison. It had a delicious
meaty smell. Elizabeth was starving. But Matt continued to ignore her, eating
his meal, talking pleasantly to Daisy and Jonathan. Elizabeth could see his
plate was almost empty. Please, let her just have a mouthful. Just before he had
finished the food Matt picked up his plate and set it on the floor. There were
two or three pieces of meat left and a mouthful of mashed potato. Evidently no
cutlery was to be provided.
'Eat,' said Matt.
Elizabeth bent down and took a piece of meat between her teeth.
Daisy laughed. 'Your puppy dog is well-trained.'
'Yes,' said Matt, 'though she needs a firm hand.'
Daisy laughed again. 'I can see she's had that already.'
Elizabeth hated that Matt was prepared to joke about her with Daisy. It was
bad enough when he had discussed her with Jonathan. But to make jokes about her
with this girl, still a teenager, a girl of no distinction, no class, no talent
except a cute bottom; it was demeaning beyond endurance.
Stella came in to clear the dishes.
'Would you have a saucer or a bowl?' Matt enquired.
Stella brought a brown earthenware bowl. It really did look like something
a dog might use. Matt poured a little wine in it and set it down beside
Elizabeth.
'Drink,' he said.
She bent forward and tried to lap up the wine. It was a lot harder than it
looked. She got a little into her mouth, but it was a slow process. Daisy
giggled. Elizabeth wanted to slap her.
Stella brought the dessert, a fruit compote. Matt took a spoonful and
offered it to Elizabeth. She accepted eagerly. She was still ravenous. Matt gave
her another, and another. He didn't have much of a sweet tooth, so she knew it
was scarcely a hardship to give up his dessert, but she was grateful anyway.
When dinner was finished Jonathan led them back into the study. Though it
had been a warm day, a fire now burned in the grate. Jonathan invited Matt to be
seated in one of the armchairs beside the fire. He took the other one and patted
his knee for Daisy to sit on it. Elizabeth knelt beside Matt, who held her
chain.
'Time for some party games?' Jonathan asked, smiling.
'As you are the host, I think you should be master of ceremonies,' Matt
answered. 'I'm sure you've got some ideas.'
Jonathan grinned. 'What about a little competition? Both these girls have
been a little naughty lately, and though they've each had some punishment I'm
not sure they really got all that they deserved. Perhaps a little top-up might
be in order?'
Matt waited to see exactly what Jonathan had in mind.
'So,' Jonathan said. 'I think we men folk have done our bit. It's time the
girls were put to work. I suggest they each give the other a going-over. You and
I, Matt, can judge which one dishes it out the best. The winner gets a prize.'
'What prize?' Matt inquired.
'Let's make them wait and see,' Jonathan said. 'Keep them in suspense a
little.'
He went over to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a flogger. It had
half a dozen strips of rawhide attached to a wooden handle.
'This should do the trick,' said Jonathan, swishing it from side to side,
then setting it down. He reached into his pocket and took out a coin, put his
hands behind his back, then brought them forward.
'Your choice,' he said to Elizabeth. She pointed to his right hand. When he
opened it the coin was inside. Elizabeth hesitated. It was her choice; should
she go first? Or would it be better for her if Daisy began?
'I'll go first,' she said.
Matt undid the chain at her neck. Jonathan handed her the flogger and she
got to her feet.
'OK, Daisy,' said Jonathan, 'bend over the desk.'
Looking nervous, Daisy positioned herself across the desk. Jonathan pulled
her latex skirt up over her bottom. Elizabeth was not surprised to find she was
naked underneath. Jonathan undid his bow tie and bound Daisy's ankles together.
He went round to the other end of the desk, reached forward and grabbed Daisy's
wrists.
'OK,' Jonathan said. 'Let fly. Twelve strokes each. Whoever lays it on the
hardest is the winner.'
Elizabeth stood behind Daisy and measured the distance to the neat little
naked bottom, already criss-crossed with bruises. This was going to hurt both of
them, the state their asses were in. Well, Elizabeth was going to make sure she
got the best blows in. Whatever the reward, she didn't want to come second best
to this girl.
The first blow landed with a thud just below the centre of Daisy's
buttocks.
'Ouch,' said Daisy. She sounded surprised; perhaps she thought Elizabeth
wouldn't take the little game seriously. Taking careful aim, Elizabeth struck
again, this time landing dead centre.
'Hey,' said Daisy. She sounded aggrieved.
Elizabeth hit her again, a little harder, but her accuracy suffered and the
blow landed towards the top part of Daisy's buttocks. Judging from her pained
response, it still hurt a good deal. Elizabeth continued to ply the flogger,
trying not to sacrifice accuracy for power, but determined to give Daisy a
thorough whipping. She'd teach her to act superior. Little gold-digging tramp,
thought Elizabeth as she walloped Daisy's ass again. Red weals were appearing on
top of the blue and black bruises. Daisy was yelling out loud now, but Elizabeth
took no notice, concentrating on landing the strokes where they would do most
damage. She was surprised how much she was enjoying herself. There's a bit of a
top in every bottom, she said to herself. Daisy desperately tried to wriggle out
of the way as Elizabeth mentally counted up to ten strokes, but Jonathan held
her tight. Let's make the last two really count, Elizabeth told herself as she
raised her arm high and brought the flogger down squarely across Daisy's shapely
little bottom. For the last stroke she put her full weight behind the blow.
Daisy was sobbing uncontrollably. Elizabeth, flushed with the exertion,
trembling slightly with a strange exultation, put the flogger down on the desk.
Jonathan let go of Daisy's wrists and brushed the tears from her cheeks before
untying her ankles.
Daisy got up from the desk, her eyes flashing at Elizabeth. 'Bitch,' she
said. 'Just you wait.'
'Now ladies,' Jonathan laughed. 'It's just a game.'
Some game, thought Elizabeth. She was feeling apprehensive now. Perhaps she
had laid it on rather hard. She could hardly blame Daisy if she wanted her
revenge. Meekly Elizabeth submitted to having her ankles tied, and her wrists
held by Jonathan. She glanced sideways and saw that Matt was watching intently,
but he gave no sign of emotion. 'Don't let me down,' he'd said last night. She
hadn't done yet and she vowed she wouldn't now.
Daisy was shorter than Elizabeth and had a slighter frame, but Elizabeth
was taken aback by the power she managed to get into the first stroke of the
flogger. Elizabeth gritted her teeth, trying hard not to make a sound. The
second stroke was right on top of the first, just in the very place that
Jonathan had treated so severely the night before. Elizabeth barely managed to
stifle the groan that rose from her lips. The third stroke was the worst so far,
seeming to cut deep into her flesh. And the fourth was worse again, a searing
pain from which there was no escape. As the fifth landed she struggled
involuntarily against Jonathan's grip. It was useless, she knew, but she would
have done anything to protect herself from the rawhide strips that lashed across
her tender buttocks. As the next three strokes struck her with relentless
accuracy her whole body shook. She found herself looking at Matt with a mute
appeal: please, make them stop. He stared back, implacable.
Only when eight or nine strokes had cut across her defenceless bottom did
she begin to experience that endorphins kicking in, working their magic to
transform the agony of pain into the pure gold of pleasure. Even so, Daisy was
whipping her too hard for pain not to be the primary sensation, and when at last
the twelfth and final stroke flailed across her lacerated ass she sighed with
relief.
Jonathan untied her. He told Elizabeth and Daisy to stand side by side for
inspection. He and Matt stood behind them, comparing the two rosy bottoms.
Jonathan put out a hand and touched Daisy's left cheek, tracing the welts raised
by the flogger.
'Daisy made the most noise,' he said.
'Yes,' agreed Matt, 'but I don't think that proved she got the hardest
whipping.'
'No,' Jonathan said. 'I think Elizabeth is a brighter red.'
'I'm bound to agree,' Matt said. 'Daisy put the most into it. She seems
experienced.'
Jonathan laughed. 'Oh, she's experienced all right. I could tell you some
stories.'
Matt put out a hand and squeezed Elizabeth's bottom. She flinched. 'I think
Daisy is the winner,' said Matt.
Wasn't he going to support her? Surely, Elizabeth thought bitterly, a
Master should stand up for his sub in such situations? Why were they all ganging
up against her?
'So what's the prize?' Matt asked.
'The winner gets to come,' Jonathan said. 'The loser gets to do it for her.
Daisy will like that. She loves getting oral sex.'
Elizabeth stared at Matt. This was too much. Surely he wouldn't let them
impose this on her? He knew she had hardly any experience of sex with women. It
was something they'd talked about, thought they might experiment with some day.
But apart from a little kissing and cuddling she never done anything with
another girl. She simply could not go down on Daisy.
'Mmm,' said Daisy. 'You'd better be good, or I might whip your ass again.'
She laughed, then stripped off her latex top and skirt so that she was naked
apart from her boots. She climbed on to the desk and lay on her back, her knees
bent, her thighs spread.
'Ready,' she said.
'Matt -' Elizabeth began.
'Just do as you're told,' he said. 'Like you agreed, remember?'
Elizabeth coloured. She didn't like to be reminded of her promise. But it
was true. She had agreed, only a hour ago, to do whatever he said. She'd kissed
the ring. Giving Matt a stare that she knew might get her in trouble later, she
got down on her knees. She leaned forward, lowering her head to Daisy's cunt. It
was moist; between the lips little drops of clear liquid hung like dew drops.
The lips were slim, pressed together, revealing only a slit. It was like a
little girl's cunt, Elizabeth thought. Tentatively she kissed it, savouring its
musky odour, then sliding her tongue up its length, tasting the tangy flavour.
She slipped her tongue in between the lips. She was unpractised, but after all,
she thought, I have a cunt myself. I know what feels nice. She pressed her
tongue further into Daisy's cunt, trying to enter her, but she could only go a
little way despite the wetness inside. Then very slowly she licked upwards until
her tongue rested lightly against Daisy's clit.
'Oh, god,' said Daisy. 'That's so good. The bitch knows how to eat a girl
after all.'
Elizabeth didn't care to be called that name. She was half tempted to deny
Daisy the pleasure she craved. She knew she could make her wait and wait, could
tease her mercilessly. But both the men were watching her intently. It would be
obvious what she was doing. She'd better get on with it. It didn't take long.
Daisy was well worked up, and Elizabeth didn't doubt that in any case she was a
lustful little slut who could come at the drop of a hat. Or a pair of knickers.
Daisy's orgasm duly arrived and she cried out loud as she writhed on the
desk. When it was over Elizabeth got to her feet and wiped her mouth. What now?
Jonathan got up from his chair and without a word went across to Daisy.
Seizing her ankles, he lifted them up high and set them on his shoulders. He
unzipped himself and Elizabeth watched as he took out his cock, thrust it into
Daisy and began to fuck her. She felt a twinge of jealousy at the sight. Did
Jonathan prefer Daisy to her? It was a stupid feeling, she knew. After all, he
owned Daisy. Was it surprising he should fuck her? She had Matt. Why was she
greedy for Jonathan too? She supposed it was just that only the night before
Jonathan had seemed to find her special. And now here he was, fucking Daisy
while she, Elizabeth, was ignored.
She was reassured when Matt called her over and told her to stand beside
his chair. He reached out and stroked her bottom, still sore after the beating,
while they watched Jonathan fuck Daisy, who came again just before Jonathan
ejaculated.
Jonathan did himself up and resumed his seat.
'OK, Daisy,' he said. 'You've had your fun. Now it's time to do some work.
Matt's feeling neglected.'
Daisy got up off the desk and strolled over to where Matt sat in his chair,
his hand still idly stroking Elizabeth's bottom. Daisy got down on her knees and
began to unzip Matt's trousers.
'You'll enjoy this, Matt,' Jonathan said. 'She's the best little cocksucker
in the country.'
Daisy took Matt's cock out. Elizabeth looked down at it. It was hard
already. It was her Master's cock, the cock she worshipped and served, the cock
that fucked her in every orifice, whenever it wished, the cock she was in thrall
to, whose pleasure she was devoted to. Was this cock now to be pleasured by
another woman? Could Matt allow this to happen while she, Elizabeth, was forced
to watch? She saw Daisy open her mouth wide and take Matt's cock between her
full red lips. Elizabeth turned her head away. This was unbearable.
Matt saw her move. 'Kneel down,' he said.
Elizabeth knelt beside him. Matt caught hold of her hair, gripping a
fistful at the back of her head, turning her head towards him.
'Watch,' he said.
Daisy was running her tongue up the back of Matt's cock, up the ridge of
the shaft as far as the glans. Elizabeth saw her pink tongue push into the hole,
then circle round under the rim of the glans. It was just the thing that
Elizabeth liked to do for him, the thing she thought only she knew how to do.
And here was this little tramp doing it for her Master just the way he liked it.
Matt made no sound, but she saw how intently he watched what Daisy was doing,
all the while gripping Elizabeth's hair tightly, forcing her to watch too. Daisy
took Matt's cock right back into her mouth again, deep-throating him all the way
down. She was skilled, there was no doubt of that, and Matt was responding, he
was getting pleasure from it. Was it as much pleasure as she, Elizabeth, could
give him? Perhaps it was. Perhaps he liked other women sucking his cock just as
much as he liked her doing it; maybe even more. She felt close to tears.
Daisy was into a rhythm now, her head going up and down on Matt's cock, her
cheeks concave as she sucked hard, her mouth shaped like a cunt for him to fuck.
One of Daisy's hands was cradling Matt's balls, squeezing them softly, while the
other held the shaft of the cock steady so that her mouth could move up and
down, sucking hard as her tongue licked at him lasciviously inside her mouth.
Suddenly Matt grunted. Elizabeth saw his hips convulse and his cock quiver as he
came. She imagined his spunk spurting into Daisy's mouth, hot and thick. It was
hers by right. And Daisy had it in her mouth. When Matt was still Daisy took her
mouth away. She turned her head towards Elizabeth and opened her mouth to show
her the semen inside, then she swallowed and licked her lips.
'Was that good, baby?' she asked Matt.
He said nothing. He let go of Elizabeth's hair and did up his trousers.
Daisy stood up and crossed the room to sit on the arm of Jonathan's chair.
'Good work, sweetheart,' he said. 'Now, there's only one left who hasn't
come. Matt, do you think Elizabeth's feeling left out?'
'Maybe,' said Matt. 'What did you have in mind?'
'I think we're all feeling a bit lazy now,' said Jonathan, 'so she'll have
to do the work herself. What do you think?'
Matt turned to her. 'Go and kneel in the middle of the room,' he said. 'Sit
back on your haunches, thighs wide apart.'
Elizabeth crawled to the centre of the room and took up her position as
instructed. She was aware of the three of them gazing at her, taking in her
breasts, which had spilled over the top of her corset, exposing her nipples. And
taking in her cunt, exposed by her parted thighs, shave bare, the clit painted
red, the lips swollen with desire.
'Make yourself come,' said Matt. 'Use just the right index finger.'
She was sure he knew this wasn't the one she used. Always when she
masturbated she used the middle finger. And always she put two fingers of her
left hand inside her cunt. Surely he knew that. He was just making it harder for
her, so it would take longer, make it more of a spectacle, more of an ordeal.
She began to touch her clit with her index finger, slowly circling, making
it nice and wet from the juice that seeped from between the lips of her cunt.
She tried to shut out the faces of the watching trio, tried to ignore Jonathan's
leering smile, Daisy's smirk, Matt's impassive stare. She tried to think of how
she would serve Matt when at last she was alone. She thought about how, despite
everything he had done to test her, she had obeyed, had been his faithful
servant in all things. Surely he cared for her, whatever he might show in
public?
'Lean back a little, baby,' Jonathan said. 'so we can see you better.'
She arched her back trying to display herself as he said, but it made it
even harder to come. Daisy was lying across Jonathan, playing with his cock as
she watched Elizabeth. She had that smirk on her face again, as if to say, this
was once your cock but now it's mine. And I've had your man's cock in my mouth
too, I've tasted him and swallowed. Elizabeth tried to shut out Daisy and
Jonathan, thinking only of Matt, making herself come for him alone. It was
awkward like this, this position wasn't the best for orgasm, she didn't like to
use her index finger, and always when she masturbated she liked to feel
something in her cunt. But at last she felt desire swelling deep in her loins
and then it washed over her as she fed the desire with her finger and her hips
were shuddering and she was coming, just for Matt.
There was silence for a while. Then Jonathan got up.
'More drinks,' he said. He poured them all a glass of wine. This time
Elizabeth was included. Matt allowed her to sit on his lap as they drank to a
toast Jonathan proposed:
'Here's to Mastery. And lechery.'
They drank a little wine, then Matt said he would wish them goodnight.
Taking Elizabeth by the hand he led her from the room. She turned back as she
got to the door, to see Daisy on her knees with her lips fastened round
Jonathan's cock.
Up in the bedroom Matt laid her face down on the bed and lightly traced the
marks on her buttocks with his finger.
'Poor girl,' he said. 'But you were so brave. I'm proud.'
It was all she wanted to hear. All she ever wanted to hear.
From his suitcase he fetched a length of thin cord. He told her to put her
hands together while he bound her wrists with the cord, not tight enough to
impede the circulation, but securely. He looped the cord through her steel
collar, lifting her hands up to her neck. Then he knotted the cord to one of the
posts at the head of the bed.
As she lay with hands tied he told her to raise herself into a kneeling
position. Oh god, not another beating, she thought; I don't know if I can bear
any more. But instead Matt knelt behind her and slowly slid her cock into her.
She was so slippery with desire that she was afraid he might easily slide out
and she squeezed him tight to hold him in. he began to fuck her gently,
whispering words of admiration and adoration into her ear. Elizabeth almost
swooned with happiness.
He wouldn't allow her to come again. He made her sleep with her wrists
bound all night. She supposed that with her teeth she might in time have undone
the knot tying her to the bed, but she dare not. Once in the night he fucked her
again, while she was half asleep ;in the morning she wondered if she had perhaps
imagined that part of it. In the morning he untied her and they showered
together. She knelt and took his cock in her mouth, using all her wiles to bring
him to ecstasy, milking the spunk from him, draining him dry into her mouth,
holding it on her tongue and tasting him before swallowing it right down.
They had breakfast with Jonathan and Daisy, who kissed Elizabeth farewell
afterwards, seeming almost sorry to see her go. On the plane Elizabeth sat with
her head on Matt's shoulder. She dozed a little. When she awoke she saw he had
been doodling on a piece of paper.
'What's that?' she murmured sleepily.
He showed it to her. Vertically down the paper were two heavy parallel
lines. Letters were written on each side. At first she couldn't puzzle it out.
Then she saw that it said:
M| | P
A | | R
S | | O
T | | P
E | | E
R | | R
' | | T
S | | Y
'What does it mean?' she asked.
'It's what's going to be written on your cunt,' he said. 'On the outside of
the lips, nice and clear. Make it neat.'
He handed her the pen, a black felt-tip.
'What?' she said.
'Do it,' he said.
'Now?'
'Now. And when you come back hand me your knickers.'
She looked around. At the back of the cabin a solitary woman stood waiting
for a toilet to become empty. Elizabeth saw the door open and a man come out.
The woman disappeared inside. Feeling self-conscious, as if every passenger was
watching her and must know with what purpose she walked towards the rear of the
plane, she strode between the seats. As she approached, another toilet door
opened and a woman exited. One of the cabin assistants watched as Elizabeth went
inside and shut the door. She reached under her dress and pulled down her
knickers, stuffing them into her purse. She put one leg up on the toilet seat
and examined her cunt. Where exactly ought she to put the letters? Were her lips
wide enough? Were they long enough for all the letters? Mentally she sketched
out how it would look. It was intimidating that Matt was an artist'; he would do
it so much more neatly than she would. The plane was going through some light
turbulence, which didn't help. Gingerly she made the first mark, a capital M, on
the left side, right at the top. She chose to mark in the area where the labia
met the inside of her thigh; the labia themselves were to soft and loose to
write on. She knew it had to be legible, and visible from the front. It was a
notice, after all, a sign to whomever it might concern. Anyone who might look at
her.
It was a long slow job. Once or twice the plane lurched and she almost
spoiled the work, but in the end she got it done, but not before there had been
a knock on the door. Elizabeth froze.
'Yes?' she called out nervously.
'It's OK, ma'am,' said a voice. 'Just checking you're OK in there.'
'Oh, yes, I'm fine,' she said. 'I won't be long.'
She finished the job and washed her hands. Some of the ink had got on her
fingers. She flushed and came out, colouring a little as the assistant looked
her in the eye. She knew she had a guilty look. What did the girl think she had
been up to? Surely she could not possibly have guessed?
She went back to her seat and sat down. Matt reached out his hand.
Blushing, she took her knickers from her bag, rolled them into a tight ball, and
handed them over.
'All set?'
She smiled, then shook her head in mock bewilderment.
'Where will it all end?' she said.
'Some time soon,' said Matt, 'I shall be ready to make my mark upon your
body permanently. Shall you be ready too?'
'Yes,' she said.
