AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The brunette bitch was in front of her, admiring the line of her body and the fine pose she’d managed to strike. Her effort was commendable. She pulled the trinket’s hair and looked into the silent face of submission.
“Whip her buttocks raw, then bring her to me,” she said, to one of the men accompanying her. She dropped the slave’s head and walked away.
The lash was brutal, coming down on the trinket’s body with repeated blows to the tune of her soft moans and faint cries.
“Do we gag her?” one attendant questioned.
“No, let her whimper, it will be all the worse for her when we get her down,” the other one countered.
The lash resumed its journey over Trinket Four’s slave ass, cut upon cut burning into the creamy, tender skin. She was a valiant one, so the perpetrators thought. The two attendant’s played games of their own to see what might knock the chosen trinket off her pedestal. While the slave held her position with some determination, this was not a war that she could ever win.
Her valet caught her when a flurry of lashes whisked through the air from the two vile whips, and she could take no more. She fell off her pedestal to the sounds of laughter coming from the masters.
This first lashing of the night, an apt ice-breaker, was watched by scores of guests who used this trinket’s woe as a source of inspiration. In particular, Trinket Four was observed in her moment of agony, by eyes that had seen her in such positions on other occasions, by eyes belonging to the master who had initiated her into the world of punishment. He was a brooding man, who was not making sport of the night, as he had done so many times before, when he lent his hand in a whipping, or himself commanded one of Damien’s trinkets. He was content this time to explore the ballroom and its fascinating pleasures, though his mind was forever welded to just one poor trinket/slave, who now dutifully wiggled her red ass in the air as if she were asking for more.
He thought she wouldn’t see him, that it would be safe enough to observe; but one fleeting glance during one fleeting moment, when Trinket Four opened her eyes, gave him away. His face, though expressionless, renewed the slave’s courage. To this trinket’s surprise, her master had lied about being there; though she had no time or will to contemplate a relationship that was best forgotten for the rest of the night.
The first punishment complete, the trinket was led to a side room on her leash. She crawled on hands and knees across a crowded floor of people who were not inclined to notice her. When she was stepped on, she muffled a shriek—her fingers were smashed by the heel of someone’s boot. But as if her valet anticipated that squelched cry, he jerked on her leash to remind her of the required silence.
The small anteroom was like a scene from the Arabian nights, pillows covering the floor, incense giving off heavy smoke and a pungent aroma permeating the air.
The brunette Mistress who had won her prize was waiting, reclining on the pillows with a long, thin buggy-whip poised in her hand.
“Bow, slave, at my feet,” she ordered.
The slave crawled forward with her head to the floor, reaching the brunette’s feet just as the buggy whip sliced through the air and landed across her back.
As her body jerked, she issued a tiny cry, stunned by the cutting fervor of the stinging cut.
“So easily pained?” the mistress questioned. “I’d better not have claimed a cowardly trinket.” The whip made several brisk trips through the air, landing each time with an emphatic crack against the slave’s back.
This time she was quiet, not a peep from her mouth.
“That’s better,” the Mistress purred, “Come here between my legs.”
The trinket crawled between the woman’s legs, and began to lap at the juicing cunt presented her, while the Mistress leaned back—the immediate joy of her trinket’s careful work apparent in her blissful expression.
“OOoooooo my lord, what a tongue,” the woman seethed, her heavy breathing becoming heavier still, as she was quickly moved toward a smashing cum. As much as she might have wanted to wait, there was too much sexual heat about the room to fend off any orgasm for long. She bucked and churned against her trinket’s tongue, her juices spilling out all over the attentive face.
The slave backed off in silence, once the Mistress had been served. She kept her head pressed to the pillow, honoring the swift bond that had been forged between them.
“Come here slave,” the woman implored her.
Trinket Four crawled higher on the pillows, until the woman raised her chin with a nurturing hand and looked into the slave’s surrendering eyes.
“Rise up so I can see your jewelry,” she said. “I’m so fascinated by piercing, and yours is especially appealing.”
The slave pulled herself to her knees at the Mistress’s side, letting the woman’s hand stray over her nipples, toying with the studs and the rings, twisting and pulling them until she winced in pain.
“Oh, does that hurt?” the Mistress wondered aloud in a voice veiled in mockery. “Ah, but I like these best,” she said, petting the opened cunt. “This bar is so lovely. Does it hurt?”
Her slave remained silent.
“You may speak,” the Mistress informed her.
“Only when I move too quickly, or in the wrong direction,” Trinket Four replied.
“So does your Master plan to leave this here forever?” the Mistress asked.
