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“I don’t know,” she replied.
“How open it makes you, how exposed.” The Mistress looked as if she’d like to use her tongue against the moistening flesh. But she had other ideas first. “Hand me that small crop,” she said to one of her male attendants. She had urges to satisfy, pain to inflict and the small crop was perfect. It was soon cracking against the exposed cunt with ruthless cuts going every which away over thighs, cunt, and labia. Small whimpers escaped the slave’s lips. And where it hit against the jewelry, she cried out with a blood-curdling scream. She could hardly stay upright.
“Now for your ass again, it’s looking too pale,” the mistress said. She pushed her slave around, her attendants shoving the slave’s head against the pillows. The crop whisked through the air again, raising fiery red stripes across the flesh of the trinket’s ass, followed by a sad, distressed cry.
“A dildo please,” the Mistress ordered. One was quickly placed in her hand—it seemed her attendants were as subject to their demanding mistress as the slave now bowing humbling at her side.
“Grease her,” she ordered. The smaller of the men moved forward with a jar of cream in hand and began to rub it into the slave’s rear hole.
“Yes, grease it deeply.” The Mistress watched attentively. “You’ll both be in there soon, I love to watch a good ass rape.”
Finishing, the man backed away so that his mistress could insert the dildo in its proper place. Clutching it in one hand, she shoved the huge plastic prick against the trinket’s sphincter, forcing it to give way.
“Yeaaaaahhhhhhh!”
“Hurt?” the mistress asked in a sing song voice, happily amused. She loved listening to that gasp of pain, and the tiny cries that ensued thereafter, as she rammed the huge cock in and out of her little slave. “You take this well,” she observed. “You must have had this treatment before.” Her slave began to wriggle her rear against the offending prick with a moan of pleasure escaping her lips.
“Answer me, you whore!” the woman demanded. The palm of her free hand began to slap her slave’s ass cheeks. “Tell me, does it hurt?”
“It’s unbearable,” the trinket gasped. She practically collapsed on the pillows, with force and desire butting heads together in her violated rear.
“How wonderful for all of us,” the Mistress said.
There were anguished moans into pillows below, the poor little thing hardly able to contain herself.
“In her ass!” the Domme roared at last, as she suddenly pulled the dildo from Trinket Four’s wide-open ass.
Two eager cocks waited impatiently to force their way inside the submissive rear hole. The most anxious of the two moved forward on his Mistress’ command and impaled the slave with a forceful shove.
“Oh gawd!” she cried.
The attendant smirked delighted,
pulling vigorously in and out, just as the dildo had done.
“Gawd no!” the slave cried again, the cock was not as easy to manage as the dildo. She hoped for some compassion from the man who rammed her ass, but he was too eager, getting the rare treat of real sex with a real woman. Looking out at the watching audience, he released his passion—his face twisted in anguished pleasure.
“She is so humbled,” one woman looked on in amazement.
“I find it uplifting,” another spoke.
“How can they find it in them to give themselves this way, I’ll never know,” a third remarked.
The mistress of the hour, reclining happily on her pillows and sneered lewdly at the crowd. She was a happy mistress with her two submissives and a borrowed trinket. Every whim, every urge, satisfied.
Trinket Four did not finish with the trio until she had satisfied both men in her ass, and the Mistress once more with her mouth pressed to the woman’s cunt. By the time she was returned to her pedestal, the evening’s festivities were well underway. The elegant clothes that adorned Damien’s guests were strewn in corners and closets. Soft, naked flesh-on-flesh encounters took place in every corner of the ballroom and in several side rooms, and the parlors beyond.
Trinket Four had hardly resumed her place on the pedestal before she was summoned again, and her valet led her away to another Master desiring the use of her available orifices.
She was whipped with a cat ‘o nine tails, buggy whip, and assorted leather instruments, spanked with paddles and impaled with dildos and cocks. Her backside was raw to touch, her openings stretched and sore from use. She was made to pad about the ballroom on all fours until her knees ached and she didn’t think she could move another inch.
The time passed as if in a dream. Sometimes it seemed that it dragged forever; though she was vaguely aware that day had dawned, the morning light had come and gone, and the afternoon sunlight had disappeared to give way to another night.
Crawling up on her pedestal for the last time, the valet no longer insisted that she stand tied with her arms over her head. Trinket Four remained eyes closed until she felt her valet tug at her collar again.
Her eyes popping open, she stared into his passive face.
“Again?” she whispered wearily. Her limbs could hardly move, and she no longer cared whether “submissive protocol” was breached by her faint protest.
