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Though she wasn’t apprised of the requirements of this master, she assumed that the standard slave posture she learned in Caius’ dungeon should please the man. She pressed her cheek to the cool floor as firmly as she could, while she splayed her privates with the lewd pose. Instants later, she felt the vileness of a thin cane poking at her body. As the tip pressed into her anus, she jerked, emitting a small shriek of pain.
“Surrender……..” she heard the whispered voice of her master come to her like a haunting breeze. “Surrender……….”
The feeling poured through her, bringing on waves of desire—these coming from a darker vision from a darker sexual world. Pictures of Caius, Mountbane and Tristan—yes, her dear Tristan—and even Gwnyth appeared in a montage of images in her brain. Hands, fists, whips, chains and bondage appeared thereafter. The pulse came deep, resonating throughout her body until the master circling above her could see for himself how aroused she’d become from just this meek suggestion.
He ran the cane along the crack of her behind so viciously, she thought he might tear the delicate skin. She gasped with pain. “Turn over!” he ordered. Charlotte complied again unthinkingly, moving into the slave posture most memorable in her mind. Knees bent, her feet to her ass, she raised her hips to float upon the air.
If she could only see this master’s face. Would he show approval in his expression? How she yearned for just one glimpse, and yet, how she feared that her first look at him would only reveal a face she could not love.
Again, he circled her. She could hear his feet shuffling along the floor and sensed a crop of leather graze her skin with the feel of silk. Her body trembled now, as her arousal rose to the same blazing furnace of heat that had burned within her the last four days. Her mind screamed, “Beat me, lord, lay your passions on me with zeal,” while her voice remained silent. He teased and toyed so that everything in her clenched. Would he deny her now? Had he brought her to the grandest ecstasy only to reject her lust and let her live without, just as her husband had forced her to?
This was a worse affliction. The intensity built in an instant—with just the hint of something sweetly cruel welting her skin.
He struck three times: once each to her inner thighs where the pain burned so savagely that she almost collapsed; then a third time across her exposed labia. The sensation rippled on, making her body writhe as though she wanted more. He offered her only the very ends of his implement to play with. She struggled with the urgency of her flesh, reaching with her cunt in her blind state for another strike of his crop. Frustration made her cry out hungrily.
“Please, master, do not leave me like this to burn…………”
For a time, he seemed content to do just that. Strolling about her, a few softer blows landed, but they did not satisfy her suffering. When he finally backed away, she was certain that he was rejecting her. She wanted to beg again. But keeping her tongue, she waited, relieved at last to feel the guiding hands of two men lifting her to her feet. Her physical ache subsided but not the desire.
Walked several yards from her present position, Charlotte found herself strapped to an “X” frame, feet and arms stretched wide and cuffed in thick leather-lined irons. Her imagination stirred, urging the scene forward, seeing, hearing, even smelling the aroma of whips and the wood that would flog her into bliss. Her mind focused on the picture, completely sure of the results; and then, to her utter amazement, Charlotte suddenly felt the apparatus move with her body circling to the side. As the picture cleared in her mind, she realized that she was being inverted, the “X” frame turned upside-down. Blood rushed to her head and her heart began to beat with an anxious rhythm.
In this position, Charlotte’s naked pussy seemed the center of this tiny theatre. Clamps pinched her labia in six places. Three on either side. Then a probe was driven into her anus, nestling deeply in the channel. She couldn’t help but whimper as her body squirmed to accommodate the invasion. As the immediate pain subsided, her body began to relax into each new element of torture. Her desire soared.
Seeing the slave’s response, the master pulled the labia clamps wider still, so that her empty cleft could be filled. Then with several fingers at the doorway, he pushed them as far as her body would physically allow. If it weren’t for the clamps, he might just fit his entire hand.
Baudaire stopped short of a full fisting. The author of this scene seemed more intent to bring Charlotte off to the dull and aching pain resident in her body. Each second the clamps seemed to bite more, but each second Sir Guy shoved his fingers and withdrew them like a cock. Yes, she would cum soon. The tension increased and her body wanted more.
The slave began to pant, to writhe in an erratic ecstasy as the master worked his fingers in her hole and the probe inside her ass. The agony was unbearable, but stopping now would be worse. Dislodged from brain and reason, responding to sensation alone, Charlotte finally came. Like a sole sharp clap of thunder, the climax in her body burst; and in one long ride, she spasmed hard.
Then, as each clamp was loosened, the probe removed, and the master’s hand withdrew, the orgasm swept on until finally, at last, she could breathe at ease again.
Charlotte was unaware of her surroundings until she discovered that her body was being turned upright again. The relief felt like another wave of climax. Exhausted, she was removed from the ‘X’ device and carried to a bed where she fell asleep. There were few thoughts in her mind except the feeling of perfect surrender. Perhaps she should remain blind forever and live her life inside the beauty of her empty thoughts.
d
When Charlotte finally awakened, the droopy slave took some moments to discover that her blindfold had been removed. Still, she kept her eyes closed, afraid to open them. But her body stirred, which stirred the napping Sir Guy from his musing slumber.
Opening his eyes, he saw that Charlotte’s eyes were still closed. “Look at me now, Lady Charlotte. I know you’re awake.”
She trembled with fear, but obliged him—her curiosity was now too piqued to put off the truth. And though it took some seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light, it took less time for Charlotte to recognize the man sitting in the nobleman’s chair.
“Tristan?”
“Yes, my love.”
“You?”
“Of course. Who did you think would love you so, a stranger?”
“But Sir Guy?”
“Is me,” he said simply.
This wa
s too much for her to understand in the middle of this surprising moment. She lay back on the lounge not knowing whether to be angry, frightened or relieved.
Moving from the chair, her lover came to her with the same abidingly dark countenance she’d grown to love. Sitting beside her, he turned her chin with his hand so she had to look him in the eye.
