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“Oh, don’t you play the saucy bitch with me!” he roared. “Thought I’d use my hand, but you fight me, we’ll try something stronger. Susan, get my slapper.”
She was gone not sixty seconds, returning with the flat leather spanking piece, one he’d obviously made himself. I caught one glance at it, and that was enough. Though it looked like any three-inch wide leather, the ends were cut in four strips, and the leather itself was doubled like two ends of a belt, so when it struck its impact magnified beyond the usual.
As it stung my ass, the slapper seemed to grab my flesh and pull it with him when he pulled back. It hit like thunder, sounding like sharp claps during a springtime storm. Despite the hurt, his rigorous rhythm, and the unending steadiness of his strikes, my body was taking it in, even moving as though it wanted more. All this talk of spanking and submission for one long week, and the stimulation of this boisterous night, I needed this. Even the public show of my surrender fueled the fire.
KC planned this. I could see his hand in every move this night. He knew me well and he knew my need. I wondered if his instincts ever failed.
Karl set the beat and kept up the pace, settling in for a long session while the rest of the crowd watched my ass getting vigorously worked. Once he was finished, he didn’t have to ask—he had me commandeered in his grasp, following him into his bedroom.
The fuck was simple, a straight on pussy pounding with my legs above his shoulders. He made no effort to make me cum; but I did anyway, in the middle of his orgasm screaming almost as loudly as he was roaring. Yes! I needed this.
KC fucked me, too, almost as brutally just an hour later when we’d gone to bed. He hadn’t said much during the remainder of the party. And with my mind, if not my body, pretty battered by that after midnight hour, being silent was exactly what I needed.
The Refuge settled down after that unusual night, though it was not the quiet woodland bower it had been our first few days with Karl and Susan alone. This was their summer faire, an end-of-the-season romp of decadent pleasure. Friends came and went, women were collared, asses spanked and jovial orgies took place everywhere from the house to the lawns, to the meadows and the thick woods. Those that arrived often seemed as rooted in the way of life as their hosts were. The Refuge was their refuge, one extraordinary place where people actually celebrated their deviant fantasies, where no one judged, and no one took offense.
The mood was easy, no pressure and few expectations—except those placed on a submissive woman by her master. Being collared—as all the women were—I did nothing without KC’s permission. The men ruled without apologies. KC, however, kept my sexual activities restrained as though he was saving me for something special.
I detected that there were other purposes, darker schemes lurking behind the shadows of these pleasurable days. Things I couldn’t see, perhaps private rituals of which I had little knowledge. KC and I seemed closer than ever, but it was a silent alliance, as though to talk of what was happening would break a necessary spell.
Chapter Fifteen
I heard sounds one morning—familiar ones, though I couldn’t quite identify them at first. The bathroom being next to our bedroom, you expect interruptions for normal bodily functions, but these were especially unusual noises, strange but nonetheless remembered ones.
When the sleep finally left my mind and I could think clearly, I realized that Susan was with Karl, submitting to an enema. My exhausted body suddenly thundered with confusion. I got up, swept into my bathrobe and left the house. Since my first turn in the bath, I’d ignored the obvious—a contrapti
on in the corner, the rolling cart set to one side of the room, and a tall metal pole with a hook at the top. There was no other specific evidence of enema paraphernalia, but there didn’t need to be. Anyone familiar with the practice would have guessed the truth without needing more clues. And wasn’t it predictable that Karl and Susan would be as much into anal sex as they were other dominant/submissive rites?
It was the sounds of Susan’s pleasure that ripped through me most. I remembered my own, much too clearly.
I remained outside in the cool morning air, strolling through the garden, well away from the house so I wouldn’t have to listen. Having stirred KC from sleep, it wasn’t long before he was beside me. Just a pair of jeans and a naked chest—this wasn’t fair? I didn’t need this much desire going off in me seeing his muscled body.
“Restless?” he asked.
“A little. It is a beautiful morning,” I said looking up into the brightening sky.
“Yeah, it is. A difficult night?” he wondered.
“Sort of.”
We strolled together, my feeling fairly at ease as long as he didn’t say more, but I knew the quiet wouldn’t last.
“Tell me, Gail, what made you leave Rossi?”
I turned to him, looking a little surprised, I’m sure. “No fair, KC. You already asked that question.”
“And you muffed the answer.”
“How do you figure that?”
“What made you leave? What is it about our stay here—and especially this morning that has you so rattled? There’s nothing here you haven’t done or seen before.”
That was true, and yet, the worst of my past had suddenly returned to me, knocking at my empty places, finding them still vacant.
“Like a fire under glass, a liquid prisoner, pent in walls of glass…” He looked calmly to the eastern horizon. “Why did you leave, Gail?”
He was going to make me say it whether I wanted to or not. “I got scared,” I finally blurted out.
“Yeah, you got scared. Of what?”
