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When the meal was served, each slave sat at their master’s feet waiting for crumbs. More importantly, waiting for their gags to be removed. However, the meal continued with no reward in sight for the famished three. Instead of being fed, after their masters had eaten, the slaves were each chained to marble columns in the dining room, their arms strung up high so that they stood stretched out flatly against the cold stone. Their ankles were bound to the base so they could hardly move—just enough to stimulate their anxious pubic mounds, which seemed constantly raw now with arousal.
In this position, they took their morning punishment, as their asses brightened with the application of paddles and straps until all three charming derrieres were rosy hued and hurting. After letting them dangle a bit displaying their worked behinds, their masters took them down and removed their gags. As long as they didn’t utter a word, they were allowed to eat the leftovers from the meal. By then, they were so hungry that they would have agreed to most anything, so they obeyed.
Once the morning chores were complete—the kitchen had been cleaned and the rest of the main floor adequately picked-up—Erik led the three slaves into the library where they stood in a line at attention, like sexual soldiers ready for battle with their loins cocked and waiting.
“After you’ve been appropriately posed, we’re going to have our morning reading. Gentlemen,” he turned to his friends, and each swiftly positioned their slave in a manner that most suited them.
Laney was on the floor at Erik’s feet, her head to the wood, her hands clasped behind her. As Erik would read from Barth’s book, he’d keep a cane in his free hand and whack his slave on the thighs or ass as often as the notion struck him.
Nearby, Jason sat Sandra in a straight back chair—after she’d been forced to wriggle a greased plug into her ass. With her impaled pink cheeks pressed to the back of the chair, her arms were then pulled over the top of the back bar, and her hands manacled together in chains. In the awkward position her breasts were thrust out lewdly, her nipples adorned with clamps that pinched the flesh enough so that a tiny stream of pain constantly charged her nerves.
Finally, Elise was positioned straddling a spanking bench the men had pulled from a closet in one corner of the library. Her legs were tied widely apart so that, like Laney, her private parts were lewdly displayed. Matthew shocked her system even more with clothespins attached to each labia, which produced a dull aching sensation that grew more uncomfortable with each moment that passed.
The slaves ready, Erik read again…
“Chapter Three, The Use of the Whip—for Humbling, Sensuality and Punishment.”
He paused, looked to see that he had the room’s attention, and began the chapter.
“The whip is perhaps the most enticing of all sadomasochistic implements for its many varied uses. It serves extremely well as a correctional device, can be employed to quickly humble any slave, and is one of the most sensuous of any master’s erotic toys. Paddles and wood in general are primarily used for discipline and harsh punishment—something that every slave should know well. Straps, while sometimes sensuous, have the same correctional implications as the paddle, and unlike the paddle can be used for long, harsh sessions of punishment. It is the whip, however, that is the most intriguing in my mind, and so I focus on its use.
“While there are a variety of whips to choose from, I do have my preferences. An expertly wielded bullwhip can be an extraordinary tool, but it is also extremely dangerous in an unskilled hand. I do not recommend it for novices, especially when there are other whips as useful, erotic and far easier to employ. My favorite is a six-taloned ‘dancer’ made of three-foot lengths of braided leather with split or tasseled ends. The size makes the device easy to control and easy to wield, while its specific design can produce a shocking degree of cutting punishment or a deliciously sensuous spray of sensation—dependent solely on a mere flick of the wrist.
An effectively handled ‘dancer’ whistles in the air, while its blow offers a far reaching result, covering a good deal of your subject’s flesh—or if artfully applied, centering in on one particular physical target. The ‘dancer’ is also an effective implement for the stimulation and punishment of a slave’s forward body—belly, breasts, thighs and cunt. Applied with a minimum of practiced finesse, the ‘dancer’ can skim the surface of the flesh, or bite without severe damage. Even applied directly to your subject’s splayed cunt, the implement can be functionally administered without fear of injury.
A slave has not completely understood the nature of surrender until they have been soundly beaten about their tender privates. The ecstasy and the pain are breathtaking companions in the journey to total abnegation of the ego. The cry of your slave in the midst of such treatment inspires the sadist in their purpose and beckons them onward. In my experience, there is no implement quite so astounding for these purposes. Some masters will argue with me, that the cane can be as shrewdly employed. And though I find the cane a mesmerizing device, it does not animate master and submissive in the same joyous manner as a six-thonged ‘dancer’.”
Erik chuckled, pausing, “Barth was quite the romantic when it came to his craft. Perhaps I should have his ‘dancer’ not this rod.” He eyed the cane in his hand, then gave Laney a sharp cut on the rear. “Still with me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It would seem to me that we’ve gone too lightly on these ladies,” Jason piped up. “If this whip is so easy to use, I think it’s time we found one.”
Matthew was already on the move, rummaging through one of the library closets, which the men had discovered were great storehouses of S&M paraphernalia. “Here. I think this is the implement our host favors.” From deep inside the cabinet, he withdrew an awesome looking black whip with six leather talons woven into a braided handle. Drawing back the thongs, he whisked them meanly through the air so everyone could hear the whistle Barth mentioned in his book. Laney, Sandra and Elise shuddered perceptibly as the sizzle worked its way inside their quaking bodies. Even their masters seemed respectful of the sound.
None of the women could forget the suggestions that the master had made for the ‘dancer’s’ use. And while they understood the severe bite that
might work inside their backs and asses, they could not yet fathom the whip’s sting on their bare genitals. This was a torture beyond their comprehension; but because it had been so graphically described for them, their minds and bodies were already anxiously seizing on the idea.
Taking his new toy to the bowed and bound Elise, Matthew let the feel of the leather handle and its dangling thongs begin to work its magic. Desire crept up through his fingers and into his arm, the sensations of dominant lust then moving through his blood and bones, and into his belly and groin where his cock replied with throbbing pulses. Beginning a slow assault, Matthew let the words of the experienced master urge him forward as the whip’s six talons rained like sensuous nails across his slave’s back and buttocks. He spent some moments getting used to the varied ways in which he could administer his strikes—from the gently sensuous to the severely ruthless.
A harrowing chorus of replies peppered the air as his slave moaned erotically, then grimaced, tensed, and sometimes screamed in anguish.
“You should be glad I haven’t already turned you over,” Matthew informed her when one bloodcurdling cry splattered the room with sound. “Get used it slave, I rather like Mr. Barth’s assessment of this whip, and I won’t spare a target on your worthless body.” His words cut as meanly as the ‘dancer’ buffeting her skin. But neither word nor whip was without an erotic stimulus.
Holding her breath after each strike, Elise anticipated the next with longing she could taste on her lonely lips. Though her eyes filled with tears as the pain increased, when they splashed down her face, she found them almost as soothing as the next biting snap.
Rashes of red began to surface on her skin. Her back, her thighs and the plump centers of her ass brightened. She began to sway, making erotic movements against the flat board that held her body, as though she were making love to the inanimate thing.
“I want her on the dais,” Matthew suddenly stopped. With the glint in his eye lighting like a flame, he began undoing the ropes that bound his slave wife to the spanking bench. Having her freed, he pulled her to the corner of the library, where there was an unusual structure, the purpose of which having just appeared as a vision in Matthew’s head. This large, deeply rounded alcove must have measured roughly four feet on each side, defined at each corner by tall, fluted columns similar to those throughout the house. Like all the other stately pillars, these were fitted with a series of O-rings embedded in the stone at various heights. Between the four columns was a polished, marble dais about three feet off the floor. Though there were dozens of possible positions for binding a slave, there was just one in Matthew’s mind, the basis for it straight from Barth’s chronicle of the whip.
Already cuffed at the ankles and wrists, Elise was immediately bound on her back with her arms stretched high above her head and fixed to the columns in the corner; while her legs were spread and attached to the forward columns. For this session, however, her ankles were bound nearly three feet above her body. Ass, hanging free at the edge of the dais, her pussy was spread, which left her most private places vulnerable to the whip about to conduct a second reign of terror.
Mathew’s first move brought him to the dais, standing at his wife’s side looking down on the scared woman. She jumped anxiously; and her lips were parted as though any minute she would beg for mercy. Dangling the loose ends of the ‘dancer’s’ talons across her breasts and belly, her master gently teased her body and her mind, which was nearly numb with fright.
“You’re giving yourself away, darling slave.” He almost sounded kind; though the expression on his curled lip was too wicked to consider kind. He let his unbridled talons float about her pussy hairs and then dragged them over the sensitive open cleft where her clit and the tender tissue around it screamed in fear as dearly as Elise’s baffled eyes. “You’re wet,” he pointed out the obvious. Her startled pussy tightened, for the caress only doubled her arousal.
As he moved to her breasts he flicked the talons with more intensity, letting the ends come down with a bite; then harder still, until she struggled frantically back and forth in her useless attempts to avoid the strikes. Already, there were patchy places on her slight breasts where the leather dug into the softness.
