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Beginning with her crotch, the skilled master snapped the leather thongs, picking the chain of clothespins off Sandra’s thighs one by one. The surrounding crowd listened to the ardent screeches of the tormented slave as a spike of pain flashed like lightning through her flesh. Though she shrieked, her body moved in delightful fits of energy. Her cunt was moist, becoming more so with each pinching clothespin his whip severed from her skin.
“Sheeeeahhhhhhhhhhh!” her voice ripped the room, and then another thwack of the whip whisked another clothespin to the floor. When all were lying scattered below, Darius moved around the rack while a second master moved between Sandra’s thighs.
In the empty infinite of a quiet in-between, the slave rested, letting the pain in her body begin to subside and the feel of true pleasure arise in its place. The cock at her crotch was almost soothing to this vanquished beauty. Even the hammering of her insides with this pointed shaft was sweet relief beside the small shooting pains that continued to strike her like arrows when her thighs wriggled in their bonds.
Darius was at her head now, reaching out to massage her tethered breasts with his hand. His touch made her quake. His fingers felt like tiny electric probes.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she cried softy as her head fell back, and her tits strained toward the ceiling, making her jutting nipples stand like tiny mountain peaks. Her body was on the verge of explosion. Finely tuned, designed for giving and receiving pleasure, she was at the end of herself, willing and sure of what she would offer her masters—and that was everything she was.
At Darius’ signal a second master positioned himself between Sandra’s thighs and prepared to enter the spasming wet opening. Eyes filled with lust, he stared up at Darius waiting for his sign to begin.
With his hand on her soft, fair face, Darius stroked the skin lovingly, while the pulse of his erection pressed against his pants and marked the beginning of his finish. He withdrew his member, presenting it to Sandra’s mouth, and she opened wide as the ready organ slipped inside and down her throat, while the second master impaled her cunt. Grabbing the shaft with her facial muscles, Sandra worked the erection hard, just as her cunt was working the penis that thrust between her thighs. It took some concentrated effort to give to both men, but that was the first thought in her mind, the only one present, and so the driving force of her next minutes. Even her own pleasure did not take charge until she noted that these masters were well on their way to climax.
The master at her snatch was straightforward and physical, while Darius touched in her other places. Using her mouth was both more intimate and more overbearing than a swift cunt fuck. Darius’ choice was condescending, a smug and lordly message that as a slave, she had one purpose: to be her master’s orifice of sexual self-indulgence no matter what the cost to her. Sandra, always dutiful in this life—or in her other one, gave without questioning that purpose once she served Darius and his friend. She had her satisfaction in the finale, as other masters, and even mistresses, came to her wide open body and used her liberally to satisfy their lust.
In one of her final acts, she ate at a mistress’s cunt, when the woman mounted the rack, and crouched over Sandra’s face, to lower her wet genitals to the slave’s mouth.
Even suspended and in the middle of Mistress Gina’s taunting torture, Laney sensed her friends in the midst of their surrender, taking pleasure and giving in return. It seemed so simple with them, so complete, while she still struggled with the worst of her battle still looming before her. Just make me empty! She prayed in desperation, hearing her own whispered words speaking to her hopes, even as the baton spoke with Gina’s wrath.
Almost as if someone answered her prayer, the beating stopped. Though Laney became suspicious, knowing that such a pause was never without a purpose. She remained within herself, looking only vaguely at her fellow slaves, refusing another glance where her husband stood off to her left, staring fixedly at her torture. In the slim space of time while Mistress Gina turned her attentions elsewhere, Laney wondered of Erik’s state of mind, his thoughts on her suspension—was he jealous or elated? Or, like her, filled with sweet emptiness? It was too painful to think real thoughts at moments like this. There was only time to be physical while the rest of the world ceased to exist and she endured the great ache her suspension bondage caused. Likely Erik was simply horny, stroking his cock until he had a decent hard-on and could take his turn at one of the slaves.
In one bizarre moment Laney’s mind drifted free, she thought of her apartment in New York: the cream-colored drapery, the statue from Milan, the roses in the imported rug, and the camelback sofa where she’d spread her work around her when she stayed at home. The kitchen, the cutlery, the table with the single silk rose, and the hallway to the bedroom painted a shadowy sort of green; and then, her Schnauzer, Duchess, whose tail would playfully waggle her rear in happy greeting once they were home again.
Yanked back to reality with a searing pain, Laney opened her eyes to see Mistress Gina’s long red fingernails on her tit again, digging so deeply into her flesh that she was sure she would draw blood. A second later, she felt the pain of that hold dart to her crotch, and the randy thing began to clench with a flood of dew sliding down her thigh.
“Ah, augh, augh, augh,” she breathed in short gasps, as Gina’s nails bit deep. Yet, when she looked down, her breathing stopped for one long minute of terror-filled fascination, seeing an erection protruding from Gina’s groin—a strap-on dildo poised for fucking. Laney was too stunned to believe her eyes.
“Two, you get two,” the woman sneered happily, as another mistress moved in beside her. She, too, was nearly naked with her fancy dress removed, and wearing a harness around her waist complete with a stiff, cock-shaped, flesh-colored shaft. “Mistress Catherine will have your cunt, while I take your ass,” Gina made her declaration triumphantly.
Gina and her mistress friend moved on to detach the spreader bar at Laney’s feet, while Darius was at the wall adjusting the pulley to ease the strain on her arms and shoulders. Once the two femmes were ready, Gina stood at Laney’s rear with Catherine at her front, and then pulled the exhausted slave into their arms enough to position her crotch for the impaling. With Catherine’s cock sliding into Laney’s cunt, the slave breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar feel of fullness, even though the woman’s body pressing into her breasts seemed terribly strange. But from behind, the added feat of a long prick barging at her back door sent a tempestuous shudder of grief through her weak body.
“Oh, my noooo!” she whimpered, thrashing frantically to dislodge one of the competing cocks. There was no relief from the warring pricks, and no one was listening to her sad cry.
Those free to watch were hypnotized by the sight of the slave being taken by these brutish whores. With their rubber dicks sliding in and out of Laney’s depths, they made her sweat as she struggled. To her shocked dismay, her body betrayed her as it gathered the momentum to force the inevitable orgasmic end.
Though Laney would climax, the two mistresses worked her hard to realize their own ends first. Fixtures in their harnesses rubbed against their clits to work them into sexual frenzy. Though it was one jarring, struggling and sometimes painful trip to ecstasy, all three females were bound to find what they needed. Gina came first, wriggling her prick into Laney’s ass, while her hand reached around and clutched the slave’s breasts. Mistress Catherine followed shortly afterwards, getting off with short, soft sighs emitting from her ruby-painted lips. And, at last, primed, poked, and screwed until she felt hollow, a long slow spasm shook Laney’s body. She bore down on both cocks—for all the good it did—and released a burst of female nectar, which made Catherine’s cock too slippery to stay put.
As the two shafts pulled away, the pulley apparatus lowered, and Laney slumped limply to the floor. Her arms and shoulders ached so dearly that she couldn’t lift them on her own.
From the sidelines, Erik felt his wife’s vacant loveliness mold his desires. The black void where his heart had been filling with the scenes of mastery and dominion all week. But seeing her now, the darkest picture of his desire had been realized.
The cellar room emptied within minutes of the last scene ending. Seeing all there was to see, the guests moved upstairs to the comfort of the estate’s plush living room. Only Darius and Essex remained with the spent trio; even Gina split with the others—her use for Laney was over and what happened next in this sub’s pitiful life didn’t matter. Gina got her satisfaction and she didn’t need anything more.
“I should put you in your slave costumes,” Darius suggested as he stared down at Laney’s slumped body. She looked up, but di
dn’t speak. “Humph, so quiet…” he continued in his thoughtful rumination while Essex slowly released Elise from the rack.
“On the floor,” her master ordered when she was finally free.
“Oh, sir,” she looked at him with a pained expression on her face.
“Oh, my, these still hurt, don’t they?” the man retorted seeing the clamps still hanging from her nipples.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you’d like me to take them off?”
“Only if it pleases you.”
