Hot Pursuit (3 page)

Shaking her head, ignoring the pain the movement sparked through her scalp, Lucy tried vainly to refuse. She knew she could only delay her torment and not escape it, but that knowledge didn't stop her from trying to pull away. However, when Ginger grabbed hold of her jaw, forced her head back and
pulled her mouth open, she realised she had never had a chance to delay the humiliation for very long.

Ginger's fingers slipped over her teeth and held her mouth open. She threw her shoulders back, making room for the blonde to come nearer, then barked further instructions. As Lucy watched events unfolding above her, she was nauseated to see the blonde coming closer before spitting the master's spend into her gaping mouth.

Lucy had never been a lover of the taste or texture of semen. The gelatinous feel against her tongue – and the way the pungent, salted flavour always filled her nostrils – invariably made Lucy want to gag. But, having the seed diluted with someone else's saliva transformed the experience into something even more nauseating. Disgusted by what was expected of her, but knowing the punishment would only be compounded if she refused to accept the thick, wet wad, Lucy swallowed. The phlegmy load slid slowly down her throat.

‘Have you got it all?' Ginger asked.

Her voice was hatefully saccharin and Lucy wished she had the courage to insult her. Knowing that would do nothing to help alleviate her torment she remained pathetically servile beneath the redhead's gaze.

‘Shouldn't you be swallowing every last droplet?'

I have swallowed every last droplet,' Lucy hissed. The taste still lingered over her tongue and around her gums reminding her of the depths of degradation she was now plumbing. Each time she swallowed she could feel the memory of the seed clinging to the back of her throat. Dutifully, knowing it was expected of her, she opened her mouth for inspection.

Ginger shook her head in disagreement. ‘There might still be a residue inside my pet's mouth,' she
explained with forced patience. ‘I think you should lick her mouth clean just to make sure you got it all.'

Lucy's attempts to protest were stifled by the blonde being pushed over her face. The woman's lips enveloped her mouth and all she could do was endure the semen-flavoured kisses of Ginger's pet. She was plundered by a tongue, first with tentative curiosity, then probing with mounting lust. As the kiss became more urgent, Lucy was appalled to find herself responding eagerly.

Her arousal was heightened by the blonde's obvious passion and the torment of the ropes binding her breasts. Ginger was tugging at one nipple and, while the pressure she applied bordered on the cruel, the sensations she evoked were exquisite. Her fingernails were buried into the fat bud of Lucy's teat and she repeatedly squeezed then relented. As shameful as her torment was, and as much as she wanted to shun the burden of the humiliating embarrassment, Lucy couldn't deny the whole ordeal was an absolute thrill. She could feel a swelling need between her legs and hoped her punishment would be ended before the urge for satisfaction became too irresistible.

Ginger tugged hard, forcing an explosion of pain to tear through Lucy's breast. While she was still gasping breathlessly, Ginger slapped the blonde away and pushed her towards Donald. She glared ferociously down at Lucy and said, ‘You were enjoying that too much. You should know better than to play with someone else's pet so greedily. You were both enjoying that far too much.'

Lucy shook her head. She was ready to argue that Ginger was wrong and misreading the signs but the redhead didn't give her the chance to make her point. Effortlessly in control of the situation she pulled a ball-gag from the table and put it in Lucy's mouth.
The straps were fastened at the back of her neck before Lucy had the chance to speak or register the pain of having her jaw prised wide open by the hard ball of rubber.

Ginger beamed, clearly proud of her accomplishment. She turned to the master and asked, ‘What do you want me to do with her, sire?'

Donald sipped at his cocoa and shrugged. For his own entertainment he was teasing the blonde's pussy and his fingers squelched noisily in and out of her sex. Lucy could see the blonde was squirming happily on his hand and she simultaneously despised the pet for being such a vacuous tool and envied her for the painless pleasure she was enjoying.

‘Sire?' Ginger pressed. ‘What do you want me to do with her?'

Donald waved a disinterested hand. ‘You said you had ways of teaching her a lesson,' he snapped querulously. ‘I want to have strict words with her before the night's over but, for now, you can abuse her as you see fit. Stop distracting me and let me compose my thoughts.'

Ginger's broad grin made Lucy quake.

She was pulled from her knees and pushed over the table. Her buttocks were held high in the air and her bound breasts squeezed mercilessly against the rough-hewn wood. Her nipples felt as though they were being driven into splinters and tears of fresh anguish filled her eyes. Through the misty veil of her growing misery she could make out all the remaining implements that lay across the table and her hopes for salvation began to diminish.

There were dildos and butt-plugs, an electrical box that still looked to have a strong charge inside, not to mention all the various clamps and clips. She could see lengths of chains and weights and wondered how
long it would be before Ginger decided to suspend them from the obvious site of her labial piercings. The cold steel rings already pulled heavily on her pussy lips and she tried to distance herself from the pleasurable sensations that always came from thinking about her intimate jewellery.

Ginger pushed her mouth close to Lucy's ear. ‘Do you think I'm going to spank you?'

Lucy hadn't thought that was the torment she was most likely to endure but she wasn't in a position to answer back. The warmth of Ginger's breath against the cup of her ear excited an unbidden arousal.

‘Do you think I'm going to spank you, and then let you go?' Ginger pressed. ‘Is that what you think I'm going to do?'

Aware the redhead wanted an answer, but not sure what other response she could possibly give, Lucy shrugged.

‘I am going to spank you,' Ginger giggled. She slammed her hand against Lucy's backside, the flat smacking sound echoing from the stone walls. ‘I'm going to spank you until you're begging for me to stop,' she promised. ‘But I'm going to make sure your punishment doesn't just end there.'

Lucy suffered the indignity of the redhead repeatedly landing a palm against her buttocks. She was shamed by the embarrassment of her position and even more mortified by the way the reddening warmed the muscles of her sex. It was bad enough to be traumatised in front of the master and his current favourite but to be responding with obvious arousal was behaviour worthy of something like Ginger's pet blonde. Lucy felt a spike of self-loathing that only added to her mounting responsiveness.

The blonde was moaning softly and, when Lucy glanced over her shoulder, she saw Donald was
guiding her to sit on his stiffening length. Her sopping pussy lips were pushed apart by the swollen end of his stiffness and she cried out as her sex was spread open by his penetration. Knowing how the master's stamina increased throughout the day, Lucy wondered how long the blonde would have to writhe on him before he climaxed again. She didn't have much time to dwell on the matter because Ginger barked for her to look away while she delivered another series of slaps to Lucy's aching backside.

‘I think, when you asked the master for a favour, you were forgetting your place here,' Ginger told her. ‘And I think you need a reminder of what your place is.'

Lucy shook her head but the response went ignored.

More than anyone else in the building, Lucy believed she knew her position in their social order. In its simplest form, the master was at the top with everyone else beneath him. It wasn't a unique situation – if the activities of their regular weekend visitors were anything to judge by, there were baronial halls throughout the country exercising the same regime – and Lucy knew the system's intricacies as well as she knew her own name. There were ranks and sub-ranks within the structure. There were favourites, staff and pets, each with their own unique social standing but, because she was currently held as the master's second favourite, Lucy thought she knew exactly what her position was meant to be. Miserably, she realised her knowledge wouldn't stop Ginger from giving a condescending and painful lesson.

The redhead snatched a length of chain from the table.

As it slid past Lucy's eyes she was unnerved to see it was attached to an eight-ounce weight. She tried to
mumble a refusal around the gag that filled her mouth but all that came out was a pitiful, inarticulate cry.

‘The master isn't here to do you favours,' Ginger told her.

As she spoke she threaded the end of the chain through Lucy's labial piercings. The passing of each link dragged a shiver of raw joy through Lucy's pussy lips but she fought to ignore the pleasure. She had a good idea of where this torment was leading and she didn't want to be in a frenzied state of desire when Ginger finally made her point.

‘Don't you know the master is here so we can serve his every need?'

Lucy could do nothing but moan. She couldn't see what was happening behind her but it felt as though Ginger was knotting the length of chain around the pair of ball closure rings penetrating her sex lips. The torment alone would have been tremendous and, sure she knew what was to follow, Lucy steeled herself from the sensations.

‘Don't you know the master is here so we can serve his every need?' Ginger repeated more stridently. ‘Don't you know that? Answer me!'

Lucy wanted to tell Ginger she couldn't reply because of the ball-gag in her mouth but she knew the redhead was already aware of the situation. She realised the woman was just tormenting her and knew the punishment was going to be branded with Ginger's own malicious twist of demanding the unattainable.

‘Answer me!' Ginger shrieked, slapping her hand against Lucy's backside.

Lucy moaned around her gag.

‘Answer me,' Ginger repeated, tugging gently on the length of chain.

Lucy's pussy lips were pulled by the piercings and a shock of crude, dark pleasure swept up from between her legs. The intimate body jewellery was a mixed blessing: bestowing marvellous sensations even when inflicting the gravest pain. Forgetting her training she tried to scream around the gag but, because the ball of rubber held her jaws wide apart and pressed down heavily on her tongue, she couldn't make the cry into anything articulate.

‘You're not even trying to answer me.' Ginger sneered. ‘You really do need teaching a lesson.' With those words, she released her hold on the chain.

Lucy was given a split second's reprieve – a moment where there was no discomfort against her sex and only the painful aftermath of brutal attention – then the tug of the weight pulled hard against her. She could feel the eight-ounce lump dangling from her piercings, swinging pendulum-like between her ankles and distending the sensitive skin of her labia. If she had been screaming before, she thought the sound she now made was something akin to a barbaric yell.

‘Tell her not to scream so loudly,' Donald mumbled.

Lucy heard his voice through a fog of fading consciousness. His tone sounded disinterested and faintly plaintive. Ginger's pet blonde was gasping with obvious enjoyment and the slurp of her sex sliding around the master's length was a constant background to Lucy's trauma. Her own arousal was quickly spiralling out of control and she prayed Ginger would tire of tormenting her before forcing her to succumb to the rich pleasure of absolute debasement. Miserably, she realised it was a prayer that wouldn't be answered.

‘Tell her to keep her screams to herself,' Donald suggested. ‘The noise is quite unattractive. She should learn to take her punishment like a man.'

Ginger slapped a hand against Lucy's buttocks.

The pain was sudden and swift but barely noticed beneath the other effects it produced. The tips of the redhead's fingers caught the swinging length of chain and Lucy could feel the weight on her pussy lips briefly dancing before settling back down to a labia-stretching sway.

‘You heard the master.' Ginger smirked. ‘You have to stop screaming.'

Obediently, Lucy contained her futile cries for mercy.

‘But,' Ginger went on, ‘I think, if you're able to scream so we can understand you, perhaps you should start apologising so we can understand you. Do you think you can do that?'

Lucy whimpered around her gag. She despised Ginger, hated the master, and loathed the whole traumatic ordeal of being part of their order. If she had possessed the courage or the strength to leave, she told herself, she would have done it long ago. But those thoughts seemed painfully immaterial as her suffering continued. Even when she vowed to escape from her slavery as soon as the first chance presented itself, the personal promise gave no mitigation from her torment.

‘Apologise,' Ginger demanded, plucking playfully at the length of chain.

A scream of agony shot through Lucy's sex.

‘Apologise,' Ginger repeated, placing a hand between Lucy's shoulder blades.

At first Lucy didn't know how the woman was trying to hurt her, wondering if she was going to feel the abrasive scratch of talon-like nails being drawn down her spine. Ginger's nails were manicured on a weekly basis and she always maintained razor-sharp tips painted the same blood-red scarlet as her
favourite clothes. When the redhead only held her hand against Lucy's spine, pushing the heel of her palm firmly down, it took a moment to realise that her bound breasts were being pressed against the coarse table top.

As soon as she realised how Ginger was trying to punish her, the discomfort returned in a fresh, debilitating shock wave. Her breasts were squeezed forcefully between her and the table top and her nipples ground hard against the rough-hewn surface.