Pam-Ann (10 page)

“Ooh! Ooh-hoo!” The blonde
squirmed her pussy hard against Pam’s as Tania’s vigorous strokes
continued. “Ooh, I’m sorry, Ann. I hurt you, didn’t I?” Her eyes
glittered with tears and excitement and she closed her hands on the
American girl’s breasts and squeezed.

You still are, she wanted to say
as they throbbed, but her nipples tingled under
Persephone’s palms
. Damn the drug. “Yes, you did,” she
said, surprised by her breathy tone.

“I was a bad girl.” Persephone
ran her tongue over her lips in obvious relish. “Oh, yes! Very
bad.”

Tania stepped back, lowering the
cane.

“Why have you stopped?”
Persephone demanded, panting hard.

“That’s ten, Mistress.”

“Then give me another ten.”

“But…?” Tania shrugged again and
made a face her mistress could not see.

Persephone’s hips lunged avidly
as the blows resumed, working the phallus in her sex and also the
one in Pam’s until she was almost as breathless as the blonde. Only
half-aware she was doing it, Pam tugged at her cord bindings,
but she was as firmly in their grip as she was in
that of the Venus Dust coursing through her bloodstream. With each
meaty crack she imagined the blazing streak of fire raking
Persephone’s
soft-skinned rear and felt the heightened
throbbing of her own tormented buttocks as much as the hot tremors
teasing her sheath. The bamboo lashed down seven more times before
Persephone wriggled frantically.

“Ooh! C… c… coming. Coming!”

Just as Pam had felt each impact
of the cane as a thrust of the phallus, every pussy-clenching spasm
of the blonde’s orgasm seemed to be communicated to her through the
hard, inflexible rubber. She gasped, breasts heaving and belly all
aquiver as she hovered on the brink of fulfilment, so far lost to
her desire that she was much more disappointed than relieved when
the feelings subsided along with Persephone’s writhing.

“Now, Tania, all the way in
one.” The
blonde’s
green eyes were
heavy-lidded with passion as they stared into Pam’s. Tania mounted
the bed, the dildo jutting out before her gleaming with oil as she
positioned herself behind her Mistress. She fumbled for a moment
and then lunged her hips forwards.

“Oh, God, yes! That’s hard to
take, but I deserve it. I was so naughty. And bad girls ought to be
punished.”
Persephone continued her strange
confession, the words growing ever more disjointed as her slave
kept up her hard thrusting. There was only one place Tania’s big
strap-on could be filling. Pam’s throbbing buttocks clenched at the
thought, but the blonde was soon building towards another climax,
wriggling wildly under the dual penetration. Sweat dripped from her
chin to the American girl’s lips, salty and as piquant in its own
way as the ripe tang of female arousal clinging heavily in her
nostrils.

“Harder, Tania. Give it to me.
Give it to me!” Persephone’s hips rocked madly.

Pam’s belly tightened, clamping
her pussy around the phallus.
She recalled Rachel
lying on her back on the bed, bent almost double, buttocks streaked
scarlet from her caning and with her upraised arms roped to her
ankles. She remembered Rick looking up in the act of
forcing
his shiny cock-head into the girl’s ass and Rachel crying eagerly
those same words as Persephone. And the bastard had not even had
the decency to look surprised, just given her a knowing smile,
pushed his cock all the way in and asked Pam if she wanted to join
them. Why the hell had she taken that earlier flight from Delhi?
Pain lanced her heart. To be with the man she had loved.

“Good. Oh, so good!” Persephone
writhed as frenetically in her third climax as she had in her
first, bringing the heat in Pam’s pussy near boiling point again,
only for it to slip maddeningly out of reach as the blonde mistress
abruptly sagged down onto her. Hot, rapid breaths caressed her
cheek as Persephone lay prostrated, giving little shivering
aftershocks as the sweat from their bodies mingled. A soft plop,
which could only be the sound of Tania’s dildo withdrawing, was
followed by the slave getting to her feet. She too was breathing
hard and streaming with sweat. As Persephone rested her head in the
crook of Pam’s neck the American girl saw Milly kneeling by the
bed, surreptitiously masturbating in spite of the recent punishment
her pussy had taken.

When her ragged breathing had
steadied, Persephone stirred and raised her head. “That was
delicious, darling. But you didn’t come. It wouldn’t be fair to
send you on your way without a nice come of your own.” Her sex made
wet, slippery noises as she slid off the dildo, quickly unfastened
its straps and removed the thick rubber filling Pam. Casting it
carelessly aside she dived a hand between the American girl’s
thighs and immediately found the firm bump of her upright clitoris.
“Mmm! I want to taste your honey.”

Unable to
stifle her moans, Pam tugged on the cords holding her wrists and
fought against the pleasure the slim fingers’ pinching and rubbing
her pussy were creating. She was not a lesbian! Her back arched
involuntarily, hips defying all of her efforts to stop them. They
thrust avidly when the blonde’s head sank between her legs and the
warm, wet
pressure of a tongue parted her
labia to send quivers coursing the length of her sheath. Hating her
abject surrender, Pam climaxed.

“Mmm!”
Persephone lapped greedily at the spilling juices and her teasing
pinches to Pam’s upright clitoris at once brought her to another
orgasm. Mortified by the ease with which the blonde mistress had
made her succumb, Pam was relieved when, smiling her feline smile,
Persephone raised her head, her mouth and chin glistening with dew.
“Sweet, darling. You taste divine. But that’s enough. You can go
now. And don’t go getting any ideas. I may just as easily flog you
next time. Tania, fetch some salve for me, then you can untie
her.
Milly, if you don’t stop playing with that naughty
clitty I’ll have them cut it off when we reach New York. Come here
and play with my clit for a change.”

Persephone was completely
insatiable, was all Pam could think as she tottered into the
corridor, overwhelmed by the images and feelings racing inside her
head. Her hands were half-numb from the bite of the cords on her
wrists and she had difficulty tying her scanty loin covering.

“Here, let me,” Eve said, and
took the opportunity to rub her fingers on Pam’s still tingling
pussy before she had a chance to react. “She really got you
juicing, eh?” The bodyguard grinned and tied the loincloth in
place. “Wonderfully dirty, isn’t she? It’s a shame she’s so cruel
too.
And now you know she likes to take it, as
well as dish it out, lover. She’s been taking it a lot more lately,
too.”

Pam could only
nod and stumble dazedly off to resume her duties. At least
Persephone’s liking for receiving pain as well as giving it had
spared Pam’s own bottom another ravaging… this time. When
she reached the saloon she learned her shift had ended ten minutes
earlier and fifteen fresh slave girls were pandering to the whims
of the passengers and being pawed and explored in the process.
Weary after six hours of humiliating and, she regretfully had to
admit, ultimately stimulating servitude, Pam retraced the path that
Christine had taken to lead her to the saloon.

There were forty-eight
passengers on the
Empire’s Triumph
, she had been told during
the woman’s brief orientation lecture, and forty-five slave girls
to serve them in any way they chose short of permanent injury. Pam
did not know if that was because it was illegal or simply because
the girls were Company property and only the Company had that
right. Also aboard were thirty-five aircrew, twenty-two engineering
crew and thirty Zulu girl-stokers, together with a number of
entertainers, like the band and the sarcastic MC. To make any money
when the crew vastly outnumbered the passengers the prices must be
enormous. Clearly only the rich could afford to fly the skies of
the strange and frightening world in which she found herself
trapped.

Pam opened one of the doors that
divided the corridors into sections and saw a familiar figure
coming in her direction.

“Are you lost?” Drake asked.

“No, Sir.” He seemed awfully
close as he looked down at her. It felt uncomfortably intimate,
especially when she remembered what she had done earlier.

“Slaves use the starboard
passageway. This one is for crew.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her next words
almost stuck in Pam’s throat. “Sorry, Sir.”

“Didn’t Christine tell you?”

“Yes. I… I forgot.” Would he
punish her? Her belly fluttered. A prickle teased her pussy as
Drake’s dark-brown eyes looked into her nervously uplifted ones.
For the merest heartbeat she thought she saw a trace of warmth in
his gaze, gone the instant he spoke.

“Don’t forget again.”

“Yes, Sir. No, Sir.” She made to
continue on her way but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. Heat
rushed across Pam’s skin and flared in her suddenly rippling
sheath. She caught her breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Y… yes,” she stammered through
her surprise. Looking into his face was a mistake. Fresh tremors
teased her sex. The Venus Dust was still affecting her. His gaze
dropped to her breasts. Pam kept still and resisted the need to
slap away the hand that rubbed the dark-red point of one nipple
before sliding down her belly to lift her loincloth.
A finger stroked her depilated mons and made her shudder as it
brushed the half-upright bud below, before coming to rest on her
dew-bathed vulva. Pam’s heart raced. The finger pushed gently into
her.

“Miss Peake?” Drake asked.

Pam managed a nod as her lower
belly tightened and her hips gave a jerk she could not quite
suppress.

He smiled when her pussy
contracted around his probing digit. “At least she didn’t beat you
this time, but be careful around her. She’s not only a danger to
herself.”

“How am I supposed…?” Pam cut
off the rest of the question, and her resentment along with it. He
knew as well as she did that she was helpless before Persephone and
all of the other passengers. Did he take some sort of cruel
pleasure from reminding her of the fact, and by humiliating her
with his intimate touching that she dared do nothing to resist?

Drake withdrew
his finger and wiped it on the perfectly pressed handkerchief he
took from his pocket.
“Get some rest. I’ll tell Christine to
put more ointment on you later, and to make sure she does your tits
this time.”

Breathing hard, Pam stared after
him for long seconds as he walked off down the corridor. When he
looked back over his shoulder she shook herself and hurried on her
way to the slave quarters. She had nowhere else to go.

The meal she got there was
filling but plain. The Company wasted no money on slave
girls
. Only Christine, the overseer, had a bed to
herself. Pam had to take turns sharing with two other girls on
different shifts. As soon as Pam had eaten, she lay carefully on
her side to keep her weight off her aching welts and tried to
sleep. What could possibly have made her surrender so cravenly to
the touch of another woman, to
have enjoyed
the penetration of the big dildo, the tease of feminine fingers,
the warm and incredibly stimulating lap of another girl’s tongue?
Two years of self-imposed celibacy was part of the answer, she
admitted wryly, and that damned drug. For no reason she could
understand, her thoughts turned to Rafael Drake. The
trembling aftershocks of her double climax determinedly refused to
subside. Too stimulated to rest, Pam glanced around to ensure her
fellow slaves were all sleeping, slid a hand to her swollen clit
and began to rub.

* * * * *

A sharp bite of the cane to her
bottom brought Pam
instantly
awake.
Christine was bending over her.

“Hand off your pussy and get
ready. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

Cheeks aflame, Pam pulled her
hand from between her thighs. She must have fallen asleep with it
there. The girls were given exactly a minute and a half to shower
and had to devote the rest of the time to arranging their hair and
make-up perfectly, including, since it was the eight in the evening
until two in the morning shift, rouging their nipples and nether
lips. Pam found the task humiliating enough without daring even to
think how the result must make her look to everyone else.

Christine lined them up and gave
each girl a careful scrutiny. She had been a slave for over twenty
years, yet she was dressed almost identically to the rest, the only
difference being a thin, blue band decorating the hem of her scanty
white loincloth and the little cane she carried, a symbol of her
limited rights to beat her charges. Pam guessed she was in her late
thirties, still pretty, though her breasts and belly were probably
less firm than they had once been. How had the woman stood it for
so long? She would never be able to do the same without going mad.
Pam gulped. Unless she was already mad and lying sedated in a
hospital somewhere. She had to get away, had to find that blackness
somewhere out over the ocean.

Her first duty in the saloon was
to serve dinner. Relieved though she was to discover she had not
been assigned to the table where Persephone Peake sat beside the
Commodore, she was also acutely aware of the blonde’s gaze
following her as she carried dishes back and forth. As the meal
ended, Jerry Morgan and the band arrived, followed by the bosun and
his mate and an anxious-looking slave girl. The grinning MC did not
go into detail about the girl’s offence when he exercised his
sarcastic wit to increase her humiliation and fear as she was
strapped to the caning frame.