SlavesofMistressDespoiler (16 page)

Reaching under the couch, the Mistress removed the prepared cane. The bamboo hook was tightly grasped and held with clear intent. Lynn closed her eyes and continued her work, savouring the taste of another woman and drowning in erotic crapulence.

A hum of effort beat the air and a fiery welt was thrust through the tissues of her rear. A split second later the stroke erupted with new and unbearable heat. The cane was a weapon of incredible virility. Lynn screamed into the sex of the Mistress, the squealing wail becoming lost in the warm wet folds and sealed in by walls of labia.

Lynn sobbed and continued. The hurricane of effulgent pain settled, melting away and returning to pleasure. The Mistress stroked her hair to comfort her in the wake of the stroke.

“Sssh, it’s okay. You need this. A few welts to remind you of who owns you. These marks will last awhile. They will be certificates of your devotion to me. Won’t you wear them with pride, slave?” she asked softly.

Lynn nodded, burying her nose into the nest of pubic hair. She was overjoyed to be receiving them now that she knew why.

“Good, slave. Your Mistress is proud of you. Now keep going, and we’ll count them off together. A good nine strokes to go, and after that, we’ll go back and set the slave free. Let you have a break before we continue. Okay?”

Lynn nodded again. She was filled with awe that the Mistress was so passionate for the role she had carved for herself.

The cane hacked down, catching her rear and sending a ripple through the flesh. Lynn gave a violent throe and her legs kicked into the ground as she tried to endure the ferocity of the lambasting rod. A moment later, when the full effects thrashed through her skin, she shrieked into the Mistress. The howl tentatively seeped out, sounding as though it was issuing from far away.

“Eight more to go, slave,” pronounced the Mistress, and pushed Lynn’s face deeper into her loins.

The next stroke was just as bad, the sensitive buttocks reviling such callous maltreatment. Lynn screamed again, thrashing on the floor, fighting her ropes and trying to keep herself in one place. She battled the urge to try and run, to flee for asylum in her room. But it was terribly difficult.

She knew this was a test, an examination of obedience on whether Lynn could do as the Mistress wished, even against supreme adversity.

“Seven left, slave,” she stated, and applied the next with full force.

Lynn’s mouth flew open and other than a few sobs, no scream emerged. She was too busy concentrating on staying still, her body flashing, her muscles tensed against the ropes. As the heat dwindled to the ever-increasing background throb of her contusions she returned to pleasuring the Mistress. Awaiting the next chapter in her test she sucked at her owner’s clitoris and then poured the full length of her tongue into her. Stretching deep she drew back and commenced an oral penetration that spread the flavour of the Mistress across every taste bud and which made her organ ache from strain.

With a gurgling cry she threw herself from side to side. Keeping her mouth fixed she plunged her tongue as deep as possible while she bellowed her reply to the kiss of the cane.

Tears were filling her eyes. They were tears of purging, of being set free of all her troubles and woes. All stress was vanishing under this grand ordeal. She was being exonerated of everything negative within her. The punishment was a justice, a penance to serve for everything she felt bad about, everything that ate at her from within.

The next stroke came swiftly and pushed her to her tolerance. It made her mind scream for her to flee, but her desire to serve, to be good, to please the Mistress was currently still stronger, especially with the additions of the vibrator, dildo, ropes and clamps. Each of them was a vote in favour of staying put.

“Four to go, slave. I will stop if you want. If you cannot take any more,” she offered, knowing that Lynn could not do that. She could not fail so early into their relationship. Lynn had to show the Mistress that she could be a true servile and take what the Mistress gave her whether it was glorious pleasure or searing pain.

Lynn sank her face back into place and continued her frenzied cunnilingus by way of answer.

“Good slave. Such enthusiasm does you credit,” she purred, and lashed into her again with the lithe implement.

Lynn’s buttocks jumped into the air and she dropped onto her side. Her imbedded tongue remained frozen as she grizzled and cried into the sex of the Mistress, her rear ablaze with distress. Every cell was screaming for her to run, to give in, but she was so close, so close to pleasing her Mistress, in proving herself no mere novice or half-hearted practitioner. Something new had awakened within her and through the stalwart endurance of this feat, she could prove it to herself and to the Mistress that would nurture such tendencies.

“Three left, almost done.”

With tears flowing freely and rolling down her cheeks to mingle with the juices of the Mistress and Lynn’s own saliva, she rolled back onto her front and returned to her task.

The cane paused and then flashed down like lightning to etch a ferocious trench in her rear. A split second later another joined it, taking the effects to new and lethal levels. Lynn jumped into a petrified pose. Her legs were strained outward, every muscle and tendon was taut. Her veins were pronounced as she shrieked in agony, battling her own instincts, the veto of their demands overcoming her concupiscence.

“That’s it, just roll with the pain, slave. Endure it for me. Be a good slave, and show me how devoted you are,” comforted the Mistress as Lynn rode the galloping stampede.

Straining, the waves started to subside, setting her free, carrying her back into the realms of sanity. Her face was almost beetroot red from the war she was waging against herself.

“One last stroke to go, slave. Just one more and we are finished,” she offered.

Lynn was now a weeping ruin. Although she was sobbing uncontrollably there was no sorrow, only the cleansing exorcism the Mistress and her cane had performed.

The cane dropped with meteoric force, carving into her, sending her back into the whirlwind that devoured thought and left her floating in a fiery insane ocean of anger.

But now she knew this was the end. The mighty stroke was tempered by that fact that she knew she had succeeded, that she had taken the prescribed caning in full and fulfilled the demands placed on her by the Mistress.

Lynn sagged and let herself drink of the Mistress and enjoy the toys that resided within her. Her buttocks were swollen with internal mayhem. Prickly pangs continued to dwell deep in the flesh, refusing to be evicted.

“Good slave, you did it. I’m so proud of you,” congratulated the Mistress.

Setting the cane aside she reached under to remove the clamps. When they were set free, new feeling flew back in and tore at the compressed nuggets, making Lynn groan and spasm. The tips of her breasts felt raw from the long affliction and the sudden spire of pain from the removal subsided most tardily.

Calming herself she returned to her task, the pleasure in her own loins escalating by the second. The removal of her pains and the fuzzy aftermath wrought by the caning and the clamps roused her lust even more. At the time of application they were intolerable but now they had fled and were almost missed. She was high on the rush of adrenaline and endorphins, the natural drugs, the passion, all of it proving to be a zenith of ecstasy beyond anything a pharmaceutical could hope to conjure.

The Mistress shuddered under Lynn’s attentions, the orgasms being composed by the wandering baton of Lynn’s conducting tongue. The sight of the Mistress being pleasured so by her own efforts was a provocation that immediately had Lynn joining her. The vibrator brought forth similar thunderclaps of climax. The peaks threw her higher than any mere deed of intercourse or masturbation had done before. It was a consequence almost as hard to endure as the cane. Her body flicked into paroxysms of euphoria as though trying to jump away from the fastened toy, her flesh unable to withstand such pleasure.

The Mistress arched back, her breasts rising under the stretched latex shroud. Her breath was long and she gasped as Lynn continued to perform for her.

Settling back down in the wake of her climax she ran her fingers through Lynn’s hair. The Mistress continued savouring the dregs of delight the energetic tongue was continuing to cultivate.

Removing herself from under Lynn’s wet face, the Mistress arose and zipped up her skirt.

“Did you enjoy that, slave?” she asked, settling down beside Lynn to start the process of freeing her servant.

“Yes, Mistress, it was amazing. Thank you, thank you so much,” she muttered, laying her head down, exhausted by the exchange, her tongue weak from over-exertion.

The vibrator was removed and the dildo was drawn from her tracts. The flight caused Lynn to unleash a few wild jolts, her insides now sensitive to the slightest touch.

The knots of the rope dress were opened and the long lengths started to reverse their route, unwinding from around her body and setting her free. Her arms dropped to her side and she languished on the carpet for a moment, recovering some shade of strength before rising up to permit the full removal.

Her breasts were set free. The grip fell away from the raw mounds and the hoop was lifted from her neck, as was the collar.

“There, now come and lay down with me and get your breath back, slave,” the Mistress advised.

Settling onto the couch she let Lynn curl up and place her head onto the latex pillow of the Mistress’ lap.

Relaxing, Lynn closed her eyes and let her emotions tumble forth as a weeping fit. She expelled all the pent up fury and self-doubt that had accrued through her years and never before been so efficiently released.

The Mistress ran her fingers through hair and across contused bottom, letting her slave reacquire some semblance of normality. The heat of the session was taking time to evaporate.

She would let Lynn rest for a good long while and let her mind settle. Then she would go back to her other slave and set him free and use the time of his recovery to continue with Lynn for a little while. It was time to see her servile female assistant in something a little less concealing.

Chapter Six

Time continued to warp and reform into new configurations. Stealing away his ability to keep track of it. Without any sensory input other than the looped tape, he was soon baffled as to how long he had been kept subdued. He lost count of the tape rotations when they extended past fifty and he began to wonder just how long they were going to keep him in this brainwashing incarceration.

Squeezing his rear to the plug, he wondered on what was happening to the thong that had been so forcefully introduced to his tracts. Had it become lost in the twists and turns of his abdomen? Or was it hanging at his sphincter, patiently awaiting escape?

The weight within his bladder grew ever worse. He could not hold out, and despite all his wishes not to demean himself he simply had to permit a little to escape, just to ease the pressure and make it more bearable. Relaxing his fervently clenched walls, a faint trickle was the crack that shattered the dam of his resistance.

When the first spurt emerged, the rest thundered forth and he could not resist. The wash of warm fluid circled at his loins in a chaotic flood. Swirling and reaching out from under the latex briefs into the domain of the cling film, the soiled waters remained trapped against his skin. When he finally emptied himself of all the water he had been afflicted with, each movement of his body moved the collected pockets and caused them to shuffle against him.

It was a strangely enjoyable sensation, one added to by infantile disgrace, of being unable to control oneself and being forced to rely on others to attend such a base function and its regulation.

Hands grabbed his feet and with a suppressed moan he was lifted up. His ankles entered the air and he was inverted. His bound form hung securely to the rod as it was propped into the corner. No movement could dislodge him from this position. His crown was pressed slightly to the floor, but the pole served to keep him upright and upside down with pressure welling in his head.

A cane or similar slender weapon suddenly ate into his thighs. Thrashing the flesh, it sent blasts of scorching feeling through the plastic wrap.

He could not even move in response. The miniscule wriggles he managed only helped the migration of the urine. The trapped ocean wove down onto his chest, exploring new territories as gravity pulled at it. He wondered if he would he be mercilessly flogged because in his current pose he could be given the most heinous whipping of his career as a slave and not even twitch to it, so comprehensive was his bondage. Fate or whatever Mistress was responsible, he assumed it wasn’t Lynn, granted mercy. After six hellish strokes the punishment ceased. It made him ponder if it had not been done simply to ensure he was secure and could not knock himself from this awkward position.

Each breath made the waters distinct as they flowed down. The tide ebbed near his collar. It was now stretched too widely and thinly to let it escape. A single trickle reached the back of his neck, riding under the collar and into his hood to make him cringe. Thankfully the stream was under-funded and did not become a river of escape.

Time continued to wander and drift through his mind. It was an untouched, unseen force that he had no means to judge. He wondered how deeply the commands would have entrenched themselves by the time he was set free, and if he would have the will to resist them.