SlavesofMistressDespoiler (34 page)

Again the cane struck, freezing her in a silent mewling wail as the rods again speeded their rate to compensate for the strike of the cane.

Working with diligence, she completed her task, loitering on the heels for added self-satisfaction, the rods rocking softly within her, causing her to grip at them with her orifices.

The deed could have been completed in minutes, but she was often stalled in her task, the searing assault of the cane onto her rear breaking her effort and leaving her sobbing in endurance. The process of beating and added effort for the toys was an addition that tore at her mind, subduing her further in algolagnic fervour, making her submission swell, feeding the seed, causing it to send new roots through every aspect of her persona.

“Now my legs and skirt, slave,” she ordered, and added another capricious flick of the bamboo stave.

Choking back a scream, Lynn dropped a cheek against the tight calves of the Mistress, the rubber warm to her skin as she weathered the latest episode published by the scourge.

Her tongue spilled out and she started to lick with alacrity, her actions a pleasure because of the exotic taste of the latex, the firm and succulent legs of the Mistress that lurked beneath them, protected from her slobbering devotions, and of course the implements shaking within her.

Circling around her owner, she spiralled gradually up, taking licks of the cane without complaint as she adored the latex legs and then the sheath of her owner’s skirt.

Flashes of pain, bursts of pleasure, all given amidst the taste and glorious overwhelming scent of latex as she squirmed within the web of ropes.

“Are you done, slave?” she asked upon seeing Lynn wander across her skirt for the third time.

“Yes, Mistress,” she replied, settling back on her haunches.

The Mistress looked over the work, the latex shimmering with streaks of moisture. Sticking out her boots, she checked them and found that no smudges or stains had been left behind.

“It will do, slave. Now stand up.”

Lynn complied, rising with a little difficulty as the Mistress took the loose ends of the ropes. The two ends were split and fed through the small eyelets that tipped each end of the pole, fastenings that Lynn had not previously seen.

The ropes were drawn up and fed through stout eyelets that had been screwed into the ceiling, each rope rising vertically and then being drawn tight before fasting back on itself.

Lynn was brought to tiptoe and left semi-suspended, the pole digging in, the weight of her upon the anchors causing the ropes to pull at her more distinctly, compressing her torso.

“Now, a little something to help keep you quiet, slave,” she prescribed and appeared before Lynn with the ball gag.

Squeezing her fingers into Lynn’s cheek, she demanded a rictus and then stuffed the large ball within. Holding it there, she paid the buckled straps about her head and tightened them to a remorseless fit.

“There. After all, silence is golden, is it not?” she smirked, and then presented a silvery handle, the top of which was armed with a circle of steel, its edge flicking out tiny sharp spires. With a flick she span the wheel, the implement whizzing like the spur of a cowboy.

“Have you ever felt a pinwheel before, slave?” she asked, already aware of the answer, she just wanted to enlighten as to what the tool was.

Lynn shook her head from side to side, lines of saliva escaping over her lips before she corrected her oversight and tilted her head back to keep hold of the reservoir.

“Well, now is your chance. First though, let’s get these obstructions out our way,” she decreed and flicked the hanging clamps.

Lynn whimpered in expectation as the Mistress closed a hand to one of them, pulling softly at the snared tender morsel, a grin creeping around the corners of her mouth as Lynn grimaced and gurgled.

With a croak of pain she answered the flight of the first clamp, dropping her head back, hanging more heavily on the pole as her legs sagged and she gasped for new breath. The feeling thundered back in, intense and savage upon her.

She was just recovering when the second extraction was staged, throwing her back to a fit of shaking strain.

The dildos broke into new action and Lynn tottered on the balls of her feet, her legs pressed together as she squirmed, the implements rattling against her insides, making her bite to the gag and respire in random fits.

Turning the dial back down, the Mistress eased the effects and moved in with the pinwheel. The nip of the device as it bit a path of stinging stabs across her breasts had Lynn shaking with duress, unable to shield or draw the targeted areas away.

Rows of prickly jabs were painted in meandering arcs across her, the pinwheel a nuisance that had her skipping from foot to foot.

The Mistress descended, taking its effects to her stomach and then onto her thighs, the worst roads it followed being those that took it to her inner regions. She dared not try and close her legs to protect herself, for with the wheel already within, she would crush it, and surely puncture her skin with such a foolhardy venture.

The Mistress drew her fill of this fun, tormenting Lynn with the cruel toy before setting it aside and stepping back to regard the grizzling slave in full, her skin slick with a soft layer of salty dew from her struggles.

Still armed with the pinwheel, the Mistress dropped the control box, leaving the toys running at a lethargic pace. Taking the cat paddle, she walked behind the bound Lynn, leaving the slave ignorant as to what she could expect.

“This is for your felony against my rule today, slave,” she revealed, offering the reason for the imminent castigation.

The paddle howled in and clapped to a buttock, the applause rippling her anus, making Lynn jolt and skip on her feet, unable to fall or get away as the Mistress continued with another three sharp strokes.

In the pause that followed, the sharp teeth of the wheel started to play across the flushed skin, adding further spite to them before it fled.

A hand closed about her ponytail, holding her in place in expectation of greater resistance. But what had the Mistress deserted? The wheel? Or the paddle?

The answer came when an area of her rear was filled with a startled heat. Immediately a swift lambasting came, the Mistress slamming the paddle to her with significant force, making Lynn struggle and wail, fighting to get free, beset by panic as she was savaged.

She could not tell how many blows were being delivered, her mind was filled only with the need to get away, to break out and dive into shelter or cover the abused region. The anchor on her hair stopped her turning round, and her wails were stifled by the gag, leaving them to emerge as gurgling whimpers and shouts.

Only once her buttocks were a churning mass of fiery feeling did the Mistress stop, and Lynn drooped in her confines, her body spasming as she flopped her head forward, heedless of the dribble that fell over her lips.

The Mistress appeared before her and comforted her head in both hands, the paddle gone, proving that the session of punishment was over.

“There, there, it’s all over. You’ve paid for your crime,” she whispered, Lynn once more succumbing to a weeping fit as the feeling of acute purging once more rolled through her system. Fingers played the buckle on the back of her head and the ball gag was drawn away.

“Thank you, Mistress,” she immediately sniffled, utterly besotted with the rule of her owner, all to willing to endure anything for her.

“Would you like to be taken with a strap on, slave?” asked the Mistress, stroking her damp hair.

“Oh yes, Mistress, yes please,” Lynn blurted rashly, the thought of being penetrated by the Mistress, ridden by her was one she found intensely enticing. The recall of Fire Opal performing such a ravishing was exciting, the thought of the Mistress doing the same was a temptation beyond measure.

“You will have to pay for it though, pay in pain,” she warned, continuing to comfort her distraught slave.

“You still want me to do it? Because if you say yes, there will be no backing out. I shall torment you until I am satisfied you have earned my attention. I will not listen to any cry, any threat or begging plea for mercy once I begin?”

Lynn pondered for a moment and knew what answer she had to give, she had no choice, she wanted the abuse almost as much as she craved the violations of the Mistress.

“Please, Mistress, I still want it.”

“Very well.”

Without delay the Mistress began to strip off the ropes, setting Lynn free, unfurling the tight bonds and taking off the dildo pants until she was once more stood naked before her.

The leather restraints were once set on her ankles and wrists, and this time, a wooden pole roughly the length of a broom handle was placed to her shoulders. Her arms were set to it, placing her in a cruciform pose.

A roll of cling film was taken up, and the translucent layers were wrapped to her wrists, setting the pole in position before the Mistress started to entomb her arms in full, winding the plastic around and around, forming a tight cocoon. A plexus about her chest connected the two sides and her other arm was treat to a similar entrapment, leaving her limbs spread out by the pole.

Rope was fixed to each end, and the coils were flung up to the ceiling hooks, hanging slack, the lengths ready to suspend her by the wooden strut.

New ropes caught her ankles, and the Mistress fed their ends through distant rings in the ceiling, the eyelets spaced far apart so that they would draw her legs wide, splaying her in the air.

“You are still sure you want to pay this price?” asked the Mistress, stepping over with a new gag, one of considerably more skill at silencing a wailing slave.

“Yes, Mistress,” she answered timidly, opening her mouth and accepting the limp bulb that emerged from the leather faceplate. The gag was pressed to her, and the straps reached out around and over her head, tightening under her chin and pushing it deeper into her mouth. An inflator was screwed on, the oval bulb pushed onto the nozzle and subjected to rapid squeezes that had it billowing within her maw. Her tongue was stamped beneath it, and her jaws forced out against the straps, letting the welling balloon fill her entirely, stopping her from even respiring through her mouth, forcing her to wheeze through her nose.

With her slave rendered mute, the Mistress took the hanging ropes. The first pulls made her ankles retreat, forcing her to lower herself so that she hung from the pole, her arms and body supported by the cling film sheath.

Further pulls dragged back her legs and then hoisted them into the air, spreading them as she groaned, her body being racked by the confinement, the suspension hard to endure, but she had no means to protest, and even if she had, such dissent was to be ignored.

Had she agreed too rashly? Could she take this?

The Mistress moved before her, armed with the clover clamps, but now, rings of metal had been fed onto the chain, the hoops serving as an oppressive weight that would greatly influence and magnify their effects.

Lynn tried to wriggle out of the way, to do something to evade the application, but the Mistress merely smiled and clipped them in place. Muted squeals seeped through the gag as her teats were hauled down and compressed terribly.

The Mistress watched Lynn’s dismay for a moment and then proceeded to levy the rest of her intended fee on her slave.

The device she drew was one that had Lynn momentarily confused. A pair of tweezers clicked in her fingers, the wicked glower of the Mistress proving that they had a diabolic purpose, but none she could fathom.

When she heard the Mistress wander between her opened legs, Lynn flew into panic, realising now what was intended. She whimpered and choked her pleas, trying to defeat the gag, but no coherent word could escape.

The tweezers took a tuft of hair from her rear, delving into the valley of her buttocks and then tugging it out. The roots bellowed with fury, making Lynn dance in her restraints, the weight of her own form helping to keep her under control as she was held aloft.

Again the tweezers dove in, gathering more bunches of hair before jolting back, yanking them out, the plucking driving her mad with calamity.

The Mistress continued her extraction process, clearing the tangled forest of her rear, stripping all hair that lay within. The ordeal was the most trying Lynn had faced, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it, and she had to also contend with the awareness that she herself had demanded it.

The hope that the stripping was over vanished when the tweezers reached under her, taking more pubic hair from around her sex and then hauling it out amidst her squealing yowls. The weights danced and jumped beneath her, adding to the ordeal as she sobbed and wailed, frantic for this to end.

Finally, once her entire belly had been stripped bald by the sadistic ministrations of the Mistress, it ended.

Lynn was left languid in her bonds, sweat dripping from her face, lines of dribble stretching out from under the face plate of her gag. Her eyes were wet with tears, her body shaking from terrible shock. Amazed at how intense it had been, she felt all the more pleased for having been dragged through it, made to face her limits before being hauled over them and to new regions.