"Colonel I've got to have you now. Don't bother with the preliminaries, I'm all juiced up at the thought of that wonderful dick stuck up me. So just do it. Fuck me."
Reaching between her legs with one hand, she grasped his penis and guided it to her dribbling vagina, wriggling herself backwards and skewering it deeper and deeper into her until she was plugged solid and totally impaled on its solid length.
"Now Colonel, fuck me! Fuck me like you've never fucked me before."
And that is exactly what he did. From behind, with her fingertips touching her toes, he battered against her buttocks, ramming into her with such energy that she rocked on her feet. Grunts, 'oohs' and finally full-blooded screams of satisfaction poured from her lips as she reached a body-racking climax.
Julian screamed too. In anger and frustration, although his screams were strangled, muffled animal-like whines and snuffles. And he screamed even louder when The Colonel suddenly pulled out of Mistress Madonna and finishing himself off with his hand, squirted fountains of sperm all over him. Julian's face, hair and body ran with The Colonel’s spunk, driving him even further into the realms of dementia.
"Oh, well done Colonel. I can always count on you, can't I?"
Mistress Madonna's words of praise were gasped out, her breath still short and her breasts heaving in the aftermath of her shattering orgasm.
"Hmm . . Nice of you to say so m'dear."
The Colonel's understated reaction was absolutely true to his nature, calm and collected, he never got too excited over anything although for him to screw Mistress Madonna in front of Julian was always a rewarding experience. The sex was great, that went without saying, but Julian's insanely demented reaction was a sight to behold.
Mistress Madonna slowly pulled herself together in time to lay a restraining palm on The Colonel's wrist as he began to tuck his penis back into his trousers.
"We haven't finished yet, have we Colonel? I needed that quick shag, I was desperate but it doesn’t have to be so fast and furious from now on; I want you to stay here and fuck me long and slow all night long."
The Colonel was hesitant, now quite unlike his normal self.
"Ah, there's a slight problem there m’dear. I've got to be getting along; things to do, letters to write, that sort of thing."
Mistress Madonna's eyebrows raised questioningly. This was not The Colonel she knew.
"Come on Colonel, this is Mistress Madonna you're talking to. You've never turned down the chance of a few hours fucking before. What's going on?"
"Can't pull the wool over your eyes, can I gel? The truth is that things up at the castle aren't quite what I expected, a bit queer if you know what I mean. But you'll love it, it's right up your street; in fact I think it's you that the invitation was really for. They won't miss me."
"All right Colonel I'll take your word for that. But that's no reason for you to leave me with a hot, juicy vagina that's crying out for your lovely cock and go out in the middle of the night."
A very uncomfortable silence followed.
"Come on Colonel. Out with it."
"Um . . er . . It's like this. Thierry's a member of this club and he’s fixed it up for me to spend a few days there as his guest. He’s waiting for me now and I’m dashed late already.”
“And just what club is this, Colonel?”
“Er . . It’s called Le Manoir. It’s nothing special, it's just to get me away from the castle you understand.”
Mistress Madonna did not understand.
In fact she had never been less understanding. She knew all about Le Manoir, in her line of business you had to. It was a very exclusive Gentleman’s club, a sister establishment to The Lodge, itself an especially venerated institution back in England. Both clubs were dedicated to the pursuit of sexual pleasure, especially of the BDSM variety, their members being restricted to the rich and powerful; clubs that boasted as their stock, the prettiest girls in Europe.
So, as a sop to her anger, although she knew that it was far from the truth, she told herself that The Colonel was turning her down to go off and fuck some French tarts in a common whorehouse.
"All right then Colonel, if that's the way it is you'd better go. Right now."
Her voice was iced with controlled anger.
"I don't suppose I'll be seeing you again, will I?"
It was not a question at all. She said it in a way that implied that if The Colonel knew what was good for him, he would keep out of her way. She indicated the door.
"Close it after you."
Red-faced and sheepish, The Colonel hurried to the door. He paused and turned as if he were about to try and offer some further explanation, but the frosty look on her face obviously changed his mind. Shrugging his shoulders he left without another word. Mistress Madonna stared after him, her eyes flashing with fury.
Somebody was going to suffer for this.
And that someone was Julian. He was in for a long, hard night.
The Pike
ABSOLUTELY FURIOUS WITH The Colonel, Mistress Madonna vented her spleen on Julian, verbally and physically abusing him until very late in the night, finally leaving him still chained and convulsing in agony she retired to her room. But sleep proved an elusive quarry and so for a while, with her pillows fluffed up behind her, she sat up reading. Three books were lying on her dressing table; Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Notre-Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo - the story of the hunchback Quasimodo, and a biography of the sixteenth century plunderer of virgins, the Hungarian Baroness Erzebet Bathori. She chose the biography and even though the gory, bizarre and blood-laden tale whetted her vivid imagination, she found it difficult to concentrate; her demanding vagina still crying out for The Colonel's uniquely satisfying cock. Eventually, driven to desperation, she decided that any cock would do to relieve her intense frustration.
But there was no cock, was there? Only Julian's, and that was unthinkable. So there was only one solution, she would have to find something else to sink into her sex. Something big and fat. And the only thing in the lodge that came anywhere near that description was the pike. The diameter of its shaft would plug her very comfortably, but the bloody thing was six feet long. But there was no alternative and so she would just have to find some way to make it suit her purpose.
Sliding out from beneath the covers, she stepped down naked from the raised four-poster and padded out of the bedroom and into Julian's presence. Immediately his eyes fell on her, his sniffling and moaning stopped, his eyes widened and his cock stiffened. Mistress Madonna could not help noticing it throbbing back into full erection.
"Stop that this instant. Haven't you ever seen a naked woman before?"
As the words slipped from her mouth she realised that he had very rarely, if ever, seen her absolutely naked. And as she knew that her body was flawless and enticingly proportioned it was only natural that her slave should react in that way. He loved to see her in Basques and stockings and now he had shown that he was equally thrilled to see her in the raw. Cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples and stroking herself between her legs, she paraded provocatively before him. She smiled in satisfaction as her display prompted his cock to harden and lengthen even further and so caused the iron chain attached to the ring clamped around his glans to tighten. His face screwed up in agony as his cock strained upwards against the restricting chain. He was going to have one hell of a sore weapon when she finally took the clamp off.
But that would not be for a long time yet. He had a lot more suffering to endure before that was going to happen. In the meantime another question and answer session commenced.
"Mistress Madonna's come back in here because she wants something. Would you like to know what it is?"
When she had left him to go to bed she had not eased his misery in any way and so he was still chained in an agonisingly contorted position, it was not
only his cock that was going to hurt when he was released, his back probably would not allow him to straighten up for hours. But more importantly he was still gagged and so he was unable to speak coherently. But that hardly mattered now because he had not been allowed to drink anything for many hours and his throat was so cracked and dry that he would not be able to utter any more than a hoarse croak.
Mistress Madonna knew that perfectly well and that only helped her to add to his torment.
"Still sulking are we? All right be like that, it makes no difference to me, I'm going to tell you anyway. Mistress Madonna's here because she wants a cock rammed up her. A big fat cock, plunging up and down her lovely, soaking vagina. Any cock would do, but there isn't one anywhere, is there?"
That had the desired effect. Julian went completely bananas; silently bananas because he could not make a sound. Mistress Madonna did not have to hear the words that he was trying to blurt out, she could imagine them with ease.
'I've got a big cock. A fucking great big fat cock. Let me do it. Let me fuck you.'
They would be something very close to that and if the truth be known, he did in fact have a very usefully big and fat penis that if it belonged to anyone else would have suited her purposes admirably. But it did not and so it was out of the question. If she allowed him to fuck her, that would be the end of everything. Her vagina was a 'no go' area, something that he could fantasise about but which in reality remained completely out of bounds to him. Besides it was the misery and anguish he felt at constantly being denied a shag that kept up his interest in her; it allowed him to wallow in the mire of his own self pity.
Ignoring him completely she continued her musings.
"If I can't get a cock, what can I do. At home I've got dildos. Big dildos. Just the right size, but they're not here, are they? But I've got to have something up me or I'll go crazy. What do think I could use?"
Her eyes slowly swept the room until they alighted on the pike.
"Ooh Julian, just look at that. That's fat alright, it's perfect. But it's too long. What can I do?"
It was a purely rhetorical question, she already knew exactly what she was going to do. Broad oak stanchions, several feet apart and running from floor to ceiling, were set into each of the walls. Equally broad beams ran from the tops of the pillars across the ceiling, joining those opposite each together. The timber was ancient, obviously part of the original structure of the building and was cracked with age.
Picking up the pike and holding it at shoulder height, with her hands wide apart grasping its shaft and pointing it downwards, Mistress Madonna measured her distance and ran full tilt at one of the stanchions. She struck lucky at her first attempt, the 'fleur-de-lis' spearhead driving deep into one of the cracks at just the right height and angle. Tugging on the shaft with all her strength she found it so firmly embedded that it proved impossible to pull out, exactly how she wanted it.
"Thank God for that crack," she murmured to herself; the timber was still so hard that without it she would not have been able to bury the spearhead so deeply into it. Projecting immovably upwards from low down on the stanchion at a shallow angle, at the end of its six foot length the pike was six inches or so higher than Mistress Madonna's crotch. Perfect.
Bending down she clasped both hands around it as if she were caressing a giant penis, slowly and appreciatively running her fingers upwards over the smooth, polished wood. Positioning herself behind it she closed in and measured it for height, finding that the end dug into her belly just above her pubic mound. Raising herself onto her toes, she widened her legs and stepped over it, lodging the end between her open labia and into the entrance to her vagina. It was fat. Really fat, more so than she had realised.
Although she was wet and ready, it was obvious that she could use a little more lubrication to aid its penetration of her sex. And that was when she hit upon a devilishly brilliant idea. Something that would help her to achieve carnal satisfaction and at the same time would drive Julian berserk. Easing off the stave, she flattened her feet to the floor and walked over to stand before Julian once again.
His eyes were wild and excited, sweat dripped from his brow and he was snorting air. And his cock was leaking. Mistress Madonna's antics had stoked his lust into an inferno. Her voice was soft and seductive, not the usual schoolmistress' tone she adopted with him.
"Julian."
She half whispered his name in a husky, prick-rousing voice.
"Julian, you've always wanted your spunk up Mistress Madonna's hole, I know you have. Well, I've changed my mind, I've decided that that's what I want as well. Lots and lots of it. But I've got to get you in the mood first."
Julian's face reddened, his prick jerked and it did not take much imagination for her to interpret his muffled gabblings as affirmations that he was already in the mood, that he did not need any help and that he could fuck her rotten right then if she would only let him loose. Ignoring him, she carried on with her plan. Bending over backwards into a 'crab', with her palms and the soles of her feet flat on the floor she presented him with a heart-stopping view of her glorious sex. The wavy lips were widening and the entrance to her vagina was clearly visible.
"Look Julian, can you see? Can you see my lovely hairy beaver? It's just waiting for your sperm. See, there's love juice running down my thighs. I can feel it, so I know that you can see it. It's all sticky and slidy and it'll be even slippier when your spunk's all mixed up with it."
Shuffling closer to his struggling, bound form she supported herself on one palm and ran her other hand over her belly, down her mons and using two fingers widened her sex lips and then dipped them into her vagina. Julian's grunts, groans and snorts grew more and more frantic and just in time Mistress Madonna pushed herself to her feet and raced to him as he erupted in a cock-torturing ejaculation. Fountains of sperm gushed from his chained cock and diving under his legs, her palms cupped together, she captured most of it as it pumped and spewed out in a series of seemingly unending spurts.
When he finally stopped convulsing and she was certain that every last drop had been milked from his now empty bollocks, she got to her feet, being very careful not to allow any of his warm emissions to slip through her fingers. Her voice returned to its normal severe tone.
"Thank you very much Julian. That will do very nicely indeed."
Hurrying back to the pike shaft she palmed Julian's sperm all over its top five or six inches and then legs splayed, she again lifted herself on tiptoes and leaning backwards she eased the wood into her vaginal entrance. This time, just as she had hoped, the mixture of sperm and vaginal juices helped it to slip in more easily. But only for an inch or so before it stuck solid. It certainly was fat, even fatter than The Colonel's magnificent weapon and she knew immediately that it was going to be the perfect substitute for that magical instrument. She lifted her bottom, pulling backwards off the shaft until only its very tip lodged into her hole and then thrust her hips forwards, using the full meaty weight of her fabulous backside to press herself forwards and downwards onto it.
In it went, just another couple of inches, making her gasp as it widened her tunnel. Again she pulled back, rolling a projectile nipple with the fingers of one hand and rubbing her clitoris between the fingers and thumb of the other, in an effort to increase the flow of juices into her vagina. Despite being plugged solid by the shaft, juice trickled from her stretched sex lips and down her thighs and with another sharp gasp she lowered herself again and the shaft sank further into her belly. Two more times she raised and lowered herself before the pike was sunk into her right up to her cervix and she could feel it stretching her to the limit. Julian's sperm combined with her own juices had served its purpose, easing the shaft's entry as it bored into her until she was completely impaled on it. In fact it was buried so far into her tunnel that her feet were now flat on the floor.
She had never felt so well
and truly stuffed before and just stood there enjoying the feeling for a minute or so before raising her bottom and experimentally pulling back and thrusting forwards on the shaft. And the sensation was glorious. Unbelievably arousing and exciting. Purring with undisguised pleasure she rolled and bucked her hips, fucking herself with the pike and stirring up a volcano of lust. Groans of ecstasy fell from her lips as her hips bucked faster and faster and her fingers worked on her nipples and her fully-unhooded clitoris. Beads of perspiration formed on her brow, stinging her eyes and planting their salty taste on her tongue as they rolled down her face. Her breath began to come in ragged gasps until suddenly she flung her arms forward and grasped the shaft firmly in both hands, holding it rock-steady as she writhed on its end until she exploded in a shaking, convulsing orgasm that saw starbursts of multi-coloured light flashing before her now tightly-closed eyelids and wave after wave of raging pulsing currents storming through her love-box to render her into a state of near paralysis.
Slowly her eyes opened and the tremors in her limbs calmed down.
"Oh God Julian, that was good. The best fuck I've ever had; and I did it to myself."
Gingerly, almost regretfully she eased herself off the pike and ruefully massaged herself between her legs. She had treated herself to quite a battering, her sex petals and her inner soft vaginal flesh still tingling, but bruised to hell.
"Mistress Madonna's really sore now. I'm almost tempted to let you suck my twat and kiss it better. But I'm not going to because too many treats can spoil a silly boy, and you've already had the biggest treat I could ever think of giving you."
Grunts and snivels were Julian's anguished reply. As ever she interpreted them with uncanny accuracy.
"What do you mean, you haven't had a treat? Of course you have. You got what you've always wanted more than anything else - your spunk squishing deep inside my cunt."
But he had not put it there himself. It had not squirted from his cock as it reamed her into orgasm as she knew that he had always dreamed of doing. And it never would. Once again she had crumbled his dreams into dust. Apart from The Colonel, matters had turned out quite satisfactorily indeed.
Slaves to the Bloodline Page 3
