by JJ Argus
She began to grind and wriggle again, and was soon breathless and overheated once more. Another orgasm followed, almost as explosive as the first.
“Did you hear something?” one of the men asked.
“Just the traffic,” the other replied, bored.
Courtney moaned and began to rub herself again, to work her throbbing pussy up into another state of ferocious hunger. But before she could climax the truck stopped and the two men got out. She blinked as the back door of the truck slid up, and then she was being rolled out and brought down onto the street.
There was a hole near her eye and she peered through at the feet and lower legs of the people they passed as the box was rolled across a sidewalk, then in through a glass door.
No mansion, evidently.
The floor looked marble however as they rolled over it. She was rolled into an elevator, and then up and up, and up higher still before the elevator dinged and the doors opened.
She saw another marble floor, then a wide door of some dark wood. They waited a moment, then a woman came to the door.
“Yes?” A woman said.
She wore very stylish looking black high heels.
“Sign here,” a male voice said.
Then she was rolled forward through the door.
“This way,” the woman’s voice said.
They rolled along a marble floor, her heels clicking on the stone, then into a large room with a sun washed, heavily polished hardwood floor of some blonde wood.
And then they left her there.
Because of the way the slit angled down she couldn’t see how big the room was, but she couldn’t see any walls or furniture, just floor.
Then she heard the high heels behind her, and her heart pounded as her fear mounted. A moment later she thought she’d have a heart attack as the front of the cage slid up into the roof, and a woman peered in at her.
Her face flushed beet red as the woman examined her, then slid up the other sides of the cage.
“Well, well, well,” she said in a soft, very British sounding accent.
The woman had short hair and a long, aristocratic face with high, arched brows. She wore high heeled leather boots, leather pants, and a black silk blouse. She was about ten years or so older than Courtney, and she was Black.
She straightened and walked away, leaving Courtney laying there naked in the cage. She shifted quickly onto her knees, closing her legs, covering up more, and a minute or so later the woman returned.
She opened the cage and straightened.
“Out,” she said.
Blushing furiously, Courtney eased slowly forward out of the cage, grunting as her knees hit the floor.
She was in a large open room with a very highly polished floor. There were large, floor to ceiling windows running along one side, and antique, gold framed mirrors on the one across from them. At the far end of the room were various exercise machines, and there were a pile of mats in a corner. The room looked like a gym, a home gym, about twenty five feet square.
The woman bent as Courtney came free, gripping the back of her collar and helping to drag her forward out of the cage. Once standing, Courtney saw the woman had the same sort of thin quirt masters had had at the office, and her stomach fluttered anxiously.
“Now stand up,” the woman said, grasping her upper arm to help.
“Stand straight,” the woman said. “Shoulders back, legs together, chest out.”
A moment later Courtney felt the sting of the quirt across her bottom.
Strong black fingers gripped her jaw and forced her head back.
“Head straight, eyes forward.”
Courtney was still flushing hotly. Her eyes rolled towards the woman and the quirt snapped out and stung her left breast so that she yelped in pain.
“Do not look into my face, slave,” the woman said. “Never look into the face of any man or woman.”
She moved to the side, glaring.
“Eyes front,” the woman said.
And the quirt stung her belly.
The woman examined her, then laid a hand under her right breast. She cupped and squeezed it, then let her fingers examine the clip biting into her nipple. She sniffed and then removed it, then quickly did the same to the other.
Courtney felt a moment of relief, then cried out in pain, shifting her weight from foot to foot, dancing in pain as her nipples burned hotly with returning sensation.
“Oh don’t be such a baby,” the woman said. “Your little nipples will get a lot worse than that before we’re done.”
Her hand dropped between Courtney’s legs and she gripped the base of the dildo, then thrust up sharply. Courtney grunted in pain, instinctively trying to twist away, but the woman took her arm and held it as she shifted the thing inside, her, changing the angle, angling the head in towards her spine, then twisting the thing and pushing up again. Courtney’s eyes went wide as the dildo somehow slid even deeper.
“Legs apart,” the woman ordered.
She shifted her feet apart almost instinctively, without thinking about it, yet her face was flaming with the woman’s presence, with the woman touching her in so intimate and familiar a fashion. It was bad enough when the guys did it, or when Masters did it, but this was a woman! And she was a complete stranger, to boot!
Yet with her wrists confined behind her what choice did Courtney actually have in anything? She could not even protest because of the gag.
“Legs straight, shoulders back,” the woman said.
Courtney felt the nasty little sting on her bottom and gasped, but obeyed, straightening her legs, head going back.
The woman placed her thumb along the bottom of the dildo, twisting it from side to side, pushing, trying to edge it even deeper, and Courtney groaned in pain as the head jammed into some hitherto unfelt depths of her pussy tunnel.
“Handy to get the depth,” the woman said.
Her thumb rested along the base of the dildo, uncomfortably, pressed right against Courtney’s sweating, swollen clit. Courtney anxiously stared ahead, not wanting to look at the woman, too embarrassed to want to meet her eyes.
The woman tugged the dildo slowly down the length of her pussy tunnel, and out, and Courtney’s legs flinched, going a little rubbery as the thing came loose. It was sopping wet, and to her absolute horror she felt what must be a buildup of cream behind it, of her own cream! With her legs spread, and her pussy lips not yet too tightly closed after the long penetration, her pussy cream slowly trickled out between the lips of her sex. She tried to snap her legs together but the woman snapped the quirt down across her hip, not once, but twice.
“Feet apart,” the woman barked.
Another stinging snap of the quirt across her bottom forced her to spread her feet again, and her face burned as she felt her juices slowly trickling down the inside of her thighs.
The black woman wasn’t looking, but instead had a measuring tape and was measuring the length of the dildo to where it had been clutched by her pussy lips.
“Eleven inches? I think you can do better than that,” she said, “once you get a little more use in you.”
“Not that you don’t already seem somewhat ready for use,” she observed dryly.
She pressed the dildo against the moist, swollen mouth of Courtney’s pussy again, rubbing it lightly up and down, and Courtney took a half step back and the woman brought the quirt snapping down onto her left breast.
“Do not move without permission,” the woman snapped.
She thrust her hand down and curled two fingers up into Courtney’s pussy, then pulled her forward once again.
“I can touch any part of you I want in any way, shape or form I wish to,” the woman said. “Your body is a slave’s body, and a slave’s body is for anyone to use however they desire to. A slave does not say no. A slave does not even consider a request. Requests are not made to slaves. Orders are put to slaves, and slaves obey them.”
She pulled her fingers out. They were wet, and she
“Hands behind your back, fingers interlaced. Shoulders back,” the woman said.
Courtney obeyed, eyes wide, moaning weakly into the gag.
“Put your arms straight out at your sides,” the woman ordered.
Blinking, Courtney obeyed, and the woman gripped her bicep and squeezed, then poked a finger at it.
“Soft, hardly a muscle to be seen,” she said in contempt. “We’ll have to get your body into shape. All right. Arms at your sides. Walk for me. Walk to the window and back.”
Blushing furiously, Courtney obeyed, conscious of the woman’s eyes on her body as she moved, and of Masters statement that she walked like a cow.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the woman said. “Graceful, you are not. But we shall make you so. Now go and get one of the mats in the corner and put it on the floor”
Courtney did as she was told and dropped the mat on the floor.
“Now, stand. And when I say stand I mean stand straight, head and shoulders back, chest out, hands behind your back. You will remember that in future.”
Courtney stood as she was bade, nervous and still embarrassed, but starting to loose the worst of her humiliation.
“When I say stand for inspection, you will spread your feet two feet apart, and put your hands behind your neck, interlacing your fingers. Stand for inspection.”
Courtney shifted her feet apart on the floor and stood as the woman slowly circled her.
“Good. “Now stand.”
She hesitated, then stood as she had before.
“Stand for inspection.”
Again she shifted positions, and they repeated this a dozen times.
The woman slid the quirt between her legs and then brought the shaft up against her pussy, angling it upwards as she slowly rubbed it back and forth.
“Make sure, at all times, to keep your back straight and your shoulders back. Now, stand for inspection. Now bend and grasp your ankles.”
Embarrassed anew, Courtney obeyed, and the woman had her hold her position while she slowly walked around her, examining her.
“Straighten.”
She stood upright gratefully, hands behind her back.
“Now I want you to touch your toes. You will do this ten times. Then you will touch your opposite toes, using first your right hand, then your left, and do this twenty times. Now start.”
There was nothing for it but for Courtney to obey, and so she did, though she was somewhat out of breath by the time she finished. The woman then led her through stretching exercises which involved stretching her arms up and out wide to either side, turning at the hip, arching her back, and repeating. Then there were pushups, which didn’t last long since she could only do one, then sit-ups, which only lasted a little longer.
During it all, the woman didn’t hesitate to snap the quirt across any convenient part of her anatomy for any reason whatsoever. And even when she wasn’t striking her with the thing, she would often prod her nipples, or rub it against her clit or her anal opening, making it difficult for Courtney to maintain her concentration.
The woman tried to get her to do a chin-up on a bar but Courtney wasn’t able to. She hung from the bar, gasping, straining, and then wincing and yelping as the quirt snapped stingingly across her back once, twice, three times, before she dropped back to her feet.
“You are disgustingly out of shape,” the woman said crossly.
Courtney was embarrassed. No one had ever complained about her shape before. She did, after all, have a slim figure with high, firm breasts and a nice ass. Wasn’t that all that mattered?
The woman had her start using one of the exercise machines, which involved putting a bar along her shoulders, grasping its ends with her arms, and then pushing it up and pulling it back down again. It took very little of this before she was gasping for breath - especially since she still had the ball gag in her mouth -- and sweating heavily. Stinging blows from the quirt struck her hip, inner thighs and belly whenever she slowed.
When her arms could no longer be persuaded to lift the bar there were more stretching exercises, then the woman put her on a treadmill - in the stilettos - and made her walk, slowly turning up the speed until she was almost jogging.
Sweating, out of breath, exhausted, she was allowed, finally, to lay on the mat, but not allowed to lay still for long.
“Kneel,” the woman ordered. “Hands behind your back.”
Moaning tiredly, Courtney got to her knees, then gasped as the woman seized a bit of her hair and raised her to her legs - though bent at the knees, of course - were otherwise straight, as was her back. It was a very hard position to maintain, surprisingly.
“Kneel low,” the woman said, pushing on her shoulders to force her back onto her heels.
“The word `present’ in any context, means spread your legs,” she said. “Now, present.”
Courtney shifted her knees apart on the mat, ensuring her back remained straight, her shoulders back, hands behind her neck..
“Dog,” the woman said. “The command Dog will put you on your hands and knees.”
Blinking, Courtney fell forward onto her hands, gasping as the quirt bit into her bottom.
“Head back, knees together, arms straight,” she ordered.
She walked around the kneeling girl slowly.
“Low Dog drops you onto your elbows,” she said.
Courtney lowered herself then winced at another sting to her bottom.
“I did not give the command.”
She pushed herself back up, and waited, and then dropped to her elbows at the woman’s command.
“Present.”
Flushing, Courtney shifted her knees apart on the mat, spreading her legs and displaying herself from behind.
“The next position is prostrate. You will remain on your knees, your bottom high. Your torso will be as flat on the mat as you can make it, head up, facing forward, arms at your sides. “Your knees should be spread, and then brought forward while keeping your upper legs perfectly vertical.”
Courtney slid down at the command, her breasts pillowing out against the mat. A blow to her back forced her to reposition her knees, inching them forward a little further. The quirt snapped down against her inner thighs, and she spread them wider, then caressed her pussy, rubbing back and forth along her sit and over her clitoris.
“We need to make you more limber,” the woman said. “You’ll be able to assume such positions more easily after practice and exercise.”
It was an obscenely graphic pose, one which she knew would make her feel very submissive to any man who would choose to mount her. Even with the Black woman she felt very submissive and helpless, on the floor like this.
She maintained her pose as the woman walked around her, then moved over to a distant cupboard and drew from it a large object. She walked over and stood about ten feet in front of where Courtney knelt, so that the girl could not fail to observe her.
The object was a very large black dildo, and it was attached to a harness which the woman drew up her legs and strapped in place over her groin.
Courtney blinked and felt a sudden shock ripple through her body. The woman had already taken more intimacies with her than any other woman, but it was evident she intended far more. Part of her was horrified. She didn’t want anything to do with women, and most certainly not THIS horrible woman! Yet what could she do? She was still gagged, and jumping up and trying to run would seem absurd, not to mention that the woman looked easily able to overpower her if she wanted to.
Perhaps just as importantly, despite her not being attracted to women, despite her not particularly appreciating the exercises and posing the woman had forced upon her, her mind was enveloped in a hot, hazy sexual desire which had only grown as she had been ordered about, as the quirt had snapped against her or caressed her, as the woman had put her into obscene positions and sneered down at her. Courtney was even more dripping wet than she had been when the woman had removed the dildo from her, and that desire was overwhelming her sense of modesty, her sense of proprieties, and her sense of self.
She might not want to have sex with a woman, and especially not this one, but her body wanted something big and hard inside it, and she felt her insides squirming as the woman smirked at her and then walked casually towards her, the big, thick dildo sticking out from her groin.
“I’m going to show you what it means to be a slave,” the woman said. “Don’t consider this to be in any way sexual. Think of it as merely a businesslike training session.”
Chapter Seven
Courtney's mind spun as the Black woman knelt behind her on the mat, and she couldn’t repress a groan as she felt the fat head of the dildo push against her moist, swollen, quivering sex. She was kneeling, laying, in the most submissive, most obscenely open and vulnerable position she could imagine, and now the woman was slowly forcing an immensely thick, long dildo down into the quivering moist heat of her sex.
She moaned again, her mind rebelling against her submitting to such a sexual attack from a woman, and her hands moved as though to push herself upright. But she suddenly felt a harsh grip on the back of her neck, her collar yanked down even as pressure forced her chin back onto the floor.
“Don't move, slave,” the woman said harshly.
Courtney moaned louder, her body squirming helplessly as the thick dildo pushed remorselessly up the tight, elastic tube of her sex, sliding deeper and deeper into the hot, wet furnace of her lower belly. Her eyes were wide and wild, and that a woman was, in effect, mounting her, continued to jolt her mind with terrible discomfort and embarrassment.
Yet the feel of the dildo sliding deeper inside her could not have been more incredible, the sensations more intensely delicious. Her pussy had been craving something hard in it for some time now, and finally, finally it was getting what it wanted. Her body was awash in a raw, animal hunger as the woman gripped her hair, yanking it back and down, then slapped her bottom sharply.
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