The Marquis' Book of Pleasure & Property of the Marquis

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “How dare you call yourselves slaves,” he started as he paced back and forth in front of them with his eyes like daggers pinning them to the wall behind them. “How dare you be so presumptuous, wasting our time in this silly pursuit! You think we have such freedom that we can attend a gathering like this on the spur of the moment, only to have such paltry examples passed off as true sex slaves? I have seen nothing here to commend you.” He shook his head in disgust. “It would be my advice to your masters that they collar you, chain you, and beat you morning and night for six months before they try to teach you anything more. You need to meditate on surrender!”

  He stood before Laney, and seeing her tears, slapped her face. “Slaves don’t snivel!”

  Moving to Elise, he stared down at the diminutive woman, then grabbed her hair. “Every hair on your head should be shaved off. This gives you too much pride, bitch.”

  Sighting Sandra, he took a nipple in his grip and squeezed, and squeezed more while her lips trembled and her eyes moistened—she did all she could to hold back the flood of burning tears knowing that he wouldn’t tolerate such weakness.

  “Release their hands,” he spoke to Essex and Gina, who quickly had the three slaves free.

  “Now get out of those clothes…” he ordered. He pushed Sandra back so that she nearly tumbled to the floor. Only her determination not to falter kept her on her feet.

  Moments later, the expensive satin lay discarded in the dirt, while a pair of rigorous hands settled on each slave moving them into bondage.

  Essex captured Elise by her collar, drawing her to the horizontal rack, where she stood naked, shaking with fright and expectancy surging through her small body. Admiring her nipples, Essex’s look of calm sophistication turned devious as he took from his pants’ pocket a pair of lead weighted pinchers. “These will hurt,” he advised her, “especially as the pain compounds over time.” Though his words were grim, his face was almost gleeful as he opened the small devices and placed them over each of Elise’s nipples. With the sudden shock she bit down on her lip; though as the shock eased to a dull ache, she knew she could live with the feeling, and even find some pleasure in its crude feel. Essex looked at her as though he read her thoughts. And hooking five-inch chains to the ends of devices, he snickered playfully, “Don’t worry, your nipple torture has hardly begun. You’ll be ravaged by its delights before we’re through.”

  Moving his slave to the rack, Essex instructed Elise to climb on face down. And with a torrent of excitement barging through her system, she settled in on the mesh of wooden struts spread-eagle, waiting to be bound. Her arms were outstretched at shoulder level and clamped into thick cuffs, while her parted legs were anchored with leather straps at the ankles and thighs to make certain that there was minimal movement. Her small torso adjusted to the fit of the simple bars at her hips, waist, and above her breasts. Dangling straight down from her pinched nipples, the weighted chains began to tug her flesh with a significant burn. Despite the discomfort, an agonizingly rich flood of desire attacked her crotch, turning it wet and her pussy amazingly hot as though it might pour its liquid like molten lava.

  With Elise’s ass appropriately exposed, Essex moved on it with hands, probes and a leather paddle. He would have her ass—the flesh, her anus, and the interior channel worked to a frenzy, until she orgasmed from the depths of her surrender and demanded more. But he was a patient master and would take his time as he brought this slave into the dark realms of anal satisfaction and indulgence.

  While Elise was bound, Darius led Sandra to the standing rack. Eyes gleaming with fury, mind consumed with his schemes, he assailed the voluptuous slave with ropes, binding her breasts into a wickedly intense display of flesh. Her two generous orbs were encircled twice, the cords in figure eights around her shoulders and crossing in front. With her chest trussed in the unnatural pose, she looked down to see the ends of her tits blushing with pink as they filled with blood; and the very tips, her nipples, looking abnormally large.

  Though the bondage at her groin would be less startling to look at, Darius proceeded to constrain his slave, expertly binding her waist, thighs and cunt. Thick rope skirted the sides of her clitoris with the cords holding her labia apart and then attaching to the upper bindings. The procedure was vaguely reminiscent of the corset’s cords, which opened her pussy to view. But this was far more crude. With each knot secured in the elaborate device, Sandra turned more inwards. It was a feeling she’d repeated often since these scenes of submission had begun; but this time she was taken down a perilous path. Jason was absent from the scene; and she was left on her own to find her way with a new master she could not yet trust. She proceeded on faith and desire alone, wishing somewhere, maybe off in the corner of the cellar, Jason was there watching, and his bountiful heart was there to give her courage.

  Having his slave bound to his liking, Darius continued shackling Sandra to the vertical rack with her arms and legs spread wide and to her sides. With her pussy exposed to a startling degree, she clenched inside being fearful of what pleasures this skilled master could devise.

  Strange how he stared her down, eyes assaulting her like two sharp lasers—as though they were another set of ropes with another set of plans to make real. More than any man, more than even Jason ever could, this master had her locked inside his twisted world, ready to surrender without reservation to the lust that boiled from within his nefarious kingdom; he made her thoughts of Jason slip away. He continued with fingers at the doorway of her cunt, and others pinching a blood-engorged nipple. Inside she shrieked, her body recoiled; but she was with him, going nowhere but where his schemes would take her.

  While her friends were immobilized, Laney watched from the sidelines. Her mistress was not so quick to have her bound; she preferred the subtle, taunting approach to torture, the one that worked on the mind in a deliberately acerbic sense. Gina found pleasure driving a psychic stake through the heart as much as she delighted in the physical extremes. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t give this slave a good dose of sexual torment; but that could wait. Everything was in the timing, and the timing was not yet right.

  Standing behind the mesmerized slave, the Mistress whispered in her ear. “You’ll call me Mistress, bitch. You have that clear?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “And you’ll lick my feet.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “And you’ll thank me for my efforts.”

  “Yes, Mistress Gina.”

  “Very good. At least you learn quickly. But there’s so much more with me. Your friends are simple slaves while you are a complex bitch.” She grabbed Laney’s collar and pulled back, while her long fingers reached around and caught a nipple. “You think you know what pleasure is, slave. But you only know half of it. You think you know surrender, but you’ve only surrendered a teensy little piece of who you are.” The woman scowled and clutched her breast in a steely twisting fist. “You don’t need a master, you need me. You need a slut bitch who knows your female heart. Who understands what machinations your mind takes to avert your submission. You have a hundred excuses rattling through your brain… Oh! Your masters think you’ve submitted by your practiced forms of surrender, but none have come close to putting you on your knees.” She bit off each word as though it were fresh meat. “You need cunning. You need someone who understands your insidious and deceitful heart. You need me, bitch. You understand that, slave?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “You understand that Laney Priestly?”

  She used her name—spitefully so—how would she know that?”

  Mistress Gina’s fingernail dug into the soft flesh of Laney’s tit, setting off a little shriek inside her victim. “Does that hurt?”

  Laney didn’t know to answer.

  “I asked you a question!” the woman came quickly to her front and slapped her face.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Better,” she conceded, though she was hardly conceding anything. The t
wisted smirk on her red lips yielded nothing in this slave’s favor. If it were possible to hate a stranger with the venom of an injured spouse, then her contempt was proof that this was possible. Curling her lips with judgment, she strutted around the anxious Laney carrying her baton, occasionally whapping the cutting end against the slave’s thighs, buttocks and breasts—to which Laney jerked while she silently screamed inside.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever been in suspension bondage?” the harsh woman postulated.

  This time, Laney wisely didn’t answer, having guessed correctly that the question was purely rhetorical.

  “It’s not a feat any initiate should be subject to… but you, you’re special, aren’t you? You can take the worst of it. What your friends in slavery are enduring would be so easy for you,” she mockingly referred to the bound Elise and Sandra, while digging the end of the baton into Laney’s side. “Look how they squirm… how their muscles are being primed for the worst… look at them…” she grabbed Laney’s chin and forced her gaze first at Elise and then Sandra. Each one was inside some present pain, Essex and Darius working them to profound depths. Laney envied them.

  “My friend is going to have his way inside that little bitch’s ass,” Gina continued her mocking monologue. “He’ll widen her until she screams, then fuck it like a crazed lunatic. And your tenderhearted blonde bimbo gets Darius… some say he took the master’s course from hell—some say he’s kin to our Marquis. Me? I work the craft because it keeps me sane.” The woman paced defiantly, finding more barbs inside her mind to preach. “When it’s over, when this island is just in your dreams and the three of you are basking in triumph, back in control of your world, you will remember this day, you’ll remember me. I won’t let you forget, slut. You’ll have something to haunt you. Trust me, you worthless bitch, you will never forget.”

  There was movement in the room, to Laney’s left where the doorway opened into the cellar corridor. Guests from upstairs were slowly making their way into the dungeon, moving cautiously to meld with the awesome activity they witnessed.

  “You’re strong, you work out. You have handsome muscles in these arms,” Gina strutted about the anxious slave inspecting Laney’s physical assets. “Let’s see how you survive this struggle. Let’s see.” She turned away. “Darius!” she called to her fellow master, finding the man disinclined to obey her commanding voice until he was ready.

  Having his own slave to torture, he continued working Sandra with small torments that shocked her system raw. Adding to her confining bondage were a string of clothespins in a semi-circle from mid-thigh to mid-thigh. With each new pin added to the slave’s crotch, Sandra winced, though her gaze remained focused on the master’s eyes. His, like love, enveloped her. If only that fierce glance didn’t stray, she would be safe.

  “Gina,” he finally turned to the waiting woman. “You want your chattel strung up?”

  The haughty femme smiled.

  Turning back to Sandra, Darius captured her gaze again. “Focus on me, slave. Not on my eyes—but on what I do. Keep them focused no matter how they wish to stray and you’ll survive this. Let them drift, the pain will burst through you in contemptuous strikes and you will not contain your agony.”

  It tore at Sandra’s soul to have the master turn away. His glance was barbarous, but it kept her transfixed. Would his warning do as well to ease the throbbing beat of pain arising from her pinned groin? She stared his way intently. As more people gathered in the room, some moved toward her as if they’d steal away her thoughts; but she kept her focus forward and her mind on Master Darius while she said her desperate prayers.

  In the corner of the room, Mistress Gina crouched behind her slave, attaching heavy bands around Laney’s ankles, while Darius peered into the depths of this slave’s moist eyes.

  “Suspension can be heaven, or you can make it hell,” he said. He had her hands in his warm, efficient ones, lacing long sturdy cuffs snuggly around her wrists. The bonds were specifically designed for suspension, having extra padding at stress points to minimize the physical strain. Already feeling the pull on her muscles, the arousal in her crotch began to breed. “She is brutal, but perhaps you need this, slave.” He snickered, then mused aloud, “Perhaps, someday I’ll tug your strings as darkly as this mistress will today.” Taking each of Laney’s wrists, Darius stretched them high, and fixed the rings embedded in either side of the cuffs to chains on the ends of a three-foot bar. “Don’t cry,” he warned, “keep your humiliation inside.” He gave her one last stare, and having said his piece in his straightforward fashion, he moved to the side of the room to operate the pulleys.

  Mistress Gina, having finished binding Laney’s ankles to a spreader bar, stood back watching as Darius turned the crank to draw the chains up tight and slowly lift the slave’s feet off the floor. Laney’s muscles responded, giving her some support, though there was terror etched in her expression as she worried how much she could bear. Every minute would be its own forever. It was wrong to fight the suspension and her fear. Struggle would be useless and only strain her muscles further. With a quick, nervous glance at the side of the room, her eyes fell on Erik as though he might give her some support. But his stare, like that of every other master and mistress in the room, was calculatingly cold and without empathy. Slaves didn’t deserve as much.

  A ruthless show greeted Jason, Matthew and Erik when they entered the cellar’s dungeon. The frightening exhibition at first annoyed them all. Seeing their slaves in bondage to other masters was a stab of humiliation at their lack of control none of them liked. But the poses were hot, and their slaves looking unabashedly carnal with a lustrous layer of perspiration to makes their bodies glow. While Laney’s eyes were languidly mellow, Sandra’s breathed in erotic rhythms as she adjusted to the pain moving through her crotch. And Elise’s ass, getting worked with a leather paddle, anal plugs and fucking fingers seemed to dance weightlessly on air as it took the heavy punishment. Each gave dark witness to the depths of their erotic surrender, and the power it had to guide them far beyond what was sane and merciful.

  “Yes, he’s here, bitch. But you’re mine now,” Mistress Gina snapped, with lips pursed venomously as she noted Laney’s roving eyes. “Trust me, he’ll give you no sympathy, nor will any other master or mistress in this room.” She forcefully pulled Laney’s face around with a hand that grabbed her chin like a claw. “You’re gonna get the shock of your life, so you’d better be very good to me. You’d better beg me well, and you’d better prepare to give me everything I want. That clear?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Her eyes didn’t waver now. She didn’t dare. While the Mistress Gina moved around, crashing her thin baton against her flesh, Laney gazed forward, thoughtlessly, letting sensation rule and her thoughts disappear.

  On the far rack, Elise’s ass was riddled with red blotches of color appearing all over the fleshy orbs and down her thighs. Essex increased the size of his anal probes as though he had some specific purpose in mind. The more the distressed portal widened, the more thrilled he became, the more his hands probed deep when he withdrew the dildos and plunged his fingers inside. His stressed slave had never been worked so determinedly, her body never abused with such vile intent. Though each device shoved into her ass seemed more impossible to tolerate, she refused to reveal the agony. Letting the pain go free, she accepted more and more of Essex’s dogged probing, becoming anxious to please the man and give him all he asked for.

  The final expanding dildo remained for some minutes in the slave’s behind as Elise adjusted to the augmentation, and Essex stepped away. The businesslike master snapped a slick latex glove over his hand and lubricated it with a slippery liquid. Returning to his slave, the master slowly withdrew the anal dildo and prepared for his finale.

  The last thrust of Essex’s hand was the best of all. Elise squealed when he forced his way inside her, but her mindless acceptance of the invasion allowed the inevitable end to follow. Essex’s fist—quite slim for a man�
�s—at last slipped fully into her nether regions and settled deeply working the channel in a slow, rhythmic pulse.

  Elise could hardly contain the pain and the deepening pleasure of this physical battle, as she struggled to remain in control of the awesome sensation bounding through her. The fire moved from her ass, to other regions of her body, sparking an inward, orgasmic feel quite different from a clitoral spasm. Even the weighted chains tugging at her nipples and breasts added to the extremes of this crude indulgence. Her whole body turned into one great climaxing feast.

  It was not enough that Essex fucked her ass with his fist. Sensing her mounting cum, he started to withdraw and prepared for the final assault. Cock perched and ready, the hefty thing slipped inside the empty cavity and rocked the slave with the force of thunder. Her body crashed into its climax with Elise tearing at her bonds. But remaining bound, she was contained and inside the pleasure, while Essex finished himself and offered her to the gathering throng.

  While Elise came, in the other corner of the dungeon, Sandra’s eyes pleaded for mercy with Darius standing before her with his whip. Readjusted to his liking, the rack was now horizontal, giving him full and easy access to both Sandra’s cunt and mouth—he’d use both.

  Beginning with her crotch, the skilled master snapped the leather thongs, picking the chain of clothespins off Sandra’s thighs one by one. The surrounding crowd listened to the ardent screeches of the tormented slave as a spike of pain flashed like lightning through her flesh. Though she shrieked, her body moved in delightful fits of energy. Her cunt was moist, becoming more so with each pinching clothespin his whip severed from her skin.

  “Sheeeeahhhhhhhhhhh!” her voice ripped the room, and then another thwack of the whip whisked another clothespin to the floor. When all were lying scattered below, Darius moved around the rack while a second master moved between Sandra’s thighs.