by beltedone
Seated around the room were five beautiful women of various ages from thirty to fifty. They were all well dressed with gold jewelry dripping from their bodies. Soft, light jazz played from hidden speakers.
They were the new movers and shakers of New York—the women who had achieved a level a success equal to or greater than their male peers in business, law, or finance. And they liked their pleasures. They were all wearing dresses, and as 9 would learn, they weren’t wearing panties.
They were lunching on caviar, lobster salad, and champagne, chatting among themselves while men or women serviced them with their tongues. They would smile, laugh at something someone said, not acknowledging the talented tongues that were kissing and licking their bodies. Once or twice, one would let a quiet squeal or moan out as they orgasmed. Then, the male or female slave would lick them clean and retreat to a side wall to be called on again.
9 was directed to a wall to stand and wait. It didn’t take long before one of the women waved him over. It was Eve, the corporate lawyer that so enjoyed teasing 6. She parted her legs and said to 9, “Make it last; I like it slow. And don’t back away if I spray you. I like to see you covered in my nectar.” Then, she returned to her conversation with her friend. 9 noticed that 6 was servicing her friend, and she was eliciting some serious moaning from the client.
6 was an expert at the fine art of cunnlingus. She kissed those lips passionately, licking them with enthusiasm. Her pointed tongue was so talented that she could brush one edge then another, feathering those lips with licks and kisses as light as a butterfly’s wings. 9 wanted to ask her how she learned to do that and hoped the lesson would be fun.
“Eyes on my pussy not the help,” Eve growled, and 9 went to work, kneeling between her legs and starting to kiss and lick. He was not the first to service her that day, and her reddened pussy lips and clitoris were testament to her several orgasms.
9 slowly and softly kissed her lower lips, trying to copy 6’s technique. The feeling was not unpleasant. He smelled her and got a whiff of strawberries. She was delectable. His cock stirred in the chastity belt. All he felt was the tightness as it tried to swell in the narrow tube.
Eve noticed his grimace and said, “Ah, a newbie. Does the chastity belt crimp your style, honey?” She laughed, took off her shoe, and stroked the metal band between his legs with her stockinged foot, making sure to caress his hairless thighs.
“Can you feel that, honey? Don’t you wish you could? Don’t you wish you could fuck me with your tiny dick? No more cummies for you. Maybe never again. Perhaps, I’ll buy you and keep you locked forever. Does that make you harder in your nasty cock prison?”
She smiled at him and then turned to her friend who was enjoying the mean teasing too.
“That makes me so wet when you are cruel like that.”
“If you like that, you have to come to some sessions here at night. I love to make the slaves cry.”
He remembered what he was taught and slowly and carefully kissed and licked those sweet, soft lips. The taste was like nothing he had ever tasted before. Not bad, but different and exotic. His tongue took over and almost proceeded without his mind. He wetted her. Then, when her juices mixed with his, he moved the tongue side to side. This got the first small moan from Eve. 9 seemed to have the ability to slowly move his tongue at the perfect speed, not too fast, not too slow.
As he slowly and carefully entered her hot and slippery pussy, she said, “Good boy. For a newbie, you show talent.”
9 looked over and saw that 6’s head was bobbed in and out of the crotch she was servicing. Both women were talking and joking about a merger that went bad that might aversely affect Eve’s husband.
Eve said, “If he loses his job over it, I’ll nail his balls to a chair.”
“You know about his affairs at work, don’t you?”
“Sigh, yes. He can never keep those things private. I have told him if his affairs blow up in his face, I’ll make his life a living hell. And I will. Being a mafia princess has some advantages. Daddy knows people who know people. He could find himself in a barrel in the swamps of Jersey.”
The other woman laughed. All the slaves in the room were servicing their clients, and small squeals and moans could be heard through the room.
Wo Tun, standing in a corner was pleased. Lady Victoria’s idea of a Ladies’ Luncheon for the new power elite seemed to be a success. They could service five to ten a day for five days a week. Then, there was the happy-hour trade. Why should the males be the only ones having a quickie before dinner?
Eve was slowly giving way to the intense pleasure that 9 was providing. He could feel the muscles in her vagina contract, and he knew she was close to orgasm. She flipped her legs over 9’s shoulders and started squeezing his head so hard, he thought his head would burst. He looked at Eve and realized she knew what she was doing. Her evil smile told him that hurting him was turning her on. She started to hold her breath in short spurts and let it out in long exhales.
Then, the woman next to Eve yelled, “You damn slob,” and 9 heard a smack. He looked over to see 6 holding her face.
“I spilled my champagne on my blouse because of you.”
She hit 6 several times in the face then reached over and picked up a heavy glass flower vase to smash into 6’s head when 9 lunged over and caught her wrist in mid-swing. The client looked like she wanted to kill 6, and it took all of 9’s strength to hold her back.
9 felt a kick and was pushed away by Eve who used her boot to her advantage.
Wo Tun was on the scene in an instant, throwing 9 to the side and calming the two women.
“Who is going to pay for this blouse? This is a Gucci blouse.”
Wo Tun said, “A thousand pardons, Miss. We will compensate you for the blouse. Just send us the bill.”
Eve said, “I want them both punished. They ruined our lunch. I have half a mind to tell my friends not to come here anymore.”
Won Tun replied, “They will be severely punished for their behavior, and please accept these replacements with our sincerest apologies.”
He waved over another boy and girl, and the ladies smiled, sat back down, and spread their legs.
Wo Tun said to 6 and 9, “You two will be severely punished. You never learn. You are here to satisfy the customers.” He looked at 9 and said, “And you never raise your hand to a customer. Now, go to your cells. I will remotely lock you in.”
6 and 9 walked down the corridor to their cells. 6 whispered to 9, “Why did you do that? I’d have taken the beating. I’ve taken worse. This place is a cake walk compared to the crack house they found me in.”
9 replied in a whisper, “I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t let them hurt you.”
“Don’t ever do it again. We take our licks here. Now, we’ll both get spanked, and Won Tun loves to punish my white butt.”
And that is exactly what happened. In front of the entire group of slaves, 6 was spanked until she cried like a baby. It was very unlike a child being swatted on the rump a few times. Wo Tun was devious in his punishments. He’d bring his rock-hard palm down on a soft cheek ten times in succession, examine the cheek for redness and continue like he was a scientist performing an experiment.
He’d do the other cheek ten times then examine it. He would switch cheeks with each spank for ten or twenty spanks. The sound of his smacking filled the air. Over and over, he spanked without stopping. He extended the punishment for a very long time, slowly bringing the victim to a place of pain and despair.
When he was finished, 6’s rear was on fire and nothing could quench the heat. 6 would remember her transgression for many days and the consequences of that transgression.
Tun gently caressed the bright red, bruised buns, and when even the lightest of touches produced screams of pain, he knew that 6 had been sufficiently disciplined.
He pushed her off his lap, and she plopped onto the floor, feet first. She rubbed her very bruised buns, tears still rolling down her cheeks
.
He said, “A slave can make phony noises when they are spanked, but the tears and abandon cannot be disguised. The flaming redness cannot be faked. I can spank for hours without causing bleeding or hematoma. When you cry like a baby, when you scream in anguish, I know you have been broken. And, you know I know. You see, it is the perfect punishment. Your bright red buns will show all what will happen to them if they misbehave.”
When it was 9’s turn, he learned that a simple thing like a slap on one’s ass could have so many meanings. It was humiliating being put over Tun’s knee like a child. He was spanked in front of the others, so there was shame. Tun knew that spanking an ass properly required knowledge of human anatomy. He spanked directly on the buns, but he also spanked the top and the sides, knowing that these particular places created the most pain in a subject.
Once again, the hard hand came down over and over on 9’s tender buns. He was spanked twenty times on one bun then twenty times on the other. Tun spanked one cheek then the other twenty times then examined 9’s rear and deemed he was not done yet. He then gave each cheek 100 hard strokes. He caressed each cheek and knew when 9 whimpered, he was on the right track.
Wo Tun said, “The heat from your buns is truly excellent. I could warm my hands from your rear. No need for heat in your cell tonight. Your buns will keep you warm.”
And the crying that Tun elicited from him was embarrassing too. He tried so hard not to cry, but in the end, he cried like a baby. Tun slowly drew it out of him like a courtesan draws out an orgasm. Tun was a master of pain. He seemed to know every pressure point in a person’s body and how to use it to give pain or pleasure.
Later, he was told that Tun was an expert in human pressure points. He could touch a nerve center with a finger or thumb and produce either extreme pain or pleasure. 6 had seen him use it to make a slave pass out.
Tun made them both apologize like small children with their heads bowed.
When it was over, Tun looked at the assembled group and said, “You will be perfectly pleasing, or you will find yourself over my knee. Is that clear?”
Everyone nodded and scurried to their cells like frightened little mice.
Later that night, as 9 was trying for the thousandth time to find a way to sit that didn’t hurt, he heard a faint tapping on the wall that divided his cell from 6’s. He followed the tapping to the far corner, watched as some mortar was scrapped away between the old bricks, and was delighted to see a tiny piece of 6’s face.
It seemed that the builders used a cheap mortar in some reconstruction work that was easily chipped away.
6 whispered, “Hi, want to talk? If we whisper, they can’t hear us.”
9 was delighted.
They talked about nothing for hours that first night, safe in the knowledge that Lady Victoria and Tun could not hear them. They talked as if they were drowning and talk was air. They poured out their entire lives to each other. All the pain and all the hurt.
6 told about her rocky childhood and her shattered surfing dreams.
9 told of his abusive father and the high standards that his father set that he could never achieve. He cried when he told 6 of his high school football father 6’5” screaming at his 5’5” son when he didn’t make the JV football team. And he told of his secret that he liked strong women who protected him.
At first, 6 thought he might be gay, but he wasn’t. He was just a guy with needs outside the norm. This struck a chord with her, because in her life, she had been a tomboy playing boy sports. She was a little rough but didn’t like rough boys.
6 learned that 9 was a very nurturing male who loved children and his kitchen. He bounced from one high-pressure accounting job to another, because he could never be the cutthroat the corporate masters wanted. He was just a good, gentle guy who liked kids and kitchens, and 6 wondered what would happen to a gentle guy in a place like this. Something new in her kicked in—a nurturing instinct she never knew was there.
She told him that she was in a crack house when Wo Tun found her.
“It was much worse than this place. They beat the crap out of me. Whored the girls out to sick perverts. When one died of an OD, they threw them away like so much garbage. Every disease in the world passed through that place.”
6 spent her time on a filthy mattress while guys lined up to use her. It was a hell on earth.
“So don’t whine to me about this place. Here, you get 3 squares, no rough stuff, and the guests are checked for diseases. Sure, I might get sold, I understand that, but Lady V usually places girls in nice homes. It’s a better life than a lot could get on their own.”
“But don’t you want more than this?”
“Yeah, I’d like a new arm, a sponsor, and a perfect wave. I’d like a perfect BMX track and new legs.”
9 whispered, “I’d like a little place of my own with someone who loves me. I’d like a good kitchen to bake in and kids around my feet.”
“I hope you get it, baby.”
“I hope you do too.”
They were wrong about their conversations. Victoria’s microphones picked up every word. When the Lady ran the recording, she smiled an evil smile to Tun who smiled an evil smile back at her. Eyebrows went up and down in unison, and Tun let out a guffaw. They had them. Breaking them would just be a matter of time.
CHAPTER SIX -
Dinner with a Side Order of
Crocodiles
Things became routine at the Institute. 9 started to enjoy his work in the kitchen. He baked scones, muffins, pies, cakes, and breads. Wang To, the tiny Asian chef, wasn’t pleased that 9 liked to cook American specialties, but as long as he did the chopping and clean up when he was supposed to, he tolerated his new helper.
Wang was amazing with a knife. His hands moved so fast that they were a blur. He could chop, dice, and have the veggies in a pot before 9 could pull out the unused food processor.
Wong also could do tricks. Another refugee from North Korea, his talent was training recruits in silent killing. He could balance a razor-sharp knife on his index finger, flip it high in the air, and catch it by the hilt. He could take any knife in his kitchen, throw it 20 feet and hit his target dead center every time. He usually did this at the end of preparing an involved meal. It was very dramatic.
9 was amazed at Wang’s skill. He could make a knife disappear and appear in the other hand as if by magic. He delighted in amazing 9. At last, he had an audience for his tricks.
After a few sessions in the kitchen when they had formed a grudging friendship, 9 asked Wang if he could learn to use a knife like Wang did.
Wang looked around to make sure Tun was not around and said, “I will teach you a few things. But we must be careful. I doubt if Tun would appreciate me giving you fighting skills, although he could disarm you quicker than you could draw a weapon.”
“I didn’t mean like that. I’d never hurt anyone. I just think what you do is cool.”
“Ok, I will teach you what I know. It is more than just knife work, you know. You have to know a little bit about the martial arts and Jujitsu before you can use a knife properly. We’ll talk. Just don’t tell Tun. First thing you have to know is how to deal with a big man. Big guys have advantages, but they have disadvantages too. You get inside a big man, you can do damage. And they can be slow. So, we will make you fast.
“Now, chop me three cups of carrots and show me your technique with a chopper. You Americans with your food processors. You are too lazy. Cooking is a dirty business. You have to get dirty to do it properly. You have to touch the food and feel its texture. You can’t cook from a distance.”
It was a Saturday night, which meant a dinner in the drawing room or, as 6 called it, the draw and quarter room. At seven, ten couples in black formal wear arrived via limos. They were the truly beautiful people of New York, in their late 20s to 40s, well dressed and well mannered. They glided into chairs in a sitting room. A string quartet played classical music in a corner of the room. They all seemed to kn
ow each other and chatted effortlessly about the market, the courtroom, and the latest scandal.
The slaves, naked except for their chastity bands, served cocktails and appetizers. Everyone was pleasant, although the guests delighted in touching and fondling the slaves. This was disconcerting to 9 when the first female guest did it to him, running a hand down his inner thigh but doubly so when the first male guest did it. He was pinched a lot as the newbie, and his squeals delighted the group to no end.
Lady Victoria came out in a stunning gown to greet her guests. The dress hugged her gorgeous body like a second skin. Someone whispered that it was Oscar de la Renta. Someone else commented that Lady Victoria got all the new arrivals from the top designers.
9 could hear the open jealousy dripping from her voice.
It was black satin with black ruffles down the side with a red edge on the ruffles that went up to her matching red lipstick. Thus, all eyes were drawn to those amazing, full red lips. She wore her black hair up, and her swan-like neck was shown to great advantage.
Diamond-drop earrings sparkled in the lights. She smiled at one of the female guests and started to talk to her about an IPO that was the talk of the town. It would make someone a billionaire.
After an hour of small talk and a solo by a cellist, the guests were called into the dining room for a luscious feast. It began with a lobster bisque, continued with a salad and several main courses, including deer, wild boar, and seafood, finishing with an orange and chocolate mousse. After dinner, drinks were served. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. The food was excellent. The drinks flowed like water, and the conversation sparkled.
That is when 9 noticed the bowls of condoms and sex toys being brought out and realized that he and the other slaves would be the entertainment for the night. The table was cleared.
Lady Victoria said, “Enjoy the waiters and waitresses. They are your party favors. I just regret you can’t take them home. Although, if you like a particular one, you are more than welcome to put in a bid on one, and I will consider it when their time with me is done.”
