The Pleasure Palace

by Caroline Swift

  Lalaniere welted both buttock mounds until there remained no trace of unwhipped flesh; somewhere in her crazed, floundering brain, Verena’s huge, rich arse came back to her. It sufficed to set her vagina firmly on the highroad to orgasm.

  Then Vasa slammed hard into the belly again. Her whip had knots enclosing lead weights but it was the shredded tips that carved a gash below the navel and set the slave writhing and yelping once more, the path to her climax becoming mired with pain.

  Oblivious of what followed the white-hot explosions, Marina tried to come but then surrendered and passed out in a convulsion of misery laced with jolts of approaching pleasure she was unable to harness. She sagged by the wrists, her legs trembling.

  Suddenly her body resurrected, alive and vibrant, Lalaniere’s rigid cock and bristle ring were boring into her and had passed the compliant sphincter. She recognized it spontaneously as he slid in deliciously, despite the crusty circle of bristles; ramming hard, the prodigious shaft butted against the thin membrane high up within her, while her anal muscle clutched the root of the penis, as Lalaniere himself had made her practise night after night; the man’s pelvis ground into the blood trickling from the broached buttock. Marina spread her legs, bending forward in rapture to enjoy the gift out of the blue.

  Then, almost more inconceivable was the sultry breath on her cheek as Vasa in turn locked horns with her, grabbing the two nipple rings in one hand, the huge dildo in the other, to drive the rubber-ribbed monster up into the soused, swollen vagina. The hard rod gouged Marina to the maximum of her elasticity, until it was butting against the cervix, jousting with the thrusts of the male cock behind. Marina rode the two insertions with a fury that dissolved whatever pain remained of the floggings and tortures. Brought divinely by Vasa’s lunges to the first of four superb climaxes, she came almost simultaneously with the scalding discharge Lalaniere spumed into her bowels. And then Vasa herself orgasmed formidably brought off by the surrounding base of the dildo bearing on her clitoris. As she came, Vasa seemed to release thick liquid up into the slave’s innards, juice she pumped in both directions, into Marina and into herself, by squeezing on the dangling ball sack of the artifact. Marina could not believe her good fortune as she raved through more orgasms. After the blinding flashes had destroyed her, she admitted the crescendo was worth the whole maniacally rigorous welter of the session.

  Without warning, Marina was relieved of her hood and gag. The sweat pouring down her shaven brow at first impeded her from taking in the scene. Then her eyes adjusted to the red glare - in fact only a glow - of the stage lights and the semidarkness of the cellar.

  The voice from the chair seemed to issue from outer space.

  “Do you now regret your crime, slave? Or should we flog you further?”

  Gathering what saliva she could, Marina strove to reply. She was weak from her yelling and more so from the orgasms that had ripped through her.

  “I apologize for my disobedience, Master. As a common slave again, I shall obey and try to work my way up again into your good graces. Thank you for punishing me.”

  The gaunt face smiled from the chair. “You took it well. Be cautious from now on.”

  Hours later, Marina found herself in Cell Three, chained by the ankles, head down, to a ring high up on the masonry, her cunt chains removed. With an indelible pen Sandra was busy inscribing fresh digits on the ribs just below the damaged breast.

  “There, they’ve given you a new number, bitch.” The girl’s insolence stunned Marina as though she had been given a jolt from the cattle prod. “You’ve got to start life from the foot of the ladder again as a flogging slave. You’ll have to heal up a trifle before your next bout of sex torture, won’t you, whore? You look atrocious. No one will even take a second glance at you as you are. And, by the way, you have to obey me from now on. I’m in charge of your botched pig pen of a body. One mistake, honey, and I’ll give you a taste of the flesh rake, as you used to say...”

  Relegated finally to her bunk in the Slave Hall after cursory attention from the newly inducted nurse, Marina grew disconsolate, her once sparkling blue-green eyes like pebbles deep in some distant mountain stream, awash with tears of loneliness. None of her former colleagues, leave alone the fresh intakes and trainees, would approach her; many had suffered hell from the compulsive flogger’s hand prior to her disgrace. Not even Pierre Lalaniere made the effort to console her or even whip her, replacing her once superb body by Sandra’s, who in fact fucked and fellated just as commendably...

  It was well into the small hours several nights later that Marina felt a warm, well-fleshed female body, naked and ringed, insinuating itself into her bunk. As the creature cuddled up beside her, the skin had a strange but familiar texture and pungency. Whoever was risking her life by slinking in between a disgraced slave’s sheets at such an hour must have some motive or be sex starved. The body was actually offering itself in complete darkness to a discredited slave only just recovering from a public flagellation.

  “You have forgiven me, haven’t you, Marina darling? I’m so glad you’re back here in our old dorm again. They made me watch you being flogged and tortured down there the other night and I was so proud of you. You were so brave, so beautiful...”

  The voice gave Marina a shock that deprived her of breath. Verena! Verenka, naked in bed next to her, kissing the bruised nipples... Verena, of all living creatures!

  “Let me lick you down there, darling, where they whipped you...” A manacled wrist was already straying to Marina’s sore crotch. It was the same hand and the same husky, bewitching tone that had haunted the Quai d’Anjou and groaned in endless ecstasy.

  “I’ll do it so, so gently, darling,” the voice murmured. “Oh, how I love you...”

  “1 can’t believe it, Verenka!” Marina whispered. “I’m sorry, darling, I whipped you like that I don’t know what got into me. You’ll just have to forgive me. Only, you did leave me high and dry, remember.”

  “Dry! You were never dry with me on top of you, darling.” Then it was Verena’s turn to pause. “I’m going to make love to you. I’ll do it ever so gently but first I want to ask you something, something very special.”

  She hesitated again. “Would you whip me again, naked and chained like the other night? I loved it, darling.”

  Marina’s heart missed a beat and then accelerated. “You did? Really?” Her throat had tightened. “Well, I can’t. Because I’m no longer an overseer.”

  “Yes, of course. But one day... For now at least you can make love, no?”

  She made Marina reverse in the bunk to soixante-neuf herself under her. Each set of trembling fingers fumbled a moment among the other’s rings to unglue the swollen vulvas.

  “For Pete’s sake, don’t wake the others, darling.” Marina’s whisper was lost as she lapped ravenously into the orifice. Intoxicated with an odour and taste she had almost forgotten, she pursed her lips over Verena’s superb clit and slid down to the ring.

  Nothing Beaucastel had to offer could possibly rival this legendary stem of sexual lust.

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