Never have I seen a bottom delight so in a licking. From my position I saw the moisture glint between her legs. That fanny rose into the air, kissing the strap as it was kissed by the strap.
M. Krempe had worked up a fine sweat. His upper body glistened, and muscles rippled along his back and shoulders, making him appear exceedingly handsome in my eyes. His eyes looked feverish and his cock muscle strained against the skin encasing it. He had gripped his cock in one hand, while lashing Crea with the other, but this apparently was not the most satisfying route.
At last he needed a reprieve. Instead of giving it up entirely, though, he handed the black strap to Henry with the command, "Continue, and make her scream."
A large smile spread across Crea's face. While Henry took his place I watched her rub her cock and clit against the Ottoman for relief. I felt I should be keeping a record of this experiment, but for the life of me I did not wish to divert my attention into a mental activity.
Henry's style was not the long, wide swing of the professor, but shorter, sharper strokes. The leather cracked faster, though perhaps not as hard. Still, quantity probably equaled the careful quality of his predecessor.
Henry strapped away, thoroughly enjoying himself. My cock burst its juices again, and I noticed that the professor had merely to touch himself below the waist and he, too, was shooting white cream into the air.
Crea grew ecstatic under Henry's strapping. She began to cry out, "Oh Master Cherval, Master, blister my bottom, Master."
Henry obliged her.
When he tired, it was my turn. Both M. Krempe and Henry were left handed and had taken up a position next to and behind Crea's right hip. I took the opposite side, being right handed, and also seeing that the end of the strap had marked her left cheek with harsh red lines running up and down. The poor right one had only the solid scorching red and nothing more. I aimed to alter that.
My own strokes were somewhere between the professor's and Henry's. I strapped her slowly, throwing my arm back behind me, but then increased the speed and shortened the strokes until they were nearly as quick and snappy as Henry's had been.
Crea loved it. She squirmed and sang my name and begged me to lick her as hard as I liked and as long as I liked, so that she might learn my ways.
I managed to utilize the strap on her purple derriere until the clock struck three, which was also the number of hours she had undergone her first punishment.
I then ordered her onto the floor. Henry took her anus, M. Krempe her womanly opening, while I allowed her to eat my member. He lolled in her mouth, letting her slippery tongue slide over him in an adoring manner. Then, when she began to draw him in, he thrust hard and deep, assuring her that he had his own plans.
The others came as quickly as I. And Crea came once for each of us.
While we three rested and planned our next game, I thought about the turn this experiment had taken. Crea, like Elizabeth, seemed insatiable when it came to both climax from the whipping and from penetration. I needed to talk with the others at length in order to ascertain just how best to channel her passions. With both a phallus and a vagina, I did not want to send this being to my Elizabeth without feeling assured that the one desire —for the external warming —would supersede the desire for internal warmth.
M. Krempe was questioning Crea about her experiences. She told him how the transit back into life felt familiar to her, although the shock of the lightning took her by surprise, particularly as it coursed through her nipples, her cock and vagina, jolting them in orgasm after orgasm. She determined that she needed to obey us in order to feel fulfilled, to which I noticed the professor nodding his head while he jotted down notes.
I watched Crea lying on the chaise on her tummy, knees bent so that her legs were up in the air, her raw fanny displayed proudly. She was propped up on her forearms and those hungry titties hovering there as if waiting for attention. And yet even as my gaze wandered back to those ass globes red as pomegranates, I had the feeling they demanded more.
When the clock struck five, and we knew we must finish for the evening, I took the black strap down from the wall. M. Krempe raised an eyebrow, but that was all.
"Come, Crea," I said. "A session with the machine will entertain you while we sleep."
She followed me quickly like a pet, as if eager for further stimulation. I bound her to the table in the basement, feeling the heat from her bottom as I adjusted it so that the mechanical arm might best apply the leather. I wound the clock mechanism as tightly as possible without overwinding, then let the professor's machine do its job.
Her groans and little cries of delight followed me up the steps, and the words, "Bless you, Master Frankenstein. Bless you for understanding my nature."
Chapter Twenty-Four
"Dearest, darling Victor," came the next letter from Elizabeth. "I am forlorn and forsaken. Why, Victor? How can you bear to be apart from me an additional four months? My poor cunny cries itself to sleep each night, longing for your rod.
And yet you do not seem to feel this lack. Oh, woe is me!
"I suppose you will say I am being selfish. Perhaps so.
I shall ride the bicycle this night, imagining it is your hand doing the spanking, and attempt to turn my way of thinking here.
But truly, I feel abandoned by you. Perhaps you do not love me.
"If wait we must, than wait I shall. There is nothing for it but to content myself with your gift. I am losing some weight, though, as I must pedal furiously in order to reach the level where I can let my thoughts, my worries and my fears go and give myself over to the pleasure you have provided me with.
"And yet you have promised me a new toy. Well, at least that is something to look forward to. When will it be ready? Already we are approaching June. Oh Henry, please send it to me at once!"
I hastened to write Elizabeth immediately and to reassure her. In my involvement with my work I had been lax and of course she felt that. I told her that the major portion of my project had been finished and was now undergoing experiments. Once I felt assured that it was up to my rigid standards, I would be sending it on to her immediately.
Perhaps I boasted a bit, for after all, had I not created life? And more than that, had I not created the perfect human machine? But although I presented my most potent face to Elizabeth, I had begun having misgivings. Crea worked well as a submissive. We had experimented on her night and day for over a week, so much so that her bottom required a grafting of flesh onto it. We had taken to using a cat on her back and her thighs, giving that ass time to recover, while still continuing our tests.
Crea wallowed in the pain. It brought her to ecstasy every time. I found her extremely submissive to our collective will, as well as to each of us individually. But, would she also assume a dominant role? And more, for my purposes, could she perform without sexual fulfillment?
I decided to spend time alone with her each afternoon, seeing if I could channel her into different venues from those to which she seemed naturally inclined. On the one count, as it turned out, I needn't have worried.
"Crea," I said, handing her a cat with nine tails. "I want you to whip me."
She took the black handled whip from me and ran the nine short strips of leather at the end through her fingers again and again. "Yes, Master Frankenstein," she said.
"Tell me, how do you feel about whipping me?"
"If it is your wish, it is our wish."
This was not good enough. I sighed, and she stared at me with a confused look.
"Very well," I said. "We shall proceed."
I lowered my trousers and lay over the dissection table. I did this because of Crea's great height. Had I positioned myself over the footstool, the whip would have come at me from a great distance, and the ends certainly cut my flesh. I had many experiments to perform and did not have the time to devote to recovery.
"Proceed," I instructed.
The cat whistled through the air and struck me gently. It was as though the
leather strips were feathers. "Harder," I said, struggling to maintain my patience.
Again the cat sang through the room. It struck a bit harder, but not enough to cause pain. "Are you deliberately disobeying me?" I said through clenched teeth. Perhaps she wanted an ass warming and this was her way of getting it. Well, she would not feel my hand until I had felt hers.
A battle of wills was underway, and I was determined to win. "Harder," I said.
Again, the cat barely made contact.
"Harder." A bit harder, but not enough to make me flinch.
At this rate we would be here all day.
I stood and turned and looked up into Crea's beautiful face. That blue eye looked sorrowful, as though it felt badly for not being able to perform to my specifications. But the brown eye! What was in there but defiance. This would not be tolerated!
"Crea, I will tell you now what will happen to you, should I not be satisfied this day with your efforts. Rather than receiving the food you relish, you will not be whipped, spanked or paddled by any of the three of your masters."
Her jaw dropped.
"Further, until you prove to me that you not only can obey my commands but can ascertain my limits and stretch me to them, you shall receive nothing further in the way of the delicious punishments you crave. You will merely sit on the chaise and watch and listen but not partake. Do I make myself clear?"
Even the brown eye had turned a corner, as it were. Now it took me seriously. "Yes, Master Frankenstein," Crea said, in the most submissive tone yet from her perfect mouth.
"Good! Now I expect a proper thrashing, and if I do not get it you will pay the price I have outline."
I turned and bent over the table again, lifting my shirt tails so that my bottom was exposed. I waited, but as yet nothing was happening. I was about to turn around and lambaste her again with the seriousness of my threat when she appeared before me.
Silently she bound my wrists together with a rope and stretched my arms across the table, where she attached the rope to a hook on the far side. "Very good," I said, encouraging her.
Next she removed the long scarf she always wore about her throat and began tying it around my mouth.
"Now, just a minute..."
But I was already gagged. I was happy for this show of initiative, and yet worried. How could I control this experiment if I could not speak? And further, Crea was a large and powerful being. If she had misunderstood my comments about pushing my limits, I might be in big trouble.
I glanced at the clock. Henry and the professor would return in two hours. The longest this whipping could be carried on. That gave me some measure of comfort. But two hours under so large and strong a hand... My penis grew in anticipation and my bottom twitched and tensed at the whipping he was about to receive, a whipping that he could not control.
Crea took up a position behind me. A glance showed me that she was many steps back, which would allow just the tips of the cat's whiskers to brush me. Given the distance she stood, and her long arms, then the distance between she and me, I knew that the cat would swing at the maximum length. I did not know the effect this would have until I felt it.
Brush was the wrong word. The tips of the nine leather thongs cut into my backside like sharp little knives. My body buckled and jerked and my head fell back. Instantly my cock shot his wad.
Crea had learned her first night to persevere, and this she did. The cat kept coming and coming, only the sharp tips digging into my ass, which I knew was already bleeding.
I tried to gain her attention, but from the look of determination on her face, I could see that all was lost until the others intervened.
The cat cut me to ribbons. My bottom danced to this enforced tune, bearing the lacerations because it must. Tears leaped from my eyes. Despite the excruciating pain, my penis swelled and released several time. And still she whipped me as though there would never be an end to this.
At moments I became lightheaded, hovering at the brink of unconsciousness. But the severity of the pain kept me awake, and the arousal coursing through my genitals always returned me to the land of the living.
By the time M. Krempe and Henry arrived, I had nearly lost my mind.
I saw them standing by the door as in a fog, observing this scene. Crea ignored them, but kept the lash coming. I had moved into a state I had never before reached —the pain had become unadulterated pleasure. And I made no signal to the two men to intervene.
For the first time in my life, a whipping became wholly enjoyable. I longed for the cutting leather to slice me anew. Each time the nine tips slashed me open, I felt ecstasy soar through me. It was like a vibration, rippling from my ass through my genitals, up my chest to my head. With each lashing, my cock swelled and swelled until he reached bursting, then he shrank and began to swell all over again. I longed for that feeling of connection, to the cat, to Crea, to the universe, and Crea provided it. It was so perfect, so delicious, I could hardly bear it. And yet I wanted more.
When M. Krempe and Henry finally made her stop I sobbed anew, but not with relief. The whip halted, I felt the absence of my fulfillment, leaving me empty and cold, with only the blazing fire of the past two hours telegraphing from my bottom.
They unbound me. I continued sobbing. "You are foolish, Victor, experimenting alone like this. Bring me the mercurochrome," M. Krempe said to Henry. Hope revived in me, at least a little, for the red disinfectant would sting.
And sting it did. He doused my bottom liberally, and it jumped under this new and shocking pain. My cock, nearly exhausted, struggled to his full height again, and expressed himself freely one last time. That is all I remembered until I woke the next day, unable to move, my buttocks raw meat screaming as it crackled in the flames of an open fire pit.
I was a happy man. Crea proved herself capable of much more than we had anticipated. And she did not need sexual gratification. Fine tuning was required here, so that she could sense human limitations better.
I understood that day as I lie in agony on my belly that Crea had merely assessed my endurance by her own. She had assumed me able to sustain the whipping she could. And she was not far from wrong. She had moved me to new heights, for which I was grateful. She might need a bit of realignment before I sent her to Elizabeth, but that would be all.
Assured that she could deliver as well as receive chastisement, I had merely to adjust the dials, as it were, and then send this delicious gift to Elizabeth for her enjoyment until our nuptials.
After that I would spend the remainder of the summer and fall working with the professor in writing up our research notes and publishing them as a paper in one of the journals. This work would ensure that both our names went down in history, and our fame and fortune were guaranteed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
We worked with Crea for another week, instructing her in the subtleties of dominance. That fact that she was not exactly human proved to be the stumbling block. Things human beings normally sense about one another were foreign to her, and I began to question the nature of the twins and others whose body parts had been the source from which our creation sprang.
For example, Crea did not notice things like trembling, and how it could increase to quaking. Nor did she seemed tuned to perspiration, nor pupil dilation. Verbal messages are, of course, unreliable —often when one wants more the opposite is stated. There was no way of explaining this to Crea.
Because she did not respond by instinct to physical signs which normally tell one when to slow up and when to speed ahead, we were forced to teach her to be aware of these signs.
Henry was a stalwart fellow, offering his flesh as a practise target by which the instruction might proceed. We would stop Crea whenever Henry showed signs of moving beyond his capacities and point out to her the telltale symptoms.
Slowly she learned this skill. I was impressed with the patience for the task M. Krempe showed, for in most matters he was far from a patient man.
"You've one other thing which
must be established," he warned me one evening.
"And that is?"
"Crea may dominate without her sexual functions gearing up to the point where expression is necessary, but we have yet to ascertain that a limit can be imposed when she is receiving."
I knew he was right. It was a thing I'd hesitated dealing with, the barely hidden fear within me telling me that this might not be possible.
"Come," he said on impulse. "I have an idea."
I followed him into the laboratory where Crea waited for us, lying nude and sensuous on the chaise.
Her peculiar eyes followed us as we moved about the room. "Where is Master Cherval?" she asked, assuming we would be requesting her to preform her skills on his hide once again.
"He is resting," the professor said. "Tell me, Crea, if you had to live as either a dominant or a submissive, which would you choose?"
She thought about this for several moments, the pale eye deep in meditation, the dark one cagey as always. And I had come to view it as such, for I had seen too many occasions where that eye had aligned with rebelliousness.
"I suppose," she began slowly, "we should choose to receive."
"And why is that?"
"Because it excites us so. But, on the other hand, wielding the crop is so stimulating."
"Has it occurred to you," the professor said, sitting on the chaise with her, running his hand over her ample bottom, "that you could remain in a state of perpetual excitation?"
"No, Master Krempe, that has not occurred to us." She spread her legs without being aware of what she was doing. His hand drifted over her thigh and between those long legs and up into her. Her head fell back and her eyes closed. She thrust her hips forward and that erect cock pointed outward for any and all who could make use of it.
"Well, there is a way, my dear, but you must trust me."
Darker Passions: Frankenstein Page 13
