Samantha’s screech echoed through the stall as the pain and pleasure coursed through her. His hips slapped to her burning rear and she fought to get away. His hands held her in place and made her accept the ecstasy of being ravished in addition to the distress of having him clap to her scorching welts.
Within moments he was clasping her bound arms and roaring with delight as he ejaculated. Talon took his fill of her body then lazily pulled himself free. Samantha was left gasping for air down her snout as her legs twitched and felt ready to fold beneath her. It had been a delectable and intense final chapter in her weekend with Master Talon, and if she had borne the strength and the ability to speak, she would have heaped gratitude on him without reservation. Two masters had used her, and the experiences had left her ravenous for more.
She was in a daze and barely registered the actions when she was removed and escorted back into the horsebox. The travelling restraints were applied in full and she fell into a somnolent haze as the journey home began. The chains were like a cradle and the soothing sway of the vehicle soon brought her into a comforting nap.
Chapter Eighteen
The other slaves had been removed and finally Samantha was taken out of the horsebox. Once again, Tom and Thumper helped her out of the pony outfit and it felt strange to have her full body handed back to her. She almost missed the hooves, the arm bondage, the bit, the straps, and the head harness that ruled her and turned her into a female pony animal for the pleasure of her owner.
Stripped naked, Samantha was taken to her room. Her head was then fed into the suspended box that hung from a chain. The padded rim closed about her throat and plunged her into darkness. She heard latches being locked then her hands were enclosed in dense leather cuffs. Rope was fed through the D rings, dragged outward to draw her arms apart, then pulled taut. The ropes were knotted to leave her stretched between head and wrists then fresh cuffs were added to her ankles. More coils took hold of the restraints and Samantha gave a worried cry as her legs were pulled apart into a wide split. She was left with the balls of her feet on the floor in an extremely uncomfortable position that she could not resist or affect in any way.
“Sweet dreams, slave,” announced Lady Morgana.
Samantha arched as she felt a vibrator trail its single plastic digit along her pussy.
“Ooooh, Lady Morgana, oh! Yes!” she gasped.
Quivering in her bonds, her hands clawed at the cuffs but she had no way of accessing the buckles. She hauled at the fetters and flexed her muscles against them, but it was useless. The vibrator continued to tease her clit for a short time, making her test the effectiveness of the bondage in full before Morgana wandered away.
Samantha almost succumbed to the temptation to beg for a continuance, but then she heard the door slam shut and the lock being secured. She was here for Lady Morgana’s private amusement. Her owner could sate herself with visions of Samantha bound, spread, in stressed confinement, and unable to escape its rigours. Her possession would endure the position until she chose otherwise.
It was not long before the pose was eclipsing her passion for such containment. She started to mumble to herself, to try to conjure fantasy and memory to soothe her. It swiftly proved futile.
Samantha’s time in the box seemed to take forever. She rasped into the dark interior, her breath making it warm as she tried to relax or occasionally broke into a fit of attempted escape. When she heard the door open, the duration suddenly seemed more indistinct. It could have been hours or minutes for all she knew. Without sensory input, and with such boredom and strain she had swiftly lost all concept and track of time.
The person did not close the door and also did nothing to aid her. Samantha gritted her teeth and her breathing hastened. With the promise of release so near she was finding the position even more irksome. She wanted out so badly but she was being toyed with, and denied her freedom.
Finally, after an endless wait that had the words to solicit escape hanging on the very tip of her tongue, Samantha felt hands upon her body. The cuffs on her feet were removed and she awkwardly dragged them back under her for more support. The flesh ached and was tardy to respond.
The restraints on her hands were taken off and her arms flopped to her side. She then felt the latches on the box being opened. The container parted and she squinted in the light while battling to stay upright, at least until she knew who it was that had set her free. Morgana might well put her back in if she showed weakness and collapsed.
After a moment, she made out the pleasant face of Tobin. He was dressed solely in a leather jock, with locked leather cuffs on his extremities.
Without even a pause, Samantha ducked in and kissed him. He was shy and reluctant but as she grabbed him around the body and traced her hands upon his bare skin, his libido quickly possessed him. Caution was disregarded and Tobin grabbed her breasts and appraised them with frantic passion.
Samantha surged and pulled him down with her onto the floor. No words were exchanged between the two slaves. Their lust was controlling them, and sex was the only expression they needed.
Samantha slid down and gobbled up his shaft. Tobin arched on the carpet as she plunged her head up and down, tickling his tip with her tongue as she did so. After just a few seconds she could hold off no longer and leapt up to straddle his rock hard manhood. Guiding him into her yearning tracts, she gripped him with rolling squeezes and started to bounce herself upon him. He leaned up, suckled upon her nipples, and made gooseflesh sweep across her body.
“You evil slaves!” barked Lady Morgana.
Samantha gave a yell of surprised alarm and threw herself aside. She rolled upon the floor and Tobin leapt up. Flipping over, the two of them stayed low and bowed their heads to the floor.
Morgana was smothered in a tight leather cat-suit, with tall thigh boots and opera gloves that left only her face free of the polished hide.
“We... I...” they stammered.
“Silence!” roared Lady Morgana.
The two slaves flinched and sank lower into the carpet. They had committed a serious offence and were no doubt going to be hideously punished for it.
“Tom! Thumper!” she exclaimed, and started to walk to and fro before them, testing their ability to stay silent in the face of their imminent chastisement.
The two women sprinted into the room and bowed to kiss Morgana’s toes. They were clad only in vinyl stockings and matching opera gloves with a set of high heeled court shoes locked onto their feet by an ankle strap.
“Yes, Lady?” they asked in unison.
“Take these two wretches to your correction room. Set them up and mete out the consequences of their wantonness.”
“Yes, lady,” they both affirmed, their voices filled with open jubilation.
“How much do you want them to take, Lady?” asked Thumper.
“They don’t deserve to know. So you can go as hard and as fast as you want. You cease only when I decide to come and stop you,” pronounced Lady Morgana.
“Oh thank you, Lady,” they gleefully stated, and again leant down to reverently kiss her toes.
The women then marched forward and grabbed each of them. Hauled up onto their feet they were frog-marched down into the basement of the house and to a heavy door.
A cluster of dull amber bulbs on a twisted iron chandelier was flicked into life. Inside, they found two heavy wooden tables with a set of stocks at either end. The walls were plain brick and a number of heavy floggers and whips were hung on a simple rack. The room was almost medieval in its ambience.
Tom and Thumper dragged them each over to a table and started to force them into position. A slat was lifted up and Samantha’s head was pushed face first into the waiting groove. Her hands were each set in the adjacent slots and the slat was lowered and locked. The padded leather interior squeezed to her body, cushioning the effects, but it did not bode well for her fate. If there were such overt considerations to stop chafing it meant tha
t she would be expected to spend a long time here, or to suffer terribly. Perhaps it was both.
“Oh we’re going to enjoy this!” hissed Tom.
She grabbed Samantha’s feet and started to haul them back toward the second pillory at the base of the table.
“Tom, please!” moaned Samantha.
She then cried out as the woman reached over, ducked her fingers expertly into Samantha’s crotch, and viscously pinched her clit.
“Keep quiet!” she barked, then twisted the captive nugget.
Samantha pursed her lips together and gurgled from the stress of staying mute.
“Good, that’s better. Now, there’ll be plenty of time to yell and wail, Samantha, don’t you worry about that!” she growled and dropped the second slat to capture Samantha’s ankles.
Tom walked up, patted Samantha’s rump, then with a giggle made for the rack of weapons.
Each woman grabbed a heavy two-handed strut of carved wood with long wide strips of leather hanging from a studded tip. They moved into each other’s arms, tickled each other’s pussy with the foundation of the ribbons, and brazenly kissed.
Taking up a stance beside each table, they started their work with vicious asperity. Their bared breasts bounced as their vinyl-clad arms hurled the floggers overhead and rained blows down on the entire canvas of the prisoner’s backs. The stinging slaps were distressing and their effects swiftly started to escalate as each stroke made their skin more sensitive to the next impact.
The women gave occasional sardonic snickers as they panted with the exertion. Their bodies sparkled with jewels of sweat and their eyes glistened with sadistic joy.
Samantha wanted to deny them her misery but soon the pain in her back, buttocks, and thighs was too intense. She hollered for mercy, but that only made the lesbian torturess even more wicked and heavy handed. Samantha’s cries reverberated around the room, she howled for mercy, she cursed the woman, and she sobbed and mewled, all to no avail. It was not long before Tobin was doing exactly the same.
Tears flowed freely down Samantha’s face as she jerked and struggled to get free. Her jaws were stretched wide and her responses had become vague strings of syllables mixed with half words and unintelligible burbles. She swore that they were trying to end her life and she tried to tell them that, but Tom and Thumper did not care. They knew the demands of this room and were happy to ensure that they did not keep that awareness to themselves.
“That will do,” announced Lady Morgana.
The rain of strokes stopped and the grizzling slaves looked up through tear-filled eyes to see a blurry image of their owner. She stepped forward and stretched out her hands to cup their chins. They both nuzzled into her hand and sobbed for forgiveness. The garbled words made little coherent sense.
Tom and Thumper stood like malicious demons to one side, their chests rising and falling with their hearty breaths. Their teeth were bared on cruel smiles and their skin shone with a glaze of sweat. They combed their fingers through the whips and glared with appreciation at the rosy sheets of skin they had painted.
“One more for the road,” said Morgana.
Samantha barely had time to register the words when the whip swung in, up and over and laid its angry tendrils to her rear. She hollered afresh then broke into a sobbing fit of recovery. The sense of purging was back. A judiciary exorcism, an alleviation of guilt through her suffering and she gratefully thanked the magistrate that had applied the sentence.
“Sssh, calm down, my slaves,” said Morgana, soothing her captives as they freely wept with tears of masochistic ecstasy. “It’s over. You’ve paid your price. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
They both fervently swore that they had.
Epilogue
That night Samantha again found herself bound against the bedpost. Tobin was next to her and at the head of the bed was each of Lady Morgana’s lesbian slaves. All of them were equally lost within oppressive amounts of overt restraint.
All four of them watched with abiding and chastised lust as the woman who ruled them slithered into bed, dressed only in a thong. She stretched her nubile body out and paraded its allure before their hungry eyes.
The punishment had stirred their algolagnic libidos. Tom and Thumper were piqued with prurient need from having flogged the other slaves, in having punished them for all the times that they had distracted Morgana from them.
Tobin and Samantha were charged with masochistic fervour and adoration for the one that had engineered it. All four were churning with a lewd and ravenous hunger that they had no choice but to contain and fuel with the sight of the gorgeous dominatrix.
Little sleep was gained by any of them as they watched the elegant form move in her sleep, stretch, and luxuriate in her absolute power over them. The relationship between all four of them was fluid and prone to flux and change at a moment’s notice. None of them knew what the future held, but that enigma made it all the more exciting and eagerly anticipated. There were outfits, positions, actions, and pleasures the likes of which they could not fathom waiting for each of them. Behind it all would be the guiding and even hand of Lady Morgana, or so they thought.
About the Author
Born and raised in London, Bruce was a Royal Marine Cadet, has worked in demolition, rainforest preservation and for the Ministry of Defense, Harvey Nichols and Selfridges, but writing was always his one true passion. He encountered a wonderful Californian and after marrying, they moved to San Francisco in ’98 where he worked and played in the S&M community before relocating to Seattle a few years later. He has written many books and illustrated a number for other publishers. Several works are under development into graphic novels and computer animated series/films.
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