Bent thus, the harness strap tightened over her clit and abraded the sensitive inner flesh of her buttocks, bisecting them neatly so that they were offered for the cane with the skin stretched taut. Michelle’s elegant talons found the pointed toes of her stilettoes and scraped the surface as she swayed, straining to maintain balance on those vertiginous heels, dreading the first cruel cut of the cane.
Trewin did not extend the anticipation in the same way as Cordwainer, nor did he prolong the agony. “Now you must count these out, little slut,” he informed her gruffly and then, without further ado, the rod sliced down on her rear and she uttered a small cry that turned into a long moan before obliging him with a “One, sir.”
Cordwainer, she thought, would have let that stroke fizzle and burn for a good half to full minute before laying on the next, but Trewin lacked his finesse and was in haste to deal the second blow. Michelle pushed back on her heels and sucked in her breath, but her “Two, sir,” was steady nonetheless.
“You need not hurry,” remarked Cordwainer from his armchair. “We have all night.”
Michelle was made to wait for the next stroke, until her calves began to ache in sympathy with her bottom, with its twin slashes of raised red.
“You’ll have to work on your punctuality, little slut,” said Trewin, and Michelle felt a prickle of something—irritation?—at his chosen endearment for her. She wanted Cordwainer’s low, dark, elegant voice calling her “Miss Object” again, not this gruff usurper. But at least Cordwainer was watching, and hopefully approving, her abject humiliation at the hands of another. She would take this caning to the best of her ability, for him. She worked at stilling her twitching muscles, composing her screwed-up face, maintaining the perfect punishment posture, while Trewin stood tapping the cane against his leg, examining the stripes he had made.
“Okay,” he said. “Yes, we have all night. That’s good. Right. Ready for another.”
Fierce pain, white-hot, something Michelle could never imagine getting used to, although she had learned to breathe through it, to mentally trick herself into finding it bearable. A small sob this time before the count of “Three,” and sighs of satisfaction from the sadists in the room. Trewin had learned his lesson this time, and he let the stroke build to its peak of intensity before he lined the cane up for its final assault, choosing a low portion of Michelle’s buttocks, where it would hurt the most and cause maximum discomfort over the course of the evening.
He didn’t have Cordwainer’s whoosh, snap of the wrist, explosion of heat, but he could hit hard enough to hurt, even if the stroke didn’t quite line up so neatly with its fellows. Cordwainer prided himself on the complex geometrical patterns he could draw on a girl’s behind, whereas Trewin was happy with a jumble of purplish markings, any old how. The fourth was a killer, though, and Michelle cried out, providing Trewin the satisfaction he craved. “Four, sir. Thank you for correcting me, sir.”
“You may stand corrected,” he said, and chortled at his weak witticism.
Michelle straightened her back with some difficulty and hopped from one foot to the other, limbering up those overworked calves.
Cordwainer rose and joined Trewin in examining Michelle’s rear. The pair of men laid their hands over the burning stripes, admiring the heat and hardness left by the cane, something for Michelle to remember her lesson by.
“We are both low on wine,” Cordwainer reminded her once the men had returned to their chairs. Michelle stood before them, refilling their glasses, before kneeling at their feet, head bowed, waiting for further instruction. This was the true meaning of waitressing, she thought. I am a person who waits. I await their pleasure.
“Kiss our feet,” Trewin suddenly ordered on a whim. “I don’t think I make her do that often enough. Or boot licking. I could get into that, I think. Having her lick my muddy, dusty boots after a day overseeing the site.”
Cordwainer made no reply. He never had dusty shoes, so the fetish was presumably not one which appealed to him. He allowed Michelle to put her lips to his cherry-polished shoe tips, then watched as she repeated the process with Trewin.
“You kissed mine first, Miss Object,” he said. “In future I want you to attend to the councillor first, where I or others are present. He will take precedence now.”
Michelle’s heart sank a little further. With every new act of abjection, she seemed to be getting further away from, rather than closer to, Charles Cordwainer. She had thought that surrendering herself to his every desire would make him love her. Another brick in the wall of her confidence was dislodged and she felt something close to fear.
She knelt a while longer, letting the low tide of their conversation wash around her ears without taking much of it in. The banging in her head repeated the same message over and over. Charles is leaving me, Charles is leaving me. Trewin’s shoes, poorly polished and bulging a little at the toe, began to revolt her. Above them, argyle patterned socks stretched away until they disappeared beneath his trouser hem. Argyle patterned. Not the uncompromising black favoured by her Charles. He would never wear patterned socks. It was not masterful attire. Also, if her delicate nose did not deceive her, the councillor’s socks could do with a launder. She knew he had been single for many years, following the sudden flight of his flighty wife, but all the same—surely he had a housekeeper or something. Surely there was no need to wear the same pair of socks twice before washing. Or perhaps he was just unnaturally odiferous.
“Artichoke, Miss Object?” Cordwainer’s cruelly amused voice awoke her and she sat up and begged in the way that he liked, straight spined, shoulders thrust back, palms up and tongue out like a dog’s. He placed the delicacy on her eager pink tongue and watched her chew and swallow before patting her on the head.
“You’ll need something to wash that down with,” suggested Trewin, pointing a finger at the crotch of his trousers.
“Good idea. The councillor first, Miss Object, then you may attend to me.”
Michelle knelt between Trewin’s knees, unbuttoned his fly, then extracted the thick cock and heavy balls, handling them as if they were treasure before bathing the shaft with her tongue. She remembered that Trewin had always enjoyed a little bit of fluttery licking and teasing before the fellatio proper, and she was rewarded for this piece of observation with a ruffle of her hair.
“Oh, she’s good,” he said, stretching his arms above his head appreciatively. Cordwainer’s mobile phone rang and he began to rasp into it while Michelle tried her utmost to concentrate hard on giving Trewin the oral pleasure he demanded, and eavesdrop at the same time.
“No, the Fairhaven. What do you mean? How can they have just left town? Oh, I see. Well, do they have family? Parents? Brothers or sisters? See if you can find any and perhaps suggest they put you in contact. The usual methods of persuasion should work. Yes, I know that. And they know that I don’t just let my debts go. I always find my missing debtors. Always. Or, at least, you do. Yes, tomorrow morning. I’ll see you then.”
Michelle sucked and fondled, hearing Cordwainer click off the phone, tutting and shifting irritably in his armchair. From the corner of an eye she watched him take a big mouthful of wine.
“Keep going, slut,” Trewin urged. “Don’t slack now.”
He must have been talking to Rocky. Gorgeous, sexy Rocky, oh, if she were ten years younger…She began to pretend that Trewin’s cock belonged to the leatherclad enforcer, that it was Rocky’s big gloved hand in her hair and his muscular thighs either side of her. This was a game she liked to play when she was performing for some of Goldsands’ less glamorous deviants. He was dangerous, just like Charles, but in a different way and, unlike Charles, he seemed to seethe with passion. She often wondered if he enjoyed the work he did for her master and had concluded that he must feel the same way she did: ambivalent, slightly self-loathing but ultimately driven by practicalities and pressing needs. And, in her case, love. That bit probably didn’t apply to Rocky.
She remembered with a
pleasant shiver the time he had met Charles in the hotel one morning.
“Can I get you anything?” she had asked.
He had looked her up and down from under those soot-black eyelashes. “Depends, love. What are you offering?”
She had giggled like a schoolgirl and later Charles had whipped her for flirting without permission. At the time, she had taken this as evidence of Charles’s jealousy and revelled in her welcome punishment. But now she was not so sure. Not now that Charles sat, watching her fellate Trewin with detached disinterest, as if she were a PowerPoint presentation in a dull office meeting.
Trewin grunted and filled her mouth with semen, which she swallowed dutifully before turning her attentions to Charles. He wasn’t even hard. She had to stroke him to tumescence before she was able to begin gumming at his dear cock.
He’s always been hard before, she thought in anguish, tears springing into her eyes. He really doesn’t want me anymore. She gave him the most savagely intense blow job of her life, gorging on him as if she was starving for his cock. He tried to carry on a conversation with Trewin about tax returns but was forced to retire from it to pull Michelle’s hair and groan obscenities at her.
“Oh, you dirty little fuck-whore,” he whispered, beginning to thrust into her mouth. “Eat it, swallow it down, fill your belly with spunk. That’s what you’re made for, isn’t it? What you need? You’re going to get fucked so hard tonight.”
Michelle’s surge of jubilation spurred her on. She still had it. She could still take that little piece of control from him, just by using her lips and tongue. He still wanted her. She squeezed his balls and he spurted jets of warm salty semen into her mouth, adding to the taste of Trewin that lingered there.
“We can discuss details later,” Cordwainer said to Trewin in a wrung-out rasp. “First of all, I think our little friend here needs a good hard fucking to show her what’s what. Shall we take her to bed?”
“I’m ready,” said Trewin, hard again after watching her perform on Cordwainer. “Slut, get up to the bedroom and wait for us on the bed, arms and legs spread. You can warm yourself up with a toy if you like. I just want to finish this glass of wine a minute.”
Michelle rose to unsteady feet, murmured, “Yes, sir,” and took her leave, climbing to her bedroom in the attic of the hotel.
She took a clitoral stimulator from a drawer stuffed with sex toys, lay down on the bed and switched it on, letting the low, slow thrum send waves through her. She imagined that the vibe was Rocky’s tongue and that the strapping young man was crouching between her thighs. Or maybe she was flipped over the seat of his bike, getting ready to be skewered on the end of his cock. What was Rocky into? Was he a spanker? She thought he was, but the erotic, slap-and-tickle kind of spanking rather than Charles’s more formal tastes. He would hold her down, she thought, rather than use ropes or chains. Between Charles’s intelligence and Rocky’s strength, Charles’s sadistic imagination and Rocky’s passion, they would make the perfect man. But she could only have one of them, and maybe not even him. The vibrator buzzed between her pussy lips and she imagined Charles overseeing Rocky’s fucking of her, giving him instructions, urging her to work harder, milk that cock, take that pounding…She was close to coming when the door opened and her two masters stood in its frame, watching her.
“Very nice,” said Trewin.
“Please, sir,” she panted, “may I come?”
“No,” decreed Cordwainer, but then he turned to Trewin. “Sorry, Phil. It’s habit. Of course the decision is yours.”
“Put the toy away, slut,” said Trewin, coming into the room and looming over the bedside. “You’ll get your orgasm, but it’ll be with my cock in you, understood?”
“Yes, sir.” She put the vibe down and stretched her arms out, lying exposed in her harness.
“So, how do you want to play this?” Trewin asked Cordwainer. “Should we tie her, or…No, I suppose we need to be able to move her about a bit.”
“I suggest we tie her once we’ve finished with her. Do you want to take turns or perhaps try some double penetration?”
“Double penetration,” mused Trewin, stroking his chin. “Is there enough room for three of us on that bed?”
“She’s taken four on that mattress before now.”
“Four? How the heck did that work?”
“One at the front, one at the back, one in her mouth and she was tossing off the fourth man with a free hand. She was on fire that night. I’ll show you the film sometime.”
“I’d love to see it. Okay. Let me think. What do you want, Charles? Pussy, arse or mouth?”
“I think you get first dibs, Phil.”
“Oh, thanks. Very well, I’ll take her arse. Did you hear that, slut? You’re going to get your arse fucked tonight, and I’m going to make sure you feel it. What do you say to that?”
“Thank you, sir. You’re very good to me.”
“I am, aren’t I? Get on your hands and knees and show me that bum. I want a good look at what I’m getting.”
Michelle obeyed, resting her head on her forearms in order to thrust her backside out as far as possible. The more her skin stretched, the more the cane marks came back to life, throbbing a rhythmic reminder of her earlier punishment.
Trewin gave the presented mounds a good squeeze, feeling them comprehensively before taking a bottle of lube from the toy drawer and unbuckling the harness strap that ran between Michelle’s cheeks.
“What are you going to do?” he asked Cordwainer. “Pussy? How would we work that?”
“I’ve done it in several positions,” said Cordwainer, smiling as Trewin pushed a greased thumb against Michelle’s anus. “She can sit on my cock while you pump her arse. Or you can have her lower herself onto your cock and lie back while I fuck her in the missionary. Or variations thereof.”
“Okay,” said Trewin, slapping Michelle’s bottom as she squirmed involuntarily beneath the insistent probing of his thumb. “It all sounds a bit gymnastic for me. Do you mind if one of us fucks her at a time, while the other plays with her?”
“It’s your decision,” Cordwainer murmured. “Very well. Why don’t you start fucking her arse and I’ll take her mouth. She looks good on all fours, doesn’t she?”
“It’s her natural position,” said Trewin. “Little slut bitches need to stay on their knees, don’t they, slut?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right, then. I’m going to get undressed and then you can prepare for an arseful of cock as well as a mouthful.”
The men shed their clothes, and Michelle waited. Usually they were more vocal than this, almost chatty in a self-conscious way with each other, but tonight the rules were different. Trewin was in charge, and Cordwainer would follow his lead. It felt unnatural to Michelle, but perhaps it was just something they were trying out for the sake of novelty. She pressed her palms into the duvet and hoped.
Trewin’s hands were first on her, holding her hips while the end of his cock began to push, gently at first, between her bottom cheeks. Then she saw Charles’s flat abdomen and revived cock beneath her nose and she bent obediently to take her third helping of spunk for the evening.
“Here,” said Cordwainer roughly, putting a large dildo down in front of her. “Fill your pussy with this. You need to have all your holes stuffed tonight.”
Michelle worked the dildo in underneath her, trying not to throw Trewin off his stride as he edged farther and farther into her back passage. The feeling of fullness caused her to moan over the head of Charles’s cock. She managed to find the on switch and flick it, feeling the waves of sensation pulse inside her pussy while her arsehole stretched to fit her new master’s length and girth. It began to hurt and she gyrated her hips, whimpering around the fat fullness in her mouth, but soon it was all the way in and Trewin’s cock tip pushed up against the head of the vibrator, making everything wobble and unravel inside her, turning her mind to mush. Oh, here she was, a dirty slut filled with cock and vibrations,
Trewin’s stomach covering her bum and making the cane strokes sizzle with soreness. Here, at last, the intensity she always craved, making her forget herself and who she was and what she was outside the bedroom, making her this elemental creature of sex who just needed it constantly, needed so badly to be fucked into oblivion.
Charles possessed her mouth, thrusting urgently into her wailing throat, while Trewin began a slow, sliding up-down inside her arse. She wanted to ask for permission to come, but she couldn’t, so she came anyway, three times in total through a combination of the relentless vibrator and the feeling of utter submission and degradation. Trewin used her bum hard and then came all over her cheeks, hot splashes dripping along her welts while Charles withdrew from her mouth to decorate her breasts with pearly drops.
She remained in that position, the vibrator still humming inside her pussy, her bum and breasts sticky and cold and sore, waiting for permission to move.
But permission did not come, and she had to remain on her hands and knees, taking the vibrations and climaxing one more time while her masters sipped at schooners of sherry and talked business for half an hour.
When they were ready, Charles ordered her onto her back, removed the vibrator and fucked her pussy, holding her legs vertically in the air to stretch her as wide as possible until he was finally spent. Trewin moved in after him and repeated the process, pulling out shortly before orgasm to shower her stomach with his seed.
Trewin cuffed her to the bed and got in beside her then, while Cordwainer politely took his leave.
“You like artichokes, then?” he asked, shifting on his side to look at her face in the half-light.
“Of course I do, sir. They’re expensive, though. I only offer them to favoured guests.”
“I see. Well, I’d rather you didn’t offer them to me again. Good honest fare, that’s what I like.”
Good honest trans fats, thought Michelle scornfully. No wonder your trousers are so tight.
Erotic Amusements Page 11
