Julian said nothing. Certainly not that he was sorry. Or if he did it was not quick enough.
Again the stilettoed foot propelled him face down into the dirty water. And once more he splashed around like a drowning cat until he was able to prop himself back on to his shoulder. He screamed and ranted, swore and abused her until his fevered tirade slowed and his words became more faltering. Sanity returned. He had really blotted his copybook now. Mistress Madonna had not said a word, just standing over him throughout his verbal onslaught with the sternest, most disapproving look on her face. He was in for serious trouble now. That was for certain. Probably a prolonged caning. Or a whipping. And it could not come soon enough.
There was an ominous silence. Julian lay in the rippling tide looking up straight at his Mistress' vagina. She widened her legs and slipping a hand over her mons, dipped her fingers into the pink lips of her labia. She spread her fingers, pulling the fronds apart so that he could see a definite hole. Julian's cock juddered and twitched as his erection doubled in intensity, tiny eddies rippling away from his glans as it beat the water like a miniature paddle.
"You pathetic little insect. You've really done it now, haven't you?"
She bent her knees, squatting more closely to Julian's face, her finger-widened hole staring him straight in the eye. Sperm began to leak from his meatus, floating away on the water.
"Mistress Madonna had a really, really special treat for Julian's birthday. But he's not going to get it now is he? He's been too naughty."
"Please, give it me. I will be good, really I will."
"No. It's too late for that. But Mistress Madonna will tell you what it was... She was going to let you fuck her."
Julian's howl of frustration raced from his mouth as at the same moment a fountain of sperm spurted from his cock. Mistress Madonna smiled inwardly. She was well satisfied; Part One of the day's programme had gone off without a hitch. Julian really was so predictable. There was no way she was ever going to let him get his dick inside her, but to make him believe he had thrown away a chance of doing just that would leave him wild with self recrimination. She knew that he would spend hour upon hour cursing himself for being such an idiot. More psychological torture applied in her own expert fashion.
But she had not forgotten his task. Of course there was nothing he could actually do about the condition of the cellar but still she ordered him to try. And what she made him do was drink the water. She said that if he drank enough then he would drink the cellar dry. Perfectly logical to a child and so he knew better than to argue, going ahead drinking and drinking the filthy water until he was sick and vomited it all back out. Mistress Madonna told him what a good little boy he had been to try and do it, and because he had been so good he could have his other treat. But he could not fuck her... he had been far too naughty for that.
***
Stretched out in the huge shell-shaped Jacuzzi, with its ornate gold fittings, Mistress Madonna luxuriated in the revitalising jet streams of hot water as they massaged her body. She rolled her palms over her breasts, pulling and tweaking her solid nipples before suggestively running her hands down over her submerged body to stroke up and down her widespread thighs.
"Mmmmm," she sighed.
"Ooohhh."
She purred with exaggerated satisfaction as her fingers found her vagina. It was nice and juicy, and she was certainly going to enjoy her orgasm when it came, but as always she was enhancing her performance for Julian's benefit. She tried to keep him in a state of everlasting frustration, stoked up with lust for her body. A body that was often so near, but always just out of reach for him. And lusting was what he was doing at that moment. And that was all he could do.
His hands were still cuffed behind his back, but the chain attached to his collar had now been secured on a very short rein to a large gold towel hoop attached to the tiled wall. His eyes were beady and glued fast to Mistress Madonna. He had a gut wrenching erection and he was filthy. She had brought him up from the cellar and taken him straight to the bathroom. But any thoughts he had that she was going to allow him to take a shower and clean off the dirt and scum were soon dashed when she left him as he was and chained him to the wall. So there he stood, stinking and rank, with a throbbing cock that he could do nothing about, watching her pleasure herself in the foaming water.
She reached out and picked up a huge dildo, complete with ridged veins and held it up for his inspection.
"What does this remind you of?"
Julian licked his lips and as he always did when he was sulking, he said nothing.
"Don't you think it's rather like The Colonel's?"
That did it.
"You fucking bitch."
"Now, now. Don't be naughty. If you make Mistress Madonna angry, then she'll have to cancel your other birthday treat."
"I hate you."
Well, if that was really how he felt, she would just leave him there and she and The Colonel would have a party all by themselves.
They would too. And Julian knew it. It was not fair.
"I'm sorry."
"Ah, so we've decided to be good after all, have we?"
She held up the dildo once more. "All right. What does this remind you of?"
Julian knew the answer, but he had to force the words past his lips.
"The Colonel."
"You see, that wasn't hard was it?" And glancing at his private regions. "Not like your cock."
Julian's face went purple as he struggled to keep his thoughts to himself. She was always picking on his cock and it upset him. It was his, and he liked it. It was not a tiny little pinkie like she said... it was a real big boy's weapon. When he had been at public school, he and his dorm mates used to gather in the outside toilets for mutual wanking sessions, and standing in a wide circle each boy would wank the one next to him. And he always had the biggest prick. So there! But he kept his mouth shut and there was a pregnant pause as she waited to see if any further comments were forthcoming. There were not. With a struggle he managed to restrain himself and kept his silence.
Mistress Madonna decided that she had gained all the currency she was going to from that line of harassment and moved on. Making a great show of it she dipped the dildo under the water, eased up her hips and lodged it at the entrance to her vagina.
"Don't you wish this lovely big dildo was your cock?"
"Aaaarghh."
Julian nearly choked himself trying hold back a strangled insult.
"If you'd been good this morning, it could have been. But you weren't, were you?"
She nearly got him that time; he only caught himself from retaliating by a supreme effort.
"Watch now Julian, I'm going to pull my hole wide open and stick it in."
And so she did, whimpering and cooing as it slid further and further up her lubricating hole.
"Oh Julian, you can't imagine how it feels. It's big... and fat... and it could have been you."
Julian's self control burst like a ruptured dam, torrents of abuse flowing from his mouth.
"You rotten, stinking cunt of a fuckface. Why do you keep doing this to me?"
"Because you're naughty. And I think that you're naughty on purpose because you want Mistress Madonna to spank your bottom."
There was certainly truth in that statement. Julian shut up and went back to sulking. He was fed up. He was filthy. And his cock hurt.
For the next ten minutes or so Mistress Madonna concentrated on her own pleasure as Julian shuffled frustratedly in the background. Eyes closed and laid back in the swirling currents, she luxuriated in the massaging jets. With her legs wide open she used one hand to ease the dildo up and down, reaming her vagina as at the same time with the other, she rolled the nub of her hard erect clitoris. Her hips began to rise and fall with the strokes of the dildo as her passion inc
reased, until at the moment of her shuddering orgasm she was bucking upwards with such vigour that her rump rose completely out of the water. Her body continued to shake as the continuing aftershocks rippled through her limbs, until eventually she sank back into the water, thoroughly sated.
Her eyes opened. Julian was staring at her the way a starving fox eyes up a plump chicken. His cock was twitching with every pulse that beat through it. Sperm trickled from its eye.
"You were peeking, weren't you?"
"You wanted me to, you bitch."
"Oh, what a wicked thing to say, Mistress Madonna wanted no such thing. You should have been a good boy and looked the other way."
"I'm not looking anywhere except at your cunt. It's my birthday and you said you were going to let me fuck you. Well I want to. Now!"
"That was before you were a bad, naughty boy and Mistress Madonna has already told you that there is no nookie for naughty boys."
Julian stamped his feet in a fair approximation of a childish tantrum, his erect cock swinging wildly. That was all that he could do to vent his frustration, handcuffed and chained to the wall as he was. Tears trickled from his eyes and an additional flow of pre-ejaculate trickled from his penis.
"Poor little Julian. Shall Mistress Madonna kiss it better for him?"
He never learnt. He fell straight into the trap once again.
"Please. Oh please, do it now. Suck my cock. I'll pay you double."
She raised herself up and stepped out from the Jacuzzi, ensuring that Julian got a full, unobstructed view of her sex. His eyes grew larger and his prick pulsed in even greater jerks. It was still in there. The dildo. With just the knobbed end sticking out, it filled her vagina, her sex lips stretched and clinging to its girth as if seemingly trying to pull it back all the way in. She reached down, pulled it out a few inches and then slid it back up.
"Ooh Julian, it's so nice. You don't really want me to suck your cock, do you? Wouldn't you rather have your wicked little willie stuck up here?"
She worked the dildo in and out once more.
"Don't you want to shove it up and down like this?"
"You know I do, you rotten whore."
Julian screamed out the words, saliva spraying from his mouth. Mistress Madonna moved over the tiled floor towards him in an awkward gait, her legs wide with the dildo still stuffed into her. With goggle eyes and monster cock he watched until just a foot or so away from him she slowly pulled the huge, solid dildo from her sucking sex. She lifted it to his nose allowing him to sniff her intimate aromas and then laid it on his lips. He licked greedily, slurping and tonguing, until suddenly she slammed the dildo down across his already tortured cock.
His scream of agony was accompanied by a jerking spontaneous orgasm, gouts of sperm jetting from his cock, spraying not only the floor but also Mistress Madonna. Her lips tight and her eyes flashing fury, she waited for his screams to die and his cock to stop its maniacal dance. As Julian calmed down and his prick slackened, his senses returned and the full realisation of what he had done hit him. He looked. Saw. And felt ill. Globules of his sperm were dripping from his Mistress' belly, falling on to the tiles to join that which had missed her and spurted straight to the floor. He knew she would make him clean up the floor with his tongue as always, and for one wild moment he fantasised that she would allow him to lick the sperm from her belly. That thought faded almost before it began. Julian knew it would not happen. Exactly what would happen he did not know, but one thing that he knew for certain was that it would be bad. He had been naughty again, he had defiled his Mistress. And not for the last time.
Julian's punishment had been every bit as vicious as he had expected. Mistress Madonna had laid into him. First she had lashed him with the whip until his back, chest and thighs were reddened all over and then she had used the cane. She had laid on stroke after stroke using it to add highlights of agony to the overall background of pain. Then she had clubbed his prick and his balls with the dildo and even dug the steel-tipped heels of her stilettos into his thighs. He was striped, bruised, abused and humiliated. And he was still filthy. And he could stay that way, she told him. If he was going to act like an animal, then he could look like one. And then she had spent a long time in the shower, cleansing herself under the steaming jets and leaving the cubicle door open so that he could see her every action. And of course she had laid it on thick, pushing the showerhead between her thighs and spraying her open slit, all the time watching out for Julian's reaction. And never deviating from the norm, although racked with pain, he was soon sporting another massive erection.
Dripping water everywhere, water that Julian would have to lick up, she stepped out of the shower and began to dry herself with a luxurious, soft bath sheet. Dropping the soaking sheet on to the tiles, she picked a much smaller towel and completed the process, rubbing it over her sex far more times than was necessary in order to stoke up Julian's fervour. When she was dried enough for her satisfaction, the small towel itself was heavy with water and rolling it out in her hands she tied a knot into one end. She walked towards the bathroom door.
"Mistress Madonna is going to get dressed now... But first."
The heavy, waterlogged knot whacked down on to Julian's rigid cock with the force of a hammer. His knees buckled and he slumped forward, held upright only by the chain attached to his collar. As the whimpers of pain began to subside, he started to replace them with forced, babyish choking noises and faked rasping coughs.
"Stop that at once and stand up straight like a good boy. Mistress Madonna is not going to pay any attention to your silly antics."
And with that she left the room, stopping just outside the door where he could not see her, to check that he was actually able to lever himself upright and take the strain from his neck. They both knew full well that he was in no real danger, that it was purely play-acting, but she thought it was as well to make doubly sure. It would not do for her to let him head for the hereafter while she was giving him a session.
With his hands cuffed behind his back, he was not having an easy time of it, but with a giant struggle he eventually straightened himself, having to spend several minutes trying to force air over a throat that had been made desperately sore by his own rasping misuse of it. When Mistress Madonna was quite sure that he was in no danger, she left him screaming out his hoarse, incoherent curses and dressed herself in her street outfit. Of course her idea of street clothes was somewhat different to that of a less enlightened female, even if for nothing more than her incredible four-inch high stiletto heels. Seamed black fishnet stockings disappeared into a pelmet of a black leather skirt, which was split at the back to allow a flash of creamy suspendered thigh to show with every step she took. Her voluptuous breasts were pushed mountain high by a skimpy, underwired black bra and a black spiked collar was fastened tightly around her neck. She wore nothing else. Her arms and torso were naked and only the long ebony tresses that fell down upon them clothed her shoulders.
Mistress Madonna was ready, but Julian was still an exceedingly grubby little urchin. He needed a good scrubbing before he could go anywhere. She went back into the bathroom with the idea of making him presentable enough to take into the outside world.
"You rotten stinking bitch! You don't care about me at all. You left me to choke to death. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"
"Now now, you know that's not true. Mistress Madonna would never do anything to hurt her little babykins."
"Well you did, and I don't want to play any more."
"I'm sure you don't really mean that. What about your treat?"
"Is it nice?"
"It's lovely."
"Can I eat it?"
"No."
"Can I fuck it?"
That took some answering. Technically, just like Mistress Madonna, her two vampiric sisters could be fucked, but not by Julian. Still, a l
ittle titillation would do no harm.
"Firstly it's not it, it's them. And they fuck like bitches."
Up it came again. His cock. He had no control over it whatsoever. But she had been very careful to say only that whoever, or whatever his treat might be, that they did indeed fuck. As she was to remind him later, she did not say that he was definitely going to get his dick into them, she just let him assume that he might.
Taking great care not to brush against his pulsing erection, Mistress Madonna released the end of the chain anchoring Julian's collared neck to the wall and motioned him forward. But he had angered her now, and for that he would pay. He took a step towards the shower only to be roughly tugged in the opposite direction towards the door.
"But I need a wash. You said so yourself. I can't go out fucking in this state."
"I know that, you peasant. What do you think we are going to do now?"
Julian had no idea. But he did not like the sound of it. And he was right not to.
A short time later Mistress Madonna led Julian into the garage. Not the purpose built construction that housed his collection of vintage sports and racing cars, but the smaller building where his road cars were kept. She had dragged him naked and still handcuffed from the house, and made him walk barefoot over the gravelled path leading to the garage, with him hopping and jumping all the way as the sharp stones cut into the soles of his feet. Bustling him between the Porsche and the Ferrari she pushed him to the back wall of the old brick building that had once been a coach house.
Julian's handyman must have been getting ready to wash the cars because sponges, buckets of water and shampoo bottles were lined up on a bench, and a long hosepipe had been unreeled and lay snakelike on the floor. Mistress Madonna fastened Julian's neck chain to a one of the many old iron hoops fixed into the wall.
"Mistress Madonna is going to take off those nasty handcuffs now."
"About fucking time."
"Behave yourself. And remember what I told you, if you're bad then I'll just cancel the whole of the rest of the day."
The Daughters of de Sade Page 8
