The Daughters of de Sade

by Falconer Bridges

  Pulling the blind to one side Mistress Madonna surreptitiously checked on Julian, and under the light of the blinding spotlights was able to determine that he had reacted as she had expected. His cock must have been giving him the torments of Hell. The Colonel paid no attention to her apparent disregard of his attentions, he knew that she had a job to do and he was only too happy to help her do it. Especially considering the benefits it brought him, so when she directed him to a particular position in front of the window he was only too happy to oblige.

  Tugging down his zip, Mistress Madonna freed his usual spectacular erection, knelt down and put his huge bell-end to her lips. Then in silhouette through the blind, with everything back-lit from the bright lights of the bedroom, she treated Julian to the show of his life. Taking The Colonel's cock in her hand, she embarked on a slow sensual blowjob of the most expert kind. Her tongue lapped the underside of his cock, her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, and her lips slid up and down the entire length of his manhood. In his mind Julian had already felt her nipples pressing into his chest, now he felt her mouth, wet and slippery around his own weapon. But for him it was pure fantasy. For The Colonel it was real.

  The Colonel ejaculated.

  So did Julian.

  Mistress Madonna drank The Colonel's sperm with relish.

  Julian squealed in agony as his sperm squeezed past the mousetrap and dripped from the eye of his glans. There was no spurting this time, the trap gripped his cock too tightly.

  The Colonel enjoyed it immensely.

  Despite the pain, so did Julian.

  As Julian passed the hours of darkness in agony, both mental as well as physical, Mistress Madonna passed them in ecstasy. The Colonel was without doubt the most expert lover she had ever encountered. She succumbed and thrilled to his every advance. Every caress, every bite, every satisfying plunge of his penis filled her with an all-enveloping sense of fulfilment. His tongue slid over her nipples, then her belly, before descending between her thighs to lap at her sex. She shifted her legs wider apart as his cheeks pushed between her thighs, his tongue in search of her vagina.

  "Nectar."

  In between licks as he nuzzled her labia and savoured the musky taste of her moist tunnel, that had been his comment. And then he had introduced her sex to his weapon once more. God, he could fuck a town down.

  And he possessed stamina. He could keep it up all night long. And he did. He reamed her vagina, shagged her anus and pleasured her in every way until the pale light of dawn began to show through the window. And then he did it some more. When he finally had to stop because Mistress Madonna needed to prepare herself for the arrival of Mick and Frank and the finalising of Julian's punishment, he had been fucking her for a solid six hours, bringing her to orgasm again and again. So many times in fact that she lost count. But she would not lose count of the lashes soon to land on Julian.

  Now that he had come to mind, a check on Julian's well being was in order and winding up the blind she looked out over the grounds. The night had been cold for the time of year and he was a little blue to say the least. He was also desperately trying to shoo away a fox that was circling him inquisitively. She could not let any real harm come to him and opening the window wide, she leant out and yelled at the animal, which scurried away much to Julian's very obvious relief. He pulled his head up to look at her as she stood in the open window, bent over with her arms outstretched and her palms resting on the wide stone sill.

  In the bedroom the view was altogether too much for The Colonel. He loved bottoms, especially Mistress Madonna's, and there were her gloriously round, firm buttocks inviting his touch once again. Between her legs, the slightly open lips of her sex stared him straight in the face, offering an invitation no red-blooded man could refuse. His penis was iron hard in a second and moving in close he slipped it between her thighs.

  "What do you think gel? One more before you deal with that filthy stinker out there?"

  His bell-end nudged into her vagina and she was helpless. There was only one answer. So, right there in the window, with Julian watching every action, he shagged her from behind. And despite the number he had already given her, she reacted as if it was the first. In and out. Slowly to begin with, taking care to build up the stimulation, his cock filled and caressed every inch of her grasping tunnel. Ripples of joy ran through her body, her nerve ends tingled and the expression on her face plainly transmitted her increasing arousal to Julian. The Colonel speeded up his stroke, running his lips down her spine and reaching around to fondle her breasts and nipples. Faster and faster he plunged bringing firstly whimpers of delight to her lips and then full-blooded screams as her body shuddered in another giant orgasm.

  Julian screamed too. Screams of wild frustration. Screams which turned to agonised wailing as his body thrashed around and sent the brick jerking on the end of the twine. His cock had been clamped and stretched to an unbelievable thinness for hours, eventually becoming numb. Until then, that was. The brick tugged once again on the mousetrap and shards of excruciating agony tore through his being. His squeals were horrendous, prompting Mistress Madonna to consider that it was time to bring that particular torture to an end. She nodded towards Julian.

  "Colonel, I really hate to hurry you, but I think it's time I did something about the paymaster."

  The Colonel took it like the man he was, but noticing that Julian had calmed somewhat, made one last play to the gallery. With her still bent over and impaled on his weapon, he raised both arms wide above his shoulders, and held them there as he pulled out until only his bell-end was lodged in Mistress Madonna's vagina. Then plunging back in up to the hilt, he made a great show of ramming his great length in and out until he jammed himself tight up against her bottom, his fists clenching and his arms waving in triumph as he ejaculated inside her. One more glorious fuck. For both of them. But not for Julian.

  Mistress Madonna invited The Colonel to stay and watch Julian's forthcoming ordeal. He was only too pleased to accept, and so after joining her in the shower and then enjoying a hearty breakfast, he accompanied her outside. Julian was in a terrible state. Wild eyed, cold, in horrendous pain and screaming for release from his confinement. The Colonel remained at the bottom of the steps as Mistress Madonna strolled leisurely over to the stocks.

  "Did Mistress Madonna's little baby have a nice night?"

  "Cunt! Whore! You rotten fucking bitch. Get me down, I'm dying."

  Julian had tried to shout, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper, his throat was shredded because of his continual screaming throughout the night.

  "Now, that's not nice is it? I thought you'd be pleased to see Mistress Madonna."

  "I'll see you in Hell. I hate you. Just wait 'til I get out of this."

  "And then what will you do?"

  He quietened down. He would do nothing.

  "Please Mistress, get me down."

  This time his voice was pleading, pathetic.

  Mistress Madonna looked at her watch. It was almost time and they would be punctual.

  "I think we'll wait a few minutes and let Mick and Frank do that."

  And right on cue the sound of a vehicle rolling up the drive reached their ears. When it came into view and ground to a halt in front of him, Julian had the surprise of his life. He had been expecting something in keeping with his image of the two torturers, a black hearse or something of that nature. It was black all right. But it was also a rock band's tour bus, a Mercedes with blacked out windows. The driver's door swung open and a figure clothed from top to bottom in black leather and carrying an old fashioned doctor's bag jumped out, to be joined a few seconds later by a similar figure emerging from the passenger door. They were huge. Built like brick outhouses and they both bore more than a passing resemblance to Meatloaf. As the band's roadies cum security they needed those muscles.

  Mistress Madonna gree
ted them like long lost relatives and several minutes were spent hugging and exchanging greetings. The Colonel was introduced to them and then she led them over to Julian. Scornful eyes perused him before Mistress Madonna finally broke the silence.

  "Say hello to Mick and Frank."

  "But they're w..."

  "Oh yes, didn't I mention that?"

  It did not make any difference, Julian was still going to get everything Mistress Madonna had threatened. And probably more. Yes, they were women, but Michaela and Frankie, to give them their full Christian names got down to business straightaway. Michaela was pure East End, while with a name like that Frankie could be nothing but American. She inspected him closely.

  "Funny looking dude, ain't he?"

  The brick pulling on Julian's penis was bounced up and down a few times for effect before they pulled open the wooden bar restraining his legs and toppled him to the ground.

  "He's bloody filthy an' all. I'm not touching the little perisher 'til he's had a good scrub. A girl could catch anything. Know what I mean?"

  They did know what Michaela meant and The Colonel was duly dispatched to collect a bucket of cold water from the garage. It turned into several, all poured over the hapless Julian before they were satisfied. With his hands still bound behind him at the wrists, Michaela gripped Julian's upper arm with her one free hand, and again with one hand, Frankie took his other arm. With one of them on each side of him they lifted him effortlessly from the ground and carried him kicking and struggling towards the entrance door of the house, the brick dragging behind him on the end of the twine. And of course, the other end of the twine was still attached to the mousetrap, and the mousetrap was still firmly clamped onto his cock. It was a wonderful way for Julian to start the day.

  And there was no better place to conduct their business than the cellar. The burst pipes had been repaired, and if still a little damp around the edges it was now fairly well dried out. Mistress Madonna held the door open as Michaela and Frankie bustled Julian through it and started down the steps.

  "Welcome to the Love Shack baby."

  Frankie had a sense of humour.

  It was lost on Julian. He had nothing but a sense of dread. He also still had the toilet brush stuck up his backside and any number of drawing pins pressed deep into his flesh. Not to mention the mousetrap still clamped to his penis. But at least they released his wrists from behind his back. Only for a moment as it happened, each one immediately being clamped with handcuffs. They had something else in mind. Michaela put a hand under each of his armpits and lifted him bodily into the air, holding him there while Frankie attached short chains to the handcuffs. With his hands wide apart she wound the chains around one of the pipes, suspending him just a foot or so off the cellar floor. His legs were similarly tugged apart and chained into iron rings set into the floor. He was ready.

  "Loosen 'im up a bit first, should we? Wotcha think Frankie?"

  Frankie thought it was a good idea.

  The twine attached to the mousetrap was of such a length that the brick was resting on the floor, so its weight was no longer pulling directly on Julian's cock. Michaela studied him for a moment.

  "You're having it too easy mate. I think we'll start with that."

  Once again Frankie agreed and lifting the brick, looped the twine, and shortening it, tied it so that the brick was once more suspended from Julian's stretched and tortured manhood. Then lifting it high and to the side, she set it swinging from side to side.

  Julian's response was a highly satisfactory agonised squeal. The two torturers stood watching as the arc of the brick's swing diminished until it finally came to a halt. Then, one armed with a bamboo cane and the other with a bullwhip, they circled him lashing and striking in turn. Up and down his legs, over his already pulped buttocks, across his stomach, his chest, his back and shoulders, they lashed and struck. He squealed and howled. He ranted and cursed. He cried and threatened. And all to no avail. When they finally stopped he was covered with tramlines left by the cane and the crimson weals of the whiplashes.

  Sobbing and sucking air in tortured gulps, Julian waited in terrified apprehension for the next phase of his punishment. His amazement was therefore all the greater when the mousetrap was tugged from his cock and the brush pulled from his bottom. Nothing further happened. His tension eased a little and he even managed to raise a smile. That had not been so bad, there was nothing to be really afraid of after all. He had suffered far worse from Mistress Madonna.

  Then without warning the cane smacked upwards between his legs. A few seconds wait for the pain to really bite and then the same treatment again. And again. And then another dozen. Vicious and agonising. His bruised balls and battered prick pulsed in excruciating agony as he slumped in his chains, gasping and howling.

  It was going to take him some while to recover from that assault.

  "What say we open the bar?"

  Everyone agreed that it was a great idea and Mistress Madonna removed the napkin from the top of the ice bucket she had placed in the cellar in readiness for this moment. Out came the Dom Perignon and she proffered champagne flutes all around.

  "For Frogs and faggots that. Fizzy water for candy-asses."

  Frankie's reaction was entirely predictable to Mistress Madonna, Michaela would also feel the same, she knew that and bending down picked up two bottles of Jack Daniels, handing one to each of her friends. That was a much more acceptable proposition and swigging straight from the bottles the both of them had downed half the contents within a few minutes. Julian began to stir and so it was time for phase two.

  A small table over in a corner was piled with bundles of old newspapers awaiting termination in the fire of the boiler. They were all tipped onto the cellar floor and the table pulled over to be placed in front of Julian. Michaela opened the doctor's valise and took out a brilliant white cloth and laid it over the table. She waited as Frankie prodded Julian with the cane to ensure that he was paying proper attention, and then began laying the contents of the bag on the cloth. First came several sheets of coarse grade sandpaper, quickly followed by a cheese-grater. Then a pair of pliers, brass knuckles and a frighteningly wicked looking Bowie knife. Julian blanched, his mouth hung open and he went into a terminal funk.

  Struggling in his chains, he thrashed around like a wild man.

  "Cool it junior, this ain't gonna hurt one tiny bit..."

  Frankie dug into the bag and brought out a canister of muscle balm. The kind sportsmen spray on injured muscles to put a little fire in them and ease the pain. Walking over to Julian she sprayed long bursts all over his gonads and his cock. Then she completed the sentence:

  "... it's gonna hurt like hell!"

  Julian's privates flared up into a fiery scarlet as the spray took effect. And for once he did not have an erection.

  "Looks like we need some help from you babe."

  So saying, Michaela and Frankie retreated into the background together with their bourbon as Mistress Madonna immediately answered their summons. As did The Colonel.

  It did not take long. Julian only had to get a glimpse of Mistress Madonna's bullet tipped breasts as she pulled open her jacket and he got the first twitch. As her skirt inched up over her thighs and that wonderful forest of pubes was uncovered to his gaze, he started hardening. By the time it was up over her hips displaying her naked buttocks and all of her glorious sex, he was rock solid.

  "Okay babe, we'll take over now."

  But Mistress Madonna was right on target. Julian was following his usual pattern and judging by the bulge in The Colonel's trousers he was well and truly up for it. Very satisfactory. She would stoke up Julian's frustration and at the same time get herself fucked silly. By the best cock she knew. She tugged down The Colonel's zip and with all the care she would have given if she were handling a china figurine, she extracted his weapon.
Both her hands ran appreciatively up and down its rigid length. She spoke loudly enough for Julian to hear every word.

  "It's like granite Colonel. As hard as iron."

  "Nice of you to say so m'dear."

  "You know what I want? I want it in me. All big and fat. I want you to fill me up and fuck me. I want you to shoot your wonderful spunk as far inside me as you can. I want..."

  That was enough for Julian. He did not want anything but to do all those things himself.

  "Shut up! I know you're only saying that to upset me. And you are. You're a bag. A slut. And I'm fucking well not going to pay you."

  Mistress Madonna regarded him with eyes of steel.

  "Is that a fact?"

  "Yes! Fuck off."

  "I think that Mick and Frankie might have something to say about that."

  With both their bottles drained and thrown to one side, Mistress Madonna's associates stepped forward and confirmed that they did indeed have an opinion on his comments. Frankie picked up the brass knuckles and slipped them over the fingers of her right hand and held up her fist. She advanced on Julian.

  "No! No. I didn't mean it."

  "Too late buster."

  She could not really hurt him too much and so her punches were pulled back. Even so he was on the receiving end of a skilful beating. A blow to the solar plexus knocked the breath out of him, rapidly darkening knuckle marks decorated his body and a final blow to his testicles had him screaming like a banshee. Through it all Mistress Madonna had never ceased caressing The Colonel's penis and when the haze cleared from Julian's eyes, that was the first thing he saw. He was not utterly stupid. He held his tongue.

  Michaela and Frankie were all ready to get down to some serious work but Mistress Madonna halted them.

  "It might be more interesting all round if The Colonel and I completed our business."

  With two more bottles of good liquor produced they were in full agreement. So with an audience of two contented torturers and one demented slave, Mistress Madonna and The Colonel went into action. His performance was as flawless as ever. His sensitive hands explored her body, massaged her breasts, stroked her thighs and finally titillated her sex into a steaming valley of desire. She took his penis in her hand and guided it to the entrance to her vagina. Just one thrust and he was in and she pushed hard against him to aid his penetration even further. Grasping his neck, she pulled his head to her nipple, gasping in delight as he nuzzled and sucked. Ripples of tingling arousal radiated through her body as his cock stoked her fiery hole and his tongue teased her erect nipples.