‘Come and meet my new playthings,’ Annamarie said. ‘This is Kitten, whose clever little tongue is doing such a splendid job, and whom I already adore, even if she is naughty. Over there, disapproving of me, are her three friends. The one you can’t take your eyes off is Bel, the rather fierce young woman whose nipples are just begging to be clamped is Stella, and the vision of loveliness is Josephine, whom I’m convinced is not gay, despite indications to the contrary.’
Jo wasn’t sure what startled her most: being called a ‘vision of loveliness’ or having her sexual orientation debated in public by strangers.
‘Did I miss something here?’ the man said.
‘Nothing of any consequence, my dear. Now show the girls your pride and joy, and tell us which of them gets to taste it first. Not Kitten, please note; she’s fully occupied right now.’
‘I’ll do the second part first,’ Siggi said, and pointed. ‘That one.’
‘What did I tell you?’ Annamarie said to Bel with a twinkle in her eye. ‘My brother can never resist a generous bosom.’
‘Generous?’ Siggi said, untying the belt of his robe. ‘Hardly generous of you to describe those heaving beauties in such mean terms, Anna.’
He took out his cock, and Jo saw that a thick head of hair wasn’t the only thing the man had invested his cash in. Siggi’s ‘pride and joy’, as Annamarie called it, was a good nine inches long, even limp, although it wasn’t size alone that told against it being natural. The pigmentation was bizarre; the shaft a very dark brown, almost black, while the glans was pale pink. Vat-grown, without a doubt, from his own cells. Jo had heard of such things, available only to the absurdly rich, but this was the first time she had seen it.
Siggi flicked the tip of his cock and it rose swiftly and smoothly. As it swept upwards the glans underwent an instantaneous colour change from pink to deep purple. A faint smile teased at Siggi’s lips, and it was clear he enjoyed performing this party piece. Not that the credit was his, Jo thought, for it was all made possible by embedded receptors and other miracles of modern science. It was thanks to technology alone that Siggi was able to display an erect cock fully twelve inches long within seconds of disrobing.
Siggi beckoned to Bel, and she went up to him. ‘Kneel,’ he said, and she did so. He gestured, and Bel leaned forward and took that remarkable cock in her mouth. She settled into a steady rhythm, back and forth, while Siggi reached down and kneaded her breasts. ‘Try to take it all,’ he murmured, and despite its enormous dimensions Bel did her best, and it seemed to satisfy him – for now, at least.
Siggi’s climax was a long time arriving, so much so that Jo began to wonder if that part of the system even worked, but eventually he murmured something and began to squeeze, his fingers sinking deeply into Bel’s breasts.
Jo saw Annamarie glance at her bodyguard, Perry, and flick her fingers. Perry immediately went over to Bel, seized her arms just above the elbow, and pulled them behind her back. At the same instant Siggi relinquished her breasts, held her head, and thrust his cock deep into her throat. Bel gagged and tried to pull back, but the two men held her fast. Siggi grunted, and a shudder ran through his whole body as he pumped into her throat. On and on it went, seemingly endless, and Jo realised his semen quantity must be enhanced, too.
Bel was choking, her face turning red, and still Siggi showed no sign of finishing. Her frantic struggles began to slow and Jo panicked. ‘Let her go!’ she shouted, starting forward. ‘She can’t breath!’ Possibly she would have pulled Siggi away, always assuming the bodyguard let her anywhere near him, but she never got the chance. Helen grabbed her wrist and proved surprisingly strong for all her skinny appearance. Jo struggled to free herself, but to no avail.
‘Don’t worry,’ Annamarie said calmly. ‘Siggi hasn’t choked anyone… yet.’
It was the slight pause before the ‘yet’ that tipped Jo over the edge. She gritted her teeth, pulled back her free hand and aimed a punched at Helen’s face with all her strength. But Helen dodged and Jo’s fist went sailing past, just grazing her cheek, the wild swing throwing Jo off balance and she fell to the floor, dragging Helen with her. By the time they’d untangled themselves and got to their feet Siggi had finished. Perry released Bel, who collapsed on the carpet gasping and retching.
Annamarie gave a tinkling laugh. ‘A cat-fight,’ she said. ‘How entertaining! Should I find a pair of cudgels, do you think, and let the two of you batter each other to death?’
Jo and Helen glared at each other, and right at that moment Jo would happily have brained the sour-faced bitch.
‘Entertaining,’ Annamarie went on, ‘but utterly unacceptable, of course. Josephine will now be punished for her temerity, and you other slaves will watch. I shall allow Helen, as the injured party, to administer the punishment in whichever way she sees fit.’
‘Thank you, mistress,’ Helen said. ‘I choose a strapping with the tawse, on her bare buttocks.’
‘But of course. And the position?’
‘The stool, mistress.’
‘Excellent. You, Stella, help Bel to her feet. I think she must have oxygen in her blood by now. Helen, fetch whatever you need from the playroom.’
Helen left the room, and Stella took Bel’s arm and helped her up. Jo waited, not looking forward to this at all, but still sufficiently angry that she didn’t regret her impulsive and ultimately abortive attempt to help her friend.
Eli, she saw, was still tonguing Annamarie diligently. She didn’t appear to have been upset by the minor fracas, which was good news, at least.
Helen returned carrying a stool in one hand and a short leather strap in the other. She set the stool down a yard or so in front of Annamarie’s couch. ‘Sit facing me,’ she commanded, and Jo sat. It was an ordinary three-legged stool with a round seat. It was tall and her feet were off the floor, so she rested her heels on the bar that braced the legs. The steel felt cold against the soles of her feet, and the padded leather seat felt cool against her buttocks.
‘Shuffle back six inches,’ Helen instructed, and again Jo did as ordered. She was now sitting on her upper thighs, effectively, with her buttocks overhanging the edge of the seat.
‘Lean forward, clasp your hands and rest your forearms on your knees.’ Again Jo complied. Apprehension was building, and she clasped her hands tightly and pressed her knees together, using muscular tension to stop herself trembling. Did she regret her outburst yet? Perhaps she did, for it hadn’t achieved a thing, apart from this.
‘Face the mistress,’ Helen ordered, and Jo turned her head to look over her shoulder. Helen had arranged matters so that Annamarie had a view of Jo’s buttocks, and could also see her face. ‘With your permission, mistress,’ Helen said, ‘I shall begin.’
Annamarie gave a regal wave of her slender hand. There was a pause, then the strap landed with a sharp crack. Jo flinched and swallowed down a yelp. It hurt.
The strapping continued, and there was an escalation of pain. Soon Jo’s flinching was more pronounced, and she was no longer able to hold back her sounds of distress. She was aware of Bel and Stella, looking on tight-lipped yet unable to do anything, but her outburst hadn’t been totally fruitless: it demonstrated graphically that there was a penalty to be paid for challenging Annamarie’s authority.
Jo wasn’t sure how many strokes she received in total; no set number had been declared and she deliberately refrained from counting them, but she thought it must have been thirty-five or forty. It hurt, but it wasn’t quite the beating she’d expected. Maybe Helen wasn’t the vindictive bitch Jo had imagined her to be.
‘Very well,’ Annamarie said when it was over, ‘Helen will now show you new slaves to your quarters. Not you, Kitten. You and I have an appointment in the playroom. It’s time for those exercises I promised you.’
Jo opened her mouth to appeal for clemency on Eli’s behalf, but Annamarie turned on her. ‘And if
I hear so much as a single word from Josephine,’ she said in a steely voice, ‘we’ll be having another strapping, delivered this time by Perry.’
Jo’s plea died on her lips. One glance at the bodyguard’s biceps was enough to convince her of the absolute need for silence, so it was just the three of them who picked up their clothes and followed Helen to the slaves’ quarters, then listened while she explained what things were for and how everything worked. She left then, saying she would arrange proper clothing for them, and the final sound they heard was the snick of the lock.
‘I hate having to rough it, don’t you?’ Bel said, as she strolled around their new abode.
‘Hell, yeah,’ Stella agreed. ‘Me, I’m pining for limb five already.’
Pure facetiousness, of course, for their ‘prison’ was luxurious by any standards. They each had a room to themselves, with shower and toilet en-suite, and there was in addition a kitchen and a shared lounge, the latter complete with couches, carpet, and entertainment console. Looking at the amazingly comprehensive list of food and drink options on the dispenser in the kitchen, it was clear their days of gloop and hard biscuit were well and truly over.
Chapter 22
An hour later Helen returned with the promised clothes. They were each given three long gowns, grey, light as gossamer and semi-transparent. They were required to bathe three times a day, she said, and put on a fresh gown. Their new mistress, she explained, was a stickler for cleanliness.
After showering Bel and Stella tried on their new clothes, but Helen put her hand on Jo’s arm. ‘No point you dressing,’ she said. ‘You’re to come with me to the playroom.’
So with her heart in her mouth Jo followed the older woman to the lounge and through the double doors at the far end. The playroom was almost as large as the lounge itself, and full of equipment. There was no time for sightseeing, however, for a heart-stopping sight met Jo’s eyes. Just a little way into the room Eli was strapped into a chair with her knees apart. Annamarie stood beside her, with Perry in close attendance as usual.
Jo had a vision, unbidden and terrifyingly realistic, of the interrogation cell on Dauntless, with Bel in the chair suffering agonies at Major Tucker’s hands. The image was gone in seconds, but the scene in front of her was no less dreadful.
‘Kitten has been extremely naughty,’ Annamarie said. ‘She bit poor Siggi’s cock, which wasn’t a very nice thing to do at all, was it?’
Jo pictured a lacerated member, with blood spurting everywhere, and stared at Eli aghast.
‘Oh, it wasn’t as bad as that,’ Annamarie said, seeing her expression. ‘She just nipped him with her teeth. He squealed, but then men are such babies. But Siggi is insisting she be severely punished, of course, and I’m forced to agree. Biting cocks, even accidentally, is completely beyond the pale.’
Jo looked at Eli, and saw she was terrified, and though it was the last thing Jo wanted to do there was only one possible course of action. ‘It’s not her fault, mistress,’ she said. ‘If you feel you have to punish someone, then punish me. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d taught her better.’
Annamarie laughed softly. ‘Do you know, I rather thought you might say that. I said as much to my brother. I told him you would accept full responsibility and offer to take Kitten’s place; and do you know what he said? He said we should punish the pair of you together. That way we could be certain we’d got the guilty party.’
Jo realised she’d been tricked. Annamarie had manoeuvred her into this so she would have two victims rather than one. Jo wondered if Siggi was in on it too, pretending Eli had bitten him when in fact she’d done no such thing.
‘Naturally,’ Annamarie went on, ‘I wouldn’t hear of it. One cannot have two punishments for a single offence; that would be most unfair. No, I shall punish you, and you alone. Helen, release Kitten and put Josephine in her place.’
Helen unfastened the straps and Eli clambered out of the chair. She stood trembling, looking from Jo to Annamarie and back again, not knowing who was the one protecting her any more. Jo wanted to talk to her but doubted Annamarie would allow that, and at a gesture from Helen she sat in the chair and reluctantly lifted her knees over the stirrups, old fears returning to haunt her as Helen fastened the straps.
‘Take Kitten to my chambers,’ Annamarie said to Helen when Jo was secured. ‘Bathe her and find her something suitable to wear. And try to do something with that mane of hair. If she makes a fuss you may spank her.’
Helen led Eli away. The girl went meekly enough, perhaps as a result of the threatened spanking, and when they’d gone Annamarie drew up a stool and sat close to Jo.
‘Tell me, Josephine,’ she said, ‘how old are you?’
‘Twenty, mistress.’
‘Really? Just two years older than your friend Eli. You could almost be sisters, couldn’t you? Except that she’s dark and you have fair hair; all over, I see.’ She brushed Jo’s pubic hair with the back of her fingers. ‘I really must talk to Helen about getting you two girls shaved.’
Jo felt heat rise to her face. Annamarie was obviously trying to embarrass her, and given her vulnerable position, not to mention her emotional state, that wasn’t too difficult.
‘So…’ Annamarie said, drawing the word out to almost a sigh, ‘let’s have a proper look at you…’ Her hands reached out and Jo’s stomach contracted as with unexpected gentleness Annamarie spread her labia. ‘Delightful,’ she purred softly. ‘You know, I always think of a rose.’
‘Mistress?’ Jo said, her voice tight.
‘A pink rose,’ Annamarie said. ‘That’s what a vulva reminds me of. The shape of the petals, you understand.’ She raised one hand and made a rippling movement with her fingers. Her eyes glinted with amusement. Jo took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. Letting Annamarie see how nervous she was wouldn’t achieve anything.
Annamarie returned to her examination, totally absorbed, stroking Jo’s slit with slender fingers, teasing her clitoris and scraping it with her long fingernails. After a time she sat back and unclipped from her belt a slender cylindrical object as long as her hand, silver in colour, with a copper ball the size of a cherry at the tip. It looked like a stylus, the sort used with a tablet, but Jo had an uneasy feeling it was nothing so innocent as that. Annamarie pulled the copper ball and the stylus telescoped out, doubling in length.
‘Do you know what this is?’ she asked, and Jo shook her head. ‘It’s called a seraph. Sensory-enhancement-something-or-other… I can never remember. It stimulates the nerve-endings in very specific ways to mimic various effects. There are controls here at the base, can you see?’
She moved the thing close to Jo’s face and pointed to two rings – one red, one blue – and between them a fixed, graduated scale. ‘You select the particular effect you want with the blue ring, like this.’ She twisted the ring in question, which clicked round as she made the adjustment, then dabbed the seraph’s copper tip on Jo’s belly. Jo jumped. It felt exactly as though she’d been pricked with a needle.
‘This next effect’s like the fusers you must have used in practical electronics.’
Another adjustment. This time she touched it to the inside of Jo’s thigh, midway between knee and crotch. It felt hot and Jo flinched again.
‘There are other modes too, such as abrasion, and pressure, as if you were being nipped with pincers. And electroshock, of course. The list goes on and on.’ She didn’t demonstrate these others, for which Jo was thankful.
‘The red ring sets the level of pain,’ Annamarie continued. ‘It goes from one to nine, but right now it’s on two. Nothing to make a fuss about; not yet, anyway.’
Again Jo was reminded of Major Tucker and his ‘toys’, though this device was more sophisticated by far than the baton. Jo knew why Annamarie was taking the time and trouble to explain all of this to her – she was deliberately prolonging Jo’s misery by draw
ing things out in this way.
‘This is my favourite, though: scalpel mode,’ Annamarie said, turning the blue ring again. And then, to Jo’s dismay, she turned the red ring also. ‘I need to increase the level for this particular demonstration, so you’ll get the proper effect. Let’s try six.’ With her left hand she spread Jo’s labia once more, and then, with careful precision, she drew the seraph across her clitoris.
Jo shrieked and her hips bucked up off the seat, but she didn’t rise far because the restraining strap around her middle dug into her belly, holding her down. Annamarie watched as Jo strained upwards, trembling violently.
‘It hurts, I know,’ she said, with mock sympathy. ‘That’s because you’ve just been circumcised. You felt it, didn’t you? You experienced what it’s like to have your clitoris sliced off. It wasn’t really cut off, of course: that’s the wonderful thing about a seraph. There’s zero tissue damage. Absolutely none. The pain lingers for a few minutes then just melts away, and you’re back to normal once more. Which means, of course, I can circumcise you over and over again, as often as I wish, and each time it will feel the same. Such a clever little device. I’ve no idea who invented it, but he or she deserves a medal.’
Jo experienced the strangest of sensations. It was as if her mind rose so that she was looking down on the scene from a high vantage point. She saw the cluttered room quite clearly; saw herself, and a woman bending over her wielding the dissecting tool. The tableau held for several seconds and then she was Jo once more, sagging back in the chair, and Annamarie was speaking to her.
‘Now then, I need you to do something for me, Josephine.’
Jo made no reply. She was still trembling violently and tears coursed down her cheeks.
‘What I want,’ Annamarie said, ‘is for you to be very brave and not scream. Can you manage that, do you think? I do so hate a lot of fuss.’ She treated Jo to a smile that was full of cruelty, and raised the seraph.
Planet of Pain Page 20
