“Can she work like that?” Carlton asked.
“She did the dishes and gardening, so I don’t see why not,” Emmy replied.
“I like the look. She’s all flushed and her nipples are nice and tight. Even her clit is poking out a little. And I love when her eyes get all glassy with tears.” Carlton looked at Emmy. “I think I want this on her, unless we need her for something else.”
“I thought you would approve. It should keep her more than ready to cooperate when we need relief,” Emmy added.
Carlton unlatched her wrists. “Straddle me and get me in that drenched hole.”
“Yes, Master.” Rylee knelt, and her shaking fingers released his erection and she quickly straddled his thighs. She had him seated deep in two strokes, and resisted the urge to rub against him, or she was sure she would explode.
“You may cum, girl,” Emmy said.
Rylee rubbed into Carlton’s groin. Her eyes closed and her lip was quivering as her channel gripped like a fist. Carlton was ready to erupt with the visual and physical stimulation. The girl gasped and then shrieked as she slammed down on him, digging her fingers into his shoulders and screaming impassioned cries as she pulsed and squeezed him dry.
“Damn, Emmy… all the time. Keep this bitch on her, all the time,” he ground out. Rylee finally collapsed against him, but the tremors were already building again. “Position.”
“Yes, Master,” she whimpered, and climbed down to her kneel with sopping mixed juices trailing down both thighs.
Emmy walked to the kitchen and returned with a rag to place under her. She looked up at Carlton and said, “I’ll have to keep one of these on me.” Rylee felt the cloth slide under her, and she immediately tried to rub against it. “Be still.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Shut it off. Oh my god, shut it off.
Emmy did not shut it off, and had to reattach her wrists. Carlton made a game out of swiping the cane across her bottom when she tried to rub herself. By bedtime, she was crying and her poor bottom was a mess of stripes. Emmy let her forego the nighttime ritual. When she removed the chains, she and Carlton each held a leg and let Rylee masturbate until she was finally exhausted and sated. It aroused them into a frenzy, and they rocked the bed while their slave slept at their feet.
In the morning, the bed was empty and Rylee walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash up. She went to the kitchen, nervously wondering if Emmy was going to order her to go back to the bedroom so she could put the chains back on. Emmy could see her slave’s trepidation. “No, not today. I think I’ll reserve that as a special treat for Carlton.” The girl visibly sagged in relief.
After she had finished the dishes, Emmy said, “Do you remember where the Quarter Master’s cabins are?”
“Yes, Mistress.” She was not looking forward to walking through the settlement alone, much less retrieving the horrid bottles.
“Tell him you need three more bottles.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Rylee fidgeted with her braid and asked softly, “Mistress?”
A surprised look crossed Emmy’s face. “Yes?”
“What am I supposed to do if someone stops me?”
“If it’s a slave, report it to me or the Quarter Master. If it’s a clan member, you do as they say.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Rylee slowly walked to the door and peeked out. She was relieved to see very little activity on the street, so she walked quickly down the row of buildings. She had just turned the corner to the slave’s quarters, when a familiar voice stopped her.
“Emmy was supposed to bring you by to play yesterday.”
Rylee froze and whispered, “Yes, Mistress.”
“Perhaps, we’ll just start without her. I’m sure she’ll catch up to us later.”
Tears were already welling up. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Come on, then.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Rylee whined. She looked down the row of slave quarters for the scowling man. The only one looking at her was Tammy… and she was smiling.
Rylee knew she was supposed to keep her eyes down, but they frantically looked down the street, anyway. No one was watching. She knew this was wrong. Carlton would not want her to be alone with his mother. She followed the woman around her cabin to the shed, whimpering and dragging her feet.
“Get your ass moving,” the woman hissed.
“Yes, Mistress.” Rylee followed quickly into the building. She looked around, but the other girl was not in there. Alma grabbed her braid, and Rylee shrieked while she dragged her over to a frame. It had a horrible post sticking up with two large dildos protruding from the top. Rylee could already tell that her feet would never reach the ground.
Alma grabbed her wrist cuffs and hooked them to chains and raised her. She positioned her over the two rods and lowered her while Rylee shrieked. “I’m not as taken by all that screaming, girl.” Alma came back from a cabinet with a horrible thick plug and crammed it in the wailing girl’s mouth. She fastened it securely behind her head and walked over to the wall. She selected a long, supple whip with knotted leather strips on the end.
The first strike crossed down her chest, leaving stars of burning pain, and Rylee sobbed and rocked on the impaling rods. The big woman moved behind her and Rylee felt the whip cross her shoulder to her bottom. The agony of the harsh strokes was the worst thing she had suffered since she was captured. The woman came back around to the front, and her gray eyes were pulsing, getting wider and then narrowing and she had a grimaced smile.
She’s insane. Carlton knows it. She’s gone crazy. Rylee knew she was going to die. The woman was not going to stop thrashing her until she was dead. She lost count of the blows to her breasts and her bottom, and her thighs were cut in places. She prayed to pass out, but she continued to feel every agonizing bite of the whip. Her mind began to wander. She thought of her mom at home, and how they planned to travel to get her settled for college. She thought about how proud her dad would have been. Through it all, her thoughts would abruptly change when the whip beat down again.
Alma had finished fourteen strokes when Rylee realized it had stopped. Arms were lifting her up and others were unhooking her wrists. She tried to get her legs under her and get her hands behind her back, but nothing was cooperating. She felt shaking fingers unhook the gag, and she sobbed and sucked in breath. She finally opened her eyes to Emmy’s dark, worried stare. Rylee was lying in her arms on the floor, and Phillip was holding Carlton back while Jordon held Alma. They were screaming, and for a minute Rylee could see everyone’s mouth moving but the sounds were not registering. Her glazed eyes looked towards the door, and she saw the Quarter Master. He walked towards Emmy and looked down at them.
“Emmy, you gotta’ get the girl to the Doc.”
“I know, John. I need to make sure that Carlton is okay.”
“Phillip has him. God, Emmy, let me take her, then.”
For some reason when the big man reached down for her, Rylee thought he meant to put her in one of his cages, and she whimpered and grabbed onto Emmy. “No John, she needs her Mistress. She’ll be fine. Help Jordon.”
Alma was literally spitting at her husband. “You used to bring me girls like that,” she shrieked. “Not these wasted little brats that can’t stand a little fun. This one should be mine, Jordon,” she demanded. “Tell the cocksucker that took our clan that you want her for me.”
Emmy gasped, and Carlton and Phillip froze. The family knew that Alma had been losing it, and they knew that it had gotten worse after Jordon stepped down and Carlton had replaced him, but they had no idea her dementia had progressed to this level. Jordon had been careful to keep her isolated when he saw the anger building in her eyes, and of all days to leave her alone, it had been this morning. Jordon had met Carlton at Phillip’s house when he was bringing him his slave. Alma had almost killed the girl, and the men were trying to figure out if they could bring her back from wherever her mind had traveled, or if she was destined for the cages. Jordon had left Alma s
leeping, and he was preparing to tell his sons the very difficult decision he had made.
The Quarter Master had come out of the harvesting cabin and he saw Tammy smiling towards the street. It took several minutes before he got her to announce smugly that the leader’s new girl was going to get hers and that Alma had taken her. John’s quarters were across from the patriarch’s, and he had witnessed Alma’s deterioration. He raced to Emmy’s and asked her where Carlton was. Emmy followed him to Phillip’s and they all ended up at Alma’s shed, watching in horror as the crazed woman circled the impaled slave’s already striped torso and legs. She was screaming crazy orders at the girl, and Rylee had her eyes closed with tears spilling down her cheeks. Jordon reached his wife first and grabbed the hand with the whip. She cursed at him and shrieked while Carlton and Phillip lowered Rylee into Emmy’s lap.
Emmy felt the girl begin to shudder, and mewling wails mixed in with her sobs. “Rylee?” she whispered.
It seemed like an eternity before the girl whimpered, “Yes, Mistress?”
Thank god, her mind was still all right. Emmy could heal her body, but she was sure the girl’s mind had to have snapped. “I’m going to take you to Doc’s soon.”
Rylee gripped her blouse tighter and muffled a wail into her shirt, “No more, please Mistress. Take me home.” Rylee was disoriented with all the pain, and she sobbed at the thought they were taking her for more torture.
Emmy stroked her hair, trying to avoid the worst of the welts. “All right, Rylee. We’ll take you home, but Doc is still going to have to see you. You know you’re hurt.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Emmy caught Carlton’s eye, and looked down at Rylee and nodded. Her husband calmed a little when he realized the girl was not ruined. He pointed a shaking finger at his mother. “Dad, keep her away from us.”
Alma had stopped fighting with Jordon and was beginning to look around in bewilderment. Her mouth dropped open when she looked at the beaten slave in Emmy’s lap, and pieces of remembrance slashed through her confused mind. A wail from the depths of her soul sounded through the shed.
“Take her to the house, dad. We’ll talk later,” Phillip said softly. He turned towards his sister-in-law. “Emmy, she needs to see the doctor.”
“I know, Phillip. Please ask him to come to the house.” Emmy looked up at Carlton. “She says she wants to go home.”
Carlton lifted the young woman in his arms, and Rylee hissed when his sleeve scraped along her back. “Be still.”
“Yes, Master,” she whimpered. Emmy and Carlton both knew slaves needed to be grounded with routine and things they were familiar with.
Emmy began, “Carlton, I’m so sorry. I sent her to get the bottles and…”
“Hush Emmy, it’s not your fault. John told me that Tammy cleaned for mom yesterday and she told her you would be sending Rylee to get bottles today. It’s not your fault,” he repeated. The Quarter Master was still walking beside Carlton. “John, I want her transferred out of here.”
“I’ll have one of the rangers transport her to the north, sir. One should be checking in within the next few days. I’ll need a clan tag for her so we get credit next year.”
“No, John. Put a piece of leather with an ‘X’ on it. I’m not taking credit for another slave in exchange for her, and you need to make sure the ranger knows to tell Aaron how devious the girl is.”
Emmy opened the door to the cabin, and Carlton laid Rylee on their bed. Phillip and the doctor arrived soon after, and John and Phillip left after asking Emmy to send word about the condition of the girl.
The doctor looked down at the girl on the bed and he shook his head. “I’m telling you straight up, Carlton, I’m not sure I can bring her back from this.”
Rylee’s mind was spinning in pain and she had the crazy thought that her captors were being kind to her. That would never really happen. Strobing flashes of Alma’s beating, and her insane gray eyes burning in rage at her as she kept ordering her to do things that were impossible in her restrained position… has she disfigured me somehow? She opened her eyes in alarm and struggled to sit up. She looked up at the Doctor and wailed, “Bring me back from what?” Her panicked eyes looked at Carlton, and she searched her ruined body for some permanent injury. “What did she do to me?”
The doctor’s eyes widened in surprise, and he asked, “She’s not shut down?” Carlton shook his head. “After a beating like this?” He quickly composed himself. “You’re going to be fine, girl. Just lay back.” He checked her for broken bones or internal injuries, and ran his fingers over the many welts. “You need to soak her in the cool water and get this liniment on her. She may end up with a few thin scars on her thighs, but I think she’ll be fine. For a little thing, she’s strong.”
Emmy poured water into the bath. It had only been heating in the sun for a few hours, so she was certain it would still be cool. Rylee was floating in and out of consciousness, and Carlton picked her up and laid her in the tub. She shivered and fought to get out when the cool waters hit the welts and burned. Carlton held her down, and eventually the coolness numbed her injuries. She relaxed again and closed her eyes, with her head resting on a towel Emmy had folded and placed behind her. They returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed while Rylee soaked.
Carlton stretched out his long legs and studied his boots. “Dad knew it. I think he was going to discuss it with Phillip and me when he brought their girl over. He didn’t get a chance before you and John arrived.”
“I don’t understand. She didn’t look that bad when we were over there last week.” Emmy thought back to Carlton’s warnings. “You suspected it, didn’t you Carlton?”
“John mentioned a few odd things to me. He didn’t want to get too involved, but he thought I should be aware. Sometimes he heard them fighting, and he said Alma would scream hateful things at my father.” He threw his head back, and closed his eyes and sighed. “Dad’s going to have to do something with her.”
Emmy looked down at her lap and said, “Carlton, he’ll never send her there… you know that.”
The clan to the south concentrated on whatever medical knowledge was brought back to the mountains, and even had a small hospital of sorts. Though they focused on unconventional procedures and alterations concerning the slaves. If a clan member could reach them in time, they could handle many injuries. They also had a small compound set up for clan folk who could no longer live independently, either for physical reasons or the few elderly members who had become unmanageable with dementia. Jordon rarely left the house the next few days, other than to make embarrassed excuses to his sons, and he moved Alma south the following week.
They let Rylee soak for ten minutes, and then Carlton lifted her out of the water. Emmy retrieved two locking chains from the wardrobe and wrapped them around the two footboard posts. They secured Rylee’s ankles and wrists, and Emmy applied the liniment. The girl shrieked at the first swabs, then retreated back into her unconscious world of delirium to heal.
It took two days before the girl was stiffly moving and able to focus on Emmy’s instructions. She released the restraints and followed the painful slow movements of her slave while she made her way to the pond. Emmy had no intentions of running into the frigid water to rescue the girl if she fell over, so she ordered her to sit in the shallow water on the bank to wash. She continued Rylee’s training in less strenuous activities she was already familiar with. The bruises were still purple and green, but they were gradually fading.
She had finished the dishes and was kneeling by Carlton in the living room when the door banged open. The boys were back. After greeting their parents, they looked down at Rylee. “What happened to her?” Steven asked.
Brian walked over and knelt in front of her, running a finger over one of the fading bruises. He was confused. He had never seen his parents get angry enough to beat one of the girls. “What did she do wrong?”
“There was a problem while you were gone, and I’ll discuss it with
you boys tomorrow. Rylee’s going to be fine, aren’t you girl?”
“Yes, Master,” she said softly.
Carlton looked up at Emmy in exasperation. The girl’s body had healed, but her disposition was melancholy. Emmy had assured him the girl would be fine when she was healed enough to continue the distractions of their training.
Emmy let her recover for a few more days, and noticed the girl was moving much more smoothly. When the men had left after breakfast, she had Rylee follow her into the living room. She snapped her fingers and Rylee thumped down on her knees. “Up,” Emmy ordered. The girl reached out a hand to clumsily climb to her feet. “Keep your hands behind you when you rise or get into position. Roll your hips so the movements are smooth. Position.”
Whiplash! Page 12
