A Gentleman's Property

by Toby Abbott

  With an effort, Mary could now get her mouth high enough to reach Tommy’s cock and rub the tip vigorously with her lips and bone gag. She could tell at once that much more of this treatment would produce an eruption. If this was her treat, she did not wish it to end in only Tommy’s pleasure, much though she had that at heart Releasing her hold, she shuffled away from the bed and spun as quickly as she could to present her business end to the slick and pulsing cock.

  Now navigation became a serious problem. ‘Walking’ in this bondage was hard enough head-first, because that way she had to judge distance and direction upside down, but feet first it was all but impossible. With her navel still raised obediently above the level of her knees and shoulders, Mary could not see where she was going at all, even when she forced her head up into a most unnatural and uncomfortable position. Squinting to either side of her reddened breasts she could get a glimpe of Tommy’s widely splayed feet, and for want of anything better she used these landmarks to guide her to the target.

  Even in his aroused state, Tommy found Mary’s tentative approach very entertaining to watch. It reduced sex to a rawly primitive level. What he saw in larger and larger close-up was a yawning and dripping cunt seeking blindly for any comforting stopper. It reminded him of a slow-motion nature film, the yearning petals unfolding to invite the bee. Mary’s cunt, with its convoluted folds, was very like a rose.

  For some time she swayed her hips and bobbed her mount vainly in quest of Tommy’s cock, which he kept a steady few inches above her reach. Then he took pity, on Mary, as he told her, or on himself, as he privately confessed, and lowered his peg to meet the blindly probing hole. When she felt the two engage, Mary tried to complete the coupling in a single lunge, but found their knees were in the way. Handicapped as she was by the rods, she had to force her body into the most extreme contortions to achieve full penetration, and then to work herself back and forth. It was painful and exhausting, but Mary had reached the point where that only made it more exciting.

  For his part, Tommy leaned back further onto the bed, supporting himself on his elbows, and let Mary get on with it. From that position he could see only the parts of a woman that truly interested him: her well-punished breasts, and her cunt, working slavishly for his pleasure. Tommy often pointed out, as evidence of his extreme good nature, that he had no objection to a woman taking pleasure also, so long as his was never jeopardised.

  Tommy was too aroused by this pleasing view, and Mary too frustrated by the long delayed enjoyment of her reward, for their peculiar mating to last long. Now that both sets of legs had been forced wide enough to allow it, Mary was flinging herself fiercely at Tommy with every thrust, her denuded mons thudding against his curly pubic bush. Its luxuriance prevented her rings from causing anything more than a pleasing pain. The rods linking her ankles and wrists clanked each time she launched herself off the carpet with a powerful thrust of her hands. At the fifteenth or sixteenth thrust her arms buckled under her, causing her cunt to slide off Tommy’s cock just as he massively ejaculated. His semen spattered across her belly, breasts, and face, as she also came, in a style almost as spectacular.

  Now Tommy really was ready to rest for a while, but first he went to the bathroom, to use the lavatory and bidet. When he returned to the cabin and released Mary from the rods, she began to make the squatting gestures used by all gagged slaves as a means of begging for toilet rights. Being in an indulgent mood, Tommy fastened her wrist cuffs loosely behind her back, and sent her to clean herself up. She had now despaired of obtaining the use of her tongue, and her hands also looked like remaining out of commission. But in the bathroom she found one of the little slave dressing tables that some of the masters liked to have at hand for running repairs. She stared at the unfamiliar reflection in the mirror above it. This was the first time she had seen her nose piercing. It made her look more completely a slave than anything else the Millionaires had done to her. She almost swooned with pleasure as she thought of Tommy, the one among the masters on whom she had concentrated all her submissive lust. But she was also terrified by the threat hanging over him. Among the odds and ends scattered about on the table were several lipsticks. Mary managed to pick one up with her toes, and hoisted herself onto the dressing table.

  A Recruiting Party

  The toy flotilla commanded by Major Electra comprised four launches, three for the attack and to transport the slaves, the other to bring away Madame’s possessions and any inanimate plunder. The major herself and Lieutenants Helen and Atthis took charge of the boarding craft, Hesione of the cargo vessel, which was also the communications centre. Twelve Amazons were on board each of the attack boats, but only four sailed with Hesione. The channel indicated by Madame was so close to Casco that the expedition did not need to leave until sunset on Tuesday evening. It was a dark night, and no other craft was sighted during the voyage. At ten the Major ordered the four launches to drop anchor in a deserted bay near the mouth of ‘Channel 119’, and there they waited impatiently for the appearance of the Bonaventure, passing the time in studying the plans of the ship provided by Madame, and checking their knives, coshes, handcuffs, and gags. The major had decided that no guns should be carried, to avoid losing the vital advantage of surprise. She planned to clear the ship cabin by cabin, without any alarm being sounded.

  Major Electra was not a believer in heroic rhetoric, but she did remind her Amazons of the reward promised by the Baroness in the event of a successful raid. Each of the three boarding parties would be allotted one of the liberated slaves, to enjoy as they wished in a Casco pleasure house for a full week, during which chastity belts would be removed. In the other boats Helen and Atthis were encouraging their women with similar recitals of potential reward and punishment. As they listened to their commanders the Amazons smeared their faces with black grease. Officers and women wore full-length black leather uniforms.

  It was nearly one before the large black shadow of the Bonaventure was seen in the distance, proceeding cautiously through the channel. This was the signal for the three boarding launches to glide stealthily towards it, keeping close to the dark cliff face on the east side, where the water was too shallow for the ship to approach. At the darkest spot they lay to and all the Amazons were ordered to fall flat on the deck while the Bonaventure passed by. Major Electra knew the pilot and lookouts would be concentrating on the channel ahead, so that an attack on the stern of the ship had every chance of going unnoticed. But the operation had to be carried out in the channel. In the open sea the speed and wake of the ship would have made it impossible. Meanwhile Hesione’s larger cargo launch held station in the bay.

  All went smoothly. The Bonaventure passed by without anyone on deck glancing at the three darker patches of water under the cliff face. When the major cautiously raised her head she could see no figures near the stern of the slowly receding ship. At a whispered order the three launches began their stealthy pursuit.

  Electra herself was the first on board. She clambered up a cable with a rope ladder attached to her waist, and soon ten Amazons from her boat were crouched beside her amidst the clutter of nautical and erotic equipment in the Bonaventure’s stern. While the major moved stealthily forward to establish contact with Madame her sergeant organised the assembly of the other Amazons. As the boarding parties scrambled up the ladder the skeleton crews left on the three launches steered them back into the shadows beneath the cliff, where they kept pace with the Bonaventure and awaited orders.

  Madame was lurking in the gap between a lifeboat and the rail, a traditional spot for lovers’ trysts on more straight-laced ships, but rarely visited on the Bonaventure. The leashed Mary was with her, the gag she still wore distorting her face sufficiently to disguise its guilty expression.

  “Checkmate,” whispered the major.

  “Thank goodness! After our ridiculous delays today I was afraid you might have aborted. Do I know you, by the way?”

&nb
sp; “Major Electra, Madame, Captain when we last met at Casco.”

  “Of course. Delighted to see you again. Where are your women?”

  “All aboard, Madame, awaiting orders.”

  “Excellent. Get this girl off the ship first, then we can begin. There are slave cabins just below us that will provide easy pickings. I have a pass key, of course”

  Mary was moved quickly to the stern, to which, at a signal from the sergeant in charge of the rope ladder, the major’s launch glided in from the shadows to take delivery of Madame’s first piece of property. The tightly bound girl was lowered like a parcel and stowed away beneath a bench. The launch returned to the shelter of the cliff.

  Many of the slave cabins in the stern, including Mary’s, were empty. Their occupants were on duty elsewhere, screaming, sucking, cushioning, posing, or in a host of other ways providing comfort or entertainment for the masters. But from those that were locked Lieutenants Helen and Atthis and their parties of Amazons extracted seven startled beauties. All were tired and sore after heavy use during the day, but some were still alert (and silly) enough to offer thanks for this rescue. All attempts at speech were cut short by the Amazons’ gags, and the slaves followed Mary’s route to the launch.

  “Good,” said Madame, when she had seen the first slave cabin cleared, “while that work is proceeding we will tackle the difficult part of the operation.”

  After Madame had collected Mary from his cabin, Tommy Khan dozed contentedly for a few hours, but he was of an age when sexual hunger could not be pacified for long, even by a feast. About midnight he woke to the disappointment of an empty bed. He knew all the freshest slaves would be taken, but the holding cabins must surely provide the passive receptacle for his lust that was all he craved. Tommy was also young enough to be vain, to want even a sperm bucket to love him, so before setting out in search of a woman he went to the bathroom to wash and shave.

  The first thing he saw, printed in very wobbly lipstick on the dressing table mirror, was this message: GREAT DANGER - RAID TONIGHT - WOMEN - WILL SINK SHIP - SAVE YOURSELF.

  Tommy was nonplussed. His race and religion predisposed him to look down on women, and his experiences with the club had led him to believe that none of the slaves possessed any character or volition. Yet here was a slave not only taking decisive action, but apparently in possession of a vital secret. And that secret was that women were about to attack the Bonaventure - were perhaps already doing so, he thought, glancing anxiously at his watch.

  Like any member of the Club, Tommy’s first reaction in a crisis was to consult Sir Roger, who, without holding any official position, was the permanent sage of the Millionaires. His extension was answered by a pain-soaked Russian voice that Tommy recognised as belonging to Anya, the girl who had disgraced herself during the egg and spoon race. Was Sir Roger up? O, yes, Sir, never more so!

  In fact, Tommy was missing quite a sight. Anya was spreadeagled face-up on Sir Roger’s desk, her hands and feet tied to the corners, while the furious, and furiously erect sage, naked except for gloves, whipped her with nettles. The girl’s pale skin was covered in fierce red blotches, and she was shaking and wriggling every moveable part of her body in a vain attempt to escape the nettles or find some relief from their sting. The sound of the phone had come as a blessed distraction, for Sir Roger suspended the beating while Anya acted as secretary, lifting the receiver with her teeth. Tommy’s report produced further respite. Sir Roger dropped the phone between Anya legs, flung on some clothes, and hurried from the cabin without a word.

  “Where is Mary Bowdler now?” was Sir Roger’s first question after Tommy had shown him the message on the mirror.

  “Madame Colet collected her a few hours ago.”

  “Madame! This begins to make sense. Assemble the other members in the saloon immediately, while I arm the crew. Leave the slaves where they are. They will only get in our way.”

  At any other time Tommy would have found his tour of the cabins a delightful and arousing experience, for in nearly all of them some educational erotic tableau was being performed. In Ogden Frankenheimer’s he found Susan Metcalfe, the nervous young English beauty who had finished second in the maiden staking, demonstrating her subtle orgasm to that connoisseur of climaxes. With her knees locked in braces that held them straight, she was standing bent double, her ankles and wrists in a set of horizontal stocks. The wrist holes were between the ankle holes, which gave Ogden easy access for whatever stimulus or punishment he chose to apply to the upturned cunt. Her hair had been formed into a ponytail, and tied back to a belt, which fixed her eyes to the front and prevented her from anticipating whether pain or pleasure was to be her next experience. The youngest member was trying out various of his own inventions on the debutante, including a little muslin pouch full of writhing worms that he wedged between her labia, with one end tucked inside her gaping cunt. With that in place he had returned to his chair, drawn up in front of Susan, and was alternately studying her flushed face from close range through his owlish spectacles, or kissing and licking her delicate features, while his chubby hands played with her breasts.

  Ogden was so absorbed in his experiment that he did not hear Tommy enter his cabin, and Tommy was so interested in the effect the worms were having on Miss Metcalfe that he momentarily forgot his urgent mission. She was cooing, yes positively cooing like a dove, as the worms danced their dance of death against her most intimate flesh. A rhythmic tapping sound Tommy traced to the padlock of the stocks, which was vibrating against a support as Susan sought to express her ecstasy through her pinioned hands and feet.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Ogden,” Tommy said, when he was able to wrench his attention back to business. “There’s a flap on. Sir Roger wants everyone in the saloon immediately. Help me to assemble the others, will you. No time for questions. Just leave the girl.”

  Susan did not even notice their departure.

  The first of the members’ cabins to which Madame led the major and her Amazons belonged to the elderly banker, Angelo Tangelli. As part of his plan to humiliate and break his haughty wife, Angelo was accustomed to have her present during his sexual sessions, to see other slaves given pain and pleasure in varying proportions, but to receive only pain herself. Tonight the foil was Anna Lustrum, the Swede who had beaten Signora Tangelli so comprehensively in the pogo-stick handicap. In her presence, stung by that memory, Angelo was especially cruel.

  He had ordered that his wife be sat astride a v-topped bar of iron that emerged from the wall of his cabin three feet from the floor. Her mouth was filled by a large ball gag. A stout pole had been pressed across her back, and her elbows hooked behind it. Her wrists were clipped to her belly ring, and her nipple rings had been pulled in opposite directions to be chained to the two ends of the pole, stretching the large breasts grotesquely. Her ankles had been pulled up behind her and linked by a short hobble chain that was draped over the bar behind her buttocks. Angelo liked to give her plenty of scope for struggling. For the same reason he did not attach her to the wall. She could in time have wriggled off the v-topped bar had it not ended in a large iron ball covered with rough protrusions. But that did not stop her trying, such was the agony of the V, and she had spent the night struggling to clamber over this excruciating obstacle with only her cunt muscles for leverage. By midnight, the aristocratic matron, who had been delivered to the cabin most elaborately groomed, was a limp, bedraggled, sweat-soaked bundle of pain and frustration.

  While his faithless Lucia was struggling on the wall, Angelo was showing unusual kindness and consideration to the fortunate Anna, who had never spent so luxurious a night on board the Bonaventure. The banker had fed her delicious titbits from his own plate, and poured champagne from his own glass down her throat, with plenty to spare for her neck and breasts. Anna’s hands were clipped to the back of her belt, but loosely and comfortably.

  After supper A
ngelo settled himself in the centre of his bunk, from where he could command an excellent view of his wife’s painful struggles, and ordered Anna to prepare him for action. She expected this to be the unpleasant part of the evening, for she knew from experience that a miracle was needed to raise his superannuated member. ‘Lazarus’ was Signor Tangelli’s name among the slaves. But on this occasion the sight of his Lucia stripped of all pride and dignity, drooling and whimpering on her perch of pain, set his cock stirring before Anna laid a tongue on it. It had long annoyed Angelo, a man of many qualifications, who had dragged himself up from humble origins by mere brain power, that his wife should always look and sound the more intelligent of the two. Tonight, with the big red ball-gag’s idiot gape the centre of her face, and her breasts pulled sharply upwards and apart, her appearance was positively clownish; and the strange sounds emerging from behind the gag were more like the distant cries of a terrified animal than the polite lispings of a duke’s daughter. For Angelo revenge was sweet - and exciting. Within seconds Anna found herself nuzzling a cock that was small certainly, but as stiff as any she had encountered, and quivering with impatience.

  “Presto, presto!” he gasped, pulling Anna up by the hair, and gesturing for her to mount while this rare condition lasted.

  It was at this point that the Amazons burst into the cabin. The gagged Lucia saw them at once, but Angelo’s eyes were glazed with lust, and the first he knew of the interruption was when another ball gag, bigger than his wife’s, was thrust into his mouth, and cuffs snapped on his wrists and ankles. Anna, who had frozen with shock while only half impaled, was pulled unceremoniously off Angelo’s cock, leaving it the centre of attention.