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Enslaved Chapter 61Forty-eight hours later, Julia was in the master bedroom of the house, packing a suitcase ready for Quentin’s fishing trip. She knew what her Master would require. She knelt, naked as always, before a large leather case, checking through the items. Her curvaceous hindquarters were again without a blemish … light honey-coloured gleaming softly. For, after her strapping and light caning she had undergone Healing Treatment. Quentin, who had been lying in bed reading the New York Herald Tribune, finally rolled out. He was naked and had a half hard-on, as he generally did in the mornings. Heading toward the shower room, he caught sight of Julia, bending so invitingly. He paused to admire the scenery. This lovely creature, once his fiancee (the two-timing bitch!) was now his slave. His possession. He could do whatever he liked with her. The thought brought his half hardon to a full hard. He moved forward and knelt behind the girl. He said nothing, simply gripping Julia by her flanks. After all, there was no need for pleasantries with a slave-girl! He slid easily into the submissive sex, giving a little grunt of pleasure. Julia ceased her packing, and, taking the weight, supported herself by gripping the edge of the case. Still no words were spoken. Quentin just fucked steadily with Julia acting and reacting cooperatively, as she must. Her soft pendulous breasts were being squeezed as Quentin bucked back and forth. After about three minutes he suddenly increased his pace and then ejaculated, groaning and shuddering as he did so. Recovering, Quentin withdrew and gave Julia’s bottom an approving pat. “Get on with my packing,” he said. Then he went contentedly on his way to the shower. Julia had truly been used. Used like an object. Like a masturbatory device. Like a blow-up rubber doll. Julia, aware of this, shut the thought out of her mind. It was dangerous to let herself feel resentment. Very. Melissa in particular could sense it and Julia was frequently punished on this account. For his part, Quentin could not have cared less. He hummed contentedly under the hot water, soaking his still engorged prick. That was the way to treat women, he said to himself. Use them, then toss them aside. He stepped out of the shower and called Julia to dry him. She came in with a forced smile on her face… an ‘Oh-how-happy-I-am to-be-able-to-serve’ kind of smile. Dried, Quentin gave Julia’s bottom a hard slap, then strolled back into the bedroom. Owning a slave-girl really was most satisfying.An hour later, Melissa was fondly kissing her husband farewell. It was strange but nowadays she rarely thought of her earlier days of servitude and the monstrous acts of cruelty and degradation Quentin had committed… and still committed on the likes of Julia and Simone. That was another world and she had put it behind her, revelling in her present day power. “See you in about a weeks’ time,” said Quentin, “Look after Simone for me.” “You bet I will!” There was a menacing edge to Melissa’s voice which Quentin sensed boded no good for the Frenchwoman. In fact, Melissa had plans for Simone. In her view, Simone was by no means as submissive as she should be. She was of the opinion that the woman still did not truly think of herself as a slave (as Julia did), and there were areas of obstinacy and rebellion still lying dormant. Melissa was determined to eradicate them and Quentin’s absence gave her a good opportunity. Taking Cassim and a vibrator with her she made her way to the cage in Quentin’s quarters were Simone was kept. “You enjoy bumfucking, don’t you Cassim?” she enquired on the way. “Yes, Ma’am, I sure do…” “None of the other boys or the Boss seem all that keen. But in my view, this Simone should be taught to accommodate a prick up her back passage.” “Too right,” grinned Cassim. Things definitely seemed to be going his way. As the cage was unlocked, Simone assumed the obligatory degrading posture on her bunk, with hindquarters high and thighs wide. Cassim gazed appreciably. Melissa picked up a rod and lashed it hard across Simone’s bottom. “Trying to tempt Cassim, are you, you saucy trollop?” she said. “Get on your knees and face me.” Simone swivelled round and faced the pair. There was a look of terror in her eyes. She sensed that this evil woman had a score to settle with her and feared her far more than Quentin. She was aware of the saying that women could be cruellest to their own kind. Melissa’s eyes roved over her sumptuous breasts. That was were she intended her first assault … the first step in breaking Simone utterly. “Have you bum-fucked yet?” enquired Melissa. “N-No … Mistress,” answered Simone. The look of terror in her eyes increased. “So you’re still an anal virgin, then?” “Yes, Mistress … “ only a whisper. “I see. Well you will have to be stretched, slave, before you can accommodate Cassim’s cock up your backside.” Horror quivered over Simone’s features, her jaw sagged. “O-Oh … no …” she whispered. The cane lashed across the fronts of Simone’s thighs. “Are you daring to query my intentions, slave?” rasped Melissa. “Ahhhh … oh n-no … no, Mistress.” “It sounded like it. Just you watch your step, you arrogant cow, or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. Now, you see this vibrator? It’s going to be stuck up your arsehole and switched on. You’ll have it up there for several hours and when in comes out a bigger one will go up. After that, it will be Cassim’s cock!” A bursa escort look of incredulous disbelief was spreading over Simone’s face. Her eyes rolled. She began to tremble. “No … oh … no … not that. Any-anything but that …” the fact that she was querying Melissa’s intentions made no difference under this awful stress. “I’ve warned you once, slave,” grated Melissa. She was, of course, out to goad Simone into an act of rebellion. “Get your bottom up again so that Cassim can stick the vibrator up you …” Simone’s arms and hands came up imploringly. “No…. OHHHH…NOOOOO … anything but that … I beseech you, Mistress …” “You can’t say I didn’t warn you, slave… and this is downright disobedience for which you will suffer the consequences. For the last time, get your arse up for Cassim!” Great heaving sobs came from Simone and she buried her face in her hands. “Nooooo … OOOOHHH … NOOOOOO… I CAN’T!” She cried out. Melissa looked grim but was, in fact, pleased. She had achieved her aim … to get Simone to rebel and disobey an order. Her suspicions were confirmed. Simone was far from the submissive slave she should be. “Very well,” she said, “You’ve asked for it, woman!” “Merccccee … merceeee … MERCCEEEEEEE!” shrieked Simone desperately. But Melissa was already making her preparations. She had everything planned out. Opening a cupboard, she removed a strange looking device from it. It was a square piece of wood on the surface of which were set lines of upturned bottle-top caps. They were jaggedly sharp-edged. There was a hole in the centre of the piece of wood and through this Melissa pushed a piece of iron, made in the shape of a penis. The piece of wood was fastened to the seat of the securing chair, the penis-shaped iron sticking up menacingly, with the bottle-tops beneath. “Put her down on that, please, Cassim,” said Melissa. “Sure thing …” Simone shrieking wildly, tried to escape but she was no match for Cassim, who lifted her easily up on high and the lowered her slowly down onto the chair. Terrible sounds came from Simone as the iron penis slid up her cunt and there were more terrible sounds as the upturned bottle-caps impinged into her flesh. There was a look of agonised disbelief on her features. “Now, Cassim,” said Melissa, “I want you to lift her arms up and place them over the back of the chair. There are straps for fastening them there.” Simone began to scream as her arms went up and back and were then firmly secured. Her magnificent breasts were uplifted and thrusting out to their upmost. Perfectly positioned for what Melissa had in mind. By now, Simone had guessed what it was and was screaming even louder and begging hysterically for mercy. “Now, you arrogant, disobedient cow, you are going to learn what having those big tits of yours caned … thoroughly caned … feels like. Perhaps you’ll be more obedient afterwards!” The shrieks went on. “MMERCCCC… MERCEEEE … MERCEEE …” “Seems almost a shame,” grinned Cassim, fondling the lush helpless orbs of succulent flesh. “They’ll heal. In time.” said Melissa consolingly. Then she examined the array of rods available to her. She selected a slim one, with about the circumference of a knitting needle. It would bite and sting adequately but had the advantage that she could go on using it for a long time without causing any permanent damage. She gazed into Simone’s petrified features, contorted almost beyond recognition, seeing the sweat of fear on the quivering flesh. “You deserve this,” she said in a taut voice, “and I am going to enjoy giving it to you!” “NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” It was the last shriek of protest before the shrieks of pain began.Simone’s buttocks and thighs were ablaze from the jagged bottletops and she was impaled on that hideous iron penis, but those torments were nothing compared with the agony of Melissa’s rod biting into her so-tender breast flesh. Melissa began by laying a dozen strokes across the tops of Simone’s breasts, working down until the twelfth stroke fell across both protruding nipples simultaneously. This produced the most agonising shriek of all. Melissa paused and surveyed her handiwork. Long, slim lines of bright pink-red lacing over the curves of the juddering breasts. Simone’s head was hanging forward and tears and saliva were trickling down over her breasts. She was sobbing and groaning horribly but, absurdly, assumed her awful ordeal was over. Then Melissa began to cane the underside of her breasts working from the join of the flesh to the chest up towards the nipples. The tumult of wildly juddering, bouncing flesh resumed. “Pull up her head and fasten it there with her hair,” ordered Melissa. „I want her to see herself in that facing wall mirror.” Cassim did so. Simone’s eyes were rolling in their sockets as they bulged out. “Get some smelling salts and keep them handy,” said Melissa. Grinning sadistically, Cassim hurried to obey. The pink-red weals came marching up the two wildly swinging globes, with Simone shrieking uninhibitedly. when the final stroke lashed down a second time across the already lacerated nipples, Simone slumped senseless. “Smelling salts,” said Melissa crisply. “Bring her round, Cassim, I want her to feel this.” The wretched Simone was brought back heaving and choking to life. Tears torrented down her cheeks. “You’ll learn not to disobey me, slave” said Melissa viciously, slapping the woman across her face. “Merceee .. .merceee … bursa escort bayan I can’t b-bear it!” Apart from anything else, the flaming, stabbing pains in her buttocks were intensifying. Why couldn’t she die? Hadn’t enough been done to her already? “Give her a double stimulant injection, Cassim,” ordered Melissa. One a day was normally the limit but exceptions were occasionally made. Cassim plunged in the needle which would extend Simone’s pain threshold considerably. At the same time, he held the smelling salts under her flaring nostrils again, Simone was hideously revived to full sensitivity. “Now this is where you really begin to feel it!” said Melissa venomously. Simone’s tear-filled eyes dilated. It was not possible her torment could continue! “No more … nnoooo … more … NO MORE … FOR GOD’S SAKE NO MORE!” Simone’s voice cracked. Then the whippy whalebone rod began to fall again, but this time, Melissa concentrated on the right breast alone, slashing diagonally across the tormented orb and repeatedly slicing into the nipple. Simone’s screams became a****l-like. Cassim kept the smelling salts at the ready but they were not required. Six … twelve … eighteen deadly strokes bit fierily into the agonisingly tender flesh until, screaming hoarsely, Simone fainted a second time. She was at once revived and Melissa turned her attention to the left breast. The cacophony of awful sounds began again. The vocal cords cracked again and again and the cries were transformed into hoarse throat rattling sounds. Cassim kept the smelling salts under Simone’s nose practically all the time. Then towards the end, Melissa repeatedly lashed at the unbelievably sensitive left nipple, until the woman fainted yet again. Her huge breasts were a mass of thin weals, horizontal and crossing and criss-crossing. Cassim surveyed them with some amazement. He could not remember a woman being more cruelly treated. “I think this slave might be rather more obedient in future,” said Melissa rather smugly. “Keep her in the chair for a another couple of hours. Bring her round of course. Her punishment isn’t over yet. She’s still got a good birching to come!” Cassim was rather amazed at the ferocity with which this woman was being treated but he did not realise that Melissa was determined to break the last remnants of Simone’s spirit, once and for all. Two hours afterwards a half-demented Simone was removed from the chair – her buttocks were in a terrible state, scored all over by the upturned bottle-caps. Here and there were little trickles of blood. The iron penis gleamed dully. Cassim began carrying her towards the pillory but Melissa wanted the woman over the punishment block. This forced Simone’s wide-spread buttocks up high, with her torso running down at an angle of sixty degrees. Her head was pulled up and secured so that, once again, she was forced to look at her own agony in a mirror. Fastening the thigh straps, Cassim made sure the buttock flesh was drawn as tight as a drumskin. It was then that Melissa announced the punishment. “Forty-eight strokes,” she said, “to be administered in four instalments of twelve strokes, with one hour between each flogging.” It was a punishment which once, long ago, had been given to her … and she had never forgotten it. She knew the unbelievable torment of having the flesh flayed off one’s rump until it was red raw. Melissa selected a birch from the brine water. One with twelve hard, whippy twigs, each twig green-fresh and supple. She gazed at Simone’s partially creamy-white bottom. Soon, she thought, it will look very different. “You, slave,” she said, “are now going to get the second part of your well-deserved punishment. The first part was for your rebellious arrogance; the second part is for your wilful disobedience. And, slave, while you’re getting it, reflect upon the fact that, if I deem it necessary, you can get this punishment all over again!” The twigs trailed over the quaking buttocks. Simone’s shoulders were heaving constantly and incoherent babbling sounds were coming from her throat. Why can’t I faint? Why can’t I die? She asked herself this repeatedly… yet knowing that her strength and reserves were being boosted by stimulants. A cruel action which denied her quicker release into insensibility. Standing on Simone’s left hand side, Melissa lashed down the birch, six times. allowing a five second interval between strokes. Instantly a mass of long red twig-marks sprung up, overlaying each other. They massed together most off all on Simone’s right buttock cheek. Then, after six strokes, Melissa took up station on Simone’s right hand side and then it was her left buttock which took the full brunt of the slashing twigs. Sssslllllaaaaasssshhhhhhhhhh! Sssslllllaaaaasssshhhhhhhhhh! Sssslllllaaaaasssshhhhhhhhhh! Simone’s screams were more like high-pitched hissing sounds. After the twelfth stroke, the two gibbous mounds of flesh scarcely showed any of their former whiteness. Melissa gazed down. If this woman though she had reached the extremities of pain, she was soon going to find out that those limits could be extended. “Cassim, you will administer twelve more strokes after one hour; then twelve more after a further hour. I shall be here to give her the final twelve. There’ll be no more disobedience, I’m quite sure.” “I guess not,” replied Cassim. Melissa unlocked the cage and Cassim followed her out. He flopped into one of the armchairs in Quentin’s escort bursa apartment whilst Melissa made her way upstairs. He listened to the long moaninggroans that came from Simone every few seconds. Here was a woman who was indeed suffering. Yet there was even greater suffering to come!Before administering the second twelve strokes, Cassim thought it wise to make use of the smelling salts, thus intensifying the choking-groans. Picking up a fresh birch, he felt little sympathy for this Frenchwoman. She was now merely a slave and he simply had his duty to do. “Twelve more strokes, slave,” he announced in a loud voice, “on the orders of your Mistress.” He saw Simone’s reddened eyes open a little. In them he saw hopeless despair, terror and a look of infinite pleading.Then he proceeded to flog Simone in the same fashion that Melissa had done… six strokes from one side followed by six strokes from the other. The strangled, choking shrieks they produced were unreal. Almost eerie. Inhuman in their awful sound. By the time the twelfth stroke had fallen, the skin over Simone’s magnificent buttocks was beginning to break. The house ‘phone rang. It was Melissa. “Have you given them to her?” she asked. “Just finished, Ma’am,” said Cassim. “Good,” said Melissa. “Now I want you to lay a wet, salted, sheet of gauze over each buttock cheek and keep it there, until she gets f logged for a third time.” “Right, Ma’am, it will be done,” said Cassim. Like the birches, these special gauzes were kept in water. They intensified the pain of a flogging excruciatingly. As he laid a gauze over each buttock cheek, Cassim saw the flesh begin to twitch and quake and hissing rattling sounds were ejected from Simone’s cracked throat. Her mind was in a state of dementia and she was repeatedly praying for death. It did not come. Cassim retired to wait for another hour to pass. He consumed half a bottle of Quentin’s brandy and felt greatly fortified. Then, on the hour, he went once more back into the cage and, having stripped off the gauzes, Simone’s agonies re-commenced. After the third lot of twelve strokes, the skin on Simone’s bottom had broken in many places and blood was trickling down her unmarked white thighs. It was a nasty sight, unless you were a true sadist. And Cassim was. He had enjoyed giving this woman a good birching and was satisfied with the results. So, too, was Melissa when she returned for the final stage. She knew just how much Simone had suffered and was still suffering. This was the only way to quell rebellion and disobedience! She picked up another fresh birch and began to lay on with all the force she could muster. It was unfortunate that Simone now seemed semi-conscious and could not be revived. All the same, Melissa completed the task of flaying every last morsel of skin off of Simone’s bottom. It looked more like raw minced beef than flesh by the time she had finished.Simone spent the next three days under sedation and having intensive healing treatment on her breasts and buttocks. By that time, she was making excellent progress. The scars were disappearing… but not from her mind. Finally, brought before Melissa, she knew such terror, she scarcely had the strength to stand. “Never forget, slave,” said Melissa, “if need be it can all happen all over again.” Simone cringed down and kissed Melissa’s boots. There were tears in her eyes and she was trembling uncontrollably. “I will do whatever you want, Mistress,” she said simply. The woman had been broken. Totally. Melissa was well satisfied. “Take her back to her cage,” ordered Melissa. “I’ll be down shortly.” Cassim led Simone out on the end of a collar and chain. She went meekly, without the slightest trace of resistance.Melissa entered the cage in a short black leather dress and thigh length boots. In her hands, she held a vibrator. The cause of all the trouble. “Now, slave, your arsehole is going to be prepared for use. In fact, I’m doing you a kindness. You wouldn’t like Cassim’s cock up you in your virgin state. Now, turn over slave and get your bottom up.” A low moan came from Simone, her mouth was loose. She was trembling, taut as a bowstring. She knew the consequences of disobedience. So, she turned and presented her bottom. With a look of infinite satisfaction on her hard features, Melissa inserted the vibrator into Simone’s anus. Slowly but surely. There was a low undulating cry from Simone, and sobbing, she collapsed on to her bunk. The vibrator was switched on and Simone was soon squirming in pain and revulsion. Then she was left to endure her new ordeal. Five hours later, Cassim returned and removed the dildo. Then he inserted another and larger one. Simone screamed. “Next my cock, slave,” whispered Cassim in her ear, before he left. It must be said that Simone no longer considered the total degradation of being treated in this fashion by a coloured man. Broken, she was forced to admit she was a slave and that she had to submit to whatever others wished to do to her. Melissa had triumphed.When Cassim returned five hours later, he had Melissa with him. “Now, she’s all yours, Cassim,” she said. “Thank you, Ma’am,” grinned Cassim. He was already naked and in erection, excited by the prospect ahead of him. With Simone groaning, out came the large dildo. “Get your bottom up prettily, woman,” ordered Melissa. Simone thrust up submissively and Cassim surveyed the happy scene. He had wanted to bum-fuck this lush creature ever since he had set eyes on her … and now he was going to. Simone screamed as Cassim thrust into her remorselessly … and she went on screaming as Cassim continued to ram in with deliberate brutality. Seated nearby, Melissa just smiled and smiled.
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