Enslaved on an Alien World Ch 02
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Enslaved Chapter 66 free porn video
Quentin, in an equally luxurious suite next to Julia’s, was also drinking champagne. It was a liquid which seemed as freely available as water aboard the ‘Paradise’! Miss Judith, so scantily clad, had been invited to be seated and was also taking a glass.
“Most kind of you, Sir,” she said obsequiously. In fact Miss Judith could have had as much champagne as she liked... but it was best to play up to important guests.
“My pleasure,” smiled Quentin. His piggy eyes roved over Miss Judith’s ampleness. “I must say you are looking most attractive.”
“Thank you Sir, it is nice of you to say so. Rarely do I think about my looks. I am devoted to my duties.”
I bet, thought Quentin. Also he gathered that Miss Judith was not interested in male approval, she required it from the females and doubtless, in one way or another, she got it!
“Now about a personal slave while I am here...”
“Oh yes, Sir. I think I’ve got something special you’ll approve of.”
“Oh indeed?”
“Yes... she’s a creole. From Haiti.”
“Oh really?”
“Half Spanish, half native... which has produced a most delightful light coffee-coloured skin.”
“Sounds nice... “
“More than that, she reckons herself a princess. Was, that is!”
“Good Lord.”
“There were, and still are, bigwigs in the island. But nowadays, I guess that the ‘princess’ title is more self-styled than anything.”
“Most likely. Still, it makes things interesting. Been on board long, Miss Judith?”
“No, Sir. Still inclined to be a bit rebellious on occasions. Started off with plenty of pride and spirit - living up to her assumed status, I suppose - and there are still traces left.”
“Good,” smiled Quentin. “I prefer that...”
„Shall I have her brought to you?”
“Please do.”
While Miss Judith went to the house-phone, Quentin topped up their glasses. “Bit of a shock for Melissa, eh?” the overseer said conversationally.
“You can say that again,” grinned Quentin. “I laid it all on with Madame Vesta in advance.”
“Yes, I heard about it. Julia must be pleased, she’s had a long, hard time of it.”
“Of course, she hasn’t adjusted yet,” said Quentin. “But I must say, I wouldn’t like to be Melissa when she gets to work on her in earnest.”
Miss Judith nodded. “You can say that again...”
“By the way, how does this ‘princess’ come to be here?”
“Some sort of family feud, I understand. Her uncle arranged it all.”
There came a knock on the door. “Enter...”
A male overseer, whom Quentin had not seen before, came in first. He was bronzed, fair-haired, good looking and massively built. But a glance at the grossly bulging white pouch he wore told of the main reason for his appointment! On the end of a collar and chain, he led in a most striking looking young woman, who at once sank to her knees, bowing her head.
“This is Erik,” said Miss Judith. “He hails from Norway and is a recent recruit here.”
“How do you do, Sir?” said Erik politely.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Quentin, eyes turning to the lovely coffee-skinned creature who had been brought in. That she had a superb body could be seen even as she knelt... high, rounded breasts, slim waist, swelling hips, long thighs.
“Head up, girl!” rapped Miss Judith.
A raven-black head was raised, thick hair fell to the girl’s shoulders. Quentin saw a wide set pair of lustrous eyes... black as sloes, the whites very white, eyes filled with shimmering dread. The mouth was wide and very full-lipped, almost Negroid. Just made for sucking, thought Quentin. But the rest of the features were very European. A slim, straight nose, nicely flared; high cheekbones. If things had been otherwise, those features would have well suited a dominatrix.
“This is Carlotta,” said Miss Judith.
‘Princess Carlotta’, reflected Quentin, looking appreciatively at the golden chain about that slim waist. And now mine. “She seems to have some merit,” he said, trying to speak with a casualness he did not really feel.
“Up girl,” ordered Miss Judith. “Walk her about a bit, please Erik. She moves well.”
Carlotta stood up, placed her hands on top of her head and was led around the room by the overseer. She walked with a sinuous grace, with a kind of liquidity in her almost prancing stride, her hind quarters swinging most seductively. She walks as a ‘princess’ should, thought Quentin. But this girl was now a slave.
“Age?” he enquired, as Carlotta made a second circuit of the room. God what a figure she had! Capable of seducing a saint!
“Nineteen,” replied Miss Judith to Quentin’s delight. The girl looked rather older than that.
“I’ll have her,” he said, almost a shade too hurriedly.
“Good, that’s settled then,” nodded Miss Judith. “Take her collar and chain off, please Erik.” The Creole stood submissively still while the collar came off.
“Hope you’re going to be a good girl,” said Erik, patting a smooth flank. “It’s Carlotta’s first time as a personal slave, Sir,” he added by way of explanation.
“Is it, indeed...”
“Yes, that’s true,” said Miss Judith. “In a drawer as you probably know, you’ll find some corrective instruments. Please do not hesitate to use them. The girl is highly-strung and inclined to be temperamental. She certainly was anyway... but we’ve been dealing with the matter.” The lips of that full mouth began to quiver. “However, if there’s anything serious, I’ll have her put in the Punishment Room in no time!”
I bet you will, added Quentin to himself. “Thank you, Miss Judith. And you, Erik.”
“A pleasure, Sir,” said the Norwegian and surely meant it. The couple left the cabin and Quentin moved closer to his new possession.
A ‘princess’ eh?” he smiled. “And rather temperamental with it. You sound just my type, Carlotta.” He saw the look of dread in those eyes intensify... and a mounting disgust, too. It could not be pleasant for a nineteen year old to be given to a middle-aged lecher like himself!
Unhurriedly he ran a hand over the smooth belly... down to the equally smooth, depilated mound. He felt the girl flinch, saw the sudden blaze of hatred in her eyes. “Stand astride,” said Quentin softly.
Carlotta hesitated briefly then, with a shuddering moan, her long limbs parted. Delicately, Quentin titillated the sex lips available. “That feels nice,” he said. Still moaning, Carlotta had begun to tremble uncontrollably. Obviously the effort to make herself submit was very great. Understandably. Her head drooped.
Putting his other hand under the girl’s chin, Quentin raised it again... and looked into despairing, frightened eyes. “You will be aware. Carlotta, that for the time being, I own you?”
“Y-yes... Master...” The answer was a husky whisper.
“And that I can do anything I like with you?”
“Y-yes... yes... Master...”
“Show me the bottom I shall thrash, slave.”
Again there was a momentary hesitation, an obvious summoning of will. Then Carlotta knelt, put her nose to the carpet and turning her hind quarters towards Quentin, raised them high, thighs parting. The obligatory slave posture.
Magnificent, thought Quentin. Quite magnificent. This young Creole girl had a body as good, if not better, than any he had ever set eyes on. He felt the throb of lust.
But I must rest a little first, he told himself. He was tired after a long journey and this was something not to be wasted!
“Good... good... “he said. “‘Fit for a Princess’ you might say!” And he saw the girl shudder violently. Her will was being severely tested. “In fact,” Quentin went on, “I think while I am here, I shall address you as ‘Princess’. Yes... that will be rather amusing.”
Another shudder... and a distinct grinding of teeth.
“Up, Princess. I am going to take a shower. You will come and soap me...”
With her natural grace, Carlotta stood up and turned, watching helplessly as Quentin stripped off. So this is the vile b**st I have to serve and please, the dark eyes seemed to say when Quentin stood nude... hairy and rather too paunchy. Delicate nostrils twitched. Quentin smiled, it pleased rather that displeased him when a young woman found him somewhat repellent. For she had to do what he wanted, or else!
He went into the black-tiled bathroom with its ornate brass fittings, then into the shower cubicle. He adjusted the water to his liking, then beckoned to Carlotta. “Come along Princess, plenty of room for two. It’s what they call ‘togetherness’.”
Reluctantly, Carlotta entered, coming under the jetting water too. Quentin took hold of the soap and lathered the girl’s breasts lavishly. She shuddered and twisted, moaning. “Keep still,” ordered Quentin and gave her bottom a hard slap. That felt nice!
“Do you know what you are going to do, Princess?”
“No... n-no... Master.”
“You are going to soap me all over with those lovely tits of yours, and you are going to do it very thoroughly. Start with my back.”
He crouched a little as Carlotta went round behind him and the soapy orbs began to slither to and fro across his back. It felt delightful... and, he thought, it will feel more delightful yet.
“More soap,” he ordered. “Keep on soaping those boobs, girl.”
Carlotta left him briefly and the slithering was resumed, lower down, the small of his back. Then his buttocks... thighs and calves. By this stage Quentin found himself getting an erection. Perhaps I don’t need a rest after all, he reflected.
The Creole, eyes downcast, came round to the front of him, lathering her breasts. Again Quentin crouched a little so that she could use them on his chest. He clasped smooth dusky flanks. He was hardening fast. Good... good. Now working on his belly, she must feel that.
He thought he heard her sobbing.
“Put it between your tits... and massage nicely,” he said thickly.
‘Yes’, Carlotta was sobbing... but she did as she had been ordered.
“Again... with more soap,” said Quentin. He was going to fuck this young beauty any time now. And do it right here!
“Soap your cunt, Princess.”
“M-Master...”
“Do it!”
Carlotta opened her thighs and did a he ordered, sobbing more.
“Now rub your cunt up and down my thighs. Both of them...”
“O-ohh... God... “
Quentin gripped Carlotta by her long, wet hair and swung her around,
SLAAAPPPP! SLAPPP!
“Are you objecting, girl?”
SSLLAAAPPPP! SSLLAAAPPPP! Oh what a lovely bottom to smack!
“Nooo... aaaahh... noo... M-Master...”
“If so, I’ll give you a caning you’ll remember for many a day!”
“No... Master... No... I s-swear Master!”
SSLLAAAPPPP! SSLLAAAPPPP!
“Get on with it then!”
Carlotta’s soft, soapy cunt began to glide up and down Quentin’s thighs, rousing his lust even higher. Oh that body... so succulent... all slippery...
He just couldn’t wait any more...
“Down... on hands and knees... my beauty!” Quentin’s voice was almost guttural with the intensity of desire.
With a helpless, despairing wail, Carlotta went down. The penalty for not doing so was too great, she slithered to and fro as her flanks were seized.
On Quentin’s back, the water still fell. He was indifferent to it. All that mattered was to get into this exquisite creature... and then fuck the arse of her. The soap made it difficult to hold her as she wriggled. But suddenly he was there. He felt the slippery sex lips. His knob parting them. With a groaning grunt he thrusted.
He was in!
Right in! Really to Carlotta’s bottom. A wet-warm soft bottom which was wriggling even more. The sobbing moans were louder...
Quentin began to thrust vigorously. He knew he would not be able to last on this first occasion. There would be time in plenty for more subtleties later.
“I... hhhaaahhh... I’ve... hhhaaahhh... never... hhhhooorrrr... hhhooorarr... fucked... a... fucked... hhhaaahhh... hhhhaaaahh... a p-princess... before... “ he panted loudly, above the sound of the hissing water.
Carlotta was slithering all over the tiled floor of the cubicle under Quentin’s furious pounding. Slithering and squirming. Twisting and jerking. But somehow he managed to keep a grip on her... and keep thrusting away. Needless to say, Carlotta’s contortions only increased his pleasure.
“O-ohh... a-ahhh... oohh... you lovely... little... b-beauty... oooh... hhhaahh... hhhhaaahhhhh... what... a... super... fuck... oh yes... ooohhh... yes... nnnnnngggghhh... aaahhh... nnnnnnngggghhh... aaaahhhh...”
The wave of his insensate lust began to break within Quentin. Up... up... up..it rose...
“NNNNNGGGGGHHHHHH... HHHHHAAAHHH... NNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH...”... then came crashing down.
Jerking... jerking... jerking... jerking...
Spurting... spurting... spurting... spurting...
“Huuuhh... hhhuhh... hhuhh... hhuuuhh... hhhhhaaaaa... hhaa... hha... hha... “
Then it was over. Carlotta was crushed down to the tiles. Weeping. Temporarily exhausted, breathing heavily, Quentin lay contentedly on the slippery-soft young flesh.
It had been superb...
And, somehow the setting had enhanced it all.
The water continued to fall with a gentle hiss on Quentin’s back. Nice to know I’ve got this young beauty to myself for a month, he said to himself...
Though invited to take dinner with Madame Vesta, both Quentin and Julia politely turned down the offer, pleading tiredness after the journey. Quentin did not think it necessary to add that fucking Carlotta had also taken a good deal out of him... and Julia did not yet feel up to facing that menacing figure. So each had a light supper brought up on a tray...
Quentin made Carlotta act as a table alongside his armchair. She knelt on hands and knees, concentrating on keeping her back straight and steady. There was no conversation between them; Quentin read a novel. From time to time he pondered whether he should have the girl taken away during the night or chain her to the end of his bed. He eventually decided on the latter course.
Julia, head still in a whirl, ate little but drank quite a deal of brandy in an attempt to relax. It is not easy to settle down when one’s world has been turned upside down. She even found it strange to be clothed. Melissa certainly had good taste in that direction, thought Julia, I’ll give her that.
Melissa...
Ah, there was a subject to dwell upon. To contemplate, unhurriedly. What should she do with her? It was not a matter to be rushed. Perhaps, in a day or two she would give her a whipping. No ordinary whipping, but one that would take her to within an inch of her life. For what she had done, Melissa deserved that. It would have to be a whipping planned methodically and administered both skilfully and with care. An alternative was a series of whippings of somewhat less severity. She would have to consider carefully.
But Melissa deserved more, much more.
Some kind of prolonged torment - if possible, a daily torment. There was a kind of click in Julia’s mind. Of course... why hadn’t she thought of it before?
The crew-deck...
That was where Melissa would spend most of the day while she was on the ‘Paradise’. Locked naked in a pillory for hours, there for the use of the hands. There were at least half a dozen of them, maybe more. She’d make a tempting titbit for those horny-handed seafarers! Day after day, they could fuck her, or bum-fuck her, to their heart’s content.
A delightful idea!
She would have to consult Miss Judith about the pillory and where it should be placed on the foredeck. It would be best if it were visible from he upper guest-deck, there one could relax under an awning... and watch.
Judith glanced at her wrist-watch. Melissa was probably on the treadmill by now, and after months of soft living she would be finding it a muscle-burning agony.
Good...
Certainly, too, it was unlikely that she would complete the set number of revolutions in on hour. That was one hundred and eighty, she recalled. Three turns a minute. It didn’t sound much but the wheel of the Treadmill was big and heavy. It took some turning, Julia knew.
She drank another brandy to erase the memory, then told herself to go easy. She wanted a clear head when he went down to watch Melissa IN EXTREMIS... and deal with her.
Extraordinary to think that this would be the first time she had ever laid a hand on her!
Miss Judith arrived a little later. “There’ll be ten minutes to go by the time we get down there, Miss Julia,” said the big blonde. Funny to think that she was calling this woman ‘Miss’, after all she had done to her. Still, that was life for you!
“Thank you Judith,” said Julia, getting up from her deep armchair. It felt equally strange for her to be able to address this formidable female overseer in that fashion, but she would get used to it of course.
They descended to the lowest levels of the ‘Paradise’... and Julia felt her heart chilling as they made their way along a bleak corridor. On each side, at intervals, were iron doors. These were the Punishment Cells, where recalcitrant slaves could be kept in isolation... and cruel bondage of various forms. At the far end two door faced each other. One said ‘crank’ and the other ‘treadmill’. Miss Judith opened the latter with one of the numerous keys on her belt.
Julia felt an unbelievable thrill of cruel pleasure.
There she was...
Naked... sweating... the small room filled with her panting gasps... her wrist shackled to a bar which her hands clasped. Melissa was suffering, but would suffer more yet!
Slowly the wheel turned as Melissa raised one weary limb after another, forcing each wooden step down. Facing her was a loud ticking clock, which showed ten minutes of an hour left. Beneath was a number-meter, indicating the turns made. Alongside dangled a highly polished four-foot rod.
The meter read one hundred and forty-eight ... and Julia smiled. Melissa would never make the turns in the time left to her. Julia took down the rod, flexing and swishing it.
“I can hardly wait... you lazy cow!” she said.
“Ooohhh... aaahhh... oh God... no... no... oooh... “gasped Melissa. She was nearing exhaustion, and there she was... at Julia’s mercy.
The thought seemed to galvanise her to extra effort and her quivering limbs pumped up and down at greater speed. The wheel turned just a little faster.
Click!
Another turn completed.
“There’s no real need to wait,” said Miss Judith, smiling at Julia. “You can give her a little encouragement now.”
Julia regarded Melissa’s swinging, bouncing bottom. “I am happy enough to wait,” she said. She had waited for so long, had she not, what did a few more minutes matter?
“Ahh... aaaahh... oooh..I can’t..I can’t... ahh... aaahhh... “gasped Melissa. But though she said she couldn’t, she went on, now sweating so heavily it looked as if a bucket of water had been poured over her. Yes, she’s certainly out of condition, thought Julia. She remembered how she had sweated in that swimming pool... and now felt not an ounce of compassion.
Click!
One hundred and fifty turns, still a long way to go. The penalty for failure was two strokes of the rod for every turn not completed. There were now only eight minutes to go. In mortal dread, Melissa was increasing her pace further. The effort she made was tremendous. Great heaving sobs came from her, her breath rattled in her throat. Melissa was now turning the wheel three times a minute, remarkable at that stage of her ordeal.
One hundred and sixty came up...
Julia looked at Miss Judith, eyebrows raised. It was amazing what terror of pain could make a human being do. However that last effort had cost Melissa dear, only eight more turns were achieved before the hour was up.
Twelve short. Twenty-four strokes of the rod, a bubble of sadistic joy swelled within Julia. “Keep it moving, your slack bitch!” she cried, tapping Melissa’s buttocks... which clenched with dread. “Twelve more turns yet...”
“Merceee... mercee... oooh... I can’t... I can’t...”
Miss Judith’s strap swung.
Thwwaacckk!
Shrieking, Melissa went into action again, the wheel turning slowly but surely. Julia looked with satisfaction at the soft, quivering flesh reddened by the strap. They would be even more sensitive to the rod. Good... good...
Click!
The first of twelve turns... and Julia laid two full-blooded cuts across Melissa’s bottom with all the force that she could command.
The gasping screams they evoked where just about the most exciting sounds Julia had thought she had ever heard.
“Not bad for an amateur,” said Miss Judith, surveying the two weals which only fractionally apart, encircled Melissa’s rolling, jouncing bottom.
“Thanks,” said Julia. “And I’m sure I’ll improve!”
Step by agonising step. Up... up... up...
Click!
Sswweeeppptttt!
Sswweeeppptttt!
“Y-y-yaaaaghh... a-a-aaaaagghhhh... aaaagghh!” Melissa writhed frenziedly with pain. With pain she was quite unused to, she had come to forget just how agonising the rod could be!
“Four gone... twenty to come,” announced Julia in a gloatingly triumphant voice.
“Merceee... I... b-beseech y-you...”
“And, you bitch, I am going to give you every one just as hard as I possibly can!”
The wheel of the treadmill still turned, but ever more slowly. But Julia was content to wait. Come what may, long as it might take, Melissa was going to get her twenty four strokes.
With six turns of the wheel still to go, Melissa fainted... but was quickly revived by Miss Judith. Again her strap fell.
Thwwaaaccckkkk!
Tthhwwaaacckkk!
“A-A-A-AAAAAGHHH... A-A-A-AAAGHHHHH!
“Move it slave... you’re not finished yet... not by a long chalk!”
That small room was filled with sound. The creak of the treadmill... the thwack of the strap... the whistle and crack of the rod... the two woman’s rasping voices and Melissa’s panting... gasping... and terrible shrieks of pain.
Remorselessly... mercilessly... the rod fell twice each time one of the last six turns was completed. And for the last three turns, Miss Judith found it necessary to keep her smelling salts under Melissa’s nostrils.
Then at long last it was over. Julia’s breast’s were heaving, her eyes bright. Never, never had she felt such exultation. She had just thrashed her arch-tormenter without mercy. For the first time. Nearly sobbing with joy she surveyed the mass of criss-crossing weal she had raised.
Miss Judith just put an arm around her shoulders. “I guess I know how you must feel,” she said.
“I feel wonderful... simply wonderful,” smiled Julia, pulling herself together.
There was an understanding nod from the blonde. “You must do,” she said. “Few woman could have sweeter revenge than you are going to.”
“I guess not... “
“And few deserve it more.”
“Thanks, Judith.”
“Any further instructions, Miss Julia?“
“Er... well... I suppose she’d better have Treatment. Won’t be much use tomorrow otherwise. Delay it for a couple of hours though. She can stay where she is... and contemplate her future.”
“Very well, Miss Julia.”
“Mmmmfff... uuugh... mmmmfff... u-ugghhh... mmmmfff... “sobbed Melissa piteously.
But none pitied her...
“I want her on this treadmill for one hour every night this week, Judith,” said Julia.
“Whatever you say...”
“She should be pretty fit after that!”
Terrible groans were coming from Melissa. Could it possibly be true, what she had just heard? How could one survive such a gruelling nightly ordeal?
Yet, of course, Melissa would survive it, and much more.
Miss Judith opened the door and motioned Julia to precede her.
“Most kind of you, Sir,” she said obsequiously. In fact Miss Judith could have had as much champagne as she liked... but it was best to play up to important guests.
“My pleasure,” smiled Quentin. His piggy eyes roved over Miss Judith’s ampleness. “I must say you are looking most attractive.”
“Thank you Sir, it is nice of you to say so. Rarely do I think about my looks. I am devoted to my duties.”
I bet, thought Quentin. Also he gathered that Miss Judith was not interested in male approval, she required it from the females and doubtless, in one way or another, she got it!
“Now about a personal slave while I am here...”
“Oh yes, Sir. I think I’ve got something special you’ll approve of.”
“Oh indeed?”
“Yes... she’s a creole. From Haiti.”
“Oh really?”
“Half Spanish, half native... which has produced a most delightful light coffee-coloured skin.”
“Sounds nice... “
“More than that, she reckons herself a princess. Was, that is!”
“Good Lord.”
“There were, and still are, bigwigs in the island. But nowadays, I guess that the ‘princess’ title is more self-styled than anything.”
“Most likely. Still, it makes things interesting. Been on board long, Miss Judith?”
“No, Sir. Still inclined to be a bit rebellious on occasions. Started off with plenty of pride and spirit - living up to her assumed status, I suppose - and there are still traces left.”
“Good,” smiled Quentin. “I prefer that...”
„Shall I have her brought to you?”
“Please do.”
While Miss Judith went to the house-phone, Quentin topped up their glasses. “Bit of a shock for Melissa, eh?” the overseer said conversationally.
“You can say that again,” grinned Quentin. “I laid it all on with Madame Vesta in advance.”
“Yes, I heard about it. Julia must be pleased, she’s had a long, hard time of it.”
“Of course, she hasn’t adjusted yet,” said Quentin. “But I must say, I wouldn’t like to be Melissa when she gets to work on her in earnest.”
Miss Judith nodded. “You can say that again...”
“By the way, how does this ‘princess’ come to be here?”
“Some sort of family feud, I understand. Her uncle arranged it all.”
There came a knock on the door. “Enter...”
A male overseer, whom Quentin had not seen before, came in first. He was bronzed, fair-haired, good looking and massively built. But a glance at the grossly bulging white pouch he wore told of the main reason for his appointment! On the end of a collar and chain, he led in a most striking looking young woman, who at once sank to her knees, bowing her head.
“This is Erik,” said Miss Judith. “He hails from Norway and is a recent recruit here.”
“How do you do, Sir?” said Erik politely.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Quentin, eyes turning to the lovely coffee-skinned creature who had been brought in. That she had a superb body could be seen even as she knelt... high, rounded breasts, slim waist, swelling hips, long thighs.
“Head up, girl!” rapped Miss Judith.
A raven-black head was raised, thick hair fell to the girl’s shoulders. Quentin saw a wide set pair of lustrous eyes... black as sloes, the whites very white, eyes filled with shimmering dread. The mouth was wide and very full-lipped, almost Negroid. Just made for sucking, thought Quentin. But the rest of the features were very European. A slim, straight nose, nicely flared; high cheekbones. If things had been otherwise, those features would have well suited a dominatrix.
“This is Carlotta,” said Miss Judith.
‘Princess Carlotta’, reflected Quentin, looking appreciatively at the golden chain about that slim waist. And now mine. “She seems to have some merit,” he said, trying to speak with a casualness he did not really feel.
“Up girl,” ordered Miss Judith. “Walk her about a bit, please Erik. She moves well.”
Carlotta stood up, placed her hands on top of her head and was led around the room by the overseer. She walked with a sinuous grace, with a kind of liquidity in her almost prancing stride, her hind quarters swinging most seductively. She walks as a ‘princess’ should, thought Quentin. But this girl was now a slave.
“Age?” he enquired, as Carlotta made a second circuit of the room. God what a figure she had! Capable of seducing a saint!
“Nineteen,” replied Miss Judith to Quentin’s delight. The girl looked rather older than that.
“I’ll have her,” he said, almost a shade too hurriedly.
“Good, that’s settled then,” nodded Miss Judith. “Take her collar and chain off, please Erik.” The Creole stood submissively still while the collar came off.
“Hope you’re going to be a good girl,” said Erik, patting a smooth flank. “It’s Carlotta’s first time as a personal slave, Sir,” he added by way of explanation.
“Is it, indeed...”
“Yes, that’s true,” said Miss Judith. “In a drawer as you probably know, you’ll find some corrective instruments. Please do not hesitate to use them. The girl is highly-strung and inclined to be temperamental. She certainly was anyway... but we’ve been dealing with the matter.” The lips of that full mouth began to quiver. “However, if there’s anything serious, I’ll have her put in the Punishment Room in no time!”
I bet you will, added Quentin to himself. “Thank you, Miss Judith. And you, Erik.”
“A pleasure, Sir,” said the Norwegian and surely meant it. The couple left the cabin and Quentin moved closer to his new possession.
A ‘princess’ eh?” he smiled. “And rather temperamental with it. You sound just my type, Carlotta.” He saw the look of dread in those eyes intensify... and a mounting disgust, too. It could not be pleasant for a nineteen year old to be given to a middle-aged lecher like himself!
Unhurriedly he ran a hand over the smooth belly... down to the equally smooth, depilated mound. He felt the girl flinch, saw the sudden blaze of hatred in her eyes. “Stand astride,” said Quentin softly.
Carlotta hesitated briefly then, with a shuddering moan, her long limbs parted. Delicately, Quentin titillated the sex lips available. “That feels nice,” he said. Still moaning, Carlotta had begun to tremble uncontrollably. Obviously the effort to make herself submit was very great. Understandably. Her head drooped.
Putting his other hand under the girl’s chin, Quentin raised it again... and looked into despairing, frightened eyes. “You will be aware. Carlotta, that for the time being, I own you?”
“Y-yes... Master...” The answer was a husky whisper.
“And that I can do anything I like with you?”
“Y-yes... yes... Master...”
“Show me the bottom I shall thrash, slave.”
Again there was a momentary hesitation, an obvious summoning of will. Then Carlotta knelt, put her nose to the carpet and turning her hind quarters towards Quentin, raised them high, thighs parting. The obligatory slave posture.
Magnificent, thought Quentin. Quite magnificent. This young Creole girl had a body as good, if not better, than any he had ever set eyes on. He felt the throb of lust.
But I must rest a little first, he told himself. He was tired after a long journey and this was something not to be wasted!
“Good... good... “he said. “‘Fit for a Princess’ you might say!” And he saw the girl shudder violently. Her will was being severely tested. “In fact,” Quentin went on, “I think while I am here, I shall address you as ‘Princess’. Yes... that will be rather amusing.”
Another shudder... and a distinct grinding of teeth.
“Up, Princess. I am going to take a shower. You will come and soap me...”
With her natural grace, Carlotta stood up and turned, watching helplessly as Quentin stripped off. So this is the vile b**st I have to serve and please, the dark eyes seemed to say when Quentin stood nude... hairy and rather too paunchy. Delicate nostrils twitched. Quentin smiled, it pleased rather that displeased him when a young woman found him somewhat repellent. For she had to do what he wanted, or else!
He went into the black-tiled bathroom with its ornate brass fittings, then into the shower cubicle. He adjusted the water to his liking, then beckoned to Carlotta. “Come along Princess, plenty of room for two. It’s what they call ‘togetherness’.”
Reluctantly, Carlotta entered, coming under the jetting water too. Quentin took hold of the soap and lathered the girl’s breasts lavishly. She shuddered and twisted, moaning. “Keep still,” ordered Quentin and gave her bottom a hard slap. That felt nice!
“Do you know what you are going to do, Princess?”
“No... n-no... Master.”
“You are going to soap me all over with those lovely tits of yours, and you are going to do it very thoroughly. Start with my back.”
He crouched a little as Carlotta went round behind him and the soapy orbs began to slither to and fro across his back. It felt delightful... and, he thought, it will feel more delightful yet.
“More soap,” he ordered. “Keep on soaping those boobs, girl.”
Carlotta left him briefly and the slithering was resumed, lower down, the small of his back. Then his buttocks... thighs and calves. By this stage Quentin found himself getting an erection. Perhaps I don’t need a rest after all, he reflected.
The Creole, eyes downcast, came round to the front of him, lathering her breasts. Again Quentin crouched a little so that she could use them on his chest. He clasped smooth dusky flanks. He was hardening fast. Good... good. Now working on his belly, she must feel that.
He thought he heard her sobbing.
“Put it between your tits... and massage nicely,” he said thickly.
‘Yes’, Carlotta was sobbing... but she did as she had been ordered.
“Again... with more soap,” said Quentin. He was going to fuck this young beauty any time now. And do it right here!
“Soap your cunt, Princess.”
“M-Master...”
“Do it!”
Carlotta opened her thighs and did a he ordered, sobbing more.
“Now rub your cunt up and down my thighs. Both of them...”
“O-ohh... God... “
Quentin gripped Carlotta by her long, wet hair and swung her around,
SLAAAPPPP! SLAPPP!
“Are you objecting, girl?”
SSLLAAAPPPP! SSLLAAAPPPP! Oh what a lovely bottom to smack!
“Nooo... aaaahh... noo... M-Master...”
“If so, I’ll give you a caning you’ll remember for many a day!”
“No... Master... No... I s-swear Master!”
SSLLAAAPPPP! SSLLAAAPPPP!
“Get on with it then!”
Carlotta’s soft, soapy cunt began to glide up and down Quentin’s thighs, rousing his lust even higher. Oh that body... so succulent... all slippery...
He just couldn’t wait any more...
“Down... on hands and knees... my beauty!” Quentin’s voice was almost guttural with the intensity of desire.
With a helpless, despairing wail, Carlotta went down. The penalty for not doing so was too great, she slithered to and fro as her flanks were seized.
On Quentin’s back, the water still fell. He was indifferent to it. All that mattered was to get into this exquisite creature... and then fuck the arse of her. The soap made it difficult to hold her as she wriggled. But suddenly he was there. He felt the slippery sex lips. His knob parting them. With a groaning grunt he thrusted.
He was in!
Right in! Really to Carlotta’s bottom. A wet-warm soft bottom which was wriggling even more. The sobbing moans were louder...
Quentin began to thrust vigorously. He knew he would not be able to last on this first occasion. There would be time in plenty for more subtleties later.
“I... hhhaaahhh... I’ve... hhhaaahhh... never... hhhhooorrrr... hhhooorarr... fucked... a... fucked... hhhaaahhh... hhhhaaaahh... a p-princess... before... “ he panted loudly, above the sound of the hissing water.
Carlotta was slithering all over the tiled floor of the cubicle under Quentin’s furious pounding. Slithering and squirming. Twisting and jerking. But somehow he managed to keep a grip on her... and keep thrusting away. Needless to say, Carlotta’s contortions only increased his pleasure.
“O-ohh... a-ahhh... oohh... you lovely... little... b-beauty... oooh... hhhaahh... hhhhaaahhhhh... what... a... super... fuck... oh yes... ooohhh... yes... nnnnnngggghhh... aaahhh... nnnnnnngggghhh... aaaahhhh...”
The wave of his insensate lust began to break within Quentin. Up... up... up..it rose...
“NNNNNGGGGGHHHHHH... HHHHHAAAHHH... NNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH...”... then came crashing down.
Jerking... jerking... jerking... jerking...
Spurting... spurting... spurting... spurting...
“Huuuhh... hhhuhh... hhuhh... hhuuuhh... hhhhhaaaaa... hhaa... hha... hha... “
Then it was over. Carlotta was crushed down to the tiles. Weeping. Temporarily exhausted, breathing heavily, Quentin lay contentedly on the slippery-soft young flesh.
It had been superb...
And, somehow the setting had enhanced it all.
The water continued to fall with a gentle hiss on Quentin’s back. Nice to know I’ve got this young beauty to myself for a month, he said to himself...
Though invited to take dinner with Madame Vesta, both Quentin and Julia politely turned down the offer, pleading tiredness after the journey. Quentin did not think it necessary to add that fucking Carlotta had also taken a good deal out of him... and Julia did not yet feel up to facing that menacing figure. So each had a light supper brought up on a tray...
Quentin made Carlotta act as a table alongside his armchair. She knelt on hands and knees, concentrating on keeping her back straight and steady. There was no conversation between them; Quentin read a novel. From time to time he pondered whether he should have the girl taken away during the night or chain her to the end of his bed. He eventually decided on the latter course.
Julia, head still in a whirl, ate little but drank quite a deal of brandy in an attempt to relax. It is not easy to settle down when one’s world has been turned upside down. She even found it strange to be clothed. Melissa certainly had good taste in that direction, thought Julia, I’ll give her that.
Melissa...
Ah, there was a subject to dwell upon. To contemplate, unhurriedly. What should she do with her? It was not a matter to be rushed. Perhaps, in a day or two she would give her a whipping. No ordinary whipping, but one that would take her to within an inch of her life. For what she had done, Melissa deserved that. It would have to be a whipping planned methodically and administered both skilfully and with care. An alternative was a series of whippings of somewhat less severity. She would have to consider carefully.
But Melissa deserved more, much more.
Some kind of prolonged torment - if possible, a daily torment. There was a kind of click in Julia’s mind. Of course... why hadn’t she thought of it before?
The crew-deck...
That was where Melissa would spend most of the day while she was on the ‘Paradise’. Locked naked in a pillory for hours, there for the use of the hands. There were at least half a dozen of them, maybe more. She’d make a tempting titbit for those horny-handed seafarers! Day after day, they could fuck her, or bum-fuck her, to their heart’s content.
A delightful idea!
She would have to consult Miss Judith about the pillory and where it should be placed on the foredeck. It would be best if it were visible from he upper guest-deck, there one could relax under an awning... and watch.
Judith glanced at her wrist-watch. Melissa was probably on the treadmill by now, and after months of soft living she would be finding it a muscle-burning agony.
Good...
Certainly, too, it was unlikely that she would complete the set number of revolutions in on hour. That was one hundred and eighty, she recalled. Three turns a minute. It didn’t sound much but the wheel of the Treadmill was big and heavy. It took some turning, Julia knew.
She drank another brandy to erase the memory, then told herself to go easy. She wanted a clear head when he went down to watch Melissa IN EXTREMIS... and deal with her.
Extraordinary to think that this would be the first time she had ever laid a hand on her!
Miss Judith arrived a little later. “There’ll be ten minutes to go by the time we get down there, Miss Julia,” said the big blonde. Funny to think that she was calling this woman ‘Miss’, after all she had done to her. Still, that was life for you!
“Thank you Judith,” said Julia, getting up from her deep armchair. It felt equally strange for her to be able to address this formidable female overseer in that fashion, but she would get used to it of course.
They descended to the lowest levels of the ‘Paradise’... and Julia felt her heart chilling as they made their way along a bleak corridor. On each side, at intervals, were iron doors. These were the Punishment Cells, where recalcitrant slaves could be kept in isolation... and cruel bondage of various forms. At the far end two door faced each other. One said ‘crank’ and the other ‘treadmill’. Miss Judith opened the latter with one of the numerous keys on her belt.
Julia felt an unbelievable thrill of cruel pleasure.
There she was...
Naked... sweating... the small room filled with her panting gasps... her wrist shackled to a bar which her hands clasped. Melissa was suffering, but would suffer more yet!
Slowly the wheel turned as Melissa raised one weary limb after another, forcing each wooden step down. Facing her was a loud ticking clock, which showed ten minutes of an hour left. Beneath was a number-meter, indicating the turns made. Alongside dangled a highly polished four-foot rod.
The meter read one hundred and forty-eight ... and Julia smiled. Melissa would never make the turns in the time left to her. Julia took down the rod, flexing and swishing it.
“I can hardly wait... you lazy cow!” she said.
“Ooohhh... aaahhh... oh God... no... no... oooh... “gasped Melissa. She was nearing exhaustion, and there she was... at Julia’s mercy.
The thought seemed to galvanise her to extra effort and her quivering limbs pumped up and down at greater speed. The wheel turned just a little faster.
Click!
Another turn completed.
“There’s no real need to wait,” said Miss Judith, smiling at Julia. “You can give her a little encouragement now.”
Julia regarded Melissa’s swinging, bouncing bottom. “I am happy enough to wait,” she said. She had waited for so long, had she not, what did a few more minutes matter?
“Ahh... aaaahh... oooh..I can’t..I can’t... ahh... aaahhh... “gasped Melissa. But though she said she couldn’t, she went on, now sweating so heavily it looked as if a bucket of water had been poured over her. Yes, she’s certainly out of condition, thought Julia. She remembered how she had sweated in that swimming pool... and now felt not an ounce of compassion.
Click!
One hundred and fifty turns, still a long way to go. The penalty for failure was two strokes of the rod for every turn not completed. There were now only eight minutes to go. In mortal dread, Melissa was increasing her pace further. The effort she made was tremendous. Great heaving sobs came from her, her breath rattled in her throat. Melissa was now turning the wheel three times a minute, remarkable at that stage of her ordeal.
One hundred and sixty came up...
Julia looked at Miss Judith, eyebrows raised. It was amazing what terror of pain could make a human being do. However that last effort had cost Melissa dear, only eight more turns were achieved before the hour was up.
Twelve short. Twenty-four strokes of the rod, a bubble of sadistic joy swelled within Julia. “Keep it moving, your slack bitch!” she cried, tapping Melissa’s buttocks... which clenched with dread. “Twelve more turns yet...”
“Merceee... mercee... oooh... I can’t... I can’t...”
Miss Judith’s strap swung.
Thwwaacckk!
Shrieking, Melissa went into action again, the wheel turning slowly but surely. Julia looked with satisfaction at the soft, quivering flesh reddened by the strap. They would be even more sensitive to the rod. Good... good...
Click!
The first of twelve turns... and Julia laid two full-blooded cuts across Melissa’s bottom with all the force that she could command.
The gasping screams they evoked where just about the most exciting sounds Julia had thought she had ever heard.
“Not bad for an amateur,” said Miss Judith, surveying the two weals which only fractionally apart, encircled Melissa’s rolling, jouncing bottom.
“Thanks,” said Julia. “And I’m sure I’ll improve!”
Step by agonising step. Up... up... up...
Click!
Sswweeeppptttt!
Sswweeeppptttt!
“Y-y-yaaaaghh... a-a-aaaaagghhhh... aaaagghh!” Melissa writhed frenziedly with pain. With pain she was quite unused to, she had come to forget just how agonising the rod could be!
“Four gone... twenty to come,” announced Julia in a gloatingly triumphant voice.
“Merceee... I... b-beseech y-you...”
“And, you bitch, I am going to give you every one just as hard as I possibly can!”
The wheel of the treadmill still turned, but ever more slowly. But Julia was content to wait. Come what may, long as it might take, Melissa was going to get her twenty four strokes.
With six turns of the wheel still to go, Melissa fainted... but was quickly revived by Miss Judith. Again her strap fell.
Thwwaaaccckkkk!
Tthhwwaaacckkk!
“A-A-A-AAAAAGHHH... A-A-A-AAAGHHHHH!
“Move it slave... you’re not finished yet... not by a long chalk!”
That small room was filled with sound. The creak of the treadmill... the thwack of the strap... the whistle and crack of the rod... the two woman’s rasping voices and Melissa’s panting... gasping... and terrible shrieks of pain.
Remorselessly... mercilessly... the rod fell twice each time one of the last six turns was completed. And for the last three turns, Miss Judith found it necessary to keep her smelling salts under Melissa’s nostrils.
Then at long last it was over. Julia’s breast’s were heaving, her eyes bright. Never, never had she felt such exultation. She had just thrashed her arch-tormenter without mercy. For the first time. Nearly sobbing with joy she surveyed the mass of criss-crossing weal she had raised.
Miss Judith just put an arm around her shoulders. “I guess I know how you must feel,” she said.
“I feel wonderful... simply wonderful,” smiled Julia, pulling herself together.
There was an understanding nod from the blonde. “You must do,” she said. “Few woman could have sweeter revenge than you are going to.”
“I guess not... “
“And few deserve it more.”
“Thanks, Judith.”
“Any further instructions, Miss Julia?“
“Er... well... I suppose she’d better have Treatment. Won’t be much use tomorrow otherwise. Delay it for a couple of hours though. She can stay where she is... and contemplate her future.”
“Very well, Miss Julia.”
“Mmmmfff... uuugh... mmmmfff... u-ugghhh... mmmmfff... “sobbed Melissa piteously.
But none pitied her...
“I want her on this treadmill for one hour every night this week, Judith,” said Julia.
“Whatever you say...”
“She should be pretty fit after that!”
Terrible groans were coming from Melissa. Could it possibly be true, what she had just heard? How could one survive such a gruelling nightly ordeal?
Yet, of course, Melissa would survive it, and much more.
Miss Judith opened the door and motioned Julia to precede her.
Alma
- 22.03.2022
- 44
- 0
