Enslaved on an Alien World Ch 02
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As Madame Vesta closed and locked the door behind them, Quentin saw that the cell contained two wooden bunk-beds, one on each side. The left hand one was empty but, on the right hand one, a ovely young naked woman was pushing herself up on to her knees. Once into that position, she splayed her thighs. She was shackled to the wall by means of a collar and chain and, in turn, her wrists were shackled to the iron collar.
„This is Melissa,“ stated Madame Vesta perfunctorily.
Quentin said nothing but, with his eyes, continued to devour this ravishing creature. She had a superbly curvaceous figure, very like that of his Julia, and her long thick hair was deep auburn in colour. She had green eyes, lightly flecked with brown and the eyes slanted in a slightly Oriental manner., giving the girl a somewhat cat-like appearance. The cheekbones were high, the nose long but delicately shaped, the mouth full and wide. She did not look at Quentin but simply straight ahead. He saw a little nervous tic flicker momentarily in one cheek. With exceptional pleasure he noted the gold waist chain.
„Melissa has now been here for some six months,“ continued Madame Vesta.
„I see,“ said Quentin. He found his heart was beating rather fast, his throat a little dry. If I want to, I can fuck this girl, he was saying to himself. And he did want to! Who wouldn't?
The breasts, thrusting all the more on account of the raising arms, were truly magnificent. Large but not over-large... firm, high and proud, light brown nipples, Quentin noted, too, the swell of Melissa's flanks. I'd like to be able to see her bottom, he thought. Well, doubtless that wish would not be too long delayed.
„Until recently,“ Madame Vesta was saying, „Melissa was owned by a swedish gentleman, named Lars Piltgard.“ Again Quentin saw that tic in the cheek. „Unfortunately Mr Piltgard was recently killed in a skiing accident. An avalanche. So that means that Melissa is now owned by me. For the time being anyway. Doubtless I shall be disposing of her. At a good price.“ Madame Vesta looked at Quentin.
„Perhaps you would like to buy her, Mr Osman?“
Quentin was startled at the suggestion and found himself colouring a little. Yet, at the same time, he was incredibly excited by the possibility. What a marvelous idea! To totally possess this lovely creature!
„Yes... well... I'll certainly consider that matter,“ he found himself saying in a rather high-pitched voice. His heart was pounding faster. What a delicious looking mound this girl has! It seemed to swell prominently... and provocatively... the coral-pink sex lips neatly furled. Incredible to think that she had surely been repeatedly fucked by the likes of Jason and Otto.
„While Melissa's Master was alive,“ said Madame Vesta, „she wore a silver chain. When he died, I changed it to gold. That was only a week ago.“
„Really?“ That meant, thought Quentin, that there could not yet have been too much ravishment by those brute Trainers. It I bought her, he reflected. I'd probably change her back to silver and keep her for myself. For the time being anyway.
Quentin saw a cane hanging from a hook in a post at the end of the bunk-bed and Madame Vesta caught the direction of his gaze.
„If a slave does not position herself as Melissa is doing when her cell is entered... if, for example, she is asleep or exhausted, that will be laid across her backside. Soon brings her back to life. And into position.“
„Yes... yes... „ nodded Quentin. Actually, he was finding it a little difficult to imagine one so beautiful as this Melissa being treated in such a way. But, of course, she would be. Madame Vesta strolled across the cell to the other bunk-bed.
„Some are single cells,“ she said, „some are double, like this one.“
She picked the heavy iron collar. It clanked. „One day, your Julia's neck could be in this,“ she said. !As cell-mate to Melissa... who could act as her guide and comforter. An interesting thought, eh?“
„Yes, indeed it is,“ replied Quentin. He gazed at the collar and tried to imagine it around Julia's slim white neck. It wasn't only an interesting thought, it was a delightful one!
Madame Vesta, who had seated herself on the bunk-bed, stood up suddenly.
„Mr Osman,“ asked, „have you ever whipped a woman?“
What a stupid question, he thought. Whenever would he have been in a position to do such a thing? But Madame Vesta did not seem to think the question stupid; it was asked quite calmly. Needless to say, she lived in a different world.
„No.“ he answered simply.
„Would you like to?“
Quentin experienced a hot tingling all over his scalp. His heart began to pound even faster than ever. Would he? Well, would he?
„I... I've not thought about it,“ said Quentin lamely.
„You don't have to think about it,“ said Madame Vesta. „Either you know or you don't whether you would like to whip a woman?“
It was of course, something Quentin had fantasied about, particularly in relationship to Julia. She, he would have like to whipped many a time.
„Yes... I would like to,“ he answered a little hoarsely. His scalp was tingling even more; his throath was drier than ever.
„Would you like to whip Melissa?“ came the question.
There was an intake of breath from the other side of the cell and Quentin's brain seemed to bubble as he looked across at the kneeling shackled figure. He knew he would like to do a lot with Melissa. Including whipping her.
„Yes... I would,“ he stated, yet not truly believing that he was going to be permitted to do such a thing. The girl had committed no fault, had she? Of course not. The green eyes looked wider and there was growing dread in them.
„Then you shall, Mr Osman,“ said Madame Vesta in that matter-of-fact way of hers. She went across the cell and unlocked the chain which was attached to Melissa's collar.
„Get off there, girl,“ came a sharp order.
With a natural grace, Melissa stepped off the bunk-bed and stood by it, wrists still shackled to the collar. Quite helpless, thought Quentin, quivering with excitement deep inside. He thought his hands might be trembling and clenched tjem together. Was the unbelievable about to happen? Was he going to whip a helpless, naked woman? A most lovely young woman at that?
„Have you been whipped lately, Melissa?“ asked Madame Vesta.
„No... Madame... „ The voice was low, vibrant, cultured.
„Well, girl, you are going to be whipped now.“ Melissa seemed to flinch slightly. „I want you to understand, slave, that you are not going to be whipped for any fault or misdemeanour. This is purely for Mr Osman's benefit. A demonstration, you might say, of what can be done to a slave girl here. You understand?“
„Y-Yes... Madame... “ Quentin saw the full lower lip of the girl start to quiver. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for her... then his desire to whip this superb body overcame that. He clasped his hands tighter. The palms were beginning to sweat.
„Move to the end of the cell. Face the post,“ ordered Madame Vesta.
With a lithe, easy movement, Melissa made her way to the end of the cell. For the first time, Quentin was favoured with a view of her splendid hindquarters. Fulsome oval-shaped buttocks; long tapering thighs. A sinouosly-seductive swing which set the soft, white flesh quivering a little. A spectacle to remain in the memory.
Madame Vesta folllowed the girl and, when she had reached the post, locked a ring on the front of the collar to a snap-hook hanging from the post, wrists still shackled to her collar. Quentin surveyed the smooth back, the shoulders quite broad... the back that tapered to a slim waste... and then swelled deliciously out again into the actual hindquarters.
„Do you see any resemblance to Julia?“ asked Madame Vesta.
„Their figures are very similar,“ answered Quentin.
„Then perhaps you would like to imagine you are whipping Julia?“
Quentin smiled nervously. „Maybe... maybe... „ he murmured. Surely, whipping Melissa would be quite exciting enough!
Madame Vesta had come to his side and carried a leather whip in her hand. It was made of black leather, tightly plaited, no more than three feet in length. It tapered throughout its length so that, at its tip (where there was a tiny knot and three little leather tassels) it was no more than pencil thick. There was no handle as such; the grip was simply where the leather was thickest.
Suddenly Madame Vesta snaked the whip out and it cracked loudly in the enclosed space. The sound sent the flesh of Melissa's back and buttocks quivering infinitesimally with dread. Quentin found that a quite fantastically exciting sight. He was handed the whip.
„I suggest, Mr Osman,“ said Madame Vesta, „that you lay six strokes across the girls back. However, do not imagine using a whip is all that simple. One wants to try and achieve a lashing-crack of the tip as it ands. But, I'll expect you'll manage.“
„Yes... yes... „ muttered Quentin. Beads of perspiration had sprung to his brow. He gazed on the broad white expanse of back. So smooth! It almost seemed a pity to spoil it. But cruel lust quickly overcame any such sentiments. In any case, as he now knew, it would not take long to restore Melissa's back to its present condition. Quentin swung the whip experimentally once or twice, then raised it above his head.
An incredible sensation of delight filled him as he lashed the plaited leather down. It fell, but did not crack, across the shimmering white flesh, raising a thin welt which ran diagonally. Melissa's head jerked back and a gasping-groan was ejected from her widened mouth. She shuddered, then her face fell back to the post. For his part, Quentin was astounded that the girl had not screamed out in pain. He was not, of course, aware of Melissa's experience nor the intense desire within her not to be made to scream by such a monster as himself.
It has to be said, despite all her terrible ordeals aboard the `Paradise´ over the previous six months, some vestige of will and pride remained within her being. Perhaps that was unfortunate for her.
Quentin swung back the whip again... trailing it, then raising it high. I am flogging a naked woman, he said to himself ecstatically. The plaited whip swept down again and again, it fell, rather than cracked, across the helpless flesh. Melissa uttered the same kind of gasping-groan, once more, shuddered conclusively. A second deep red weal sliced across the flesh. Madame Vesta looked slightly disdainful. She was not exactly impressed by her guest's technique. These novices! If she herself had been applying the whip, she would have had two howls of torment out of Melissa already.
Quentin was luckier with his third stroke. It did, in fact, make a cracking sound asit bit into the waiting flesh and forced half a yelp from Melissa whose body jerked convulsively. Quentin glanced at Madame Vesta as if seeking approvial but his hostess's features remained impassive.
Melissa's head dropped a little.
„O-Ohh... G-God... oooh... God... „ she moaned in a soft, tremulous voice.
Quentin's features were stretched taut; his grey-blue eyes were glinting with sadistic relish. One day, this could be Julia, he told himself... being flogged by a complete stranger. What a heavenly idea!
He laid on the fourth stroke, striving to do so with extra force. But that only put his timing out and he did not achieve the satisfying cracking sound he desired. All the same, it produced another loud gasping-groan from Melissa. He heard her whimpering softly as he prepared for the fifth stroke. She was shuddering almost incessantly and he sensed the girl was defying him by not screaming out with pain as the plaited leather lashed across her back. Courageous, but annoying. He wished he could make her shriek.
Teeth clenched, he laid on number five as hard as he could. It cracked over the back with satisfying force and Melissa let out a short, demonic howl of pain. His best yet! Quentin was gratified. That was more like it. Just one to come... and he was determinedto make it a good one. He realised now that one must delay the wrist action to the last moment so as to get maximum whiplash from the last few inches of the whip. Pity he had no realised that before. Tingling with excitement and lust, he steadied himself to make the last stroke the most effective of all.
Ccrraacckk!
It was a splendid stroke... loud in application... producing a vivid red weal... his finest effort yet. Melissa writhed agonisedly, head tossing back, mouth gaping wide in her loudest howl of torment. Madame Vesta nodded towards Quentin as a sign of approval. He felt most gratified. He could not recall when he had felt quite such exhilaration. He looked lustfully on the six weals which ran diagonally across Melissa's beautiful white back. The sight od them filled him with infinite pleasure. I have flogged a naked woman, he said to himself... and not many men can say that.
As her howl ended, Melissa's auburn head slumped down again. A murmuring, groaning sound could be detected. Quentin bent his head closer. Slurred words came to him.
„Uhh... uhh... oh... uuh... y-you b-b**st... how... uhh... can you... uuuhh... uhhh... t-treat a a-woman... s-so... oooo... „
He was surprised but, frankly, had to admire the woman's courage. She was helpless and she had just been whipped, yet still some of her will and pride spoke for her. Amazing!
Madame Vesta stepped forward. „I heard her saying something... what?“ she demanded.
„I... could not hear quite clearly,“ replied Quentin. „All I am sure of is that she called me a b**st... „
Madame Vesta's already hard features hardened further; her eyebrows were raised in something like surprise. This girl did indeed have spirit!
„Is that so?“
„Yes... yes... I'm virtually certain of it.“
Madame Vesta looked saturnine. She was aware of Melissa's deep reserves of will and pride. That she was not yet utterly submissive. That did not disturb Madame Vesta. It was merely a question of further time. However, no doubt that Melissa was rare specimen.
„She will be punished for her insolence,“ said Madame Vesta.
„Well... yes... I suppose she must be,“ said Quentin. He wondered what would happen now. Was this a serious offence? Most likely. Even so, he had to admit to himself it was a very understandable offence.
„I would like you, Mr Osman,“ said Madame Vesta slowly, „to lay on a further twelve strokes. And this time, I want all of them across Melissa's buttocks.“ She paused, and almost smiled at him. „You have no objection?“
„None,“ answered Quentin. Then, emboldened the situation, he spoke again. „I think she deserves them,“ he added.
„You are right, Mr Osman,“ said Madame Vesta. „And I'll tell you now that, after she had her second whipping. Melissa will be taken down to one of the Punishment Cells and a Head Cage will be put on her for twenty four hours.“ There was a kind of cry of protest from the sobbing girl. „That may help her a little to control her tongue in future.“
„Yes... yes... I'm sure it will,“ said Quentin. His eyes were on Melissa's most beautiful bottom. Still unmarked. Swelling softly. Quivering as it turned left and right. Quivering, quite possibly, also with dread. Which? Perhaps both. In any event, it didn't matter. That quivering, soft flesh made a most delectable spectacle.
And it is flesh, thought Quentin, blood hot, that I am now going to whip!
Quentin raised the whip. „Just a moment, Mr Osman,“ interrupted Madame Vesta, „I am not quite happy with your whip action. Experiment on this pillar here. Try delaying the wrist action until the last possible moment.“
Quentin turned to the pillar and used it as a target. After a few lashes, thw whip began to crack more frequently. He was getting the idea now. „Is that better?“ he asked.
„Yes, a good deal better,“ replied Madame Vesta. „Now, please use a similar technique on Melissa's bottom.“
blood surging, Quentin turned back to the quivering, soft buttock flesh. This time he'd make her yell on each stroke. She'd called him a b**st... the insolent bitch!
Ccrraaccckkk!
The plaited leather bit with whiplashing force into Melissa's right buttock cheek. With a gasping shriek, the girl writhed convulsively, the new weal snaking up and down as her bottom juddered wildly. Oh how lovely to make her writhe like that!
„Excellent,“ said Madame Vesta, „now over the other cheek, please Mr Osman.“
Quentin changed his position slightly and attacked the left buttock cheek. Again there was a `ccrraaccckkk´ like a pistol shot. Melissa shrieked again, tossing back her head, bottom bouncing left and right. Another red-purple weal leapt up.
Quentin's head seemed to be buzzing with cruel lust. He did not know it, but his mouth was beginning to sag open and his breathing came faster.
Ccrraacccckkk!
And again...
Ccrraacccckk!
Right... and then left. Four savage weals now striped Melissa's superb bottom, which never ceased to bounce and squirm wildly. Her howling shrieks began to fill the cell. After the sixth stroke, Quentin heard her pleading desperately. It was wonderful to hear.
„AAAAHHH... MERCY... HAVE... M-MERCEEEE... I'VE... DONE NOTHING... „
These piteous cries only serve to rouse Quentin to greater efforts. He became utterly absorbed in his task... lost in it. Whiplashing down with might and main... right and left. He lost all count of time and place. Also of the number of strokes he had laid on. He was consumed by sadistic frenzy... and would have gone on and on whipping Melissa until she was u*********s, but for Madame Vesta's restraining arm on his.
„Thank you, Mr Osman... thank... you... that will suffice. Excellently done. You whipped the girl well.“
Quentin was panting and sweating, just a little ashamed of the way he had lost control of himself. His temple was throbbing as he gazed at the cruel lacerations he had inflicted on the beautiful bottom before him. It was a bottom which continued to twist and shudder, despite the fact that the whip no longer fell. Long, shuddering moaning-groans erupted from melissa's throat every few seconds and she was sobbing heart-rendingly.
Every fibre of her being was filled with burning bitterness at the cruelty of the hideous world she was forced to inhabit. First, she had been flogged for no reason... except to please a pig of a man. Secondly, on account of an irrepressible outburst, she had been flogged a second time. And more severely. The injustices of it was well-nigh beyond bearing.
And, ahead of her, lay twenty four hours of jaw-stretching, choking torment whilst she wore the Head Cage. No wonder Melissa was sobbing and groaning withouth restraint.
„Would you like to watch me put the Head cage on her?“ asked Madame Vesta.
Quentin mopped hi brow. He was trembling a little after such a fantastic experience. „Very much,“ he replied.
Melissa was unclipped from her pillar and almost fell.
„Hold her up, please,“ said Madame Vesta sharply. Quentin dashed forward and clasped the staggering figure to him. He felt Melissa's softness and warmth. One of his hands was over a naked breast. Lust within him soared to a new height. My god, he would have loved to have fucked this beauty there and then!
A lead chain was fastened on the collar. „Thank you, Mr Osman.“ Reluctant Quentin released the body he was clasping. I'll have you one day... and soon... said Quentin to himself. Meanwhile she hadn't been sufficiently punished. Madame Vesta tugged on the chain and Melissa tottered behind her. The door was opened and they made their way back down the corridor, Quentin bringing up the rear. Never did his eyes leave that weal-and-welt striped bottom as it undulated seductively from side to side.
They entered a Punishment Cell and Melissa, still sobbing uninhibitedly, was fastened by her neck, with her back to a pillar. Her lead chain was removed. Madame Vesta picked up the heavy iron head Cage which was set on a nearby table. She advanced remorselessly on her victim.
„H-Have p-pity... ohhh... p-pity me... j-just this one... „ Melissa was whimpering hopelessly.
Madame Vesta raised the cage up and settled it down on Melissa's white shoulders, herwrists first of all having been unshackled from the collar. The cage was held in place by means of straps passing under her armpits and buckled tight at the back. The little door of the cage was open and Madame Vesta screwed into it one of the grenade-like pear-gags. It seemed they were of various sizes... and this one looked most unpleasantly large. Then Madame Vesta tossed a pair of handcuffs at Quentin.
„Please pull Melissa's wrists behind the pillar, Mr Osman, and handcuff them there.“
Quentin was delighted to be called to assist in this way. He pulled the slim wrists round and quickly snapped on the handcuffs. Then he came round to the front again.
„Open wide, Melissa,“ Madame Vesta was saying. „One day, you'll learn to hold your tongue, my girl!“
„Merceee... merceeee... „ Melissa's tear-filled eyes were wide and pleading. Her mouth was quivering out of control.
„I said, open wide, Melissa. Do you want me to take it thirty hours?“ said Madame Vesta silkily.
Inevitable, but with hideous reluctance, the mouth opened. Quentin saw the pink throat, the flickering tongue. Then the little door of the cage was slowly but surely closed and the cruel gag slid fully in.
There was a choking sound, followed by snorts down Melissa's flared nostrils. Her eyes bulged frantically and the sinews of her neck muscles strained. That the gag was a torment to wear even for a few moments was evident... yet twenty four hours of this torment lay ahead for the wretched girl.
Madame Vesta turned to Quentin and laid a hand on his arm. „Now Melissa can enjoy the weals you raised across her in peace and quiet,“ she said. They turned together and made for the door. Melissa was still snorting as the door closed behind them.
Madame Vesta locked it.
„This is Melissa,“ stated Madame Vesta perfunctorily.
Quentin said nothing but, with his eyes, continued to devour this ravishing creature. She had a superbly curvaceous figure, very like that of his Julia, and her long thick hair was deep auburn in colour. She had green eyes, lightly flecked with brown and the eyes slanted in a slightly Oriental manner., giving the girl a somewhat cat-like appearance. The cheekbones were high, the nose long but delicately shaped, the mouth full and wide. She did not look at Quentin but simply straight ahead. He saw a little nervous tic flicker momentarily in one cheek. With exceptional pleasure he noted the gold waist chain.
„Melissa has now been here for some six months,“ continued Madame Vesta.
„I see,“ said Quentin. He found his heart was beating rather fast, his throat a little dry. If I want to, I can fuck this girl, he was saying to himself. And he did want to! Who wouldn't?
The breasts, thrusting all the more on account of the raising arms, were truly magnificent. Large but not over-large... firm, high and proud, light brown nipples, Quentin noted, too, the swell of Melissa's flanks. I'd like to be able to see her bottom, he thought. Well, doubtless that wish would not be too long delayed.
„Until recently,“ Madame Vesta was saying, „Melissa was owned by a swedish gentleman, named Lars Piltgard.“ Again Quentin saw that tic in the cheek. „Unfortunately Mr Piltgard was recently killed in a skiing accident. An avalanche. So that means that Melissa is now owned by me. For the time being anyway. Doubtless I shall be disposing of her. At a good price.“ Madame Vesta looked at Quentin.
„Perhaps you would like to buy her, Mr Osman?“
Quentin was startled at the suggestion and found himself colouring a little. Yet, at the same time, he was incredibly excited by the possibility. What a marvelous idea! To totally possess this lovely creature!
„Yes... well... I'll certainly consider that matter,“ he found himself saying in a rather high-pitched voice. His heart was pounding faster. What a delicious looking mound this girl has! It seemed to swell prominently... and provocatively... the coral-pink sex lips neatly furled. Incredible to think that she had surely been repeatedly fucked by the likes of Jason and Otto.
„While Melissa's Master was alive,“ said Madame Vesta, „she wore a silver chain. When he died, I changed it to gold. That was only a week ago.“
„Really?“ That meant, thought Quentin, that there could not yet have been too much ravishment by those brute Trainers. It I bought her, he reflected. I'd probably change her back to silver and keep her for myself. For the time being anyway.
Quentin saw a cane hanging from a hook in a post at the end of the bunk-bed and Madame Vesta caught the direction of his gaze.
„If a slave does not position herself as Melissa is doing when her cell is entered... if, for example, she is asleep or exhausted, that will be laid across her backside. Soon brings her back to life. And into position.“
„Yes... yes... „ nodded Quentin. Actually, he was finding it a little difficult to imagine one so beautiful as this Melissa being treated in such a way. But, of course, she would be. Madame Vesta strolled across the cell to the other bunk-bed.
„Some are single cells,“ she said, „some are double, like this one.“
She picked the heavy iron collar. It clanked. „One day, your Julia's neck could be in this,“ she said. !As cell-mate to Melissa... who could act as her guide and comforter. An interesting thought, eh?“
„Yes, indeed it is,“ replied Quentin. He gazed at the collar and tried to imagine it around Julia's slim white neck. It wasn't only an interesting thought, it was a delightful one!
Madame Vesta, who had seated herself on the bunk-bed, stood up suddenly.
„Mr Osman,“ asked, „have you ever whipped a woman?“
What a stupid question, he thought. Whenever would he have been in a position to do such a thing? But Madame Vesta did not seem to think the question stupid; it was asked quite calmly. Needless to say, she lived in a different world.
„No.“ he answered simply.
„Would you like to?“
Quentin experienced a hot tingling all over his scalp. His heart began to pound even faster than ever. Would he? Well, would he?
„I... I've not thought about it,“ said Quentin lamely.
„You don't have to think about it,“ said Madame Vesta. „Either you know or you don't whether you would like to whip a woman?“
It was of course, something Quentin had fantasied about, particularly in relationship to Julia. She, he would have like to whipped many a time.
„Yes... I would like to,“ he answered a little hoarsely. His scalp was tingling even more; his throath was drier than ever.
„Would you like to whip Melissa?“ came the question.
There was an intake of breath from the other side of the cell and Quentin's brain seemed to bubble as he looked across at the kneeling shackled figure. He knew he would like to do a lot with Melissa. Including whipping her.
„Yes... I would,“ he stated, yet not truly believing that he was going to be permitted to do such a thing. The girl had committed no fault, had she? Of course not. The green eyes looked wider and there was growing dread in them.
„Then you shall, Mr Osman,“ said Madame Vesta in that matter-of-fact way of hers. She went across the cell and unlocked the chain which was attached to Melissa's collar.
„Get off there, girl,“ came a sharp order.
With a natural grace, Melissa stepped off the bunk-bed and stood by it, wrists still shackled to the collar. Quite helpless, thought Quentin, quivering with excitement deep inside. He thought his hands might be trembling and clenched tjem together. Was the unbelievable about to happen? Was he going to whip a helpless, naked woman? A most lovely young woman at that?
„Have you been whipped lately, Melissa?“ asked Madame Vesta.
„No... Madame... „ The voice was low, vibrant, cultured.
„Well, girl, you are going to be whipped now.“ Melissa seemed to flinch slightly. „I want you to understand, slave, that you are not going to be whipped for any fault or misdemeanour. This is purely for Mr Osman's benefit. A demonstration, you might say, of what can be done to a slave girl here. You understand?“
„Y-Yes... Madame... “ Quentin saw the full lower lip of the girl start to quiver. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for her... then his desire to whip this superb body overcame that. He clasped his hands tighter. The palms were beginning to sweat.
„Move to the end of the cell. Face the post,“ ordered Madame Vesta.
With a lithe, easy movement, Melissa made her way to the end of the cell. For the first time, Quentin was favoured with a view of her splendid hindquarters. Fulsome oval-shaped buttocks; long tapering thighs. A sinouosly-seductive swing which set the soft, white flesh quivering a little. A spectacle to remain in the memory.
Madame Vesta folllowed the girl and, when she had reached the post, locked a ring on the front of the collar to a snap-hook hanging from the post, wrists still shackled to her collar. Quentin surveyed the smooth back, the shoulders quite broad... the back that tapered to a slim waste... and then swelled deliciously out again into the actual hindquarters.
„Do you see any resemblance to Julia?“ asked Madame Vesta.
„Their figures are very similar,“ answered Quentin.
„Then perhaps you would like to imagine you are whipping Julia?“
Quentin smiled nervously. „Maybe... maybe... „ he murmured. Surely, whipping Melissa would be quite exciting enough!
Madame Vesta had come to his side and carried a leather whip in her hand. It was made of black leather, tightly plaited, no more than three feet in length. It tapered throughout its length so that, at its tip (where there was a tiny knot and three little leather tassels) it was no more than pencil thick. There was no handle as such; the grip was simply where the leather was thickest.
Suddenly Madame Vesta snaked the whip out and it cracked loudly in the enclosed space. The sound sent the flesh of Melissa's back and buttocks quivering infinitesimally with dread. Quentin found that a quite fantastically exciting sight. He was handed the whip.
„I suggest, Mr Osman,“ said Madame Vesta, „that you lay six strokes across the girls back. However, do not imagine using a whip is all that simple. One wants to try and achieve a lashing-crack of the tip as it ands. But, I'll expect you'll manage.“
„Yes... yes... „ muttered Quentin. Beads of perspiration had sprung to his brow. He gazed on the broad white expanse of back. So smooth! It almost seemed a pity to spoil it. But cruel lust quickly overcame any such sentiments. In any case, as he now knew, it would not take long to restore Melissa's back to its present condition. Quentin swung the whip experimentally once or twice, then raised it above his head.
An incredible sensation of delight filled him as he lashed the plaited leather down. It fell, but did not crack, across the shimmering white flesh, raising a thin welt which ran diagonally. Melissa's head jerked back and a gasping-groan was ejected from her widened mouth. She shuddered, then her face fell back to the post. For his part, Quentin was astounded that the girl had not screamed out in pain. He was not, of course, aware of Melissa's experience nor the intense desire within her not to be made to scream by such a monster as himself.
It has to be said, despite all her terrible ordeals aboard the `Paradise´ over the previous six months, some vestige of will and pride remained within her being. Perhaps that was unfortunate for her.
Quentin swung back the whip again... trailing it, then raising it high. I am flogging a naked woman, he said to himself ecstatically. The plaited whip swept down again and again, it fell, rather than cracked, across the helpless flesh. Melissa uttered the same kind of gasping-groan, once more, shuddered conclusively. A second deep red weal sliced across the flesh. Madame Vesta looked slightly disdainful. She was not exactly impressed by her guest's technique. These novices! If she herself had been applying the whip, she would have had two howls of torment out of Melissa already.
Quentin was luckier with his third stroke. It did, in fact, make a cracking sound asit bit into the waiting flesh and forced half a yelp from Melissa whose body jerked convulsively. Quentin glanced at Madame Vesta as if seeking approvial but his hostess's features remained impassive.
Melissa's head dropped a little.
„O-Ohh... G-God... oooh... God... „ she moaned in a soft, tremulous voice.
Quentin's features were stretched taut; his grey-blue eyes were glinting with sadistic relish. One day, this could be Julia, he told himself... being flogged by a complete stranger. What a heavenly idea!
He laid on the fourth stroke, striving to do so with extra force. But that only put his timing out and he did not achieve the satisfying cracking sound he desired. All the same, it produced another loud gasping-groan from Melissa. He heard her whimpering softly as he prepared for the fifth stroke. She was shuddering almost incessantly and he sensed the girl was defying him by not screaming out with pain as the plaited leather lashed across her back. Courageous, but annoying. He wished he could make her shriek.
Teeth clenched, he laid on number five as hard as he could. It cracked over the back with satisfying force and Melissa let out a short, demonic howl of pain. His best yet! Quentin was gratified. That was more like it. Just one to come... and he was determinedto make it a good one. He realised now that one must delay the wrist action to the last moment so as to get maximum whiplash from the last few inches of the whip. Pity he had no realised that before. Tingling with excitement and lust, he steadied himself to make the last stroke the most effective of all.
Ccrraacckk!
It was a splendid stroke... loud in application... producing a vivid red weal... his finest effort yet. Melissa writhed agonisedly, head tossing back, mouth gaping wide in her loudest howl of torment. Madame Vesta nodded towards Quentin as a sign of approval. He felt most gratified. He could not recall when he had felt quite such exhilaration. He looked lustfully on the six weals which ran diagonally across Melissa's beautiful white back. The sight od them filled him with infinite pleasure. I have flogged a naked woman, he said to himself... and not many men can say that.
As her howl ended, Melissa's auburn head slumped down again. A murmuring, groaning sound could be detected. Quentin bent his head closer. Slurred words came to him.
„Uhh... uhh... oh... uuh... y-you b-b**st... how... uhh... can you... uuuhh... uhhh... t-treat a a-woman... s-so... oooo... „
He was surprised but, frankly, had to admire the woman's courage. She was helpless and she had just been whipped, yet still some of her will and pride spoke for her. Amazing!
Madame Vesta stepped forward. „I heard her saying something... what?“ she demanded.
„I... could not hear quite clearly,“ replied Quentin. „All I am sure of is that she called me a b**st... „
Madame Vesta's already hard features hardened further; her eyebrows were raised in something like surprise. This girl did indeed have spirit!
„Is that so?“
„Yes... yes... I'm virtually certain of it.“
Madame Vesta looked saturnine. She was aware of Melissa's deep reserves of will and pride. That she was not yet utterly submissive. That did not disturb Madame Vesta. It was merely a question of further time. However, no doubt that Melissa was rare specimen.
„She will be punished for her insolence,“ said Madame Vesta.
„Well... yes... I suppose she must be,“ said Quentin. He wondered what would happen now. Was this a serious offence? Most likely. Even so, he had to admit to himself it was a very understandable offence.
„I would like you, Mr Osman,“ said Madame Vesta slowly, „to lay on a further twelve strokes. And this time, I want all of them across Melissa's buttocks.“ She paused, and almost smiled at him. „You have no objection?“
„None,“ answered Quentin. Then, emboldened the situation, he spoke again. „I think she deserves them,“ he added.
„You are right, Mr Osman,“ said Madame Vesta. „And I'll tell you now that, after she had her second whipping. Melissa will be taken down to one of the Punishment Cells and a Head Cage will be put on her for twenty four hours.“ There was a kind of cry of protest from the sobbing girl. „That may help her a little to control her tongue in future.“
„Yes... yes... I'm sure it will,“ said Quentin. His eyes were on Melissa's most beautiful bottom. Still unmarked. Swelling softly. Quivering as it turned left and right. Quivering, quite possibly, also with dread. Which? Perhaps both. In any event, it didn't matter. That quivering, soft flesh made a most delectable spectacle.
And it is flesh, thought Quentin, blood hot, that I am now going to whip!
Quentin raised the whip. „Just a moment, Mr Osman,“ interrupted Madame Vesta, „I am not quite happy with your whip action. Experiment on this pillar here. Try delaying the wrist action until the last possible moment.“
Quentin turned to the pillar and used it as a target. After a few lashes, thw whip began to crack more frequently. He was getting the idea now. „Is that better?“ he asked.
„Yes, a good deal better,“ replied Madame Vesta. „Now, please use a similar technique on Melissa's bottom.“
blood surging, Quentin turned back to the quivering, soft buttock flesh. This time he'd make her yell on each stroke. She'd called him a b**st... the insolent bitch!
Ccrraaccckkk!
The plaited leather bit with whiplashing force into Melissa's right buttock cheek. With a gasping shriek, the girl writhed convulsively, the new weal snaking up and down as her bottom juddered wildly. Oh how lovely to make her writhe like that!
„Excellent,“ said Madame Vesta, „now over the other cheek, please Mr Osman.“
Quentin changed his position slightly and attacked the left buttock cheek. Again there was a `ccrraaccckkk´ like a pistol shot. Melissa shrieked again, tossing back her head, bottom bouncing left and right. Another red-purple weal leapt up.
Quentin's head seemed to be buzzing with cruel lust. He did not know it, but his mouth was beginning to sag open and his breathing came faster.
Ccrraacccckkk!
And again...
Ccrraacccckk!
Right... and then left. Four savage weals now striped Melissa's superb bottom, which never ceased to bounce and squirm wildly. Her howling shrieks began to fill the cell. After the sixth stroke, Quentin heard her pleading desperately. It was wonderful to hear.
„AAAAHHH... MERCY... HAVE... M-MERCEEEE... I'VE... DONE NOTHING... „
These piteous cries only serve to rouse Quentin to greater efforts. He became utterly absorbed in his task... lost in it. Whiplashing down with might and main... right and left. He lost all count of time and place. Also of the number of strokes he had laid on. He was consumed by sadistic frenzy... and would have gone on and on whipping Melissa until she was u*********s, but for Madame Vesta's restraining arm on his.
„Thank you, Mr Osman... thank... you... that will suffice. Excellently done. You whipped the girl well.“
Quentin was panting and sweating, just a little ashamed of the way he had lost control of himself. His temple was throbbing as he gazed at the cruel lacerations he had inflicted on the beautiful bottom before him. It was a bottom which continued to twist and shudder, despite the fact that the whip no longer fell. Long, shuddering moaning-groans erupted from melissa's throat every few seconds and she was sobbing heart-rendingly.
Every fibre of her being was filled with burning bitterness at the cruelty of the hideous world she was forced to inhabit. First, she had been flogged for no reason... except to please a pig of a man. Secondly, on account of an irrepressible outburst, she had been flogged a second time. And more severely. The injustices of it was well-nigh beyond bearing.
And, ahead of her, lay twenty four hours of jaw-stretching, choking torment whilst she wore the Head Cage. No wonder Melissa was sobbing and groaning withouth restraint.
„Would you like to watch me put the Head cage on her?“ asked Madame Vesta.
Quentin mopped hi brow. He was trembling a little after such a fantastic experience. „Very much,“ he replied.
Melissa was unclipped from her pillar and almost fell.
„Hold her up, please,“ said Madame Vesta sharply. Quentin dashed forward and clasped the staggering figure to him. He felt Melissa's softness and warmth. One of his hands was over a naked breast. Lust within him soared to a new height. My god, he would have loved to have fucked this beauty there and then!
A lead chain was fastened on the collar. „Thank you, Mr Osman.“ Reluctant Quentin released the body he was clasping. I'll have you one day... and soon... said Quentin to himself. Meanwhile she hadn't been sufficiently punished. Madame Vesta tugged on the chain and Melissa tottered behind her. The door was opened and they made their way back down the corridor, Quentin bringing up the rear. Never did his eyes leave that weal-and-welt striped bottom as it undulated seductively from side to side.
They entered a Punishment Cell and Melissa, still sobbing uninhibitedly, was fastened by her neck, with her back to a pillar. Her lead chain was removed. Madame Vesta picked up the heavy iron head Cage which was set on a nearby table. She advanced remorselessly on her victim.
„H-Have p-pity... ohhh... p-pity me... j-just this one... „ Melissa was whimpering hopelessly.
Madame Vesta raised the cage up and settled it down on Melissa's white shoulders, herwrists first of all having been unshackled from the collar. The cage was held in place by means of straps passing under her armpits and buckled tight at the back. The little door of the cage was open and Madame Vesta screwed into it one of the grenade-like pear-gags. It seemed they were of various sizes... and this one looked most unpleasantly large. Then Madame Vesta tossed a pair of handcuffs at Quentin.
„Please pull Melissa's wrists behind the pillar, Mr Osman, and handcuff them there.“
Quentin was delighted to be called to assist in this way. He pulled the slim wrists round and quickly snapped on the handcuffs. Then he came round to the front again.
„Open wide, Melissa,“ Madame Vesta was saying. „One day, you'll learn to hold your tongue, my girl!“
„Merceee... merceeee... „ Melissa's tear-filled eyes were wide and pleading. Her mouth was quivering out of control.
„I said, open wide, Melissa. Do you want me to take it thirty hours?“ said Madame Vesta silkily.
Inevitable, but with hideous reluctance, the mouth opened. Quentin saw the pink throat, the flickering tongue. Then the little door of the cage was slowly but surely closed and the cruel gag slid fully in.
There was a choking sound, followed by snorts down Melissa's flared nostrils. Her eyes bulged frantically and the sinews of her neck muscles strained. That the gag was a torment to wear even for a few moments was evident... yet twenty four hours of this torment lay ahead for the wretched girl.
Madame Vesta turned to Quentin and laid a hand on his arm. „Now Melissa can enjoy the weals you raised across her in peace and quiet,“ she said. They turned together and made for the door. Melissa was still snorting as the door closed behind them.
Madame Vesta locked it.
Latisha
- 18.05.2020
- 9
- 0
