Elise
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Elise Ch. 02 free porn video
It is to be assumed that you have already read part 1. Everyone in this story is over 18.
We awaited eagerly the arrival of our first clients at the Abadía, and were excited when a limousine bumped its way up the stony track, a uniformed chauffeuse opened a rear door, and out stepped an elegant lady, wearing an obviously authentic mink coat over a black trouser-suit and patent heels. Her black hair was coiffed in a sophisticated chiñon, and her make-up looked immaculate. As Judith and I watched from a narrow slit-window, the chauffeuse range a bell and Teresa opened the door, admitting the woman. The chauffeuse looked around her, then got back into the limo, and drove away.
Later, Sir Gordon presented the newcomer, as Celia, telling me in an aside that she was, in fact, the Contessa de Montalvia. Apparently her husband had surprised her, in her bedroom, flogging herself with a riding whip, having previously noticed marks on her buttocks – on the rare occasions she allowed him to see her undressed. The count had decided that she should have a taste of a real whipping, and, knowing Sir Gordon, had sent her to la Abadía. According to Sir Gordon, she had agreed with alacrity, but my first impression, when she was introduced to us, was that she was haughty to the point of arrogance.
This attitude soon showed signs of changing, however, when she was led into the preparation room, and stripped naked. She had a nice, slender body, and when I unfastened her hair, it fell down her back in a long, silken cascade, which I proceeded to plait into a single rope, whilst Maria tended to her nails, and Libby, against Celia’s useless protests, set about piercing her tongue and clitoris-hood. Daphne saw to her make-up with her usual expertise. When we had finished, Greg came to admire our handiwork, and gave her the ‘uniform’ we all wore – garter-belt, white stockings, metal-heeled stilettos, and a lilac satin cape. Her broad silver-plated, bejewelled wrist-cuffs, with their attached heavy rings were now fixed, then she was told to kneel on the floor, her elbows on the chair she had just vacated, spreading her knees a little. Judith came up behind her with the conical butt-plug, ready-lubricated, and drew a harsh scream from Celia as she pushed it firmly up the Countess’s anus, so that the diamond-cut decorative flange glinted in the light as she squirmed with the agony of this penetration of what must have been a virgin arsehole.
‘I’m going to love whipping her,’ said Astrid.
Vestiges of her noblewoman’s arrogance could still be seen as we walked her down the stone-floored corridors, down the steep staircase, to the punishment room, but traces of fear appeared on her beautiful face when she was chained up to the metal frame, her wrist cuffs snap-linked to thick metal rings just above her head. Her cape was removed by Daphne, then Astrid walked around her, showing her the thin, leather coach whip she had had soaked in a bucket of water especially for Celia.
Ì’m going to hurt you a great deal,’ she said, ‘I think twenty strokes on your lovely back will be nice. Will you like that?’
Celia nodded dumbly.
‘Well?’ rapped Astrid, harshly.
‘Yes,’ she replied, in a tiny voice.
‘Ha,’ said the Swedish girl, ‘so the Countess speaks!’
She rubbed her own bare breasts deliberately against Celia’s, and felt between the Countess’s legs, then sniffed the hand she had used, and transferred it to Celia’s open mouth.
‘Taste your juices, my dear,’ she said, ‘you are excited, aren’t you, you slut?’
Without waiting for a response, she stepped back, drew back her whip-arm, and brought the lash down across the woman’s lower back with a fearsome crack. The wet leather lash must, I knew from experience, have stung like hell, but drew only a sharp gasp from Celia, despite leaving an angry red welt across the breadth of her pale back. Involuntarily, my own juices started to well up as I watched, sensing Celia’s agonising pleasure, as more of Astrid’s vicious strokes fell across the soft white flesh of her back, criss-crossing it with livid red stripes, and now drawing long moans from the noblewoman’s mouth, as she writhed in her bonds. Tears were soon streaking her cheeks, mascara running in lines down from her aristocratic grey eyes.
When eventually Astrid unclipped her cuffs from their rings, she fell into the Swedish blonde’s arms and allowed herself to be half-carried to the padded bench, where they embraced like lovers, kissing fervently, until Astrid pulled away gently, and said, ‘We’re going to leave you for a while now, then it will be time for your next punishment.’
We all trooped out, then, to plan, leaving the frightened brunette on the bench with her thoughts.
Half an hour later, she was still where we had left her, her knees drawn up to her chin, hands clasped around her slender legs. Greg took her hands, none too tenderly and led her to a wooden bench, where Libby was carefully placing a flat tray. He motioned that she was to climb onto it and lay back on the tray. As soon as she did so, an awful howl of anguish escaped her lips. The tray was covered with a layer of salt, which must have aggravated her wounded back terribly! But when she tried to rise, Astrid forced her back down. ‘I thought you liked pain?’ she said. The Countess was sobbing now, and this increased when Daphne and Maria took an ankle apiece and raised them, wide apart, way above her head, while Astrid handed a short dressage-whip to Su-li.
‘Whip her pussy!’ she commanded, and the Chinese girl administered six punishing lashes to Celia’s upper thighs and pussy-lips with the thin, cruel implement, each drawing a short, harsh scream from the woman’s open mouth.
When she had finished, Su-li kissed Celia gently, then helped her from the bench and handed her on to Judith, who was to tend her wounds, in preparation for the following day’s session. Her attitude, I noted, had changed – her arrogance had been replaced by a submissive acceptance.
Next day, Celia was led naked into the punshment room, and Maria and I strapped her slim ankles to the rough wooden legs of a bench, over which she was made to lay, face-down. Her arms were extended and her wrists strapped to a bar in front of her, but the bench only supported her up to her waist, so that her breasts were free, slightly pendulous, when Astrid screwed nipple-clamps hard into place, causing her to whimper at this new pain. The legs of the bench were set about two feet apart at the base, so that her buttocks were forced open when she was strapped down, and the lewd butt-plug, similar to those each of us wore, was nicely displayed, as were the marks of yesterday’s pussy-whipping.
Greg wandered in, wearing a paisley dressing-gown, and carrying a thin cane.
‘I’d like you to give her a few strokes on the thighs to warm her up,’ he said, to Astrid, who took the cane from him, and lashed her cruelly across her lovely, fleshy thighs, causing her to moan an writhe as best she could in her bonds.
‘Right,’ said Greg, ‘Out with the plug, then!’
There was a loud ‘plop’ as the large plastic cone was pulled from her anus, leaving her with an enticing gape.
‘Hmmm,’ murmured Greg, parting the dressing-gown to reveal a massive erection. He beckoned to Judith, always his favourite, and she knew her role. She fell to her knees, and took his expertly, deep into her mouth, stroking his engorged balls as she sucked his immense length, burying it deep, deep into her throat, then slowly easing him out, her eyes up to his as her long, pierced tongue teased its way right up to his crown.
He pulled out, and said, ‘Thank you, darling,’ then turned his attention to the helpless Celia. He studied her gaping arsehole for a long moment, running a finger around its rim, then slowly began to penetrate her with the crown of his massive, engorged cock. As he worked his way in, down to her tight sphincter, she cried out
, but he paid no heed, and only thrust harder, driving her hard against the rough timber bench as he impaled her virgin anus on the full, impressive length of his mighty weapon. She gave a kind of strangled sigh as he reached the very limit of his drive, his balls hard against her buttocks, and then he began to ease out again – in and out, slowly at first, then gathering pace, as he pounded into Celia’s velvet tube, and she moaned with that mixture of agony and ecstasy that accompanies a first anal fuck. The ecstasy obviously took over as she yelled, ‘Oh, fuck me! Fuck my arsehole! Cum in my arse! I want you to fill me with your hot cum!’
Greg duly obliged, with an animal roar as his release came and he shot his load deep inside her. But while he was still embedded in the woman’s anus, Judith, knowing her role, came up behind him, and shoved a long finger straight up his own arsehole, causing him to groan, while she bit his ear-lobe and whispered something to him. Whatever it was, he was evidently soon ready to continue fucking Celia, only this time, he withdrew from her arsehole, and plunged his cock, still hard as iron after Judith’s ‘treatment,’ deep into her wet, pink vagina. There was a loud slurping noise as he fucked her hard, and, in no time at all, he stiffened, shuddered, and came once more, again shooting a copious load, this time into the Countess’s cunt.
When Greg withdrew, he pulled his dressing gown around him and said, sheepishly to Judith, ‘I hope you don’t want anything from me for a little while?’
‘I’ll let you off – for now,’ she said, and we all went off for a coffee, leaving a protesting Celia, still bound to the bench, dripping with cum.
‘When we get back, I think she should have a good caning,’ said Astrid, ‘then I think we’ve finished with her.’
Su-li it was that was entrusted with caning the Countess, and thirty hard strokes of a bamboo cane were deemed sufficient. ‘Just make sure she cries,’ Sir Gordon said, as he came to see the final act of Celia’s ‘training.’ She did, and was sent home to the Count with buttocks so welted and red that she would not be able to sit comfortably for a week or so.
Our next client was not due for three more days, and that time was filled with more ‘training’ for ourselves. Daphne was given a taste of the whip, and brazenly begged for more. Astrid obliged, but only on condition that she herself could be flogged the next day. I couldn’t help but marvel at the masochistic pleasure some of the girls derived from the lash, knowing that, although I, too, always had an orgasm when I was being punished in this way, it was nothing compared to the sheer animal delight I got from love-making, especially with my darling Judith.
The door-bell rang early one morning, announcing the arrival of Cindy, our new client. The young English wife of a rich owner of three plastics factories in southern Spain, she had told her husband she was prepared to do anything to save her marriage of five years, when she found that her husband was spending an increasing number of evenings away from home. Her husband was, to nobody’s surprise, numbered amongst Sir Gordon’s circle of friends, and it was soon clear that he wanted his wife to become a submissive.
She was a true ‘English Rose,’ long, silky, honey-blond hair cascading down her back almost to her slender waist, big blue eyes and full lips giving her a sensual look which just begged to be made love to. She wore a tailored bottle green suit with a very tight skirt, over a white silk blouse, and walked confidently in on five-inch heels.
I was detailed to greet her, being English.
‘Hello,’ I said, ‘Welcome to the Abadía.’
She took my hand in a cool grasp.
‘I suppose you know why you are here?’ I asked.
‘I was told it was for training, but I haven’t been given any details,’ she said, showing no sign of fear.
‘Hmmm,’ I said, ‘The training will be….er…rigorous. It is best you understand.’
Her lovely blue eyes widened a shade at that. ‘Rigorous…..how?’
I didn’t know how much to tell her. ‘You are to be trained to take physical pain – and derive pleasure from it.’
She turned away, and when she looked back at me again, there were tears in her eyes.
‘Just what have I done?’ she said, waveringly, ‘I’ve tried to be a good wife to Enrique, and he sends me to… to….this prison!’
‘It’s not a prison, Cindy, all the girls you will meet are here willingly, and they have all undergone the same training you are to have.’
‘B…but… physical pain! I can’t stand pain,’ she cried.
‘You want to please your husband, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, almost in a whisper, looking down at the pointed toes of her shoes, ‘More than anything in the world.’
‘Then come with me, and we’ll prepare you.’ I led her to the preparation room, where the girls, already in their ‘uniforms’ of garter-belt, stockings and satin cape, were waiting. Cindy looked at each of them in amazement, surprised to see their naked, shaven pussies, and their breasts barely concealed by the open capes.
Daphne sat her down in a stiff-backed chair, and Maria started to trim and brush her long blond hair, commenting on its fineness, while Libby gently parted her thighs and inspected her already nicely shaven pussy.
While Judith and I attended to her make-up and nails, Libby quietly went about the business of selecting a suitable decoration for the blonde’s clitoris, which she had found sufficiently prominent to be pierced.
As I was applying eye-liner, Cindy suddenly stiffened and shrieked loudly – I knew then that Libby had expertly pierced the girl’s clit, a pain and sensation I could remember as both abominable and ecstatic at the same time.
Her tongue was Libby’s next target, and by the time we had finished, Cindy was prepared for a new life as a sex-slave, dressed as we all were, in white, lace-topped hose, a lilac satin garter belt, white stilettos with steel heels, and a lilac satin cape, clasped at the neck. Astrid fixed in place her stout leather wrist restraints, with their metal rings let into them, and she was ready to be led to the punishment room. We had decided on a short pre-lunch session, in a break from tradition.
Cindy shivered with fear in the warmth of the centrally-heated punishment room as her wrists were attached to the snap-links on the frame, just above head height.
‘Spread your legs apart,’ ordered Astrid, and we admired Libby’s handiwork, a delicate gold clit-ring, from which hung a short, very fine gold chain, a tiny stone at its end. But Astrid was already behind the blonde, and was applying gel to her anus, pushing a questing finger into the puckered entrance.
‘I do believe she’s a virgin,’ she said, and when Cindy tried to say something, she rewarded her with a resounding slap across the face. Then she held out a hand, and Su-li handed her a butt-plug, just like the ones we had all worn, and she unceremoniously shoved it into the girl’s tight arsehole, drawing from her an awful scream.
‘There,’ said the Swedish girl, ‘You will wear that for the rest of your stay.’ Tears were coursing down Cindy’s cheeks. ‘And now we shall give you something to really cry about!’
With that, she signalled to Su-li, to step forward, and I saw that she was holding a loop of twisted electrical wire.
‘Six strokes,’ said Astrid, ‘Four across her belly and two on those lovely tits, then we’ll give her some nice clamps to wear while we all have lunch.’ She was, I knew, really enjoying this.
Su-li took a couple of paces towards Cindy’s trembling body, drew her arm back and lashed her hard across her flat, white stomach with the cruel flex. The English girl let out an anguished cry, and writhed in pain, as the loop left its red impression on her pale skin. It was immediately overlapped by another, as Su-li struck again, and again, and again, before turning her attention to the girl’s firm breasts.
She paused, fondling the protruberant aureolas and jutting nipples like a lover, before bringing the loop down once across each breast with accuracy, but rather less force, I thought, than she had used on the blonde’s belly. Still, Cindy cried out with each blow, and was sobbing when Su-li’s place was taken by Maria, who caused her more pain when she fitted a pair of silver nipple-clamps, connected by a weighted chain. Daphne was on hand to unfasten her wrist-restraints, and we led her, stumbling along the stone-floored corridor in her heels, to the dining room.
‘Oh, it hurts so much!’ she said, ‘And this thing in my…..my behind – I can’t stand it!’
‘That was only the beginning,’ said Astrid, ‘This afternoon, you will be whipped properly.’
‘Oh no, please, no!’ she pleaded.
I was sat beside her, and ran my hand up the inside of her thigh, up to her stocking-top, and to the soft flesh beyond. She looked at me. I let my hand stray further, until it came to rest on the outer lips of her pussy.
‘We’ve all been through this,’ I said softly, ‘Most of us several times.’
‘B…but…how do you put up with it? What makes you stay here? You’re all so beautiful – you don’t have to stay here.’ She had stopped crying, but winced when she moved slightly on her chair.
‘The line between pain and pleasure becomes blurred,’ I told her. It was a feeble attempt to describe what I really felt – the intense, overwhelming ecstasy that I knew when I was being whipped by a lover.
But she felt moist when my fingers found their inexorable way into the secret portals of her vagina, and when I then transferred my finger to my mouth and tasted her juices, she took my wrist and put my hand firmly back between her legs. Her lovely blue eyes never left mine, and her newly-pierced tongue flicked out briefly between slightly parted lips. I plunged two fingers deep into the wetness of her cunt, knowing that Su-li was watching from across the table, a small smile playing on her lips. In no time at all, she breathed a long, shuddering sigh, and I knew her release had come.
‘That was the first time a woman has done that to me,’ she whispered.
She toyed with her food, emotions clearly giving her a hard time, and soon it was time for us to take her once more to the punishment room.
This time, she was somehow more serene, as she was clipped into position, but still begged Astrid not to hurt her.
‘But of course I must hurt you, my dear,’ she said, ‘That’s the whole point, don’t you see?’
This time the weapon she chose was a braided whip, quite short, but I noted that she hadn’t moistened it – it would sting, but do no lasting damage. Astrid herself decided to take charge of the punishment, and told Maria to tie Cindy’s long hair up into a chiñon, out of the way. This took a little while, and the blonde became ever more terrified as this was being done.
‘You’re shivering, darling,’ said Astrid, ‘Are you cold?’
‘No, I’m frightened,’ she replied, in a voice that told its own story.
‘Good,’ said Astrid, ‘I shall give you fifty strokes, and you must count them out loud. If you make a mistake, more will be added.’
The girl started to weep as Astrid stood back and took aim, and we all watched the thin leather lash snake out and flick Cindy neatly between the shoulder blades, instantly causing a short red line, making her gasp and whimper.
‘Count!’ shouted Astrid, and the blonde managed to stutter, ‘w…one.
The next stroke fell across the width of her narrow waist, the knotted tip of the lash just nicking her flank as she looked down at it.
Then the braided thong fell higher and higher, until by the tenth stroke it was licking her shoulder blades, then down again, now making a livid pattern of criss-cross stripes on the girl’s hitherto pristine back. Her gasps had turned to deep, wracking moans, and she writhed as each stroke fell. After perhaps twenty lashes, Astrid paused and thrust a hand between Cindy’s legs.
‘Christ, she’s soaking wet!’ she said, ‘The slut’s enjoying this!’
Lynne
- 28.10.2022
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