Chapter 2: Punished Slave Girl

Mistress Connie, now the sole owner of the house, property, businesses and wealth that used to belong to her and her husband, Richard, also was the owner of a young woman who had made the mistake of selling herself into slavery, even though she had had a noble reason. Colleen had expected to be used sexually; why else would a man contract with a woman for her services and pay her a huge amount of cash? She even expected to be hurt some, for it was obvious from the start that this Master Richard was kinky as a corkscrew. But what she had not planned on was his wife, a woman who hated all other women, and did not like men much, either. She was a woman who had been wronged by another woman, and held it against all womankind. Of course, she had a few loose screws and was not quite playing with a full deck, but, when Richard died, she was in control and Colleen was her captive slave. The tempering effect of her husband upon her sadistic tendencies was now out of the picture totally.

The household staff consisted of Carla and a rather handsome black stud named George. The Latina girl was scared to death of Mistress Connie and George, for some reason not clear, and was dedicated to her and obeyed her every command implicitly. Both of them would help keep Colleen a prisoner simply because the Mistress wished it to be so.

The rest of the family was not much better. A daughter of Richard’s by a previous marriage, one Tanya by name, was as kinky as her father – no, more so, and a lesbian to boot. She enjoyed forcing the good looking Colleen to perform lesbian acts that she found repulsive and distasteful. It was fine with her if her stepmother kept this woman a slave forever and a day.

There was also a son, who was reported to be more interested in sticking his prick into the rear of a woman than the more normal place. It was even rumored that he preferred that to a good blowjob. He had, however, not yet put in an appearance, so Colleen had not yet enjoyed his back-door attentions.

Before obtaining their slavegirl, Richard and Connie had played a pretty kinky lifestyle, but mostly with prostitutes and such. They had even gone to the extreme of building a holding cell and a torture chamber into the basement of their house. The torture chamber was equipped with the standard torture devices: a whipping post, a rail that a woman could be bent over, a pillory, and even a rack in case they wanted to stretch out their slave. Colleen had experienced a first hand, up close and personal type acquaintance with all those devices, save for the rack. Apparently she was tall enough to satisfy the perverted pair.

So it was no surprise when the tall, slender and dark haired woman came in, waving her riding crop around and looking like a cat about to toy with a mouse, that she would drag her prisoner out of the cell and over to the adjoining torture chamber. Aiding her in this endeavor was her faithful henchman, George. He did the unlocking and dragging and binding for Mistress, and he was very good at it. When he left the room, somewhat reluctantly actually, he left Colleen bound in one of Connie’s favorite positions: hanging on the post. It was a wooden post set into the concrete of the floor and attached to the ceiling beam, quite solid and about four inches in diameter. As was the custom, Colleen had been backed up to the post and her arms pulled around behind it for the elbows to be tightly corded together, then the wrists. Pulling the shoulders back so harshly had a pleasing effect on the girl’s breasts. They stuck out like she was trying to show them off.

After a hundred feet or so of rope had lashed her body to the post, her ankles were pulled up behind her, tied together and then tied up to the wrists. It was a very nice bondage position, one in which Colleen was unable to move much beyond her head, or maybe flutter her fingers a bit. She was held quite solidly in place, with both her breasts and that wonderful triangle between her legs not only on display but readily available for pleasure or pain. You can guess which it was that Mistress Connie had in mind.

For a few minutes, she slapped the breasts around, noting how they did not really bounce that much. This young woman had such a nice set, firm and shapely, and hateful to the older woman who was in the middle of a mid-life crisis and hating losing her youth. Soon, several things came to pass. Those wonderful breasts became marked with red splotches where the leather met the flesh, Colleen was crying from those flashes of pain, there was a look of fear in her eyes because she knew this was only the warm-up, a preamble so to speak, and when Mistress became tired of the foreplay, she would switch to something more painful.

Mistress Connie was changeable. One day she might concentrate upon those two mounds on slave’s chest and ignore all other parts of her body. Other days she chose to inflict terrible pain squarely upon the most tender part of a woman, between her legs. This day, the first in which Mistress no longer had to worry about what her husband (the wuss!) would say, she felt a wonderful sense of freedom to inflict as much pain as she wished. Let the slave scream all she wanted! Screaming was good; it let you know that your work was not in vain.

A pair of nipple clamps with a dozen tiny but very sharp teeth went on, just to keep her breasts from feeling ignored while other parts were abused. Mistress had in mind to present her slavegirl with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Quite simple, really. She produced a large plastic dildo with a short wooden handle attached, and she crammed the large, hard object into that inviting opening. Colleen gasped, and then cried out. It was fortunate, indeed, that the tight binding of her body and the mild pain given her breasts had aroused her body to a state of sexual excitement. It was a strange quirk of human nature that neither Mistress nor slave never understood, but pain can turn on a woman just as quickly as soft, kind caresses. Maybe faster.

With a skill developed from having done this numerous times before, she worked the dildo slowly up and down, further arousing this female body. The speed increased as she noted the degree of arousal until she was sure that Colleen was nearing an orgasm – an event that, of course, was to be avoided at all costs! It just would not do to have this slave gain any pleasure – no indeed!

So, when she was really beginning to enjoy it, Mistress withdrew the dildo. Colleen gasped again, and then whined in disappointment.

The riding crop was again picked up and, without hesitation or warning, used to deliver a vicious underhanded blow directly between Colleen’s legs.

It was a very nice scream that echoed off the walls. Very nice indeed.

Mistress spaced out the blows, savoring them and the reactions they produced, mostly loud cries that never quite reached the intensity of the first scream. But that had come as a surprise, catching the slave off guard, as it were. With just the riding crop in use, there was a lot of pain shooting into the attractive body, but not as much as could be had with a more serious whip. Still, Mistress was enjoying herself.

With the twentieth blow (but no one was keeping count), Mistress put aside the riding crop and resumed with the dildo. It took a bit to get this slavegirl back to moaning with pleasure, but Mistress was skillful and added just a little teasing and massaging to go along with the pumping. And again, just as Colleen was becoming seriously interested in this, the dildo was withdrawn and replaced with the riding crop.

What an interesting sound the crop makes when striking the flesh between slave’s legs, Mistress thought. Sort of a twack! Or a splat! Almost a wet sound. Maybe that was because of the slave’s undoubted arousal. Anyway, Mistress enjoyed hearing the sound it made.

Colleen had finally reached the point where she was pleading for a cessation of the torment. Of course, her pleas were as sweet as the moans and screams to Mistress. She ignored them, just as she ignored the sobbing that had started as soon as she began cropping up between the girl’s legs. Colleen was finally reduced to moaning a “Noooooo! Noooo!” repeated over and over.

Mistress’ arm was growing fatigued. The last dozen or so swats had been delivered with as much strength as she could manage. At last, she stood back and let the riding crop fall to the floor.

For a while there was only the sound of weeping. The two women were both panting, but for different reasons. Mistress scrunched up her face and clasped her groin with both hands. Digging her fingers in like claws, she backed up until she was leaning against the wall. One hand fumbled with the belt of her cat-suit, finally managing to loosen it enough to slip her hand inside. Then she was gasping, much as the tormented slavegirl had, as she frantically played with herself. Her body arched away from the wall until only her head was touching and it seemed, for all the world, as if she were thrusting her hips to the bound slave. All the while, her eyes were fixed upon the sobbing and hurting slave.

Several loud gasps announced the coming of Mistress’ ultimate pleasure. She slid down the wall and curled up on the floor.

Meanwhile, Colleen continued to weep and feel a horrible burning between her legs. Oddly, the only thought in her mind at that point was a frustrating wish that the dildo was back inside her!