Continues from Slave Tales: The Hunt (XVIII)
Image – Author unknown
“Remember. Do not speak or cry out. Keep your eyes down.”
They were going to cane me. “The Kiss of the Cane” it was called. The test of a slave’s submission. And her love.
The Tormentrix was standing a few yards in front of me patting her thigh with a riding crop. In her long dark cape she looked just like a military general inspecting her troops.
They’d tied me between two posts. My arms and legs were fully outstretched and the ropes were already cutting into my wrists and ankles. I couldn’t move at all. I felt like suspended meat. My sex was exposed and gapingly open. I’d never felt so naked. Or so defenseless.
Or so alive.
It was a hot night. No wind. There was tension in the air. Like something was about to snap. Behind me the forest was hushed and quiet. Eerily so. It seemed empty and devoid of life. In the moonlight the trees looked like grey mutant statues raising their branches to the stars in supplication, begging for light, or even mercy, but the heavens were dark, silent, indifferent.
I closed my eyes. Was that a faint rumbling in the distance? Thunder? It was so hot. The air was thick and muggy. I was absolutely drenched in perspiration. Beads of sweat constantly dripped from my forehead onto my breasts and ran coolly down my belly. I suddenly realized how thirsty I was. I hadn’t drunk anything since leaving the river.
The hunters had gathered around to watch. They were hungry for me. Theirs was a savage lust that would only be sated by the sight of my naked body writhing in torment. My breasts, my ass, my thighs, my sex – all claimed by the whip, vanquished by it, owned by it.
Slave to it.
The guard who was to cane me was the one who’d tried to use me at the river. The Captain, for whatever reason, had prevented him and now, as he tapped my ass with the tip of the cane, I sensed that he was about to take his revenge.
He had a lean angular face with a scar on his left cheek and was naked from the waist up. He circled me a few times. He had a haughty air and looked at me as if he was judging the value of my flesh. Then he stood in front of me and waited. All of a sudden he yanked my head up by my hair and looked at my face. He touched my chin with his forefinger and then very slowly traced a path down my throat, between my breasts and over my belly. At my pussy he paused and, still staring at me, his eyes just inches from mine, his fingers slowly entered me. His nostrils flared as if he were trying to catch my scent. I looked down not daring to meet his gaze. He took my clitoris between his finger and thumb and held it for a moment. Then he squeezed. A sharp tug. I gasped and looked up at him. I couldn’t help it. He removed his fingers from my pussy and licked them. Then he laughed and I saw the cruelty in his eyes. His frustration and rage were plainly evident and would only serve to fuel the violence of his desire for me. He wanted me to pay for his humiliation and his failures. And he would make me pay dearly.
He took the cane and held the tip to my exposed clitoris. With cool deliberation he began to tap me there with it. He watched me as I bore the mounting pain. The grin on his face was quite smug now. Vengeful. It hurt but I held my breath and kept still. He leaned into me, sneered, and then laughed out loud. He had me now. And he was making a show of it for the other hunters. At last I was his. And from now on there would no part of me, no matter how private or tender, that would be denied him.
He took his place behind me. Then, with a nod from the Tormentrix, I heard him raise the cane. There was a low pitched whistling as he tested it in the air. It was frightening sound, full of menace. He was deliberately teasing me with it. In my mind’s eye I could still see that smug grin of satisfaction.
There was the briefest pause. Time seemed to come to a stop. Nothing moved and no one spoke. But inside me, my heart was pounding, my blood racing. Thoughts were bubbling and evaporating within a boiling cauldron of fear and exhilaration.
And yet some part of me remained quiet and still. I was ready. The essence of me, the truest part of me, was preparing to soar into flight.
Then it hit me. Like a detonation. An explosion. A sudden blast of pain burst from my right buttock and spread rapidly to the tops of my legs and almost reached into my pussy. I was convulsed by it. The cane always cuts like a knife. Raw. Deep. Far worse than the whip. My muscles tensed and my body jerked and shuddered from the force of it.
I pulled at the ropes, they were burning deep into my wrists and ankles but I managed to keep my head down. I didn’t dare raise my eyes unless it was seen as begging.
As the pain started to recede, I took a deep breath and tensed for the next blow. With clinical precision it fell, perfectly aimed, on exactly the same spot as its predecessor. My ass felt like a bomb had hit it. The explosion went beyond my legs and seemed to shoot down my thighs up into my pussy and through my spine. I jerked forward and clenched my fists as the agony ripped through me. It was like swimming through waves of hot acid. My mind, overwhelmed, sought to make sense of the pain and my body, free of my control, seemed only to want to distance itself, searching vainly for escape.
Another pause. Again the malevolent swishing sound of the cane. He was varying the gap between blows. The pain from the previous blow and the anticipation of the next would be written on my face for all to see. That was part of his game. The play of the whip. The dance between us.
I looked up at the hunters for a moment. I glimpsed their hungry eyes upon me. My ass. My breasts. My naked body. All writhing in torment for their pleasure. Their lust for me growing more intensely with each painful blow. My sex, open, red and exposed. Available. Tempting them. Drawing them ever closer. Their cocks hardening and salivating. Their impatience to claim me.
Begging for more.
Begging for me.
The next blow ripped into my ass. I felt a monster had claimed me. It was eating at me from within. Gnawing on my flesh. Another followed quickly. Then another. An mounting inferno of pain. He was really hitting me hard. I could barely breathe and I was gasping for air. The pain grew exponentially, each blow amplifying on the last. It was deliberate. Making me cry. He wanted me to cry out loud. To scream. To beg.
A fireball had pierced my flesh and was racing throughout my entire body. I could see nothing. My eyes were tight shut. Another blow. How many now? Please Gods. I had no control over myself anymore. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. I looked up at the Tormentrix. Yes I was begging. As she knew I would. Please… I pleaded with my eyes. I could barely see. I was crying to her. But she was spellbound. Bewitched by what she was seeing.
My body was trembling. In a kind of spasm my legs jerked, I squirmed and writhed at the ropes. All I could think of was to escape or make it go away. I opened my eyes again and looked at her. Pleading.
She was grinning.
Blow after blow fell and still she watched and did nothing. The agony tore through me and almost ripped me apart. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt…. Swimming in a boiling hot river of pain. In vain my limbs twisted and tugged at the ropes but there was no hope. No release. I was drowning in it. I’d lost control. I was screaming. Just animal instinct. I was a jerking trembling mass of survival reflexes. My ears were ringing. A hurricane was roaring through me. It was like a deafening monstrous rush of noise and pain and light and fire…
Suddenly the ground was shaking. Or was it me? A stampede. Horses. Hundreds of them. I was one of them. Yes. I was galloping with them. Running free. Exhilarated. Totally alive now. The storm was carrying me to that secret place. I opened my eyes and glimpsed the hunters in the distance, shimmering figures, their bodies glistening and golden, their cocks hard and potent, beckoning to me. Desiring me. Needing me.
Making love to me.
How beautiful we were.
They’d won. I was exactly as they wished me.
Their toy. Their creation. Their beauty.
Image – Author unknown
The Tormentrix was standing behind me. “Oh yesss!” She was shouting, breathless, almost intoxicated. “Is there anything more beautiful than a whipped slave? Look at her. Trapped, bound, arms up-stretched, her tender breasts exposed, hard nipples set like two rubies upon tender trembling naked flesh, the trace of her ribs under the tight glistening skin, her eyes raised to the heavens, vainly begging the gods for the mercy that will never be granted. And look here boys, the promise of her cunt, her beautiful glorious cunt, the gateway to heaven itself. It’s all there waiting for you, boys. And it’s real. For each and every one of you paradise beckons, keep your cocks hard, boys, and its mystery will be yours to fathom and plunder as you please. Look at her. Can you see it? This is art! This is revelation! The ecstasy and the pain! The suffering and the splendor!” She raised her whip high as if brandishing a sword. “This is how beauty reveals itself to us. This is life!”
The hunters cheered and she yelled at the top of her voice, “May the gods be praised!”
Then she turned and stood firmly in front of me, facing me with her hands on her hips. “That kiss. I want it now!”
There was an urgency of her voice. Her hunger for me was raging. It seemed to have overwhelmed her. She quickly removed her cape. Naked underneath, her long body was sleek and sinewy, like a tigress.
“Guard, resume the caning,” she said. “But strip. I want you naked too. I want to see you sweat. Work her. Whip her hard. Bring her to life. Strip away her secrets. Reveal her beauty. In her kiss I shall bathe in her sweet, sweet surrender. Whip her! Whip her until your cock is fierce and hard and hungry and your body aches to own her and then, and only then, when you can’t stand it a second longer, when the idea of containing your lust for even one moment more becomes a torture in itself, then, with the raging wolf in you howling triumphant, then you shall have your reward.”
It was savage and alien and it was clawing at me from inside. It was truly monstrous and with each blow it seemed to increase its hold over me. It was tearing my flesh from my bones. My poor little naked slave body was too small to contain it. I would be ripped apart. It roared like a maelstrom and I wondered if I would be lost forever, like a feather in a whirlwind.
But there was a voice. It was mine. Gasping. Crying. Shrill but mellifluous. Agonized but orgasmic. My voice rose and soared into into the night. Was I screaming? Or singing? Was this pain? Or the most unimaginable ecstasy?
Suddenly I became aware of her mouth at mine. Her lips soft and warm. Her long tongue entered me and moved within me like a snake. I felt my nipples being plucked and kneaded. Yes. My reward. Yes. Yes. It was bright and glorious and I ran to greet it. She was my savior. I knelt before her. She had come to deliver me. I yielded completely and there was only pleasure now. Yes. The love I felt for her in that moment was infinite. Yes yes… Deep pleasure born of gorgeous pain. Yes. The exhilaration and rush of wondrous pleasure pain. A willing servant. Yes. Willing. Yes. My reward. Yes… Yes…. Yes… Oh Gods yes…
Suddenly she pulled away. “Wait!”
Please. No. I was begging. Gasping. Please. Gods… Please….
She looked at me, laughing, as if rejoicing. “Oh beauty. Such beauty. Sweet slave. Her kiss is the most divine submission…”
She pulled my face to hers. She kissed me again. There was the scorching heat of her desire. My Confessor. My Mistress.
We parted again, her eyes were bright. Jubilant.
Then a man’s voice.
It was the Captain.
“Oh yes! No doubt, Captain. True submission. Absolute. Perfect.”
Still staring at me she called to the guard who’d whipped me. “Guard, you may take your pleasure now.”
Then she looked at the Captain, “With the Captain’s permission of course?”
He nodded and then she took my head in her hands and held it firmly as the guard’s iron-hard cock plunged into me from behind. He rammed it into my still burning ass and I was overwhelmed by the sheer brute force of his pent up lust. A hammering pounding stampede like that of a hundred horses raced through me. And at the head he rode victorious, his long sword held high in triumph. He was my Lord and Master and finally he had claimed me as his rightful domain. Absolute ruler of all he surveyed.
In celebration my Queen showered me with rose petal kisses. Her tongue dove freely inside me and together we rejoiced, our tongues dancing to the rhythm of his relentless pounding cock.
My King and Queen. Their desires fused and burned within me as one single bright flame.
And their law would be absolute, permanent, final.
I was nothing.
And I was everything.
Continues Slave Tales: The Hunt (XX) – “Incarnate”