Macho Sluts, page 18
“But sailors were never caned,” Anne-Marie protested. “Military flogging and keel-hauling are usually excessive for the schooling of young ladies.”
“Keel-hauling?” Kay said. “Now you’re talkin’ something that might bash some sense into EZ’s thick skull. If she survived to remember the lesson.”
They all laughed, then turned as the door of the dungeon creaked and gaped wide. EZ, Joy, and Michael (who was, indeed, in Marine Corps dress blues) came in, staggering a little under the weight of a long, leather bag bound with straps and buckles. Alex brought up the rear. Her eyes never left Roxanne’s mummified form.
Tyre pulled a robe down from a ceiling pulley and opened the panic snap at the end of it. She gestured for them to bring Roxanne to her, and unzipped the bottom of the bag. Two manacled feet in spike-heeled shoes were revealed. Alex unbuckled a strap that went around the outside of the body-bag at mid-calf height, and the three other women put Roxanne on her feet. After unbuckling the thigh strap, they continued unzipping the bag, up both sides. As soon as the chained wrists were revealed, tucked into the small of the girl’s back, Tyre stopped them and fastened the panic snap midpoint between Roxanne’s wrists. Alex unbuckled the strap that went around the upper arms outside the bag, and EZ and Joy finished unzipping and removing it. Michael rolled it up and stowed it behind the bar.
The girl was wearing a black silk slip and stockings of the same material. Anne-Marie knelt behind her and adjusted the seams with minute hitches. Roxanne was hooded. Alex had gathered her long, curly blonde hair into a ponytail and pulled it through a hole in the hood. The only other openings in it were the nose holes. A piece of tubing, ending in an incongruous orange valve and a black rubber bulb, dangled from the mouth of the hood. Tyre cocked Roxanne’s head, made sure she was breathing freely, then drew the rope down hand over hand until the girl was standing bent at the waist, her chained hands high up in the air behind her back. Tyre secured the rope by winding it in a figure-eight around a cleat on the wall.
Alex put her arm over Michael’s shoulder. She was stroking the sky-blue fly of the Marine Corps uniform. “Do you always strap it on before you come to work?” she asked.
Michael grinned. “Well, you know who I work for,” she replied. Her hips rocked in response to Alex’s touch, straps pulled tight up against her cunt. She wanted Alex to take out her cock and suck it. Anne-Marie was stroking the chained girl in much the same way, but her cunt had no protection other than a pair of crotchless silk panties held together with tiny ribbons tied in bows. The rest of the pack gathered around and watched Anne-Marie pull up the girl’s skirt and untie each bow, then plunge her fingers into her cleft from behind. The chains made a pleasant accompaniment, barely discernible over the music. The girl staggered, tossed her shoulders. The rope was not long enough to let her escape. She could not lower her hands to cover her exposed vaginal lips. She was helpless. She tossed her shoulders again as Anne-Marie worked one finger into her ass.
“I think you oughta stick around,” Alex growled in Michael’s ear. She had moved behind her and was massaging her butt.
“Pleasure’s mine.”
“It will be,” Alex promised.
The girl in the middle of the pack didn’t turn her head in response to this dialogue. Apparently the hood completely sealed off hearing as well as sight.
“You put in ear plugs?” Tyre asked Alex.
“Yes. And it already has pads over the ears. The blindfold can be unsnapped. And you can see the gag. There’s a rubber insert that fits inside the mouth and gets pumped up.”
Kay went over to the girl, took the bulb that dangled from her face, and pumped it once or twice. Roxanne shook her head, and her long hair sprayed across her back.
“I already pumped that up pretty good,” Alex warned. “Why don’t you turn the valve and let some of the air out, then pump it up again? I like keeping something big in my mouth.”
Michael reached over her shoulder and touched Alex’s lips. She got her fingers bitten. She gave Alex a lazy smile and put them in her own mouth, sucked the pain away. When she noticed that EZ was watching them, looking bitter and hungry, she ran her tongue around her lips and gave EZ a slack-jawed come-on so ravenous that it made EZ look away, abashed.
The hood was an alien face, insect-like, fish-like, sitting atop the body of a beautiful young woman. It depersonalized her, made her even more sexy, removed any inhibitions the assembled dominatrices might have had about getting their hands on her. Anne-Marie had allowed Joy to take her place. The fly-whisk was in her hand, and she was dangling its scarlet horsehair tips across Roxanne’s up-turned cheeks, then striking full across them. It left very thin red lines, as if it were a big paintbrush. Joy ran her fingertips across them, cooed something in dialect, then ran her tongue over Roxanne’s ass. The next strokes fell on wet skin, and Roxanne’s slender heels made a staccato noise upon the planks of the dungeon floor.
“Can she keep her footing in those shoes?” Tyre asked.
“Can you?” Alex said, glancing down at the madam’s boot-heels.
“Could you?” Tyre asked.
“You’re trying to change the subject.”
“C’mon, answer my question.”
“Tyre, she never wears any other kind of shoes. She dances in them all day, for Chrissake. Even her bedroom slippers got high heels.”
“I see. You like girls in six-inch spikes, huh?”
“You could say that,” Alex said, rubbing Michael’s neck. Michael’s hands were behind her back, and she had a couple of fingers hooked under Alex’s codpiece. The master’s pubic hair was damp.
“She ever fuck you with them?” Michael asked innocently.
Alex gave her a little push and went to join the group clustered closer to Roxanne. Tyre shook her head. “That mouth,” she whispered, putting two long fingers tipped with sharp nails into the orifice of which she spoke, “is going to get you into soooo much trouble some day.”
Michael swallowed her fingers easily, arrogantly. Her eyes said she couldn’t hope for a better fate.
By now, Joy had turned Roxanne’s entire ass a bright red. Kay was to one side of her with a doubled-over belt, and she used it in overlapping strokes that moved from the buttocks to the thighs. Then she changed sides and repeated the maneuver. The red deepened, the ass seemed to swell. Roxanne’s wet thighs, when she moved under the belt, chafed each other. EZ was kneeling in front of her, holding her by her waist, and had somehow managed to get her tongue up between her labia, and was teasing her orally while Kay strapped her.
Alex watched impassively, but inside she was flame, barely contained, so close to what she wanted that her throat and chest ached. When she saw Anne-Marie with one of her canes politely gesturing to Chris that she should use her signal whip first, Alex nudged EZ out of the way with her boot and took her lady’s torso in her arms, standing to one side of her, to steady her against these new forms of pain. Chris kept shaking her head, and insisted on holding back, so it was Anne-Marie who stepped forward and gave Roxanne six cuts, close and fast. Each cane stroke left two parallel marks across both buns, and Anne-Marie was so accurate that the top edge of each blow lined up perfectly with the bottom edge of the prior stroke.
It was a good thing Alex was there, because Roxanne threw herself sideways, apparently losing track of up or down when the pain from the caning faded, then returned in shocking force. Chris waited until she was steady on her feet and in Alex’s arms before she hurled the leather snake in her hand out and down toward Roxanne’s tender flesh. Impact! Impact! Impact! Impact! Just four explosions, each leaving a v-shaped kiss that was already turning purple. Alex passed her hand over the marks and smiled. She crooked her index finger at Michael, who came along as if it were tied to a string around her dick.
“Gonna help me out, my man?” she asked, letting go of Roxanne and reaching for Michael’s fly.
The chauffeur put her fists on her hips and stared at her insolently. “Get it up for me and I won’t be able to help myself,” she replied.
Alex extracted her cock. Kay was already at her elbow with a can of Crisco and a towel. “Oh, yeah, slick it up, stud, get that big fuck-pole ready to do that fine piece a favor. Gonna fuck that slut right offa those high-heeled shoes.”
Alex milked Michael, led her to Roxanne by her hard-on, and put the well-greased tip of the instrument up against, just barely inside, Roxanne’s wetness. Then she got behind Michael, wiping off her hands, and once they were clean, she clamped them onto Michael’s hips and humped her ass as Michael fucked Roxanne, drawing the girl smoothly and relentlessly back and forth on her thick shaft.
The pack shouted obscene encouragement. Alex’s lips were drawn back in a snarl, Michael’s hands were like claws on Roxanne, and when she finally lost control and threw herself into the girl, no one could tell if Roxanne had come or not because of the gag in her mouth, but it was very clear that Michael had. Alex plucked her off Roxanne, tucked her inside her jacket, and began to kiss her, sloppy butch kisses that made everybody cheer.
Kay gave EZ a towel and sent her over to clean off Michael and put her equipment away. When EZ knelt in front of her and began to swab at her dick, Michael couldn’t resist turning her hips just enough to slap the side of it into EZ’s face. The look she got was hatred laced with lust and panic. As if knees weren’t made to bend! She was going to remember that look and hope she saw it again sometime, when her own knees weren’t so weak.
Tyre had pulled a slim blade, Damascus steel with a horn handle, from the sleeve of her jacket. She ran its edge up the back of Roxanne’s legs. The girl stopped panting and immediately froze, obviously trained to mind the blade. “I think I’m gonna wet my pants,” Kay said to Anne-Marie. “This is too delicious.”
“I know just how you feel, dear. It’s such a cleansing release. So good for the system.”
The knife traveled the inside of Roxanne’s thighs. The girl had spread her feet as far apart as her manacles and chain permitted. When the tip of it probed her clit, she jumped a little, then steadied herself. Shoulders, neck, upper arms felt the fine scrape of Tyre’s weapon. Then the blade disappeared between her slip and her skin, and its tip plunged through the thin material. The silk made a grieving sound as it was cut, as if it knew it could not heal itself. Tyre let the elegant rags fall from Roxanne’s body, and the girl shivered. Tiny goosebumps came out all over her. She smelled like pure sex. God, she was pretty.
Under the slip she wore a leather corset, cinched so tight that her waist was visibly compressed. Six short garters on each leg kept her stockings taut. Alex motioned everyone close, and all eight women held their hands above Roxanne, then simultaneously lowered them. She jumped when she felt herself handled by so many. The rude hands went everywhere. Obviously, much was going to be demanded from her. She shook beneath their hands, but her nipples got larger and firm as cherries, and her pussy was already producing enough slippery stuff to pave the way for all of them to take her in turn. And, in fact, they did just that—hand after hand plunging as deep as it could go, turning slowly into her, then being withdrawn to give its neighbor a turn. She was being laid open to the pack, made equally the vessel of each of its members.
Alex took her head between her thighs and worked on the hood’s laces. She let all the air out of the gag before peeling the thin kid off Roxanne’s face and tweaking out the ear plugs. Tyre had unwound the rope from its cleat, and she slowly lowered her hands. Roxanne sank until she knelt in manacles at Alex’s boots. Alex took the rubber band out of her hair and spread the long, curly mass out with both hands.
Roxanne had freckles and a turned-up, defiant nose. Her hazel eyes were clear and determined. She refused to look at anyone but Alex. The girl was no coward, but she was obviously relieved to find that her master was there. Tyre loved the look of her. She was the ultimate bar-femme, dressed up to play the whore for her butch. She might be a slave, but she was also tough. Try to separate her from Alex, and she’d go after you with a broken bottle. It wasn’t, Tyre realized from the set of that grim little jaw, Roxanne who doubted the nature and the quality of their relationship. It was Alex—who was explaining to Roxanne and all of them that she was giving them her “flashy piece of trash” for the evening, to do with as they liked.
The pack stood in a small circle around the master and her property. Of course, Roxanne had an out. “All you have to do,” Alex whispered, kneeling to plunge her hand between Roxanne’s corset and her breasts, “is tell me you don’t belong to me, and you can walk.” She rubbed her nipples, producing a moan, and then stood, and moved right up to her. Roxanne knelt over her boot and wrapped her arms around Alex’s thigh. She stared defiantly at the women behind Alex, and openly rubbed her pussy against the steel toe of Alex’s engineer boot.
“Put rings in me now,” she said. Her voice was high and clear. “I’m not going to change my mind. I belong to you and walking out wouldn’t change that any more than it would make water run uphill. Beat me. Brand me. Let these bitches wear themselves out on me if it will entertain you. But I belong to you, Daddy.”
“Well, for now you belong to them,” Alex said, and the pack closed in as if on cue. Michael had taken her cock out again, and she finally got the blowjob she had been craving ever since Alex ran her fingers along the inseam. She worked her entire length back and forth in Roxanne’s throat until she made tears come, then pulled her off and handed her to Anne-Marie, who shooed the girl under her latex skirts. There, Roxanne’s tongue found a pair of salty, wet lips held between cool, smooth, chemical-tasting latex panties, and Anne-Marie kept her there until the taste of both was firmly imprinted in her mind. Kay made her kiss her boots, and only allowed her to rub her face over EZ’s denim crotch, although EZ ground her pubic bone into Roxanne’s face long enough and hard enough to reach a minor climax. Kay cuffed her shoulder and pushed Roxanne over to Joyous Day, who untied her leather-and-fur bikini and rubbed the inside of it all over Roxanne’s face. Then her dark hands closed over the blonde head and pulled it between her thighs to service her. Chris, standing next to Joy, unzipped her leather pants, and Joy pushed her hand inside them. She made Roxanne lick her fingers, and used the wetness to jerk Chris off. Every time Joy got close to coming, she made Roxanne stop going down on her long enough to lick Chris’s cream from her fingers. Then Joy rubbed the moisture into Chris’s vulva, over and over again until Chris sobbed and came all over her hand. Chris had been hanging onto Joy’s full, brown breasts, and now she held them up to her mouth and sucked hard on Joy’s nipples while Roxanne held on to her tattooed thighs and licked her quickly and lightly to orgasm.
Tyre didn’t feel like coming yet. She had Roxanne spread her legs wide and lean back, bracing herself with her hands flat on the floor. Then she put her foot up on the girl’s mound, and carefully tucked the high heel of her boot into Roxanne’s pussy. The chained girl was terribly excited after experiencing so many orgasms vicariously, and she tried to tilt her hips and take all of the boot-heel. Tyre knew it was the wrong angle to go in without hurting her, so she kept Roxanne at the edge of danger and climax and surprised herself by masturbating at the spectacle until she came, relishing Roxanne’s frustrated and tear-spattered face.
“So you think we’re going to wear ourselves out on you?” Alex asked her.
“Yes. I want more!” Roxanne cried.
“Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem,” Alex said drily. “Next?” She helped Roxanne to her feet, untied and loosened her corset, then put her back on the floor.
Kay and EZ had moved over to the sling. EZ was perched on its edge, swinging. Kay was applying an emery board to her nails. They gave each other a quick, conspiratorial smile.
“How’s the old manicure?” Kay asked EZ.
EZ stretched out her hand and examined her fingertips.
“Flawless,” she said. “Soft as a baby’s bottom. How’s yours?”
“Down to the knuckles,” Kay averred. “Where do you think they hide the grease in this establishment? It don’t look to me like Mama’s gonna fry much chicken in this here restaurant.”
“Why, you near-sighted fool, there’s a whole fucking five-pound can of it hanging from a chain right over here.” EZ hit it with her elbow and made it swing.
Kay pretended to start at the sight of the dangling, industrial-sized tub of Crisco. “Think that’ll be enough?” she asked.
“Hell, I never bother with the stuff myself,” EZ boasted. “I just make ’em spit on my hand. And if that don’t get it wet enough I ram it down their throats.”
Kay made a little ticking noise of disapproval with her tongue. “You talk like trash, girl. Cruuude.”
EZ grinned. “That’s the way they like it. I’m not responsible for the taste of trash. I’m just the garbage collector. Out of the gutter and into the sling, that’s my motto.”
Kay nodded, staring off into space. She seemed to have forgotten their conversation.
“Slave!” EZ snapped. “Look at me, fuck-face.”
Roxanne reluctantly came to her knees and barely turned her face in the direction of the sling. She did not care to be addressed in that tone of voice by someone who had not been properly introduced. Who did this punked-out boytoy think she was, smoothing the platinum stripes in her dark topknot? Alex yanked her head up. “Look her in the eye,” she hissed. Roxanne complied. She was very pale.
“You ever been fisted in the ass?” EZ demanded.
“No, but I—” A yank on her hair shut her up.
“Wanna bust up a virgin ass?” EZ asked Kay.
Kay shrugged. “Feels the same to me, whether they’ve had it one time or twenty-two. Think she’s been cleaned out?”
“You! Slave! Answer her!” bellowed EZ.
“No,” Roxanne said—almost inaudibly.
“Well, forget it,” Kay said. “I’m not interested in slaves who are literally full of shit.” And she gave EZ a meaningful glare, which was broadly ignored.
Anne-Marie bustled over with a collar in one hand and a leash in the other. “If I might prepare her for your ministrations, ladies?”
