Pauline had endured the final trial of her resistance to cruel punishment, having taken everything the members of the Marquis could mete out to her. Before failing with exhaustion and pain, she had been allowed, without realising it, to fallate her father, for whom she had been searching all these months. Now that her trials were at an end, she could rest.
*
Polly continued to enjoy the rest during the next few days in the idyllic, exclusive island setting. She exercised by swimming in the pool, relaxed by sun-bathing on the patio. Lucy nursed her, though herself in need of treatment from time to time after her punishments at the hands of Pluto. His sadism was more internal and deeply humiliating rather than skin deep. Scarred labia and blistered throat. Lucy’s eyes were always wet with tears when she returned, her body exhausted with suffering.
Polly never dared to ask her what Pluto had been doing to her. She had already seen the torture of the rubber rings.
‘Why don’t you leave the island?’ Polly asked her.
‘Good heavens, why? He’s kindness itself. And I’m devoted to his mastery. I’m his obedient slave. I will do everything he asks of me. I would die for him!’
‘And so you might if you’re not careful.’
Marina continued to wait on Polly’s every need, though the slave to Lucy. As soon as Lucy came into the room, the slender young Eurasian would run to her and curl up at her feet. She gave herself to Lucy’s demands and heavy punishment. At times, Marina would deliberately do something silly as an excuse for Lucy to lay her over her knee and slipper her hard. Sometimes, Lucy would use the back of a hair-brush or a wooden ruler. Other more serious offenses would require a proper caning.
Marina and Lucy always used a dildo on each other after these punishments – the handle of the hairbrush was a popular dildo – with Marina sucking Lucy’s stiff cliporis like an animal until the older woman screamed with thejoy of orgasm, thrashing her blazing thighs in exultation. Polly watched their password with growing excitement, quietly masturbating. It was a perfect few days for Polly. But she knew it would come to an end.
On the evening before they left, Cronos sent for Polly again soon after Marina had been summoned to Nestor. She was not asked to wear any special clothing and went to his now familiar room in short white tunic and bare feet. She knew he liked her feet bare and her bottom immediately accessible to satisfy his latest cruel whim. As soon as she entered the room she ran to his feet and cringed before him.
‘Remove your tune,’ she ordered sharply.
Polly did as she was told, letting it slip to the floor at her feet, waiting he next command. Cronos looked at her sternly, his large pale eyes unblinking, behind the rimless spectacles, whilst pulling on a pair of clear plastic gloves. Walking round her very slowly, examining her body with minute care, touching gently here,lifting her breasts to scrutinise the cream. The nipples were inspected, then the back and buttocks.
‘On the couch,’ he commanded. Polly did so. ‘Knees up and apart.’ Cronos then carried out a close inspection of her vulva and rectum.
He finally stood back. ‘Hmm! Good! You recover well.’ He peeled off the gloves. ‘You may put your tune on again.’
After Polly had slipped her tune back on, wondering what he had in store for her, he took her to sit with him facing the painting in front of the screen. Pressing a hand control, the painting slide silently into the ceiling revealing the punishment room beyond.
On the operating table lay Marina, her small naked frame strapped to the legs in the same way she had seen Lucy the early evening. Except Marina was strapped across the table, rather than along it. The smooth body proved to be resilient. Already swollen and criminal with wealth across the olive-coloured cheeses, the petite Eurasian was suffering a savage beating with the will. Her body was wise and jerking as much as the shadowles would allow.
Nestor was also naked, his half-aroused genitals bursting from the forest of dark curls, swinging as though drink. Cronos switched on the sound. Suddenly, Marina’s awful screams filled the room. Nestor was shouting obscenities at her. He was threatening to kill her.
‘I’ll tear that sweet little cunt out of your body,’ he screamed. ‘I’ll throw it to the dogs so that you can never tempt any more men.’
‘No, please master,’ Marina was going through her sobs.
Pluto joined Nestor during the thrashing and forced his huge phallus deep into her rectum whilst Nestor drive deep into her throat. Marina greeted the invasion of her rectum with a howl of pain only to have it stifled by Nestor’s entry into her mouth. It took Pluto little time to ejaculate into the tight passage, squeezing his shaft, stimulating the nerves.
Marina was then released. Pluto lifted her body from thetable, thrusting her belly at Nestor’s loins. Her legs wrapped round the strong waist as the meaty penis drive deep, into her secret womanhood. It was then that Polly noticed Marina’s nipples encased in strong clips of intermeshed claws. Her eyes were full of terror, her frail body shaking with pain.
Cronos turned off the sound and closed the screen. Polly was then instructed to show him once more the evidence of her virginity. This time all she was expected to do was to lift her tune, open her thighs as wide as possible and pull her vaginal lips apart. Cronos knelt on the floor between Polly’s thighs and peered with intensity interest into her orifice. She was then instructed to stand, bend over with open thighs for Cronos to inspect her from behind.
‘I must return you unscathed, slave. That is part of the contract. I itch to thrash that tempting behind. I shall take my exercise with Lucy. Now go.’
‘Please, master, first tell me of my father’s whereabouts.’
‘Heleft the island directly after the festival. His other affairs would not allow him to stay. But he said he was very proud of you. Pleased with your stamina. Thrilled by your beauty.’
Polly was upset that he had not stayed longer. But the memory of that handsome penis deep in her throat would remain with her forever.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was over an hour later that Lucy returned to their apartment, dishevelled and heavily marked. There had been no contact between them, Lucy explained, except though the birch. Cronos had laid on hard until he drew blood. And when Marina finally returned, her areolae were very swollen with angry-looking teeth marks surrounding the nipples, stiff and tender.
As they soothed each other’s violent body, Marina told Polly and Lucy that she felt the two cocks almost met deep inside her body. She had been made to lick Pluto’s stained cock after his withdrawal until it was clean and dry.
‘I no like Pluto, Lucy. He remind me of Leon.’
‘Well,’ Lucy replied, ‘I think he now prefers you to me. So, perhaps it is as well that we leave tomorrow.’
On their return home, Polly searched for her father in Athens, but to no avail. She was desperate to find him again, to embrace him, to taste him! The trial Polly had fulfilled was marred only by the loss of her father so soon after their re-union in those bizarre circumstances.
Finally arriving back in London Polly paid a visit to Ulysses late the same afternoon. She could hardly contain her excitement at seeing him again. Would he be pleased with her? Would he takes her as his worshiping slave? It was with a sense of foreboding that she was whisked up the lift to his penthouse.
The butler she remembered smiled thinly, escorting her to the thickly carpeted room. The Gainsborough, the heavily swagged brocade curtains. The memory of that eventful day came flooding back to her. It seemed a generation ago. Yet it was barely three weeks since she had last stood in this imposing room.
Heart in her mouth, Polly was summoned into the next room. She stepped inside hesitantly, moving slowly to the middle of the parquet floor. There, behind the ornate table sat Ulysses. Polly stood patiently and quietly. After what seemed an eternity, he looked up and stared at her. Polly held her breath. She was uncertain. Would he dismiss her as he had in her dream. Throw her to the wolves. Tell her that he had found another, more willing, more beautiful slave-girl?
Then a kind smiled split the growth of hair round his mouth. Polly’s heart leaped for joy! He smiled! Then she noticed Quilp silently standing to one side. He too had a smile on his evil face. But on this occasion, Quilp did not look half as threatening as the first time they had met.
Polly’s master, her adorable brute stood. He was wearing the same white robe. Polly’s breast was heaving with pride. The master came down from the dias to face Polly. She hadn’t remembered him beingso tall. He towered above her. Their eyes met fleetingly before Polly sank to her knees, bending her head in supplication.
‘You have done well. Cronos called you the Queen of Sacrificies. That is better then a princess. So I shall punish you hard for having been away for so long. Then Quilp will punish you for allowing others to master you. Then I shall remove your virginity. I shall fuck you. Perhaps Quilp will fill your mouth and my butler your rectum. Who can tell what the event will bring? You must allow at least three hours for our sport. Quilp will order dinner for eight.’
Polly’s heart stopped in her mouth. She couldn’t believe her ears! At last, her female fulfillment!
‘Fifty strokes. You will learn to obey only me, your lord and master. Is that understand?’
Though not as fierce as the scourging Polly suffered in the Temple of de Sade, fifty strokes was a test of endurance for any fair-skinned young lady. Resigned to her fate, Polly bowed her head.
‘Yes, master. You are kind to me.’
‘But, first, you shall observe with me the fate of your college friends. That event will be the curtain raiser to your submission. Our mutual friend Fagin has arranged a little surprise for you.’
Full of curiosity, Polly was taken into the next room. It was strange to her, long and narrow, dimly lit. There was a long window facing her, overlooking a darkened room. Polly sat on Ulysses lap, feeling the warmth and strength of the muscles, rippling in his thighs. The divan faced the window. Beside the divan was a small table with a control box on it.
At the touch of a switch, floodlights drenched the room below in a blaze of light. It was a studio.
Polly gasped in amazement. Hanging helpless, arms outstretched along a shoulder-height horizontal Wooden beam were Lucy, Rita and Janine. They were naked. Their long hair streamed down each back.
Behind them, on a separate beam, her feet manacled apart to iron rings fixed on a raised rostrum was Miss Armitage. All were blindfolded; each was manacled by heavy chains and padlocks to the wooden beam. The posture of their arms and shoulders thrust high the pale breasts of the three women. Even Miss Armitage’s meat breasts were pulled high on her chest, their enlarged areolae protruding from the heavy flesh.
Above the figures was a large split screen showing the view of the studio from the other side of the room. This allowed the spectators to see both sides of the bodies being punished. The backs and buttocks of each of the women were in sharp focus on the giant triple screen.
At the sound of a deep Chinese gong, a shutter raised behind the three spread-eagled women. Polly’s eyes opened in surprise as Fagin walked in, followed by three other men. Fagin was wearing his usual long, shabby tweed overcoat, its hem torn and mud-splashed, it’s sleepes an inch too long. The other three were dressed in black frock-coats, striped trousers and grey top-hats.
They looked severe, almost like pall bearers at a funeral. In a grey-gloved hand each carried a riding crop. They walked silently to the centre, standing facing the three shackled women. A shiver of excitement went through Polly, anticipating the feel of the leather thong as it bit deep into the rounded flesh of her friends.
‘Do you recognize any of those three gentlemen?’ Ulysses asked.
‘Is the one facing Lucy, Janine’s step-brother, James?’ Polly asked uncertainly.
‘It is. And the tall man next to him facing Rita is his father, Janine’s father. A good loyal patron of Mister Fagin.’
‘And the third?’
‘Ah! The third man. Another of the many patrons of our friend, Fagin. A government minister, no less. Involved in espionage and that sort of thing. He will enjoy flogging Janine.’
Fagin removed the blindfolds of the three women before standing to one side of Miss Armitage. The men removed their hats to the ladies in polite acknowledgment before movingin to them. They examined their victim, struggling their breasts and flanks, peering closely at the genitals. Round the back, they fondled the rounded buttocks of the three women, cheats squeezed together by the widely separated thighs.
They were defenceless. Pale and smooth. A camera zoomed in to show the honey seeing onto the pronounced lips of Lucy’s vulva. The third man unbuttoned his coat, revealing a wide leather belt round his waist, studied with brass heads. He unbuckled it, allowing it to trail on the floor. He swung his arm round behind him, taking aim. Then the belt swished through the air, landing with a sickening smack across the sumptuous bottom. Janine yelped with the stinging pain, her loins jerking.
The crop immediately followed, curling round the top of her thigh, cutting a savage crisis furrow into the pale flesh. Her face screwed up with age, tears squeezing from her tight-closed eyes, lips drawn across her teeth in a silent scream.
Another smack, this time across Rita’s perfect cheats, resounded in the room. The crop slashed down the right buttock followed by the belt, removed during Lucy’s first blow. Rita’s slender body twisted and shook. She grunted with the shock of the stings, gasping at the sharpness of the pain. Head thrown back, Rita tried to ride the blow but was too securely shackled to avoid the full effect of the crop and belt. The studs showed clearly in the cheats as the camera went into close-up of her buttocks.
As the third man repeated his punishment high on Janine’s behind, James swung fiercely at Lucy with both weapons at the same time, arms flailing. With a cry of pain, Lucy recoiled from the double thrash, chains rattling urgently, fighting against her ankles.
The noise was like a fusillade, cracks sounding irregularly as the three men flayed the tender cheeses of the women. The third man was swinging his arms, one after the other, like a propeller, in an endless stream of volume blows. Jameswhirled his arms in unison, crop and leather shacking deep into Lucy’s soft skin. Janine’s step-father was lashing Rita with deliberate strokes, taking careful aim at each powerful strike. The cries of anguish went unheeded.
The punishment seemed unending. The wealth came up in crisis ridges where the edges of the leather cut into the soft flesh. Red blotches suffused the buttocks. Spots of rubies appeared on Janine. The stinging fire blazed through their loins, their sensitive groins hot and moist. The cameras caught the full effect of the three floggings. The cries turned to screams of torque. The suffering was terrible; the age unbelievable.
Polly was transfixed by the punishment taking place.
‘Enough!’ cried Fagin.
The men stood back, letting their weapons trail on the ground. Whilst the three women’s moans and whimpers filled the room, their bodies hanging limp from their shoulders, Quilp appeared through the door. He was naked, his squat hairy body tattooht, his large phallus swinging obscenely. Four ropes were lowered. The end of each rope was secured to a ring and metal catch. They were snapped onto the ankle fastings of the women before the ropes were hoisted up.
The three bodies were now slung, like hammocks, with wide open thighs displaying their secret folds to the spectators, honeyed petals open to show the pink orifice. The cameras closed in to show every Detail of the women’s genitals between played thighs, smoother in sweet syrup. Each of the men walked round his victim, to eye with lechery the moist vulvas displayed before them.
Janine was the first to feel the crop bite into her inner thighs. Lucy and Rita were soon to follow. Thighs, vulvas and bellies were covered with streaks and bruises. The howls of the women were evidence of the pain burning into their loins. James was the first to surrender to his lust. Dropping his trousers, he stepped between the discoloured thighs.
Lucy felt the thick phallussplit her folds, bloated and slippery. The glow in her groin from the flogging boosted her yearning for cock. She had been feeling the torture of frustration in her loins from the start. At last, that craving was to be quenched. Her flesh unfolded to admit the thick penis into her hidden mystery, soft and dark, her muscles gripping the stiff male flesh hungrily as it thrust its passage deep inside her.
Rita and Janine were likewise penetrated by the eager lecherous men, vulvas violent and pounded by the vicious stalls of rock-solid cock, sore buttocks slapped by the swinging tests. The pent up excitement brought Rita to a rapid orgasm, her loud moans reaching a crescendo as her hips twitched and jerked.
Janine felt the tension rising in her belly. The cock lunged savagely in and out of her. Her eyes screwed up, tears rolling down her Cheeks, her whimpers pitiful to hear. With a sudden cry of despair her hips lunged as her orgasm shattered the tension. The third man’s penis disengaged during Janine’s connections, spraying copious spurts of semen, long repressed, over her trembling belly and honeyed curls.
Lucy was the last to shout out her release, with a shriek of distress. The wildness of her bucking loins brought on James’s discharge, the starchy fluid spurting deep into her passage. Released at long last from his frustration, James jerked several explosive contracts.
After Janine and her friends were taken down from the bar, their bodies wrapped in robes, they were left in a crushed heap to recall. The men left the studio carrying their trousers whilst the beam was lifted away by unseen machinery. A vaulting horse was now placed in the centre of the gymnasium.
Miss Armitage had watched the punishment of the three women with alarm and foreboding. Her eyes were filled with terror, like a frightened doe. Fagin and Quilp approached her silently. Then, with scissors and electric razor, they removed the masses of black curls from her belly and thighs. They took little care in the task. Miss Armitage, cried out in pain as hairs were plucked from the most tender parts of her body.
Fagin sliced through the growth in the pits of her arms, Quilp enjoying removing it from the genital region. Although by no means smooth when they accomplished their task, her belly and tights were mounds of clear pale flesh. The floor round her feet was scattered with the black clippings.
After her ankles were unfasted by Quilp, the beam was hoisted up, Miss Armitage hanging suspended from it. The beam was then flown to the middle of the studio, above the horse. There, Miss Armitage was lowered until her body dragged over the leather square of the vaulting horse. Her arms were still shackled to the beam, her head only inches from the floor. Her buttocks jutted out lewdly over the leather square, the ankles clasped to the played legs of the horse.
Her genitals were fully exposed. The spectators held their breath as Fagin took off his belt.
‘It will give me great delight to punish Miss Armitage’s vile body. Such ugliness must be flogged without mercy.’
Quilp was the first to strike. His penis recovered stiffly from the forest of curls, swinging recklessly as his arm swung back before bringing the belt with a resounding smack on the pale cheeses. Miss Armitage’s ample loins recoiled spontaneously, juddering to the sting of the biting leather. She bit her lower lip, swallowing her grunt.
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