Captive by Aishling Morgan Page A

screamed. Once more she called out, squeezing her cheeks on the sticky trickle of sperm between, then abruptly she went limp, to lie whimpering over the whipping bench. The man finished his come off over her bottom and wiped his cock on her leg before starting to undo her straps.
    ‘Perfectly timed,’ she remarked as she got unsteadily to her feet, ‘a moment while I recover and I will give you another crown.’
    ‘So kind, Madame,’ the man answered and Aisla realised that he was neither punishing her nor her lover, but had been hired to whip her.
    The other couple, a bulky woman and a much younger girl, had paused to watch and now gave polite nods to Grathor and Aisla. The clerk crossed to one of the vacant machines.
    ‘This is new, and I recommend it,’ he said. ‘Essentially it is a Jarasai’s horse, but this pylon and bar system improves the exposure of the girl’s breasts while obliging her to keep her bottom properly flaunted…’
    Aisla looked at the thing in horror as the clerk continued to extol its virtues. It was a padded bench on which the girl could be fixed during punishment, but with a frame above it from which hung a set of padded cuffs. Being on it looked to be as humiliating as the other two devices and a great deal more painful. The other girls at were at least is natural positions, while the device the clerk was suggesting for her was not only going to raise and spread her bottom but lift her hands high behind her back to force her chest out.
    ‘What about this one?’ she asked, frantically indicating the fourth machine.
    No sooner had she made the suggestion than she realised it was a mistake. The fourth machine was much like the one the clerk was recommending, but older and without the additional pylon and bar. What it did have was a huge dildo attached to the bench in such a way that it would be in her while she was whipped, backwards so that the rough ball sack would be against her tuppenny. There was also a ring above the bench, with a rope through it, which doubtless meant she could be put in the very painful and exposed position she had hoped to avoid, only now she would have her exposed vagina filled into the bargain.
    ‘Perfect,’ Grathor laughed as he turned to look. ‘Eager little tart, aren’t you?’
    ‘No, I…’ Aisla began but gave up, knowing full well what was going to happen once she was in place and her bottom had been properly warmed.
    ‘Off with the clothes then,’ Grathor said, ‘or would you rather be stripped?’
    ‘I’ll undress myself,’ Aisla answered weakly.
    All eyes were on her as she began to strip, including those of the female couple, the girl who had just been whipped and the assistant. With her face crimson with blushes she undid her jerkin, letting her breasts spill out to admiring looks from her audience.
    ‘A fine pair, and firm,’ the clerk observed, then turned to Grathor. ‘May I?’
    ‘As you please,’ Grathor answered. ‘Place your hands on you head, Aisla, and push them out.’
    She hesitated only a moment and then obeyed, thrusting out her breasts with a mixture of shame and pride. Not only was she bigger than both the other girls, but probably firmer. The clerk reached up and took them, one in each hand, feeling and weighing them, then drawing his thumbs over her nipples to make them stiffen. She found herself sighing and Grathor laughed.
    The clerk completed his exploration of her breasts and she finished undressing, now trembling as she peeled off her crude skirt to stand naked but for her boots.
    ‘No, leave them,’ Grathor instructed as she bent to undo the laces, ‘I rather enjoy the sight of a girl in just her boots. Do you need oiling? Here, let me check.’
    His hand went between her legs, a thick finger pushing straight into her vagina to make her gasp.
    ‘No,’ Grathor laughed, ‘indeed, just now I’d risk ten crowns that you could take a donkey!’
    ‘We have a suitable beast in the garden, sir,’ the clerk