where the most foul desires cavorted unrestrained. But while being a sex slave was a wickedly delightful turn-on, to actually find herself in such a position in her real life seemed preposterous.
When she finally regained the ability to speak, she asked as a humble slave might: “What would you have me do, sir?”
The man’s face broke into a smile, seeing her statement as an act of surrender. Perhaps it was. “I’d have you bring yourself over here so I can show you off properly to my friend. I promise you, he won’t bite.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ashamed and self-conscious both, Shelby moved gingerly toward the handsome Mr. Jones.
“Turn around,” the stranger ordered, his voice had dropped to that masculine tone of command that was so easy for her to respond to.
Shelby
hastened to please him, but more importantly to please Mr. Darcy, to whom she seemed irrevocably bound. Oh, never had she dreamed that her life would come to this! How could she, given her youth, desire something so extreme as slavery? Yet, at the moment, nothing seemed more natural to her than to be the object of these men’s scrutiny, her very soul judged worthy or not worthy of their time and attention. Wasn’t this what a slave would do for her master?
Shelby
seemed to be following a path that had been unfolding over the past few weeks. In addition to the sex, there had been scolding lectures, and corporal punishment for mistakes she’d made in her job. At every turn she hastened to please the man, no matter what awful thing he did to her. But such a paradox. Those awful things were exactly what she seemed to live for. At night, when she went home, she’d play back her interactions with Mr. Darcy, letting them work through her imagination, finding them powerful aphrodisiacs that would send her trembling into bed where she brought herself to overwhelming orgasms.
And now, as the handsome Mr. Jones ran his hand over her punished ass and reached deep between her legs in order to pinch her sensitive labia, she felt something new in her continuing sexual awakening. She felt like no more than an object, depersonalized, deprived of her humanity, indeed, Mr. Darcy’s sex slave! A shudder of desire pierced her in the gut. Such humiliation, but such an awesome sense that this was so very right for her – and so ungodly arousing to her sexual body.
“May I?” Mr. Jones asked.
“She’s yours to use. I’m sure my little minx will give your cock a good work out.”
“And what kind of beating will she take?”
“Find out for yourself,” Darcy answered. “The whips are in my bottom drawer.”
Another beating! Her ass was still so very sore from the rough spanking she’d just endured. She’d never hold on! Never! But that was exactly what she’d attempt to do.
For the second time in one afternoon,
Shelby
found herself over her employer’s ebony desk. This time, she was whipped with a vicious leather tawse with falls that cut like knife blades. The dozen strikes cut pitilessly into her already sore skin. At least the thrashing was delivered quickly; and the horny Mr. Jones dispensed with further punishment in order to plunge his cock where Mr. Darcy’s cock had just been. As he forcefully moved inside
Shelby
’s pussy, he reached around her torso to pinch her nipples. She learned that day that even handsome men can be demented sadists.
Once the man shot his seed inside her and he withdrew, Mr. Darcy stepped in and bound her hands behind her back. Then picking up the tawse, he whipped her ass, going over the territory that had already been ruthlessly punished. When he finally stopped, he said, speaking to Mr. Jones, not her, “The skin is about to break. I prefer not to leave that kind of damage. It takes too long to heal.”
When she finally regained the ability to speak, she asked as a humble slave might: “What would you have me do, sir?”
The man’s face broke into a smile, seeing her statement as an act of surrender. Perhaps it was. “I’d have you bring yourself over here so I can show you off properly to my friend. I promise you, he won’t bite.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ashamed and self-conscious both, Shelby moved gingerly toward the handsome Mr. Jones.
“Turn around,” the stranger ordered, his voice had dropped to that masculine tone of command that was so easy for her to respond to.
Shelby
hastened to please him, but more importantly to please Mr. Darcy, to whom she seemed irrevocably bound. Oh, never had she dreamed that her life would come to this! How could she, given her youth, desire something so extreme as slavery? Yet, at the moment, nothing seemed more natural to her than to be the object of these men’s scrutiny, her very soul judged worthy or not worthy of their time and attention. Wasn’t this what a slave would do for her master?
Shelby
seemed to be following a path that had been unfolding over the past few weeks. In addition to the sex, there had been scolding lectures, and corporal punishment for mistakes she’d made in her job. At every turn she hastened to please the man, no matter what awful thing he did to her. But such a paradox. Those awful things were exactly what she seemed to live for. At night, when she went home, she’d play back her interactions with Mr. Darcy, letting them work through her imagination, finding them powerful aphrodisiacs that would send her trembling into bed where she brought herself to overwhelming orgasms.
And now, as the handsome Mr. Jones ran his hand over her punished ass and reached deep between her legs in order to pinch her sensitive labia, she felt something new in her continuing sexual awakening. She felt like no more than an object, depersonalized, deprived of her humanity, indeed, Mr. Darcy’s sex slave! A shudder of desire pierced her in the gut. Such humiliation, but such an awesome sense that this was so very right for her – and so ungodly arousing to her sexual body.
“May I?” Mr. Jones asked.
“She’s yours to use. I’m sure my little minx will give your cock a good work out.”
“And what kind of beating will she take?”
“Find out for yourself,” Darcy answered. “The whips are in my bottom drawer.”
Another beating! Her ass was still so very sore from the rough spanking she’d just endured. She’d never hold on! Never! But that was exactly what she’d attempt to do.
For the second time in one afternoon,
Shelby
found herself over her employer’s ebony desk. This time, she was whipped with a vicious leather tawse with falls that cut like knife blades. The dozen strikes cut pitilessly into her already sore skin. At least the thrashing was delivered quickly; and the horny Mr. Jones dispensed with further punishment in order to plunge his cock where Mr. Darcy’s cock had just been. As he forcefully moved inside
Shelby
’s pussy, he reached around her torso to pinch her nipples. She learned that day that even handsome men can be demented sadists.
Once the man shot his seed inside her and he withdrew, Mr. Darcy stepped in and bound her hands behind her back. Then picking up the tawse, he whipped her ass, going over the territory that had already been ruthlessly punished. When he finally stopped, he said, speaking to Mr. Jones, not her, “The skin is about to break. I prefer not to leave that kind of damage. It takes too long to heal.”
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