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| A world of Lesbian Flappers |
The churchyard was home to a whipping horse rather than a post, not that it mattered much. Nearby, there was a bench with a wooden locker attached. Flaking paint spelled out, “HONESTY BOX AND EQUIPMENT”.
“Put my shopping there,” said Lena.
As I put the brown paper bag down on the bench, the locker creaked open. Lena produced a leash and what they call a prod - a disposable hooked dildo.
My buttocks clenched at the sight and I felt a thrill of fear. If she made me ejaculate first, then the whipping was going to really hurt. Bitch! I thought, and tried to hold onto that word.
“Strip off,” she said, not turning away, but not looking at me either. She arranged herself on the bench and stretched out her slender stockinged legs.
The grass looked wet and it was covered in sodden brown leaves. I shifted to the paved path and peeled off my slave livery - footwear, the jacket, the knee britches, the shirt - and folded everything up neatly on top of the shoes.
Now I was naked except for the steel bands around my neck, wrists and ankles, and the chastity cage embedded in my neutered groin.
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.. and ignored slaves who
see everything! |
A seagull squawked and I felt out-of-place in this ancient churchyard. Sure, if you went inside you’d see icons of the Sun and Moon Goddesses. However, from the outside, the church looked Norman. I could be back home in the Real World.
“Hurry up,” barked Lena.
I scurried over to kneel at her feet. The wet grass was icy on my bare knees.
Lena lent over and clipped the long leash to my collar. She handed me the prod. “Five minutes,” she said, glancing at her watch.
Wincing, I lay back. The thick grass cushioned my spine even as it leached away my body heat. I brought up my knees and reached around with the prod.
The rubber dildo was cold and hard on my anus. Gradually, the soapy surface melted into a lubricant. The dildo slipped into my rectum, inch my inch until I had that glorious prickling sensation of fullness. My cock flexed inside its cage. A sigh escaped my lips.
“In silence,” barked Lena. She was reading a paperback novel, but still had one hand on my leash — without that, my conditioning wouldn’t let me stimulate myself.
I worked the dildo in and out of my ass, aiming it so it did not hit my prostrate. I so wanted to come, but I needed the shield of arousal to cope with the whipping. Even so it was soooo very tempting just to let go. Julia was always lax about sending me to the milking parlor and I had not ejaculated for months.
Birds chirped. Insects buzzed me. Lena turned a page of her book, and the dildo slurped in and out of my ass.
Then there was a creak of hinges. Two women emerged from the church’s side porch; a vamp about Lena’s age in a close fitting flying helmet type hat with a camera about her neck, and Daphne the statuesque artist with her wild blond hair.
The vamp touched Daphne’s shoulder and said, “Just a few pictures. They’d be artistic.”
The girl blushed and squirmed but did not pull away. She pursed her lips, showing off big front teeth. “I…”
I realized that Daphne has somehow shaken off the trashy Felicity, only to snag the attentions of an older woman.
Lena rose from her bench and called across me, “Claudette? What the heck are you doing here?”
The vamp - Claudette - spun on the spot making her long cashmere coat fan out. “Lena! Just taking a holiday! I hear the seafood is good.”
The Amazonian girl glanced at Lena and her face went bright red.
“You’re Daphne Brown,” said Lena. “We met at the station, but we weren’t properly introduced. I’m Lena White.”
“Lena White?” Daphne took a step closer and put a hand to her wide mouth as if shocked at her own forwardness. With her muscular bare legs and sandals, she looked like some kind of wild child. But she had no idea how to move her statuesque body, or how to speak without sounding young and gauche.
I wondered how she would be after a licking or fingering from Lena… A wet pressure built up in my cock. I rolled my head to look at the whipping horse and moved the dildo as slowly as I dared. I must not ejaculate.
“That’s me,” said Lena.
“The… the famous journalist?” said Daphne. Her blue eyes widened. “Are you working on a story?”
Beside her, Claudette frowned. She did not like the competition.
Lena laughed. “Right now, I’m inducting a new slave.”
Daphne’s gaze falls on me. “Oh - I haven’t really seen one of these close up.”
“Be my guest.”
…and there I was curled up obscenely at her feet, caged penis dripping, fucking myself up the ass with a disposable prod. My cheeks burned, my collar constricted my throat. Of its own accord, my hand worked faster making the self-lubricating dildo slurp in my ass as if this could get the experience over with.
The vamp appeared next to her. “You’ll get used to them. Though they have their… uses.”
The blond artist giggled and squirmed. The new position let me see between her muscular legs, right up the skirt of her faded floral dress.
My eyes adjusted to the poor light under her hem. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Glistening inner labia protruded like a sea creature from her ash blond pubic hair. The pink flesh shone wetly like rubies in a darkened room and the some of the curls had been slicked back. Either she had been masturbating, or somebody’s lucky tongue had been at work between those powerful thighs.
Pleasure spiked in my ass. My hand must have drifted, and now the prod bumped my prostrate with every stroke. I was so close… so very close to a real orgasm. Eyes fixed on the blond artist’s pussy, I pounded the dildo into myself. My spine curled. My knees crushed my chest. My face burned. My collar shrank to squeeze my throat and—
—there was a sensation like peeing, and a splatting from my groin.
My leash jerked. “Get up,” ordered Lena. “Dispose of the prod then prepare yourself on the whipping horse.”
I struggled to my feet and felt thick semen drip down my thighs, taking with it the warm cushion of desire that normally shielded me from the worst mistreatment.
I glanced at the whipping horse and shuddered. This was going to hurt.
“Oh,” added Lena. “Get a gag from the equipment box.”
Bitch! I thought.
