Pam-Ann (6 page)

“Hm, the light hazel wand for
now, I think,” Pam heard her say and her belly turned over as she
caught sight of what Persephone held in her hand.

“Oh, God, no more! I can’t take
any more!”

“Nonsense! They’ve just been
having a little fun with you so far. You’re barely marked.”

The smart of Pam’s weals was
telling her something else altogether. The blonde leaned close and
lightly tickled her armpits before rubbing the smooth, tapered
wand in her hand
across the American girl’s
breasts until it rested on her up-tilted left nipple. Pam squirmed
in the tight straps at wrists and ankles and stared into her
tormentor’s cruelly smiling face.

“Oh, you’re frightened,”
Persephone crooned. “But I thought girls of That Kind liked this
sort of thing. Isn’t that what attracts you to a life of slavery?”
She shrugged. “Well, I can’t let you off, darling. It’s not done,
you see? You have to learn that you obey at once. And if you don’t
you get this.”

She stepped back and swung the
thin length of wood into the underside of Pam’s left breast. It
landed with a smack, and a blazing streak of pain seared her flesh.
Pam jerked, snarling and shaking her head. A second stroke scorched
her skin in almost exactly the same place and before she could even
draw breath to cry out a third smacked down on the full upper curve
of her breast. Strained tight on the post Pam could barely writhe
as the fiery blow sank deep and the blonde raised the wand
again.

“Please!” Her breast bounced
under the impact, stinging and throbbing horribly as the pain tore
into her yielding flesh. Tears blurred her vision and she wriggled
and arched her back in a hopeless effort to ease her torment. It
only thrust her defenceless tits out further and, with a precision
that could only have come from long practice, Persephone dealt two
biting strikes to the swell of Pam’s left nipple. She howled and
continued howling as her tormentor landed six identical and equally
wicked strokes of the slim rod to her right breast.

Breathing hard, bathed in sweat
and with her flesh stinging wickedly, she watched
Persephone replace the hazel, scarcely able to believe that
such a small, innocuous-looking instrument could have caused such
torture. Her gut shrank as the blonde stood
before her once
more.

“Mm, that was nice.”
Persephone’s smile revealed her sharp little eyeteeth. Pam
shuddered. A heartbeat later she wriggled and cried out as the
blonde’s hands
closed over her burning
breasts. A wet tongue lapped the tears clinging to her right cheek.
“Are you sorry for your naughtiness?” Persephone crooned.

Pam gasped as fingers dug into
her scorching flesh. “Ow! Yes, Mistress.”

“Are you going to be
obedient?”

“Yes. Oh, yes!” she cried
breathlessly, and heaved against her straps when
Persephone’s
grip left her tits and her hand slid down
Pam’s belly and rubbed the newly waxed and sensitive skin on her
mound.

“I got very wet punishing you,
darling.”
The
hand slid lower and Pam’s
heart pounded. “I wonder if it had the same effect on you.”

Pam squirmed as a finger pushed
uncomfortably into her sex.

Persephone pouted. “Oh, you’re
not excited at all, you bad girl. Don’t you know you’re always
supposed to be ready? Your sort usually can’t get enough. Tania,
Venus Dust.”

The slave girl lifted a small
phial she already had in her hand and a glass of water. The
pressure of Eve’s fingers forced Pam’s jaws apart. She could not
evade the little sprinkle of whatever the phial contained, which
Persephone placed on her tongue. It was hot and peppery and it
fizzed as it met the moisture in her mouth.

“It’s nothing dangerous,” the
blonde mistress said. “Just something to get you in the mood. Wash
it down.” She held the glass to Pam’s lips.

Throat raw from crying out, she
would have been glad to drink but for her fear of the drug being
forced into her. The peppery heat spread down her gullet and all
the way to her belly as she swallowed.

“The effect is instant. I’ll
show you.” Persephone smoothed her hand down the American girl’s
soft-skinned stomach, paused to lightly pinch the fleshy bump
concealing her clitoris, delved once more between her labia and
rubbed the sensitive membranes within.

Pam gasped. Her sex tingled and
tickled, the feelings quickening as the exploring finger pushed
deeper and moved more rapidly. She squirmed. “Oh, what have you
done to me? For God’s sake, you’re a girl!” It made no difference
to her body’s response. Her hips were wriggling as much as her
bonds allowed and thrusting ever more eagerly to meet the blonde’s
penetrating fingers. Pam’s head began to spin and even the sudden
pressure of Persephone’s other hand on her smarting breasts did not
diminish her quivering arousal.

“There, darling, that’s how you
should always be – wet and compliant and ready to be used. Now, you
want to lick my pussy, don’t you?” Persephone’s thumb and
forefinger tightened on Pam’s right nipple and its wicked throbbing
increased.

“Ooh! Yes, Mistress.” Shamed and
humiliated by her surrender, she was nevertheless relieved when she
was quickly freed.

Persephone sat on the edge of
the bed, leaned back on both hands, and spread her legs. Her feline
gaze met Pam’s tearful one. “Crawl to me.”

The American girl sank to all
fours with a sob. She did not want to obey. The pain of her weals
and of her swaying breasts as she crossed the carpet reminded her
why she must. Only once before, had she pleasured another woman.
The memory made her think of Rick and increased the prickling
between her thighs. God, was she never going to forget? She thought
of Drake and how she had reacted to his touch and found herself
between Persephone’s thighs, her face inches from her damply
glistening sex and nostrils quivering from its ripe perfume. What
in God’s name had they given her that could make her tremble like
this? Her sheath rippled. And why did the awful thing she was being
made to do seem far less repugnant than it had only minutes ago?
Bewildered and forlorn she looked at the blonde. Eyes heavy-lidded,
bright and smouldering with passion, Persephone ran her tongue over
her shiny, red lips.

“Clitty first, darling,” she
said breathily. “And don’t stop ’til you’re told or you’ll have
another tit-whipping. Eve, cuff her.”

Even though it
had been more than two years since Pam had dared allow herself to
experience any sexual pleasure, she was awed that the drug could so
swiftly start to overcome her loathing. She let the powerful girl
pin her arms behind her with a pair of handcuffs. Persephone slid
her buttocks to the edge of the bed until the wispy blonde curls
crowning her sex tickled the tip of Pam’s nose. Her
woman-scent was strong and heady.

“Tania,” the blonde mistress
said.

Pam had been unaware Tania was
close behind her. The
shock of the slave’s fingers
thrusting into her sex made her jerk forward. Her mouth met the
swells of Persephone’s pussy-lips and the blonde’s
hand
abruptly gripping the back of her head held it there. Sex
quivering, belly churning and head spinning, Pam accepted her fate.
She pushed out her tongue and began to lick. It was horrid,
nauseating, or it should have been. But the drug was doing its
work. With her
hurts a reminder of
the
penalty for failing to please the cruel mistress, she lapped and
flicked her tongue on Persephone’s bud, nibbled with her lips and
drew on it until it was firm and elongated and the blonde was
sighing her pleasure.

“Pussy now,” Persephone said
breathlessly, apparently as heedless of those watching her as Pam
was acutely conscious of their presence. Yet she dared not refuse.
The drug did not seem to affect her feelings, only the sensitivity
of her body. She cringed at her shameful submission as she slipped
her tongue between the blonde’s swollen inner-lips and tasted the
ripe tang of what she had only smelled before. Persephone moaned
and undulated her belly, pushing harder. “Deeper,” she urged, hips
moving rhythmically, and as Pam thrust her tongue further a spill
of juices flowed over it and into her mouth. The hand on her head
pulled harder, the hips moved faster and Persephone gasped and
panted, grinding her pussy on Pam’s lips and drenching them with
the dew of her climax.

The blonde’s grip relaxed. Pam
wanted to draw back but remembered in time that she was not to stop
until she was told. Her pussy tingled alarmingly from the friction
of Tania’s fingers. Clearly the girl had been given the same order.
Once again, only Pam’s years of habitually controlling her emotions
gave her the strength to continue. With Persephone’s flavour
filling her mouth and her stomach close to rebelling each time she
had to swallow, she repeated her degrading service a second time.
The result was the same for both of them.

As Persephone sprawled panting
across the bed a loud tap sounded on the door.

“Open it, Eve,” she said.

Freed at last from the handcuffs
and the slave girl’s teasing touch, Pam lifted her bowed head.
Drake stood in the doorway, surveying the scene impassively with
narrowed eyes. Her sex gave a wriggle, swamped immediately by her
overwhelming humiliation as his glance passed quickly over
Persephone and fixed on her own kneeling figure. Pam’s cheeks
flamed and she turned her wet, smeared face away.

“Time’s up,” he said. “You had
better be finished.”

Persephone’s laugh tinkled. “For
now, darling. Unless
you
want to join me.” She seemed
indifferent that she was naked in the man’s presence.

Drake pulled Pam to her feet.
Startling, horrifying heat flowed across her skin and continued all
the way to her prickling sex. The blonde rose, took the towel Milly
held out and rubbed it over her sweat-run breasts and down her
smooth belly. She raised a hand in mock salute.

“Carry on, Lieutenant,” she said
in obvious imitation of the Commodore, and smiled in Pam’s
direction. “Go along. I’ll be there shortly to watch your
performance.”

* * * * *

Drake stopped on the way back to
the saloon and handed Ann his handkerchief. “Wipe your face.”

Pink-cheeked and panting she
wiped off Persephone’s juices.
He
eyed the
fiery tracks across her breasts and tried to ignore the sensation
that stirred in his loins.

“I didn’t want to,” she said
hoarsely, handing the handkerchief back.

Drake knew
Persephone’s ways. He was well aware the girl had been forced, but
her attempt to excuse her behaviour was unusual for one of That
Kind.
“Call me ‘Sir’.” He reached a hand towards her face
and she shied from it. “Your lipstick is smeared. Keep still.” He
wiped his fingertip along the edge of her trembling upper lip. The
rich aroma of female arousal filled his nostrils.
Ann had looked so appealingly helpless trapped between
Persephone’s thighs with Tania fingering her from behind. She had
seemed to be enjoying it too, though her tits must have been
burning at the same time. They would be still, but there was
nothing he could do about that for now. He took
her arm
again.

The tables in the saloon were
filled with people. Dinner was being served. The murmur of
conversation faded and every head turned towards them. Drake
saw Ann’s cheeks
turn deeper red and she
put a hand before her sex as he led her to the stage’s high step.
He could feel her shivering. She had good reason to be afraid.

“She’s all yours, Bosun,” Drake
said
, half-dragging Ann to the broad, thickset man
standing beside the post. He tried and failed to ignore the uneasy
feeling his part in the punishments always caused him.

The man grabbed
Ann’s arms and turned her. His assistant stepped forward, raising a
short, black cylindrical length of rubber with straps at its
ends.
The girl recoiled from it and then from the pain in
her wealed buttocks as they met the bosun’s immovable bulk.

“Oh, n….” The other man jammed
the rubber between her teeth and buckled the straps behind her
head. “Ugh!” she gurgled into the gag as both men manhandled her
towards the post. A swat of the bosun’s broad hand to her backside
made her squeak in pain.

“Behave, or you’ll wish you
had.”

Drake watched them fasten her to
the post and pull the wrist bindings tight until she was well
stretched. The look she gave him held a silent plea. He
kept his face impassive. Though he felt sorry for
her, the
sight of her muscles drawn taut by the bonds and
the high jut of her uplifted breasts sent a pleasurable tickle
through his loins.

The bosun’s assistant carried
two buckets onto the stage, placed one behind her and the other
between her parted and shackled feet. He sniggered. “For when you
piss yourself. They always do.”

Drake saw her blue eyes widen
further. How could she act so innocent about everything, as if she
had no idea what they were going to do?
She had to
have seen the warnings in the newspapers. They were full page, for
heaven’s sake, and they spelled out the penalties in terms that
were unmistakeable. The
colour had left her face. She looked
ghostly pale, small and vulnerable. The thickening cock in his
pants twitched and he turned
and walked away. He
had learned long ago that it was unwise to mix pleasure with duty.
One way or another it always ended badly. Besides, there would be
no pleasure for him, or for the girl, in what lay ahead of
her.

The buzz of
excited conversation ceased abruptly as Drake stepped into the
passageway and closed the saloon’s doors behind him. Alex
Riley, for once in uniform instead of coveralls,
was walking slowly in his direction.