Star Slave (16 page)

Magda came down off the dais, into the glare of the light. Gently, she took hold of the crown of red hair and lifted the tearstained face. ‘What do you say, child?' the deep voice prompted.

‘Thuh - thank you, duh - daughters,' Marie-Angele sobbed.

Her fellow acolytes now shed their robes, and clustered tenderly about her. The icy spray was produced and her burning flesh administered to. Cool wet cloths were also brought, and the livid stripes were gently bathed and dried. Finally, a soothing cream, which made her bottom glisten in the light, was smeared thickly on her throbbing buttocks, and she was released and carefully lifted clear of the frame. Two of them helped her from the circle of light to the outer darkness, while two more wheeled the punishment frame out of sight.

Then the marble floor was taken up by the naked girls, who stood in pairs facing one another, hands on shoulders, nipples rubbing, as though partners for a dance.

‘And now, after the test of obedience, comes the test of love,' Magda announced. She stopped at the first pair and held up the object she had taken from the long black box that stood at the foot of her dais. It was about a foot long and of a realistic flesh colour. It was a double-ended artificial penis, complete with twin helms and veined shaft. It was the girth of a turgid erection, and the girls moved, adjusting their spread thighs and hips to accommodate their mistress. Never for an instant breaking their hold on each other's shoulders, the girls thrust their bellies to take the dildo into their eager slits.

Soon the four couples were joined by the latex dildos, and their bellies jerked in unison to the rhythm of their mutual fucking, the inches between them lessening as excitement grew and more and more of the latex shafts disappeared into their vaginas. The strange, gyrating conjunctions went on for long minutes. Suddenly, the girl with Debbie, a pale blonde of Nordic beauty, gave a wailing cry, shuddered dramatically, and withdrew her end of the gleaming dildo before crumpling to the cold marble floor, her frame still shaking in the dying throes of orgasm. Debbie seized the shaft protruding from her loins and thrust wildly, driving it deep until she too jerked and shivered, and joined her companion on the floor with the instrument still embedded between her thighs.

The other couples hadn't achieved their climax when Magda finally clapped her hands. The enchanting assortment of bodies, shining with perspiration, their breasts heaving, lined up before their mistress, once more on her dais, and stood like an array of Amazons on parade while they chanted their oath of loyalty. They then swung away obediently and ran out of the pale light.

There was a collective sigh, and a ripple of approbation from the unseen audience above.

 

In the luxurious communal bathroom in the quarters adjacent to the Chamber, the girls were themselves again, beautiful individuals bound by the close ties of love and friendship. Marie-Angele was lying face down on a massage table, a white towel spread beneath her. Her body was still shaken now and then by the convulsive aftermath of her weeping, and the traces of tears still clung to her long eyelashes, but she managed to smile at the heartfelt sympathy expressed by her comrades. Her bottom was marked by the thin red weals, some of which were raised. One of her friends was dabbing at them gingerly, putting on yet more cooling solution with a piece of cotton wool. Even her lightest touch caused Marie-Angele's cheeks to tighten and quiver, while she hissed with the sting of it.

‘You buggers. You really whip my arse, hey?' Her French accent was attractively thick. There was a chorus of penitent apologies. Most of the girls were still in the communal showers, turning this way and that under the soothing jets of hot water, washing the remains of their exertions from them. Several were swiftly bringing to a passionate conclusion the sensations that had been aroused by the coupling in the Chamber, their mouths glued together, fingers working, thighs entwined, bellies thrusting.

‘Don't worry, Angel,' Joanne smiled, bending to kiss the prone figure on the shoulder. ‘You'll get your chance for revenge. We all get our turn on the grill.'

They all turned as the door opened and Magda entered, still in her scarlet robe. ‘That was magnificent as usual, girls,' she said warmly. ‘Pretty yourselves up, but don't be too long. The masters are waiting in the supper room.'

Within ten minutes the girls had restored make-up and hairstyles, dabbed on perfume, and moved out for the next stage in the evening's entertainment. All except Marie-Angele, who lay, still nude, on the table, where Magda gazed at her in anticipation. ‘Now for your reward, my dear,' she growled, and the French girl shivered with pleasure.

She easily picked the figure up in her arms and carried her out into the discreetly lit corridor, and to a small room next door. In it was a single bed and a few pieces of smartly functional furniture. A dim lamp at the bedside cast a subtle glow, leaving the edges of the small room in deep shadow. Carefully, Magda deposited the trembling girl on the bed. Marie-Angele winced at the touch of the covers on her bottom, but she paid no heed. Her body was aflame with the anticipation of joy she knew would be hers.

She drew up her knees and opened her legs wide, while the tall figure knelt between them, looming like a great vampire as that massive cloak spread its richness, blotting out the ceiling, blotting out everything as the wonderful body descended and claimed her. And she was lost, yielding herself up to that resplendent body, while at her loins she felt the live flesh which bridged their thrusting bellies and made them one.

 

‘I sometimes wish I could stay here for ever,' Felicity confessed shyly, her glowing features turned to Lord Burnopside. She felt the sturdy movement of the mare beneath her, and shamefully acknowledged the secret dampness the bouncing canter had induced. She had developed her riding skills considerably since that momentous day of the accident. Her confidence had grown. Sometimes she went out with the groom, sometimes on her own. Occasionally Lord B or one of his guests would accompany her. None of the other girls rode.

She had been glad when she arrived at the Hall yesterday evening to find that no guests were to join them; the first not expected until later this afternoon. It meant a relaxed evening spent with the girls and his lordship, and a taxingly amorous night in the arms of her beloved Magda, who fulfilled for her the combined roles of mother, sister, mistress, and lover, with spectacular success.

It all made the morning ride in the damp grey December air even more enjoyable. She was already looking forward to a hot bath, a good lunch, and the afternoon sleep that would ensure she would be at her sparkling best for the social evening ahead.

She had expected to eat a solitary breakfast. Magda always left her in the early hours, insisting that she must retire to her own bed for at least a couple of hours. Neither she nor the others would appear before nine at the earliest, and were far more likely to have a tray taken up to their rooms. They might well have passed a night as strenuous as she herself had done, for they paired up regularly, she had learned, though always with Magda's foreknowledge.

Felicity was also quite sure that, when she was absent, Magda made use of her girls. She had not plucked up the courage to ask directly, either of the tall figure herself or one of the others, but it seemed so natural. The way she addressed them and embraced them, with long sensual kisses and embraces, made it obvious what her relationship with each of them was. It no longer made Felicity jealous; the only envy she felt nowadays was that they had this wonderful creature to themselves every day.

When his lordship came into the breakfast room in his riding togs, she had been glad to see him. He was, in some ways, the male equivalent of Magda for her, though in the intervening weeks he hadn't made love to her again since that time on the conference table. But the knowledge that they had fucked brought its own intimacy between them, a knowledge that clearly stamped their relationship.

Now, they threaded their way at a slow walk along a woodland path. The smell of mould and wet leaves hung heavily, and there were traces of mist in the distance between the widely spaced trees. Clouds of vapour snorted from their horses' nostrils, their own breath steamed in the chill air, and Felicity was thankful she had wrapped up warmly. Lord B edged his horse alongside her, let it gently bump her mount to one side, off the path onto the leaf mould and clumps of grass.

‘Let's pause here awhile,' he said. ‘Stretch our legs a bit. It's quiet here.'

At once she felt her heart flutter a little with nervous excitement, sensing some veiled meaning in his tone. Surely, though, he wouldn't want to try anything out here, in this weather?

Obediently, she swung her leg over and dismounted, and he tethered their animals to a stout tree. She noticed there was a wire fence and a heavy five-barred gate, which was padlocked, and beyond it an open meadow.

‘How are things going now?' he asked conversationally. ‘What are your plans?'

She shrugged, and smiled uncertainly. ‘Well, first of all, I want a good long rest. Yvonne, my agent, has promised me some time off. It's been quite hectic since the summer.' He chuckled appreciatively. ‘I'll say! And what about your private life? Is that settled now?'

She felt the blush rising, and glanced down at her polished boots. ‘Not really,' she murmured. ‘Since all that business with Stella, Michael and I - we're seeing each other again, but it's made a big difference. He's having second thoughts, I think.'

‘Foolish boy,' Lord B said. ‘I've been hearing a bit about your young man. Apparently the city boys think he's a bit of a whiz kid in his trade.'

‘Oh, he is,' Felicity concurred enthusiastically. ‘He's brilliant. He's the youngest executive his company's ever had.'

‘Do you still want him?'

Felicity blinked at the bluntness of his question. She reddened once more and shrugged again. ‘I think so,' she said honestly. Then she gave a little jerk of impatience. ‘Oh, I don't know any more. I hardly seem to know what I want.' She paused, and added shyly, ‘That's why I like coming down here so much. I can't tell you how much it means to me. I love it -love you all. You make things only feel right when I'm here.'

Impulsively, she reached up and kissed him at the side of his moustache, like a daughter kissing her father. She was startled when he grabbed her, crushed her to him, and planted a searching kiss on her parted lips. They were both panting when he released her.

‘We're always delighted to have you,' he said thickly, his blue eyes boring into her. She felt dizzy, as though that look was trying to tell her something, and she could not understand. ‘Are you in love with Magda?' he asked harshly.

Her face felt steeped in permanent heat as she nodded. ‘Everyone is,' she whispered faintly.

‘I know all about her lessons of obedience.' His open face, too, was even ruddier than its normal colour, his eyes blazing with desire. ‘Do you truly want to be one of us?'

She stared at him, unable to speak, but she managed to nod dumbly.

‘I have my own test of obedience,' he said huskily. ‘I want you to take it now.'

She glanced around her at the misty scene. ‘Here?' she said incredulously. It was his turn to nod. ‘Very well,' she managed, her heart pounding.

‘Good girl,' he grunted. ‘Now get up on the gate.' He lifted her around the waist and she put out her feet, resting them on the third bar, her back to him. He thrust her down and she bent over the top bar, her legs apart, her behind thrust up in the air. She was expecting him to claw at her breeches and haul them down, so she was surprised when she felt him merely lift the flap of her jacket.

‘Keep still!' he ordered.

There was a sharp whistling disturbance of air, then a loud crack, and a fiery line burned her backside through the thick material of her jodhpurs and the knickers she wore underneath. The gate shook and her belly squashed against the wood as she jerked and clung on, forcing herself to stay doubled over. She yelped at the next cutting blow and squirmed again, spreading her arms, digging her fingers into the wet wood to maintain her perilous balance. She squealed at the third blow and began to cry. ‘Please,' she wept pathetically. She hung there, her hard hat falling over her eyes, the tears streaming down her cold face, her bottom on fire. No further blows came, and he lifted her down. The pain throbbed abominably and she couldn't stop herself from massaging her poor bottom.

She saw his penis hanging free of his breeches. It was long and thick, though not yet erect. She felt his heavy hands on her shoulders, implacably pressing downward, and she sank to her knees in the soggy mould, his prick bobbing mere inches from her face. He removed her hat, dropped it to the ground, and then his fingers entwined in her lustrous hair. Without being told she fumbled off her leather gloves and took his prick in her fingers. It felt alive with pulsing need. She leaned forward and kissed the shining helm softly, fearfully, deeply thrilled by the potent smell of him. Then she seized the root of the stiffening shaft, lifted it, and enveloped the dome with her mouth. It thrust into her, filling her completely, and she slobbered at him avidly, pushing as far down the surging column as she could go. At the last second she instinctively pulled her mouth free as he discharged over her face. Then penitently, she touched her lips to him and absorbed the still pumping fluid into her convulsing throat.