The Taming of Jessica (11 page)

Abruptly, he withdrew his probing fingers. Jessica didn’t see him bury them in Nathalie’s pussy, but the girl’s soft cry suggested that was where they’d gone.

‘Perhaps I should punish the pair of you again for forcing me to make such an impossible choice?’ he mused.

That would be too cruel, and Jessica almost broke down and begged him to penetrate her. She could imagine all too clearly the view he had as he looked down on them: two bare bottoms, one dark, blotchy red, the other fading to a more dusky shade; two pussies, one shaved almost clean, the other a riot of curly hair; two pairs of lusciously dewy lips, designed to be parted by the shaft of a thick, erect penis. It was a sight that would make any man pause, weighing up his options, but the waiting was driving her to distraction.

Jason grasped her firmly by the hip, and she realised he’d made his choice. He guided the head of his cock into place with his other hand, and thrust home. All the while she’d been bent over the bed, her juices had been flowing in anticipation of this moment, and he slid in with ease. If she’d registered a difference in size between him and Max when she’d sucked his cock, that difference became even more pronounced as his thickness pushed the walls of her channel apart. Of all the men she’d been with, maybe one other had been as long, as hefty as this, and she relished the feeling of being taken by something that had the potential to give her the most glorious shafting of her life.

Almost as soon as she’d grown used to the feeling of him there, moving back and forth with slow, shallow strokes, he pulled out, turning his attention to Nathalie. Jessica couldn’t resist turning her head to watch the instant of penetration; it might earn her a punishment further down the line, but right now she needed to satisfy her savage curiosity. She’d never seen anyone being fucked mere inches from her face, and for all she knew she would never have the opportunity again.

The French girl groaned as Jason entered her, whimpered as he pushed in further, all the way until his groin seemed to fuse with her punished bum cheeks and she registered the sensation of him pressing against her tenderised flesh. Just as with Jessica, he treated Nathalie to three or four lazy thrusts, then withdrew.

A pattern set, Jason began to alternate from one woman to the other, fucking each of them in turn for a minute or so. Every time, he brought Jessica to a point where she knew a couple more strokes would make her come, from the friction of her pussy rubbing against the bedcover and the sensation of being so widely stretched round his cock, but he seemed to sense the moment at which she was about to cross the threshold, and returned to Nathalie.

Jessica wished she had a mirror to hand, so she could watch the scene, Jason sliding into first one pussy, then the next, over and over. She had to admire his stamina, as he took first one of them, then the other, to the brink of climax time after time, without seemingly coming anywhere near to his own orgasm. Nathalie was clearly suffering more from his teasing treatment than she, for every time he re-entered her, driving in to the hilt, he must have been stoking the fire in her spanked arse. Soon, she was babbling in a mixture of English and French, telling him she would do anything, anything he wanted, if he would only finish the job and make her come.

To the side of her, Nathalie’s hand clutched at the bedspread. An unknown impulse compelled Jessica to twine her fingers with the other girl’s, giving her some kind of comfort in the throes of her erotic torment. Jason said nothing, but at last he increased his pace, shunting into Nathalie with hard, unrelenting strokes.

‘Ah,
mon Dieu
!’ Nathalie gasped, as his balls slapped against her bum cheeks. ‘It hurts, but it hurts so good.’ She gave a tormented little whimper, and grasped Jessica’s fingers so hard her knuckles turned white. ‘
Aiee
!’ Her grip relaxed, and Jessica knew she’d come.

Jason, however, had only just started. He took hold of Jessica’s hips in both hands this time, pulling her hard onto his groin. Close to his own release now, he fucked her with a power that almost took his breath away. He’d dominated her with his words, and that wicked paddle, and now he was dominating her with his cock, and his desire to possess her, body and soul. All she could do was let him take her where he wanted to go, to some place that seemed outside time, outside all rational thought. The moment he held her tight to him, keeping her still while he pumped his seed into the condom, and ordered her to come for him was the moment her world broke apart and reformed, a little brighter than before. Her orgasm went on until she thought she might pass out from the strength of the waves rolling through her. At last, Jason’s cock slipped from her, though her pussy muscles clutched at it as if she couldn’t bear to let him leave.

She rolled on to her back, staring up at the ceiling, as Jason ushered Nathalie to the door.

‘No, don’t put them on,’ she heard him say, and in her lust-befuddled state she realised he was talking about the maid’s big, unflattering knickers. ‘Leave them on the trolley so everyone can see you’ve been so bad they had to be stripped from you so your wicked little bottom could be spanked. And make sure you go bare under your uniform for the rest of the day. If I bump into you, I’ll be sure to put my hand under your skirt to check – and if I touch cotton, rather than soft, wet pussy, you’ll be in all kinds of trouble.’

Once Nathalie had wheeled her trolley out of the room, and the door had clicked securely shut behind her, Jason strode back to where Jessica lay on the bed.

‘Don’t get too comfortable there,’ he warned her. ‘We have more training to fit in before dinner, you know.’

As Jessica hauled herself into a sitting position, she began to suspect the one thing she would never truly be around her master was comfortable.

Chapter Thirteen

After five days on the island, Jessica felt as though this strange existence, this world where she lived to carry out the orders of a dominant man, compliantly subjugated, was the only one she’d ever known. London, her clubbing adventures, the thrills of hunting young, willing prey; it all seemed like a dream. If it wasn’t for the fact she’d spent time with Max since they’d arrived here, she could have believed she’d dreamt him too.

Every night, she slept chained to her master’s bed, and every morning she woke to discover what fresh humiliation he had in store for her. He decided what she ate, what she wore, where she went. She could never have imagined that with those choices taken out of her hands she would feel so free.

If he ordered her to drop to the ground and display herself, in the submissive posture he’d taught her on their first night together, she would do so at once, no matter where they were or who else might be in the vicinity. And he trained her in other ways, teaching her to accept the feel of various implements of chastisement, from the soft suede flogger to the vicious, stinging riding crop, the wooden hairbrush to the two-tailed tawse.

Though she couldn’t say she enjoyed being spanked, exactly, she did find she preferred those punishments where she found herself over Jason’s lap. There was something so much more intimate about being held in place by one big hand in the small of her back, while the other smacked her bare cheeks. And all the time she was aware of the press of his cock against her belly, haunting her with the promise of what was to come.

At other times, she would be arranged over the whipping stool in Damon’s dungeon. She hadn’t even known the room existed till Jason signed the key out from reception one afternoon and used it to let the two of them into this very adult playground. When he tired of the stool, he might put her in a faithful reproduction of a mediaeval pillory, her head and hands through the holes and the wooden contraption securely locked so she could not escape while her exposed bottom received a thrashing.

Jason could find an infinite number of reasons to punish her – from spilling food from her breakfast bowl to gossiping with Honey when she happened to run into her friend in the corridor. That chat with Honey, brief as it had been, was an enlightening one. It seemed that only Jessica had the privilege of sleeping at her master’s feet; the other slaves were returned to their rooms and shackled by their wrists to the bed, so they weren’t able to give in to the temptation to play with themselves. Jessica had made sympathetic noises on hearing this, but was glad she wasn’t forced to spend her nights in that narrow bunk in the institution-like room she’d been assigned to share with Honey, restrained and frustrated.

In addition to tutoring her to receive discipline, Jason also introduced Jessica to the art of bondage. The well-stocked toy chest Damon had provided for him contained several lengths of red silken rope, and Jason used them to place her in a hogtie, first binding her wrists and ankles before securing them to each other so she was bent back on herself in a bow. When she was immobilised to his satisfaction, he used his phone to take a couple of photos of her in that position, naked and helpless, and sent them to Max. ‘I’m sure he’d love to see how beautiful you look right now,’ he commented. Jessica said nothing. Jason had already warned her there was a ball-gag in his box of tricks, and if she spoke out of turn he wouldn’t hesitate to use it on her.

When he ordered her to open her mouth, she thought he was indeed about to gag her, although she’d remained silent all through the process of being hogtied, just as he’d demanded. She fought the urge to protest, knowing how unfair it was that she’d obeyed his instructions to the letter and yet he still seemed determined to make her suffer further. To her surprise, the ball-gag stayed in its box. Instead, he dropped his shorts to his ankles, stepped out of them and presented his cock to her lips. She didn’t need to be told what to do next. Snaking out her tongue, she swiped it over his helm, licking up the salty drop of precome that beaded at its tip.

Opening wider, she took him inside, relishing the briny taste of him, the uniquely musky scent that rose from the soft mat of hair at his groin. While she sucked him, using her tongue to tease the sweet spot where head met shaft, he fired off another couple of snaps, close-ups of her mouth stretched widely around his considerable girth. Whether these were also for Max, or private snaps to keep and look at once they had gone their separate ways, so he could recall just how it had felt to be buried deep in her throat, she didn’t know. It wasn’t her place to question him on the matter. She just kept swirling her tongue over and around his cockhead, wishing her hands were free so she could stroke his balls and the sensitive seam between them, something she’d come to discover he particularly enjoyed.

Just before he came, he pulled out, so he could aim his come over her tightly bound body, as if he were marking her as his own. Again, he took photographs of the creamy liquid trickling over her skin, contrasted against the red of the rope, though his hands trembled so much she was sure the resulting shots would be blurry and out of focus.

When he released her, he held her close, running his fingers over the faint marks the ropes had left against her skin, telling her what a good girl she’d been and how much she had pleased him. And somehow, that washed away all the discomfort, all the embarrassment she felt at being tied and rendered a receptacle for his pleasure. Whatever he instructed her to do, however much pain he forced her to take, the rewards were always worth it.

She kept telling herself how lucky she’d been that Jason had bid for her, and not one of the other men. She’d seen Simone take such a public whipping, and the story had filtered back to her of the machine with the freakish built-in dildo which Adele had been made to ride. One afternoon, following her master through the corridors, she had come across one of the house girls being led the other way. The girl was on the end of a leash, with Mistress Delice urging her to hurry up. That wasn’t such an unusual sight; Jessica knew all too well these girls were at the beck and call of whoever chose to use them, whether that was one of the unaccompanied men or the more senior members of Damon Barada’s staff. What alarmed her was the faux horse’s tail protruding from between the girl’s bottom cheeks; from the angle at which it emerged, Jessica could guess all too well where whatever anchored that tail in place had been plugged.

Compared to those ordeals, having to display her pussy on command, or take a paddling in front of her husband, seemed like small beer. Those humiliations she could cope with, and she hoped Jason wouldn’t decide to push her any further.

That evening, Jessica was sent to answer a knock at her master’s door, only to discover Nathalie standing there. She wondered why the maid hadn’t come waltzing straight into the room as she had before; she didn’t suppose the threat of a punishment if she did was putting the girl off, not judging by her ecstatic reaction to the treatment she’d received at Jason’s hands.

‘
Bonsoir
,
madame
, I have the dress I was instructed to bring for you.’ She held out a garment shrouded in one of the clear plastic covers Jessica was more used to seeing when she picked up her dry cleaning.

‘Dress?’ Jessica asked, taking it from Nathalie’s hands.

‘Yes, I’ve picked you out a special outfit for tonight,’ Jason informed her. ‘We’re dining at Damon’s table. Do you have the rest of the outfit, Nathalie?’

‘Yes,
monsieur
, the shoes, the make-up and the –’ Whatever she’d been about to add, she stopped, as if not wanting to spoil a secret.

‘Very good. Jessica, I want you to go in the bathroom and change.’ He placed her make-up bag on top of the dress. For the past few days she hadn’t worn as much as a slick of lip gloss, and it felt strange to be given her war paint once more. ‘Wear your hair up; I know Damon likes that in a woman. Everything else will be waiting for you out here when you’re ready. And thank you, Nathalie, that will be all.’

By now, leaving the bathroom door open was second nature to her. She ran water into the basin, and washed her face and hands. The noises she could hear as she patted herself dry with the towel indicated that Jason was hunting for something in the bedroom closet. Was he dressing up too? She remembered him as she’d first seen him, in the suit that looked as though he’d borrowed it from someone a size smaller than himself, and suppressed a grin. No wonder he wanted her to impress Damon Barada; she doubted he’d be doing it himself.

The dress he’d picked out for her seemed, at first glance, fairly demure; floor length and with long, tight-fitting sleeves. But the moment she put it on, she realised it was anything but. The floaty chiffon, in a moss green shade that flattered her fair colouring, was sheer enough to reveal that she wore absolutely nothing beneath it. The peaks of her nipples pressed against the thin fabric, and when she moved it clung indecently to the slight rise of her pubic mound. Still, considering how much of the time she’d spent at the resort naked, this classed as a slight improvement.

At her master’s instruction, she piled her hair up, pinning most of it in place while leaving a few tendrils to frame her face. She took time over her make-up, outlining her eyes in smoky shades, and applying two coats of rich brick-red lipstick. A small blob of clear gloss in the centre of her lower lip – a tip she’d picked up from one of the fashion magazines she read – gave her lips a wet, kissable appearance. She hadn’t glammed up like this since the ill-fated trip to Envied which had set this whole bizarre chain of events in motion, and she hoped Jason would be pleased with the result.

The grin on his face as she re-entered the bedroom let her know how much he liked her outfit. Though she had to admit he looked surprisingly good himself: the dinner suit he’d put on, with its tuxedo jacket and dark, slim-fitting trousers, gave him an elegance she’d never suspected he might possess.

‘Beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘Now all we need are the finishing touches.’

When she saw the shoes he expected her to wear, she almost gasped aloud. No stranger to fuck-me heels, if she’d seen these in a shop she would have rejected them as something designed exclusively for strippers. With thick platform soles in clear Lucite, and heels that must have been a good six inches high, walking in them would present a serious challenge. Still, she obediently slipped them on, and tried to accustom herself to their towering height.

‘Now, one last thing,’ her master said, moving to stand behind her. She couldn’t see him fastening a piece of jewellery around her neck, but it wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d produced a collar and leash; it seemed to be the traditional way of leading slave girls through the corridors here. What she hadn’t expected was for him to catch hold of first one arm, then the other, and guide them into what felt like a thick latex sheath that compressed them together. When he allowed her to take a look at her reflection, she saw she was actually wearing some kinky version of an elbow-length opera glove.

‘You look so good in bondage,’ he told her, ‘but I thought we’d try something more elegant for evening wear. Now, let’s go. Dinner will be served shortly.’

She tottered out of the room after Jason, gradually becoming used to the feeling of walking in the stripper shoes. The thickness of the platforms helped to offset the height of the heels, and she began to understand how someone might be able to negotiate a dance routine around a pole in these things, though it wasn’t anything she envisaged herself doing any time soon – unless it was to please her master, of course.

In the room that doubled as dining space and ballroom, one of the house girls showed them to their table. They were seated with Adele’s husband, whose name Jessica learnt was Malcolm, and another of the single male guests, a gaunt, shaven-headed individual in a startling neon blue jacket who introduced himself only as Cyrus.

‘He’s a conceptual artist, whatever that might be,’ Jason whispered in her ear once they’d sat down. ‘All I know is he’s famous enough not to need a surname, and rich enough to be able to spend his playtime here.’

Both men exchanged pleasantries with Jason while they waited for their host to arrive. Though they didn’t openly acknowledge Jessica, the way their gazes studied her body, lingering on her breasts where they were visible beneath the sheer chiffon, made it clear they were all too aware of her presence. She felt all the men at the table, even the elderly and frail-looking Malcolm, would love to strip the dress from her and take a closer look at her charms. She looked round in search of Max, and saw him on a neighbouring table, sitting between Simone and the German pretty boy whose name still eluded her.

At that moment, Damon Barada joined them, taking the unoccupied seat next to Jessica. ‘Gentlemen, good evening,’ he said genially. ‘And thank you, Jason, for bringing your very lovely slave girl for our amusement.’

Damon ran a hand down Jessica’s cheek, and his grizzled face split in a grin. When his fingers moved lower, brushing over her shoulder blade, she began to suspect she might be his entertainment for the evening.

His arrival seemed to be the cue for dinner to be served. Half-dressed girls moved between the tables, bringing plates containing the starter course. Jessica found a plate of asparagus, dripping with butter, being placed in front of her. She stared at it in despair; with her hands bound in the glove, she couldn’t pick up her cutlery. Surely her master didn’t expect her to bend and put her face to the plate, as she did with her breakfast every morning. She couldn’t cope with the humiliation, not with an audience and dressed in her finery.

‘Allow me,’ Damon said. He prodded an asparagus spear with his fork, and put it to her mouth. Instinctively, she seemed to know he wanted her to make a show of eating it, so she licked the butter from its length as sensuously as she could before biting into it. It tasted good, but she had to wait until Damon had cleared his plate before he let her have another piece.