Becky Learns Her Lesson ? Part V Of Taken.

Josh eases me from his shoulder in the Room of Correction, positions me and removes my hood. I become his girl-as-falcon, wonder if I am about to be set free to hunt. What a sight Becky as captive makes. A collar of studied leather around her neck, a chain to fasten it to the wall. Even though her hands are bound together at the wrists in front of her, she can still hold a book up to her face and read. I can make out its gilt title: Homer's Iliad, a sumptuously bound Folio edition. It is a heavy volume, and she must tire holding it for any length of time. But at her side stands a thigh-high pedestal on which she can place the tome ? which she had done when Josh and I first entered the room. I sense her anger, her resentment, her pride curtailed. She must feel so humiliated to have me viewing her in such a state, the perfect Becky, Josh's princess, his Darling Girl, naked and restrained. She must be sick to the core. Do I feel pity for her? Some. But for the most part, it thrills me to see her smugness erased. Her beauty has no meaning in this place. She glares at us both, sends a poison dart of hatred at me alone. If she were not bound in chains, she would be a wildcat, her nails at my eyes. Josh goes to the rack and chooses a riding crop, returns with it and stands by my side. He puts his arm around me and speaks to me all fatherly. My arse aches from the fucking he has just given me. "Just look at her, will you, Darling Creature: how pathetic she has become. Let this be a lesson to you. Understand now what happens when selfishness gets the better of a person. I had such hopes for this one. She worked so hard to become my Darling Girl. Just look at her now! Back to where she started many months ago, reduced to being a mere slave." Becky, her voice almost a whisper, "Oh, please, Dominus, I am so very, very sorry." Is this a set-up? It has to be. "Words are not enough," he tells her. "You need to make amends, earn my forgiveness." He reaches out with his riding crop and briskly taps each of her nipples in turn. How quickly they stiffen. She winces at the kiss of leather, twists to evade each measure clip. He walks around her, striking her playfully as he circles: backside, flanks, the tops of her thighs * front and rear, her calves. She gives a resentful, "Ouch," at each whack. "A good thrashing for this one ? don't you think?" Is he talking to Becky or me? Oh, it's me. He's asking me. "Yes, Dominus," I say. And, without thinking, ad-libbing now: "She deserves punishment for being so gorgeous, so rich, so cared for by her Dominus..." You're pushing it, Cass, "... and for her being incapable of appreciating any of it. She makes me sick!" I hold her gaze, want to squat and piss on her face for the way her eyes remain unfazed by my part in this charade. Josh considers before saying, "Yes, You're right. It's always the gorgeous ones who cause problems. They forget themselves, become bumptious, all puffed up with vanity and pride, plotting, thinking their looks is enough will win me over. But see where it gets them?" He thwacks Becky's backside three times. The sound of leather on flesh makes me shudder almanbahis ? the sweetest memory of pleasure sprung from hurt. Visceral memories of last night replay, each blow recalled and savoured. But still, as Becky cries out her resentment, I wince to the sound of leather on flesh. "Too much noise," he says, almost as if the sounds are an actual problem, could unsettle him in some weird way. He comes to me and takes my arm, positions me so that I am facing Becky. I am barefooted, and she has on her heels. She towers over me. "Stand just there," he tells me, adjusting me. He fetches a footstool, asks me to step aside and then places it in front of Becky. "Up you go," he says, holding my arm as I step onto the stool. My arms cuffed behind my back lead me to fear I would not maintain my balance. Balancing on the stool, I stand eye to eye with Becky as she looks into my eyes. Her glare is almost feral. There is no sign of the affection we shared the other night, only resentment. Perhaps something close to hatred. Her hands, bound and bunched between us, are pressed against me, knuckles hard into my pubic bone. "Now, Darling Creature, kiss the slave. Put your mouth over hers and let your tongue explore. I want to see a hard seal. I want to hear your tongue make her gag. And If I don't see her responding appropriately, I will thrash you too." He grabs my hair, turns me to face him, "Do you understand?" "Yes, Dominus." "Then what are you waiting for!" I lean toward Becky, too alert of my precarious place on the stool as I place my mouth over Becky's sticky, scarlet moue. I commence a sweep and search mission with my tongue. Our tongues tangle just as the first blow strikes her rump, putting a damper on our tongue-play just begun. She tenses, her entire body cast rigid in the scintilla of a second. I feel the blow's power, expressed in the twist in her kiss, the exhaling of her shock, her pain. My mouth soundproofs hers, muzzles the deep groan that reverberates from her core, echoing among her ribs. I feel it in my belly as it presses against hers. I absorb her resentment, channel the arousal that Josh's blows elicit in her. But best of all, I vicariously share in her bliss, wish it were my own. We kiss and kiss through her suffering and joy, each blow stoking up our mingling excitement. Beneath her pain, pleasure accumulates like magma. Now it is she who dominates me with her lips and tongue, kisses me ferociously. My hands remain bound behind me, and it drives me half-insane that I cannot run my palms across her newly familiar flesh. Josh pauses from thrashing her, and she slumps against me; I try to resist her weight. Then Josh frees her from her collar, stands her by my side. Then he takes my elbow and tells me to step down from the stool. "Now, Darling Creature, listen carefully: I have freed your hands because they have an essential role to perform now. If you do this right, I will know what a good little creature you are. But I am looking at Becky, see she resents how Josh favours me. "Are you listening, slut?" He bawls at me. "Yes, Dominus." "Good." "You will pinch her nipples as I beat her. Do almanbahis yeni giriş you think you can do this for me, Creature?" "Yes, Dominus." My mind is in confusion. I have no idea how hard he wants me to pinch her. When he has released my hands, I rub my wrists, reach out and fill my palms with Becky's large breasts. Before we kiss, I look into her eyes hoping for recognition, some assurance that she remembers that this is merely another chapter in their game. But there is nothing apart from the wait until playtime promise of her glare. And I clamp my mouth over hers again, try to blot out the enormity and malice of her gorgeous eyes. I feel her tensing as my tongue worms between the tacky scarlet of her lips, The crack of leather on her rump sends her rigid in an instant. A part of me envies her, longs to experience the thrill of punishment. The bitter-sweetness of her suffering reveals itself in the wantonness of her kiss. I sense something extraordinary growing within her, intensifying with each thwack! I pinch her nipples rhythmically, in time to his blows, and she hums her appreciation into my mouth as we kiss and kiss, moans that grow louder and louder as my thumb and fore-finger snap shut harder and harder. I imagine how sore her nipples will be later, the truth of her suffering there in the choked cries that clamour for expression into my mouth. I feel a guilty joyousness to be part-cause of her ordeal. I love having her naked here next to me, my hips pressing into her as I pinch her nipples and gag her with my tongue. Only seconds and Josh comes to me, takes me from her and leads me over to a black leather spanking horse that stands at the opposite end of the room, away from where the St. Andrews Cross stands in its patient glory. "Lie on here, Creature ? * no, on your belly." He secures me to the contraption, my legs and arms, with leather straps. The surface is cold against my cheek as I turn my head to the side and rest it there, inhaling the familiar shoe-store aroma of tanned hide. He tugs my arms hard, wrenches them straight and secures them with manacles to the frame. Longer fastenings for my legs. The cool of night inundates the exposed tissue of my cunt, the knit of my anus, Though my pubes and belly soon warm and perspire on the lulling leather. "You enjoyed Darling Creature's attention too much," he says to Becky as he brings her over to where I lie belly down, spread out on the spanking horse. "It is time to serve up a different dish. Now on your knees, Creature." I try to turn my head to see the two of them over my shoulder, can just make out Becky going down on her knees directly in front of my splayed haunches. I imagine the sight she sees between my spread legs. "You love pussy, don't you, slave?" Josh says to Becky. "Yes, Dominus." "With more enthusiasm, if you please. Say it louder. Say, 'I love pussy.'" "I love pussy," she says with forced enthusiasm. "But what about butt-hole;* have you ever tasted girl-butt before?" "No, Dominus. Never," she says. And I think, Oh, you lying little bitch. "Come now, you've never wondered what it might taste like?" "No Dominus, almanbahis giriş never." "Not even the tiniest bit curious?" "No, Dominus." He grabs her hair and pushes her closer. "Look at your girlfriend's butt, how smooth and round it is. See how wide it has split so you can see her cute little pucker." Then his exasperation with her: "*For fuck's sake, slave, open your fucking eyes, will you! Open them now!" He stoops down at her side to make sure she is looking at me, runs the crop over my buttocks and then down the crack of my arse. "Doesn't it look good enough to eat?" She does not answer. "I asked you a question, slave. Doesn't her butt look good enough to eat?" He tugs on her hair hard. "Yes, Dominus." "Say it properly." "... looks good enough to eat." "What looks good enough to eat!" "Her butt," her voice is barely audible now. "Well, eat it then. And when you do, I want to hear how much you are enjoying it." He pushes her face into the crevice of my arse and shakes her head when embedded there, forcing her nose deeper still. He retains control of her head with cradling hands around the top of her skull, grinding her face into me as he calls out, "Eat her, eat the bitch, eat her all up, now!" And then her tongue is on my anus and I feel it burrowing, flickering to a slather. I want to touch my clit as she gobbles me, please myself in time to her tongue's gyrations. But my hands are fixed to the frame. Such pleasure without fulfilment is worse than the meanest of beating. And as she laps at me, she moans her appreciation, leaving him no doubt. "Good, good. Way-to-go-slave," he says, and again pushes her into me, firmly holds her in place. He pulls her from me, and I hear her desperate gasps for air. "Have you learned anything tonight, slave," he demands of her. "Yes, Dominus." The promise of forgiveness. "Tell me then?" She is quite contrite when she says, "I have learned that I am not to be selfish with our guest ? in our home or special place." "And perhaps acquired new taste?" he adds. "Yes, Dominus." "And what is that, slave?" "I love to lick . . ." "Say it!" "I... I love to taste girl-butt." As she says it, I see what an actress necessity makes her. "You have redeemed yourself. I see now that you deserve to be my Darling Girl." And I think, what about Cassie? All I want now is to be filled by Josh's cock again. But all they do is unfasten my binding and lead me back to the house where we sip wine together at the breakfast bar like three friends back from a party. In bed, I masturbate. But it is not enough. A night unsettled, tossing and turning. When I awake the next day, I realise it is Tuesday. Thank God for the August bank holiday. I'd forgotten I have to work. I consider phoning in sick and laying it on thick. But I need to get stuff sorted. In the early morning summer brightness of a weekday morning, the phantasmagoria of my temporary abduction is a story belonging to another Cassie, not the office dogsbody who should be back at work in an hour. Is it only three days since I washed up on Becky and Josh's shore? And in all that time spent in their home, I have barely unpacked. I have to get my work blouse and skirt from my suitcase. I wonder how I will function at work. And what about later; is it such a good idea to return here tonight> Perhaps I should go home and try to put things right with Ian?