Pam-Ann (15 page)

Daisy’s shrill cry broke the
reverie. The girl writhed, jerking in her captors’ hands. Christine
had swapped the cane for the tapering, braided leather whip. She
did not reduce the severity of her strokes as she laid ten across
the shrieking slave girl’s quivering buttocks. They were a horrid
latticework of welts and ridges by the time the overseer was
finished, and to Pam’s horror the vivid red lines criss-crossing
the purple bruising were beaded with droplets of blood. Her gut
twisted. Her turn had come.

Pam was gripped in the same way
as Daisy, who now sobbed wretchedly on the floor, and the two slave
girl’s held her with her cheek to the mattress and her bottom
turned up for the wicked blows of the cane and whip. And they were
wicked. They scorched her tender rear cheeks with the same
ferocious pain that still burned and throbbed in her thighs, and
added to the torment of the half-healed weals left by the flogging
she had received barely three days earlier. Much sooner than Daisy
had, she writhed and squirmed under each brutal blow, cried out at
the cane and then the whip carving and searing into her helpless
buttocks, wept and longed for it to end. When it finally did, Pam
took long seconds to realise her ordeal was over. By that time she
was back on the floor, trembling on all fours with fiery heat
radiating from her flaring flesh. There had been no passion, no
pleasure, no love.

Christine dropped the whip and
turned towards the door.

“Where are you going?”
Persephone demanded.

“To report myself to the First
Officer, Mistress.”

“You’re not free yet. Come here
and kiss my pussy.”

The older woman sank to her
knees and pressed her lips to the blonde’s dew-bathed slit.
Persephone laughed.

“Two more days to New York. On
the third you’ll be free.” She drew Christine to her feet. “Go on.
I’ll be there to see you flogged, darling. I promise you that
too.”

Christine retrieved her little
cane and loincloth, and left without bothering to fasten the
garment in place.

“Would you like to have Ann,
Eve?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the bodyguard said
enthusiastically.

“Take her then. Pussy and I are
going to have some fun. On your back on the bed, girl. I want to
sit on your face.”

Daisy had barely struggled to
her feet when Eve’s strong arm wrapped around Pam and carried her
to a small room off the main cabin. It held nothing but a bed and a
small cabinet. Eve released her and almost tore the buttons off her
blouse in her urgency.

“I’ll try to be gentle, lover,
but I’ve got to have you and this is the only chance I’ll get.”

She did try, drawing Pam
facedown onto her hard-muscled body to spare her ravaged bottom
while her lips explored the American girl’s before straying to her
stiff nipples. But inevitably, as her passion grew her explorations
became more painful.

Nevertheless, with her mind
whirling from the Venus Dust, Pam’s body responded to Eve’s
tantalising caresses in ways she would not have believed only days
previously. Her pleasure changed the nature of her pain. The awful
throbbing of thighs and buttocks did not diminish, but it was no
longer simply torment. It was stimulating too, heightening her
excitement and the wriggling thrills running through her pussy as
Eve’s fingertips chafed deliciously on the pleasure spot within.
Only Rick had ever before made her feel the terrible, wonderful,
heart-stopping rush of delight that abruptly surged inside her. It
drove her surprise from her mind and everything else too, except
the joy of her release suddenly exploding in spasming,
pussy-wrenching intensity.

Afterwards, Pam lay belly-down
astride a breathless Eve, breasts crushed to the big, fair-haired
girl’s by the powerful arm encircling her shoulders. What the hell
was that Venus Dust that it could overcome her aversion to her own
sex, her will and all common sense, and drive her to such an
extremity of passion? The question came and went in her spinning
head while quivering aftershocks still wriggled through her sheath.
She hurt too much to sleep but was too worn out to think. She
snuggled against Eve’s warm, damply perspiring body and drifted.
The arm around her felt possessive, yet comforting too, a
reassurance that not everyone was cruel and merciless in this
weird, alien distortion of reality.

Eve’s soft kiss awoke her in the
grey of pre-dawn. Pam’s next shift was due to start at eight that
morning. “One more suck on my clit and you can go, lover.”

Stiff and horribly sore though
she was, Pam could not help feeling
just a little
grateful to the girl as she performed what should have been an
utterly distasteful task.
Eve could have made things much
worse.

The lights in the main cabin
were still on when the girls slipped from Eve’s room. Throaty gasps
and pleasured moans came from the direction of the bed. The two
slaves lay on the floor at its foot, Tania apparently asleep, Milly
quietly masturbating. Persephone crouched on the bed, bottom lifted
high. Behind her knelt Daisy, a grimace on her face as her hips and
savagely striped buttocks swung back and forth to plunge a broad
strap-on repeatedly into the blonde’s rear entrance.

“Harder, darling. I was bad to
you. You should be really bad to me. Oh, I was ever so naughty!
Give it to me hard. Stretch my naughty bum.” Eyes tightly shut,
Persephone continued urging Daisy to greater efforts and thrust
herself backwards to meet the plunging phallus.

Eve led Pam silently to the
door, handed her her loincloth and chucked her under the chin with
a finger that smelled of sex. “Good luck, lover.”

Pam made her slow and painful
way back to the slave quarters. Once again she hurt too much to
wonder at Persephone’s strange behaviour.

* * * * *

“Over the desk,” Drake said, and
Ann’s expression told him she was as anxious about having her pain
relieved as she must have been when it had been inflicted. A
half-hour had not passed since he had ordered Christine confined in
the brig, shackled hand and foot on Commodore Traske’s
instructions.

Drake’s anger surged again when
he thought of what the woman had told him. He waited, letting his
rage subside after Ann draped her body over the desk, and reminding
himself it was not she who had provoked it. He still wanted to hurt
her. Unable to resist, he slid a hand over her red-ridged buttocks
and savoured the thrill that made his cock strain harder against
the front of his pants.

Ann gave a soft cry that became
a whimper and he felt her shudder. The fiery heat on her skin
radiated against his palm. She looked beautiful like that - naked,
flogged, bowed in submission
. He drew back his
hand when she gave no sign of enjoying its touch. Yet he was almost
sure he sensed not only a longing for pain as well as pleasure in
Ann, but also the desire to submit, or perhaps to be forced to
submit. The idea was so intensely arousing it made Drake’s breath
catch in his throat. Maybe Persephone was turning her into one of
her Sapphics, or maybe she was one already, though he seemed to
have little trouble arousing her. Perhaps she was one of those who
liked both sexes. Drake was unconcerned by the idea. While she was
his she would do as he told her. The rest of the time was
unimportant.

Ann had quickly
become a favourite of Persephone’s, although that
could be for any number of reasons. The wealthy
young woman was becoming more unstable with every flight she made,
and she had made an awful lot of them. She was a far cry from the
girl he recalled during the few weeks of their brief affair.
Perhaps the blonde enjoyed tormenting Ann because she liked the
pain or because she did not, or because she willingly submitted or
had to be forced to do it. Drake was inclined to believe the
latter.

Whatever the
reason, Ann
remained resistant, defiant, even proud. Drake
had seen others with the same strength, unwilling or unable to
surrender completely, doing it only because they must but always
holding back the part of themselves that mattered to them most.
They were the ones he could never think of as just another slave
girl. He remembered Alex Riley’s joke about his perfect girl. They
had often discussed what her qualities would be in their off-duty
hours, the measure of her obedience, her sexual skills, her
tolerance to pain, and all the other things he valued and had
enjoyed in greater or lesser measure from the girls he had used.
There was only one thing he had never received from a slave girl,
one thing he never expected to and had never sought.

Ann had blushed when he had
smoothed salve onto the welts on her thighs and had seen her pussy
glistening damply and breathed in the strong odour of her
woman-scent. Drake had no doubt she was blushing once more as he
spread the ointment onto her buttocks. Her belly sank onto the desk
as she began to relax under its soothing effect, and he felt the
tension ease in the firm muscles under his hand. Her sex-lips
parted a little, revealing the pink and shiny slivers of her inner
labia and the tip of her clitoris peeping from its hood. He smiled
to himself. She was better at controlling her resentment than she
was her arousal. The urge to use her there and then became almost
overpowering. Drake cleared his throat and stepped back, removing
the rubber glove he had worn to apply the ointment.

“Get up. Stand straight. This is
a formal enquiry.”

Ann drew herself up, her wince
no doubt a response to the pain deeper within her buttocks, beyond
the reach of the salve. Despite what Drake had said, he leaned
casually back against the edge of his desk and let his gaze flicker
over her out-thrust breasts.

“Okay, what happened?”

She gave a quick, succinct
account, though he guessed she had left out quite a few
details.

“Devious, conniving little…” he
said softly when she had finished, and then saw her wary look.
“It’s okay, I don’t mean you.” He consulted his pocket watch. “You
can go. You won’t get much rest before your next shift.”

“I got some sleep in
Persephone’s cabin,” she said.

“Miss Peake to you. And call me
‘Sir’. Off you go.”

“Yes, Sir.”

As Ann turned he grabbed her
around her waist and pulled her into the circle of his arms. Almost
as surprised by what he was doing as she appeared to be, he closed
his lips over hers. She stiffened and he looked into her wide eyes
instead of closing his own. Her arms hung loosely at her sides as
he moved his mouth on
hers, gently at
first, and then more greedily as he felt her body press closer and
knew her anxiety was ebbing. Her eyelids fluttered and closed. She
shivered and kissed him back. With a glow of triumph he moved his
lips more insistently. Her pussy seemed to shiver too, when he
explored it.
Ann m
ewed softly into his
mouth and slid her arms around him. Drake moved his other hand to
her right breast, fondling, kneading, deliberately reawakening its
discomfort. Her nipple pressed hard against his palm. His tongue
pushed into her mouth and wriggled against hers, and he felt a
savage exultation that Ann was responding to the pain as well as
the pleasure. He ached with the need to fill her, to fling her onto
her back and drive her ravaged backside hard into the floor beneath
her with his weight and his thrusting cock.

Drake pulled free of Ann and
stepped back. Her eyes opened and he stared into them and saw
desire simmering in their depths, and surprise too, and maybe fear.
Fear of him or of something inside herself? The moment ended as he
let her go. She lowered her gaze and turned her head aside.

“Just wanted to know if they
taste as good as they look,” he said. “Go on, back to your
duties.”

Drake sat at his desk after she
had gone and rested his hands on its surface. They were shaking
slightly and his heart was still racing.
How he
had controlled himself he was not sure. Why he had done it, he had
no idea. Curbing his lust had never concerned him before when he
had wanted a girl. But in the past he had always been certain the
girl would enjoy what he put her through. With Ann, though he
thought he had seen some evidence in her behaviour with Persephone,
he was a long way from being certain. After being used to hiring
girls who would give him exactly what he wanted, it was an
unsettling feeling but, surprisingly, not entirely unpleasant. In
fact, Drake found it stimulating to watch Ann for signs of how she
was affected by the things he did. Hell, he could admit
it to himself; he enjoyed it. And there was one
thing about which he
was
certain - there was definitely something different
about this particular girl.

He got to his feet. He had to
see Traske about Christine, though he doubted he could
alter w
hat would happen to her. After all, he was the
one who always went by the book – at least he had until lately. He
thought of Ann again and another idea even more surprising entered
his head. She was not just different. She was special.

* * * * *

Christine was flogged on the
fourth night, the last of the flight, for next morning they would
reach New York. Every passenger was there to see it, along with
many of the crew and even some off-duty slave girls who managed to
sneak into the dimmer corners of the saloon. No one could recall
ever hearing of an overseer being bound to the post before, or of
one so senior throwing away everything with so short a time left
before she could have applied for her freedom. Speculation about
why she had done it was rife, but Drake had warned Pam and Daisy to
tell no one and it was clear neither he nor Persephone had revealed
the reason, not even to the Commodore.