Pam-Ann (29 page)

“I thought you were different,”
he said. “I liked your courage and I thought you had begun to trust
me.” He flinched as if she had slapped him. “And I trusted you. You
told me you’re from a different world and I believed you. What am I
supposed to believe now? That you want to spend your life serving
passengers in any way they decide they want you? Maybe you want to
go back to Persephone. Is that it? Has she turned you into one of
her Sapphics?”

“No! Please, I didn’t mean…. You
took me by surprise. Really I….” Pam faltered into silence. She had
a pain in her chest like the one she had felt the day she had
walked into her apartment and found Rick with her best friend.
Images filled her mind, not of Rick but of Rafael. She would tell
him the truth.
She was pleased that he wanted her.
Because she wanted him too!
But that was madness. That was
the Venus Dust. She opened her mouth but no words came.

“Be silent,” he
warned
, his voice a menacing growl, and she closed it
again. “That way you looked at me. The way you responded when we….”
He shook his head and his smile was a bitter twisting of his lips
as he reached into the corner behind his desk.

“Oh, Lord, no!”

“I really thought you’d be
pleased,” he said, as if she had not spoken, “or at least grateful.
I was even fool enough to think it might be what you wanted. I
guess I deserve it for letting you get to me.” He laid the hazel
rod aside and began removing his frock coat. “Get your ass over the
desk.”

“Please, you don’t understand,”
Pam said, staring horrified at the hard, inflexible wood.

“You’ve told me that before. It
may have been true then but I understand perfectly now. You forget
that it’s not a slave girl’s place to refuse. I’m going to remind
you why.” Tossing his coat aside he smacked his left hand onto the
raw welts on her breasts.

“Ow! Ooh!” She clutched her tits
and immediately regretted it as her pain increased.

“Desk,” he barked.

With a despairing sob she bent
and his hand on her back pushed her further, flattening her flogged
breasts to its unyielding surface.

“Grip the edge, and don’t let it
go unless I say so.”

Heart racing, Pam curled her
fingers over the wood. The weals the caning at the hotel had carved
into her buttocks had barely faded and still ached. She winced as
Rafael tapped the length of hazel on her rear cheeks. Their skin
was stretched taut by her bent position. This was going to
hurt.

“Legs closer together. Lift your
ass more.”

“Please,” she said hoarsely, and
a shiver ran through her at the commanding tone in his voice as she
pressed her thighs tightly together. Pam heard the whoosh of
displaced air and the heavy splat of the rod striking flesh. Pain
exploded across her upturned buttocks. A second blow landed while
she was still crying out from the first, its force rocking her body
forwards and heightening the throb of her breasts. Their hurt was
nothing compared to the blaze of her bottom and the wicked torment
that flared deeper in their already bruised muscles. Pam tightened
her grip, fighting the need to leap up and run from the hazel’s
savage bite. God alone knew what Rafael would do if she disobeyed
his order. His fury was greater than when he had caned Persephone.
Why did it matter so much to him?

The thought ended with another
fierce crack and the rod sinking hard and deep into her yielding
flesh, stinging and thudding and vibrating through her innards. Pam
had seen enough punishments to picture her buttocks indenting under
the stiff wood and the sudden blossoming of scarlet on their pale
skin as they bounced back to receive another stroke. Her sex
tickled. Her tense, tight belly fluttered madly. More torment
scorched her rear cheeks. More vibrations from the impacts sent
tremors teasing through her unruly pussy. Pam remembered Rafael
when he had flogged Persephone, his teeth unconsciously bared in
snarling satisfaction, hard muscles rippling with each blow he had
meted out while his rigid cock reared arrogant and unashamed before
his belly.

Pam’s buttocks flamed again. She
cried her pain and dew bathed her sex. What was she doing betraying
herself? Rafael was just like Rick – selfish, unfeeling,
uncompromising and cruel. The rod seared her and she squirmed and
clung to the edge of the desk. Her knuckles were white. He was the
man his world had made him. He would never be anything else,
could
never be anything else. Her breasts ached and her
buttocks burned and stung and throbbed. And her pussy rippled
wildly.

The hard, resilient wood smacked
down again and in growing panic Pam heard a note of pleasure in her
pained cry. The rod’s bite was agony. But it was nice agony. Desire
as well as fear filled Pam’s belly, passion as well as pain clouded
her mind. The vicious strokes, and even more her awareness of who
was delivering them, were stripping away her civilised veneer, her
long-nurtured self-control; all care for dignity and pride. Soon
nothing would remain but her overwhelming arousal and the primeval
need for its fulfilment. How may blows had she taken – fifteen,
twenty? How many more could she take? She recoiled from the answer
– as many as Rafael chose to give her as long as his marvellous
cock filled her when it was done.

“No!” Pam let go her hold,
dodged the downswing of the rod and dashed to the far side of the
desk. “No, I won’t let you treat me this way. I’m not going to be
flogged and fucked whenever it suits you.”

Rafael let the rod fall and shot
out a long arm. The fire in her bottom flared as he dragged her
close. “Yes you are, slave,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll
buy you whether you want it or not. And I’ll flog and fuck you
every day if it pleases me. I want you for my own and nothing’s
going to stop me having you.” He unbuttoned his trousers.

Pam could not break the iron
grip around her waist. She fought as he exposed his thick shaft and
her sex defied her and quivered with a fierce urgency. “No, you
bastard! I won’t be used like an object.”

He wrestled her backwards until
the backs of her thighs met the desk. “You’ll be used any way I
say. You’ll not deny me what you gave Persephone and that damned
Count.”

“But you didn’t give me a
choice.”

“And I’m not giving you one now,
either.” Rafael pushed her down with her back to the desk and held
her there with a hand on her belly. Pam wriggled and kicked.
Dodging her flailing feet he stepped between her legs and more by
accident than design his hard cock plunged into her dew-soaked
sheath.

Pain and pleasure blossomed and
became one. He was not like Rick. He was far, far better. Pam
writhed in a tremendous orgasm. Rafael lifted her thighs, wrapping
a forearm around each and thrusting hard into her spasming pussy.
His belly slapping her savaged buttocks, every impact of his groin
on her bruised labia and back and forth motion of her red-striped
breasts were sheer torture. Yet his shaft set her
sex
rippling
madly
, quickening
its contractions until it convulsed once more in a stunning climax.
Another followed almost at once and then another until her mind was
a whirl of impossible delight that stole her breath away and very
nearly her senses too. She was drowning in pleasure and pain,
torment and passion, the sensations mingling and joining into
indescribable and overpowering ecstasy. And then Rafael came.

His wild, breathtaking thrusts
drove Pam to such heights that her melting body and reeling brain
could take no more. Consciousness slipped away, yet she was still
climaxing when her vision cleared and she found herself looking
into his face inches above hers. His rasping breath was hot on her
cheeks and his hips were jerking in the final paroxysms of his
climax. He did not kiss her or whisper tender words. Every nerve
shrieked as he pulled Pam off the desk. She sank onto knees too
weak to hold her upright. Rafael pointed his half-hard cock at her
lips. It shone with Pam’s spilled juices and his come.

“Clean it,” he said, breathing
hard.

Trembling with reaction, her
pussy shimmering in the aftermath of orgasm, Pam licked the come
and her own ripeness from Rafael’s shaft. The effect was immediate
and dramatic. The flesh began to swell. Pam felt an irresistible
urge to take it into her mouth, to feel and taste its power,
demanding, dominating. Her belly shrank and she cringed inwardly as
she bobbed her head and revelled in the broad cock sliding between
her lips. What had happened to the self-reliant, independent young
woman she thought she had made of herself in the years since Rick?
What was it about Rafael Drake that made her want to please him in
every way imaginable and at the same time take such pleasure from
doing it?

It was the Venus Dust. How could
she have forgotten the awful, insidious drug with which Persephone
seemed to have been constantly plying her? That was what had stolen
away all logic and sense, all modesty, restraint and shame. The
knowledge made no difference. With trembling contractions still
running the length of her sheath Pam sucked Rafael’s cock eagerly.
In far less time than she had imagined possible he gave a long,
groaning sigh and a sudden lunge of his hips. Warm, salty fluid
surged into her mouth. She let it pool at the back of her throat
and continued drawing on his hard, twitching baton,
revelling
in its strength and potency. A glow of
immense satisfaction filled her, even more intense than the throb
and scorch of her ravaged body. Pam curled her fingers round the
source of her pleasure, working them to urge the last drops of
semen into a shiny pearl at its tip. Pursing her lips around it she
drew the sticky fluid onto her tongue, savouring the flavour of
Rafael’s strength, the essence of his manhood. With a shiver of
delight she tilted her head back and swallowed.

Pam’s heart swelled with
emotion, as if he had not just flogged her mercilessly and the
pain, and the pleasure too, would not be scorching and flaring for
hours to come. Her eyes filled with tears. The feelings were a
sham. Her happiness faded and with it her passion. They were not
real, only the creation of the chemicals pulsing through her
bloodstream. She looked up and her pain was more than physical.
Rafael had finished buttoning his trousers and was putting on his
coat. His aloof, impersonal expression was on his face and a
distant look in his eyes as he met her gaze. His lips twisted, more
a grimace than a smile.
He reached one hand
towards her, then let it fall
to his side.

“You were satisfactory,” he
said. “What’s the name of that big-titted girl you’re always
hanging around with?”

Her belly shrank and her heart
with it. “Daisy,” she said hoarsely.

Rafael seemed to look right
through her. “Maybe I’ll try her next time.” He nodded towards the
door. “Back to the slave quarters.” He let her struggle unaided to
her feet. She took a painful step. “One more thing. You call me
‘Sir’. Forget again and I’ll punish you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Pam said.

* * * * *

“If you weren’t wriggling so
much I’d be finished by now and you wouldn’t have anything to
wriggle about,” Daisy said, smoothing ointment on Pam’s throbbing
backside.

“That’s easy for you to say,”
Pam said through gritted teeth, but the numbing effect of
Persephone’s salve was far greater than that of the Company’s and
already making a difference to savaged skin and stiff muscles.

“At least you didn’t have to put
up with the Count again, like I did,” one of the girls clustered
around Pam’s bunk said. “Talk about weird. After
the dildo and pussy clamps
and what those girls did to
my ass I’ll never be the same again.”

“It’s not like it’s your first
caning,” another said. “And we’ve all been there.”

“Yeah, but not with Lieutenant
Drake,” a third added. Silence followed. All of the girls had been
surprised when Pam had limped into the slave quarters the previous
afternoon. None of them had ever felt more than a few taps of the
rod from Drake’s hand. They seemed reluctant to believe he was
capable of more. Pam knew better.

Daisy had generously refused to
use any of the special salve on her own whipped breasts and instead
applied it liberally to the American girl’s hindquarters and aching
pussy-lips and, when their hurt had eased, to her wickedly buzzing
breasts. Even so, she had spent a long, uncomfortable night and an
equally restless and disturbing day lying on her thin mattress with
the slave routine going on around her, feeling despondent and
painfully alone.

Not only her welts and bruises
troubled her. Her inner pain was beyond the reach
of any medication
, an ache of regret contracting like a
steel band around her heart. She had hurt Rafael, not physically as
he had her, but in the same way that she had been hurt herself – by
rejection and betrayal. Rick had cheated on her with girls she had
thought were friends, had lied, deceived her and never cared. The
heartache he had caused had changed her, isolated her, shut her off
from feeling, from hope and love. Pam was not fool enough to
misunderstand what Rafael had been saying. She had told herself a
hundred times that none of her own feelings were real. She could
not possibly want to submit to Rafael Drake, give herself willingly
as his slave, forever in his power and under his control. She could
not possibly want to sacrifice the independence she had worked so
hard to secure in her own world and remain in this one as a
chattel, a thing not a person, and owned by someone else. She could
not possibly have fallen in love with Rafael Drake.

“Your bum’s finished,” Daisy
said. “Want me to do your tits?”

Pam blinked and gave a shudder.
“It’s not worth the discomfort,” she said, and the girl began
smoothing the salve left on her hand onto her own reddened
breasts
.