Slave Girl (10 page)

He gazed at her now, a small smile on his face, his eyebrow cocked slightly as he surveyed her. He didn't speak, or offer his hand. Instead he turned to Barry and said, “On the furniture, I see?” Barry looked confused and then abashed.

"Kneel on the floor, slave,” Barry barked, his face flushed. He had forgotten one of Paul's cardinal rules—no slaves on the furniture without express permission. While it was in their contract that Jill shouldn't sit on furniture in his presence, he had never enforced this particular rule, and Jill had forgotten all about it. But Paul hadn't. He had helped Barry compose that contract, and he was well aware of what it contained.

Barry tried to explain, “Well, you see, we don't always do everything in the contract."

Paul smiled and cut him off, “You don't need to explain anything to me, Barry. She's yours, not mine. You do as you like, of course.” Barry nodded, but his face was still flushed a dull red, and Jill could see he felt humiliated. Her dislike for this man intensified, but she knelt obediently on the soft rug by the sofa, hands clasped in front of her.

"May I examine her?” Paul said softly. His voice wasn't deep, but it carried a certain command. It had a pleasing timbre and Jill had to grudgingly admit to herself that he was attractive, despite her intentions to find him repulsive.

"Stand up, Jill,” Barry said, his voice lifting with pride. He grinned, very obviously proud to be showing off his girl. Jill stood, suddenly feeling embarrassed and exposed. While she normally didn't feel at all shy in front of men, she wasn't used to someone like Paul, someone so clearly in control, and not easily impressed.

He came close to her, leaning in to smell her hair, to touch her ear. His finger trailed down her neck and she shivered slightly, then caught herself and raised her chin in an unconscious defiance. Paul noticed, but didn't react. He ran his hands down her sides, like he was feeling a race dog or a horse, checking the flanks. He pinched her calves and upper arms, and she was waiting for him to inspect her teeth! It didn't feel sexy, this examination, it felt debasing.

Barry was watching Paul, his neutral smile belied by the glittering, intense expression in his eyes. Jill had her eyes on the floor, and her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were pressed together, forcing the air through her nostrils as she tried to control and slow her breathing.

Paul leaned aside a moment and murmured something to Barry, who nodded his assent. Jill strained to hear what they were saying, but she could not. Paul stepped behind her and with a kick to one ankle he sent her legs flying apart. Jill stumbled on her high heels and gasped in surprise. Barry steadied her shoulder and looked at her warningly. Stunned, she tried to regain her balance and her composure. Paul ignored all this. Instead, he calmly reached between her legs, and ordered, “Keep your legs spread. Stay still.” She felt his hard fingers against her thighs. He pinched her, sharply, and she jerked away, crying out. Again Barry's warning look.

Jill bit her lip and tried to steady herself on her heels. Her heart was pounding now and she felt confused. His fingers brushed her pussy and she felt a sudden sexual jolt. His fingers feathered against her, like liquid fire against her clit. She responded, against her will, to his masterful touch. Barry's hands were on her shoulders now, holding her as Paul touched her, standing behind her, hands under her dress.

After several moments of caressing and teasing her pussy, Paul pushed a finger into her slit and she sighed involuntarily. Paul finger fucked her for several moments, and then withdrew his finger and feather-teased her clit again until Jill felt like she would fall down from the pleasure of it. She was breathing hard, and would have fallen if Barry hadn't been in front of her, holding her still, his face intense and inscrutable as another man touched his wife in this most intimate of ways.

Jill felt her impending orgasm, and she wanted it, desperately. She forgot about who was touching her, or that she had planned to scorn him by leaving him aroused and unsatisfied. All she wanted was to come. Her hips were rotating as she strained to reach his teasing and withdrawing fingers. She was on fire with lust. Paul laughed suddenly, but it was a hollow sound, amusement without pleasure.

"She's nothing but a cunt right now,” Paul said, suddenly standing back from her.

His words cut into her consciousness and her eyes flew open. She saw Barry staring at her, his face flushed, and she felt his hands, clutching her shoulders, hurting her with their grip. She was confused, and suddenly terribly self-conscious. She struggled to stand up straight, to close her legs. She wanted to run away from them both, to hide.

"Make the slut kneel down,” Paul instructed, and Barry, still gripping her shoulders, pressed her to the ground. Jill sank down, hiding her head, feeling confused and humiliated. They spoke over her head. “She's lovely, Barry. Absolutely stunning.” From below them, Jill felt slightly mollified. “But no control. A slut. She was going to come, Barry, right there. You saw it. She was going to come without your permission all over my hand.” Jill's face was burning and she felt a cold rage start to rise up in her. All thoughts of orgasm were erased as she silently fumed, kneeling on the ground between them.

Barry protested, “But I love that, Paul! I love that she is so easily aroused, so sexual and passionate."

"Yes,” said Paul dryly. “I keep forgetting; she's your wife. Your lover. I prefer slaves, as you know. Much simpler that way. No muddy waters. She submits, I use. Period. My slave lives totally to serve me. I am completely uninterested in her sexual pleasure, except when I feel like exerting my control by making her come on command. But I must remember you care about this slut's pleasure. We are different in that regard. If you give her to me, I will teach her about submission, I can promise you that."

Give her to me? Jill's ears were ringing. She couldn't have heard him correctly. Barry would
never
give her to him! Then she remembered the contract. The wording about giving her to other masters! And she had signed it, feeling excited at the time about having another lover. But not this man! Not this cold strange man.

"Jill. Get up; let's have coffee.” Barry was speaking, and she struggled to concentrate, to stop the swirl of confusing thoughts screaming in her brain. She stood, determined to regain some composure, some measure of respect. She walked gracefully to the kitchen and the men followed. They allowed her to serve them, pouring and preparing their coffee and slicing them each a serving of her cheesecake topped with fresh blueberries.

"You may sit,” Barry told her imperiously, as if she didn't always sit with him at the table.

"Delicious,” Paul announced, and Barry smiled, looking pleased. He seemed impossibly invested in pleasing this man, and Jill was hard pressed to contain her irritation. They made small talk for several minutes, and enjoyed their coffee and cake. Then Paul stepped out on their patio to smoke, leaving the two of them alone for a moment.

Jill expected Barry to apologize, to try to explain why Paul behaved as he did, but instead, he smiled happily and said, “I love you, Jill. Isn't Paul great?” He looked so happy, and so pleased with himself. Jill smiled in spite of herself, realizing he would never let this strange man harm her. She relaxed as he put his hand over hers. “He does things differently than we do, but that's because he isn't in love, like we are. But I want him to see how well trained you are, Jill. He doesn't think sex and love can mix with true submission. I want to show him he's wrong. I want to whip you in front of him. I want him to see what my darling can do."

Jill nodded, feeling the sudden catch in her throat. She had thought something like this would happen, but now that he was saying it aloud, she was scared. She wanted to submit for him; to show this haughty bastard that she wasn't ‘just a cunt’ as he had so coarsely dismissed her. She felt her resolve grow, and knew she wouldn't let her Barry down.

"Go, Jill. Go to the playroom and strip to just your garters and panties. Leave on your shoes. Kneel like I taught you and wait for us. Go!” He patted her ass and Jill hurried out to do his bidding. It was hard to believe that her possessive husband was going to show her bare breasts to this stranger. But then, in his mind he was hardly a stranger! More like a mentor, and clearly a man he deeply wanted to impress. Well, she would do her best not to let him down!

She pulled off her pretty dress and draped it carefully over a chair. Kneeling on the soft throw rug, she spread her legs, hands on her thighs, in a position of subservience that offered access to her sex. She felt her own desire throbbing in her pussy, and heard Paul's words again, spoken with derision. “She's nothing but a cunt.” She licked her lips and tried to slow her breathing. She knew in her heart he was right. She was a slut and she lived for her own pleasure. But she could submit, and she wanted to tonight, desperately. She would show the bastard.

The two men came in a few minutes later, and they silently surveyed the beautiful woman kneeling on the floor. They had clearly discussed what was to take place, but they weren't sharing this with Jill. “Get up,” Paul said, as he grabbed her hair, pulling her pretty braid askew.

"May I?” Jill heard him say behind her, and apparently Barry had nodded, because she felt Paul release her barrette, pulling free the braided tresses so that her long dark hair fell down about her shoulders. “I like it down,” he commented, winding a great handful of her hair and then jerking her back roughly, so that she cried out.

They led her to the wall where several hooks had been strategically placed. Quickly the two of them secured one arm to each hook, using her cuffs, so that her arms were raised and spread over her head. Paul moved against her so that her whole body was pressed against the cold wall, breasts mashed. “You start, Barry. Show me what she can take."

It was said cordially, but Jill heard the challenge in it, and she trembled, knowing Barry wanted to impress this man. It was the heavy-tressed whip that smacked against her flesh and Jill breathed an inward sigh of relief. She loved this whip. The thick braids of leather caressed and massaged her, building up pleasure and pain, taking her to some secret place where she gave herself over to its lash. She could take quite a beating with this whip, and of course, Barry knew it.

He began slowly, whipping her ass and thighs, and then moving on to her back and calves, methodically covering her body with the soft but stinging leather lash. Jill felt her breathing slow as she entered that lovely ethereal space where pain and pleasure truly did combine into something almost spiritual. Usually at this point, Barry would drop the whip, release his wife, and make passionate love to her.

But not tonight. Instead, she became dimly aware that the whipping had stopped, but she was still tied to the wall. She realized that her arms were aching, and her feet were tired in the high heels on which she was still balancing. She wanted to be let down, to be adored, but that wasn't happening. Instead, the men were talking and she struggled to listen.

"She takes a good beating; I'm impressed,” Paul was saying. “How about the front. Does she handle a breast beating well? And how about the crop?"

In truth, Barry had only occasionally whipped her from the front, and then just briefly. Her nipples were extremely sensitive, and while he liked to bite and nibble them, he rarely whipped them. But tonight he was on show, and he wasn't going to admit any weakness. “She'll take whatever I give her.” They undid her arms and turned her around, forcing her arms back up again, and re-securing her quickly.

Jill wanted to lie down. She was hot and felt her underarms prickle with sweat. She was tired and her back and ass were on fire. Usually this fire was quelled by their soft sheets and Barry's sweet kisses. But tonight she was tied against the wall, her bare breasts promised a beating. She thought of begging Barry to let her down, but then she saw Paul's cool appraising look. He was waiting for her to protest, to prove that she wasn't a ‘real slave.’ Well, fuck him! She bit her lips and stared back at him, again tilting her chin slightly in defiance. Barry was oblivious of this secret battle of wills as he went to fetch his riding crop.

"Wait,” said Paul, “Let's make her nipples more sensitive."

"Oh, they're very sensitive already,” Barry began, but Paul wasn't listening. He was removing something from his pocket, which he showed to Barry.

"Oh, is that them? Cool,” Barry said, leaning over the little chain Paul held in his hand.

"Do you know what these are, slut?” Paul asked Jill.

She looked at what he was holding, and her eyes widened. They were nipple clamps, and she had seen them online at a site a chat room girlfriend had directed her to, but she had never seen them in real life. In his palm lay a long silver chain, with an alligator clip at either end, and a little screw on each to adjust the tension. The clips were covered in black soft plastic.

Jill felt her nipples stiffen to attention, but she also felt nervous. Barry was right that her nipples were extremely sensitive. Suddenly Paul slapped her face and Jill jerked back, shocked. “Answer a direct question."

"Nipple clamps,” she gasped, unable to touch her hot cheek. She looked toward Barry for support, but his face was hard, eyes bright.

"That's right. Have you ever experienced them?"

"No,” she whispered.

"Call me sir when you speak directly to me,” he said quietly.

"No, sir,” she amended.

"Well, it's your lucky night,” Paul said as he opened one of the clamps and pulled her nipple out to secure it. As the clip clamped down onto her tender bud, Jill yelped.

"Hurts, doesn't it?” Paul's expression was alight with sadistic pleasure.

Jill nodded, biting her bottom lip, trying to stay quiet. She couldn't help the sharp intake of breath as she watched him open the other clip and release the spring so it clamped down on her second nipple.

"I make them tight,” Paul explained, turning to Barry, who had leaned in to examine her nipples. They were mashed, red between the silver and black, the chain swinging between them. “If you make them too loose, they come off easily, and it's annoying. This hurts a bit more, of course.” He stopped speaking and they both looked at Jill, whose eyes were screwed closed as she tried to absorb the pain of the unfamiliar metal teeth on her delicate nipples.