SlavesofMistressDespoiler (7 page)

Another solicitation of his torment was made and his voice encountered trouble in asking for the continuing torment.

“No, you cannot,” she replied firmly, and set aside the strap.

The sigh of relief was meagre because the pain of the many pegs was thumping in his flesh. Lynn shifted back and turned him over. He was bent over the pillow to let her rear hang over his head, the gloss sheet stretched tight across it, impermeable to air and slavering attentions. His belly was slightly elevated and this kept the pegs from being dislodged and let them continue to gather in power. They were well out of his reach because his hands lay pinned to the ground by her shins.

The vision of her pert cheeks loitered for a moment and his reflection was distorted in its dark mirror. His exhales upon the close material created clouds of brief steam that faded in moments. The sheet stretched and rippled with the play of her muscles as she folded her legs back into place and locked his arms to his sides.

Without warning she dropped and access to air was instantly lost. Smothered, he fought his bonds as her weight crushed his face. The skirt was a near impenetrable wall. Scant rasps of air escaped at the sides as she continued her task by lighting the candle and pouring wax onto him. The assault made him sound his suffering into her buttocks.

His nose was painfully squashed into the cleft. The gag was pushed to the back of his throat and his face burned from deprivation because he was made to squander precious oxygen on his squeaks of anguish. Fighting against her, his war grew more fervent as he was subjected to long denial. Desperation caused the wildest paroxysms that could in no way affect his sultry load.

A brief rise let him snatch breath, and as pleas rose with his recovery, she dropped back into position and continued. His legs kicked and flailed wildly as she smothered him with a muttered laugh.

After another long session, she arose again. His face was streaked with sweat, tears, and lines of saliva. The cocktail of fluids also marked an oval collage upon the vinyl sheet.

The Mistress removed herself from his form and left him wheezing on the floor with his face flushed and hot, and his arms aching. He wanted to try to get the pegs off the underside of his legs and rear, but to attempt it would no doubt compound his punishments. So, he was forced into accepting them.

All hope of being spared further indignity was shredded when he heard the familiar snap of latex gloves being drawn onto her slender digits and thereby replace the old set.

The soft sucking pop of the lid coming free of the Vaseline sounded and a scoop was stolen. Opening the crease of his rear, she took hold of the base of the plug and gave a swift tug. Yanking it out, the swiftness of its flight had him buck with a sudden spasm of shock.

In its passing she applied the thick gelatinous sludge. Lynn reached under and eased it into him. Her fingers skipped briefly into his rear to sow the jelly both inside and out as he murmured at the trespass. The fingers retreated and took up a new weapon, and when the tip of one of the large dildos touched him, his thoughts went cold. Vaseline wasn’t good for the toys, but she either didn’t know that or didn’t care.

“Let’s see how you like a nice big cock stuffed into you,” she hissed with clear excitement.

His eyes widened as she again swung a leg over him to straddle his torso. Capturing his listless arms, the gloss fabrics rippled over his vision like clouds of stretched ebony.

Leaning down, Lynn trapped him with her legs and took up the defiling rod. A pitiless shove pressed it to him and the grip on its base manoeuvred it in churning circles. Lynn drilled it into him and forced open his sphincter so she might bury it. He croaked and whimpered with shock while biting to the gag as she made him more amiable to it.

“Come on, slave. Take it! You know you want it!” she chuckled, working the flesh and loosening the opening.

With a final forceful shove, the wide intruder slithered deep. It slid on his tracts, filling him so acutely that he choked with wanton shock. His eyes bulged wide and his vision was filled with the image of her haunting rear.

“There, that’s it,” she purred.

With a steady methodical shuffle, she started to delve into his interior, lethargically diving from root to tip, shoving it the very limit of his tracts as he moaned aloud. The violation was acute and wonderful, a bizarre mixture of pain and pleasure, unclassifiable as either. It tore him between petitioning for more and begging her to cease.

The manipulation of the toy continued and as an added affliction, a peg was grabbed and set free. It caused a burst of pain to fill the pinch and the surrounding tissue.

Lynn reached under his tensed legs and another was removed, and another. Her sodomy of him with the bulbous phallus was being conducted with the simultaneous spikes of woe brought from removed clothespins.

Her legs clutched tightly to him and her rear settled to crush and suffocate as his throes manifested with more strength. The vinyl mounds assisted the gag in hiding his hardship as the steady ravaging rolled on. Trapped beneath her, he was slowly stripped of the baleful apparatus and his tunes of calamity were cast into a muffling rear. His hands strained to soothe the pinches but could not reach up enough. His only free limbs were his legs and they could do nothing to help him.

When her rump peeled its damp vinyl sheath from his fevered countenance, he hauled in air. In place of the terrible bites of the pegs came the spark of a lighter. It was touched to the candle and once more, the molten issue began to gather.

Lynn’s hands had turned from the deeply inserted staff and so he used his muscles to try to force out the interloper. The wide pole emerged with a steady slide, only to be halted in its travels when her gloved hand clapped to the base.

“And where to you think you are sending this?” she questioned, her hold keeping it on the very verge of expulsion.

“Mistress Lynn, please, no more,” he implored through the gag, the words all but insensible.

“Silence slave,” she purred, and was clearly glad to have heard his distress.

Defeating his innards, she crammed the length back in. His sputters of protest were lost when the smoothed hillocks of her rear drifted down to entomb his face.

The horrendous phallus drove into him on pounding drives to simulate rape by some gargantuan manhood. Lynn then dripped wax onto his belly and thighs to slowly coat him with searing kisses.

The renewed struggles to escape seemed even more amusing to her. The rodeo ride he offered was one that revealed just how fiercely he was being scorched by her acts. The dribbles into his inner thighs made the lurching increase to new and rabid levels, the searing drizzle into the already tender and well-punished zone extracting fresh and energetic rejoinders.

She coated his skin with the solidified crust of the candle but eventually she denied herself access with any new tilts of the rod because his skin was all but caked. There were just no more chinks to misuse. Stopping her steering of the dildo, she drew herself up once more to let him grab new breaths. He was utterly defeated by her viciousness and just lay where he was.

While her captive recuperated, Lynn set the candle aside and without pity she fell back onto his features to cut off the sudden emerging words of protest. Continuing to steer the cruel lever with both hands, she operated it with malice, churning his rear and occasionally jabbing deep. With a forceful pull, she hauled it out and let his bruised orifice briefly close before having to succumb to powerful penetration once more. Yanking it out again, she set the huge sceptre aside and forced the butt plug back in. The milder device was welcomed for it meant that the desecration was over.

With the insertion of the cone, she removed herself from his chest. Standing up and straightening her dress with tugs to the hem, the short skirt dropped just over the tips of her thighs. He simply remained in place, breathing in fits, occasionally giving way to coughs as the erratic operation of his lungs steadied.

“Now, you have some chores to do,” she announced.

Lynn removed the long whip from its peg on the wall. The leather coil was segmented like the body of a worm. The handle slithered to a small tip whose touch brought about the most terrible consequences.

His jaws were aching from the gag and the pounding beat in his rear was terribly distinct. The butt plug was causing more discomfort than usual, largely due to the harsh intrusion of the dildo.

The myriad contusions he had sustained divulged themselves with their steady cadence, but he was not to be granted rest.

“I understand that you have a uniform to wear when you serve as a maid. Is this correct, slave?” she questioned, and started to draw the coil of the weapon through her fist.

He nodded despondently. His motions were weak, like those of the dying

“Then put it on, slave,” she demanded, and swung outward with an underhand flick. The weapon cracked dangerously close to him and the near hit made him jump at the ferocious snap that echoed through the room.

With a hiss of exertion, he fought for an erect stance. He swayed and propped himself up against the wardrobe for a moment before continuing to obey. Opening it, he hurriedly began to don his attire. He did not care that she was studying his routine. Her discipline had brought swift obedience. With scratching fingers, he quickly removed the layer of wax. After splitting it, he dragged it from his flesh in broken clouds. The fine hairs that his shaving had missed or neglected were torn free with it. Some vigorous rubbing set loose the last stubborn particles and patterns of rosy splotches were left behind to mark the former sites of effulgent excess.

He covered his shaven legs with fishnet tights. His feet were sealed within laced patent ankle boots whose skyscraper heels were exceedingly uncomfortable to work in. The small platform that eased the size of a heel for the Mistress was denied the slave. He had to endure their full discomfort.

A latex dress slid down over his body and was straightened and smoothed into position. The midnight garment was tight about his chest and formed into a skirt that dropped to mid-thigh. Opera gloves rolled up his arms and a small white apron was tied about his waist. It felt good to be attired. His near nakedness made him more vulnerable to Lynn’s capricious vengeance.

He lifted the identity tag from the neck of the dress and straightened his collar as he did so. He felt transformed, turned from an object of punishment into a being of servitude.

Chapter Four

The tight rolls of rubber held firmly to him, compressing his flesh, making him feel secure and snug. It was a second skin that reshaped him into an altogether new format of servitude.

“Very fetching. Now get on your knees, slave,” she ordered and approached the slave as he wilted.

Clenching his aching buttocks, he felt the butt plug. The sensation was a reassuring confirmation of his slavedom.

With her stomach directly before his gaze, he watched the stretch and crinkle of the PVC with enthralment. Lynn unbuckled the gag and slid the sizeable ball from his lips. The relief at being able to finally close his maw was immense and he licked his lips with cheer once the thong was extracted.

“Do you still want these?” she asked, holding the spit-sodden underwear before him. The material was alive with glints of light upon the moisture.

“Yes, Mistress Lynn,” he replied, hoping to gain them as a trophy, a memento of this bizarre confrontation between them. Besides, to spurn such a present was to belittle it and she would assuredly apply further havoc to him for such an insult.

With a smirk she looked over his uniform, looking for something and not revealing her goal until she had paced around his entire humbled form. He watched her with eyes lowered, intently regarding her in his periphery vision, listening to the purr of the vinyl and the clack of the heels. Her eyes were like spears that drove into him with conquering points.

“You have no pockets,” she said for her own benefit.

Painted talons touched his shoulder and slid along towards his spine. The claws that hid beneath the lycra caused him to shiver and goose-bumps to rise as they brushed the tiny hairs beneath the cascade of his mane. Pushing the back of his neck, she dropped him onto all fours, his hands flashing out to serve as struts, the latex flexing itself across him with the movements.

“Oh well, I guess I’ll have to make do,” she added, the words introducing a muggy concern to his thoughts.

Hooked fingers took the skirt and raised it, the latex curtain exposing his briefs before they to were taken down.

“Push out the plug, slave,” she ordered, tapping at the moulded base of this most recurring of fixtures to his person.

He clenched his hands into fists and started to strain, throwing the beleaguered muscles into activity. Having his contused rear subjected to new use so soon after the battering it had taken was not easy to endure, but he overrode his disobedience and continued to squeeze.

The sphincter uttered choruses of lambent discomfort. It was bruised and disdainful of being taxed so heavily. The plug was difficult to excrete, and his face reddened to a scarlet hue with his battle. The fighting of the flared base was a near lost cause but with a final hissing choke he managed to expel the device. Mistress Lynn snatched it before it fell to the floor and his orifice pounded with new and distinct heat.