Captive Page 5

  ‘May I suggest a private room, sir?’ the clerk offered, making an obsequious gesture. ‘A chamber with full appointments is available at twelve crowns, including hoses, valves and a selection of instruments you cannot fail to find edifying. A plain chamber may be had for eight, with a simple but effective choice of instruments. Or you might enjoy wine and a collation if you wish to wait until either the stuffing room or the coprophilarium are free?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Grathor answered, a place in the upper saloon will do very nicely, I like an audience.’

  ‘Wise, sir, wise,’ the clerk answered, although in a tone marginally less unctuous than before. ‘Yes, been watched as her buttocks warm will always give the lady a certain added frisson, especially for a novice! That will be five crowns.’

  ‘Am I to be beaten?’ Aisla queried. ‘Why? I haven’t been naughty!’

  ‘So sweet!’ the clerk declared. ‘She plays the teasing game, and not even in her straps!’

  ‘She means it,’ Grathor replied as he paid over the money. ‘In Mund, girls are only beaten for punishment, so her alarm and shame are genuine.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ the clerk exclaimed. ‘I shall come and watch myself, if only I can drag my assistant from the common room.’

  Aisla could find nothing to say, but only remember how she, Elethrine and Talithea had beaten been for the pleasure of Glass Coast merchants while in Apraya. Evidently it was to happen to her again, and from what Grathor and the clerk were saying in front of an audience. Her lips had begun to tremble and her face was hot with blushes, made worse by the knowledge that the beating would excite her in just the way it was intended to.

  ‘A face like a smacked bottom!’ the clerk observed, looking at her red cheeks. ‘How rare! How pretty! Ganis, where is Ganis, the lazy little tyke!’

  At his calls a pair of high doors at the end of the hall swung open, admitting a lanky boy in the same blue livery as the clerk. For a moment Aisla could see into the interior of what was presumably the common room, a long chamber in which structures of various shapes were ranged at intervals. Each was of dark wood, with padding of blue leather and bronze fittings. Two of them had pretty Hai girls strapped in place, both with their faces set in pained ecstasy and their naked bottoms flushed dark from beating. It was no more than a glimpse, yet it left her heart fluttering and her mouth wide, lost for words and weak kneed at the thought of being given the same treatment.

  ‘I’ll bet those’ll swing well!’ the boy said, leering straight at Aisla’s breasts. ‘You going to whip them, sir?’

  ‘Show some respect for the clients, Ganis!’ the clerk snapped as Aisla’s cheeks became hotter still. ‘Now mind the desk.’

  ‘Sir!’ the boy complained, his expression turning to petulance and his eyes never leaving Aisla’s body.

  Grathor had her hand and began to pull, leading her towards a flight of stairs that rose up to a balcony. She followed reluctantly, briefly thinking of trying to refuse only to abandon the idea at the prospect of getting a hand spanking in the hall with the leering boy looking on. It was easier to postpone her fate.

  On the landing the clerk hurried ahead and opened a tall door, ushering Grathor and her inside. Aisla went, and found herself blushing in confusion. The room was much like the one she had glimpsed downstairs, but smaller and more richly furnished, with only four of the wooden devices set in the corners of the room. Two were in use, with brown-haired Hai girls strapped in place, naked and red bottomed.

  Aisla swallowed hard, her mouth falling open at the sight. The nearest girl was on a sort of padded trestle, with her wrists and ankles strapped to the legs and a broad leather belt around her waist. The position left her bottom flared wide, with her wet tuppenny on show and her anus pulsing slowly between her crimson cheeks. The other girl, by the window, was less well into her punishment but in an even more exposed and humiliating position, lying along a bench on her back with her arms and legs lashed above her to a ring in the ceiling and a large dildo protruding from her anus. More alarming still was the girls’ attitude, which showed nothing of the agonising shame they should have been suffering. Both were clearly enjoying themselves, one rubbing her sex on a ball shaped projection that rose from the trestle and clearly close to orgasm, the other giggling and squirming her bottom on the dildo as she was whipped.

  The girl with her sex on the ball began to come, jerking her body frantically to the whip blows. Her partner, a stocky, bearded man, was beating her left handed and pulling at his erect cock with his right. Aisla watched, open mouthed at the lewd display as the girl’s bottom bounced to the hard whip blows. Both cheeks were crimson with marks, the muscles clenching and unclenching as her orgasm went through her. The man gave a final, powerful blow as his erection jerked, spraying sperm across the girl’s bottom as she screamed. Once more she called out, squeezing her cheeks on the sticky trickle of sperm between, then abruptly she went limp, to lie whimpering over the whipping bench. The man finished his come off over her bottom and wiped his cock on her leg before starting to undo her straps.

  ‘Perfectly timed,’ she remarked as she got unsteadily to her feet, ‘a moment while I recover and I will give you another crown.’

  ‘So kind, Madame,’ the man answered and Aisla realised that he was neither punishing her nor her lover, but had been hired to whip her.

  The other couple, a bulky woman and a much younger girl, had paused to watch and now gave polite nods to Grathor and Aisla. The clerk crossed to one of the vacant machines.

  ‘This is new, and I recommend it,’ he said. ‘Essentially it is a Jarasai’s horse, but this pylon and bar system improves the exposure of the girl’s breasts while obliging her to keep her bottom properly flaunted…’

  Aisla looked at the thing in horror as the clerk continued to extol its virtues. It was a padded bench on which the girl could be fixed during punishment, but with a frame above it from which hung a set of padded cuffs. Being on it looked to be as humiliating as the other two devices and a great deal more painful. The other girls at were at least is natural positions, while the device the clerk was suggesting for her was not only going to raise and spread her bottom but lift her hands high behind her back to force her chest out.

  ‘What about this one?’ she asked, frantically indicating the fourth machine.

  No sooner had she made the suggestion than she realised it was a mistake. The fourth machine was much like the one the clerk was recommending, but older and without the additional pylon and bar. What it did have was a huge dildo attached to the bench in such a way that it would be in her while she was whipped, backwards so that the rough ball sack would be against her tuppenny. There was also a ring above the bench, with a rope through it, which doubtless meant she could be put in the very painful and exposed position she had hoped to avoid, only now she would have her exposed vagina filled into the bargain.

  ‘Perfect,’ Grathor laughed as he turned to look. ‘Eager little tart, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I…’ Aisla began but gave up, knowing full well what was going to happen once she was in place and her bottom had been properly warmed.

  ‘Off with the clothes then,’ Grathor said, ‘or would you rather be stripped?’

  ‘I’ll undress myself,’ Aisla answered weakly.

  All eyes were on her as she began to strip, including those of the female couple, the girl who had just been whipped and the assistant. With her face crimson with blushes she undid her jerkin, letting her breasts spill out to admiring looks from her audience.

  ‘A fine pair, and firm,’ the clerk observed, then turned to Grathor. ‘May I?’

  ‘As you please,’ Grathor answered. ‘Place your hands on you head, Aisla, and push them out.’

  She hesitated only a moment and then obeyed, thrusting out her breasts with a mixture of shame and pride. Not only was she bigger than both the other gir
ls, but probably firmer. The clerk reached up and took them, one in each hand, feeling and weighing them, then drawing his thumbs over her nipples to make them stiffen. She found herself sighing and Grathor laughed.

  The clerk completed his exploration of her breasts and she finished undressing, now trembling as she peeled off her crude skirt to stand naked but for her boots.

  ‘No, leave them,’ Grathor instructed as she bent to undo the laces, ‘I rather enjoy the sight of a girl in just her boots. Do you need oiling? Here, let me check.’

  His hand went between her legs, a thick finger pushing straight into her vagina to make her gasp.

  ‘No,’ Grathor laughed, ‘indeed, just now I’d risk ten crowns that you could take a donkey!’

  ‘We have a suitable beast in the garden, sir,’ the clerk said quickly. ‘A mule rather than a donkey, available at only two crowns although not in this saloon. We find the dung ruins the rugs.’

  ‘Another time perhaps,’ Grathor answered, ‘for now I’m eager to get her warm. Climb on girl, I want to spend before the dresses are delivered.’

  Aisla was lost in a welter of embarrassment, at the wet state of her sex, at their attention to her body, at the casual way they had suggested she perform the most obscene of acts with the mule. Acting mechanically, she threw a leg across the bench, settled her bottom onto it and eased herself backward until the broad head of the dildo nudged between her buttocks.

  ‘Not up your arse, in your cunt!’ Grathor exclaimed.

  ‘Sorry… I…,’ Aisla stammered, blushing hotter still, wanting to make an angry denial of wanting the dildo up her bottom but knowing they would only laugh at her.

  She moved, lifting her bottom until the dildo head was at the mouth of her vagina, then sliding slowly down onto it until her tuppenny met the rough bulge of the ball sack. With the dildo fully up her the balls were pushed firmly to her clitoris and she knew that when she began to buck and squirm under the beating she would bring herself off, just as the Hai girl had been doing when they came in.

  ‘Good girl,’ Grathor remarked as Aisla settled her body onto the dildo. Now, hands behind you back, I feel, it would be a shame to deprive our audience of a proper view of those magnificent titties.’

  Aisla obeyed, putting her arms behind her. Grathor caught her wrists and held them while the assistant lashed them together. Her ankles followed, strapped to the legs of the bench to leave her utterly helpless. As she had expected, her wrists were attached to the rope in the ceiling ring and her arms pulled high up, forcing her to bend her back. A collar was fixed around her neck and a strap around her waist, leaving her breasts pushed out at the front. With her bondage complete she found herself unable to do more than wiggle her hips and shoulders, while her bottom and breasts were flaunted blatantly at the audience.

  ‘Excellent, ‘ the clerk declared, ‘a fine position for a tall girl as it makes the most of her flexibility. What can I offer you, sir, cane, dog-whip, spanking paddle? We have a fine selection of anal stimulants if you are thinking of buggering her.’

  ‘A dog-whip for now,’ Grathor answered, ‘as to the buggery, I’ve not had her in her ring yet, so perhaps I will.’

  Aisla felt a fresh pang of shame and shock, not so much at the news that she was to be buggered, something most men seemed to expect of her, but at the casual way he said it and that it was to be done so publicly. The clerk had gone to a cupboard and opened it, revealing a selection of whips, single thongs of braided leather with stings at their tips and carved handles. He took one and handed it to Grathor who gave an appreciative nod and, without warning, brought it down full across the naked spheres of Aisla’s bottom.

  She yelped and went tight in her bonds, then squealed out a complaint, only to have another cut applied, yet harder. Several of the audience laughed at her reaction, including the girl who had paid to be beaten and was now too sore behind to sit comfortably. Grathor applied the whip a third time, then a fourth, making Aisla cry and jerk with each stroke as her bottom filled with a fiery pain. The dildo plugging her vagina moved in her as she did, making her fuck herself as she was whipped.

  Grathor ignored her pleading cries, applying the whip with firm, regular blows, until at last the stinging pain started to subside and her bottom began to warm to the beating. It felt huge, a fat ball of tortured flesh sticking out behind her, the cheeks spread and all her most intimate secrets on show. The onlookers kept up a conversation as it happened, remarking on the precision of the blows, the ready state of her sex and the way she moved on the dildo, keeping her feelings of embarrassment and shame to the front despite her rising pleasure. The woman who had been whipped herself was the least sympathetic, laughing at Aisla’s mewling cries of pain and urging Grathor to apply the whip with more force. The clerk was the crudest, speculating in intrusive detail on the tightness of her bottom ring and how easily it would stretch to accommodate Grathor’s cock.

  At last her arousal began to overcome her other feelings, with her orgasm rising as she squirmed her clitoris on the bulbous sack to which her tuppenny was pressed. Vaguely she heard the door open and the voice of Ganis came to her, adding a final twinge of miserable shame as she started to come. Another voice was raised in ecstasy as the woman on her back came and then Aisla herself was coming, squirming her buttocks about and sticking them up for the whip, driving the dildo in and out, jamming her clitoris hard against the fake ball sack. She no longer cared who was watching, but took herself to the peak of orgasm, heedless of her obscene display of whipped buttocks, straining breasts, bloated vagina and pulsing anus. A whip cracked down on her breasts as she came, laying a burning line full across both heaving, sweaty globes. She screamed and the whip struck again. Her whole body was burning, every muscle locked tight in her climax and the bottom whipping stopped, bringing her suddenly down only to feel strong thumbs opening her buttocks.

  She groaned deeply as she realised she was to be buggered. The blood was still singing in her head. Her breathing was deep and slow. Behind her, her bottom felt hot and swollen, her tuppenny stretched taut on the dildo. Grathor’s cock prodded at her sweat slick anus. It felt wet between her cheeks, and she guessed one of the girls had sucked him while he beat her, using her saliva to ease his passage into her rectum.

  ‘That’s the way, sir, up her arse!’ she heard Ganis urge. ‘I love to see ‘em buggered!’

  She turned, flicking a wet strand of hair from her eyes to find the full attention of the audience on her bottom. Even in the girl still in her straps was watching, her face flushed with her recent orgasm, her buttocks and legs criss-crossed with whip marks. The girl who had been beaten first was helping Grathor, quite unnecessarily guiding his cock to Aisla’s anus, her face set in a triumphant smile.

  Grathor transferred his grip to her hips and pushed. Aisla felt a sharp pain as his cock head started to force her anus to open. Surrendering herself to buggery, she relaxed her ring and felt her bottom ring start to gape.

  ‘I’m not her first,’ Grathor grunted.

  ‘A rare thing, an anal virgin,’ the clerk remarked with regret.

  ‘That’s right, little one, let me in,’ Grathor said and pushed once more.

  Aisla gasped as her bottom ring gave and Grathor’s cock head popped into her anus. Shutting her eyes, she concentrated on the feel of the thick, slimy shaft easing bit by bit up her rectum, all the while with her mouth agape and her eyes tight shut. It was ecstasy, and despite her appalling shame and the leering attention of the audience she once more began to rub herself on the ball.

  ‘She’s frigging again, what a dirty little trull!’ the beaten woman called out.

  A hand gripped Aisla’s hair and something blunt and fleshy pushed into her mouth. Her eyes came open in shock to find Ganis in front of her, but it was too late, his cock was in her mouth and she was sucking, an instinctive reaction to the taste of penis and her
overwhelming lust. A woman laughed but she was lost, sucking and frigging as Grathor worked his cock in her rectum. Realising that she was willing, Ganis released her hair and took her breasts, groping them and slapping them to make them swing.

  A hand twisted into her hair, pulling it and she saw the big woman from the corner of her eye. Something hit her bottom and the beating starting again, the beaten woman slapping at Aisla’s bottom with the doubled whip. Ganis came in her mouth, suddenly, unexpectedly, his sperm erupting down her throat and then spraying out around her lips as she struggled to swallow and failed. He grunted as he did it, pushing his cock deep into her windpipe and holding it there as she choked and her throat clamped over and over on the bulbous head.

  Someone laughed at the sight and Grathor’s pushes became more urgent. The glorious cock-full feeling in her rectum turned to pain and he grunted, jammed himself in to the hilt, stopped, and Aisla knew he had come up her bottom. She cried out as Ganis’ cock left her mouth, expressing both her ecstasy and her overwhelming shame at being watched as a man came up her bottom, but Grathor’s cock was still hard in her anus and she was coming, her bottom ring tightening on the thick, fleshy plug as she started to come again. She screamed in her orgasm, overcome by the sensations inflicted on her body, from the feel of the cock in her bottom, through the throbbing of her beaten buttocks to the burning pain in her arms.

  It was over, and she was hanging, sobbing in her bonds as Grathor’s cock pulled from her anus. The assistant began to undo her arms, the others chattering, remarking on the display she had made with casual intimacy. Her wrists came loose and she thankfully began to flex her arms. He unclipped her collar and began to work on her belly strap, only to stop suddenly as the catch came open.

  Aisla turned. In the doorway was Madame Yasma, her plump features creased into a knowing smirk as she admired Aisla’s naked rear view. There was a short whip in her hand, a length of braided leather with a thick, horn handle.