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Spring Break Slaves

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“Still two dozen is better than three, right? And a bj is a small price to pay, since he could have ordered us to do one anyway.”

Maybe so. But, yuck, I wouldn’t have done it. One has to stand on principle even in difficult situations! :mad:
 
Maybe so. But, yuck, I wouldn’t have done it. One has to stand on principle even in difficult situations! :mad:
I don't see how doing a particular sexual act or not is a high moral principle. More like a matter of personal taste.

But look at it this way-he's invited them into his home, introduced them to his friends and business associates, given them a healthy outdoor activity to increase their physical fitness and now he is about to help them understand the consequences of failure, a valuable lesson in discipline, which they have been sorely lacking in (pun intended). So it's not out of place to expect a little gratitude...
 
How do you know, you don`t swallow, or do you ?

I can well imagine without trying it :confused:

I've been told that it depends on what the man eats. Tropical fruits, which are abundant in the Islands apparently impart a very sweet flavor...

Fake news ;)
 
Ok. I have to say something here. Maybe it’s just me, but I can’t imagine why I should want to do that. There’s zero pleasure in it for me. It’s basically a guy thing. All I get is a mouthful of stuff I don’t want to taste or swallow. As I said, it’s just a guy power/pleasure thing. It’s about women pleasing men by being totally subservient.
 
Ok. I have to say something here. Maybe it’s just me, but I can’t imagine why I should want to do that. There’s zero pleasure in it for me. It’s basically a guy thing. All I get is a mouthful of stuff I don’t want to taste or swallow. As I said, it’s just a guy power/pleasure thing. It’s about women pleasing men by being totally subservient.
Well said.
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The pill the doctor had given them to help them sleep last night must have been powerful, because Tara had slept like a log. No nightmares about being whipped, pulling a cart that wouldn’t go, being sold as a sex slave or any of the other things that had happened to her in the last several days.

She heard the pounding at the door as though it were coming from another planet, but slowly shook herself awake. Delia still looked dead to the world. ‘Damn that Kelly,’ Tara thought as she got out of bed and padded to the door.

She noticed that her feet were only mildly sore and when she picked one up to look at it, the cuts seemed much better than they had yesterday. ‘That cream the doc put on really worked,’ she remarked. She opened the door a crack. To her surprise, it wasn’t Kelly, but the doctor.

“Open the door, I need to examine you,” the doctor ordered. No please, but then she and Delia were slaves, so niceties weren’t needed. She walked in and went straight to Delia and shook her awake. “Get up, I need to examine you.”

Delia groaned and rolled over onto her right side.. The doctor yanked the covers back and pinched her left boob. “Ow!” Delia yelled. “What are you doing?”

“Get up you lazy cunt!” the doctor ordered. “On your feet so I can examine you!” Here on Pirate Cay, the doctor was a sadist like the rest of them, healing you only so that you could be fresh for your next punishment or act of sexual service.

Delia scrambled to her feet. “Go stand next to your worthless roommate,” she ordered. The doctor did a cursory examination of both girls’ back and ass, took their blood pressure and listened to their hearts. “You’re both OK. The rest did you good and I think you’ll put on a good show for the guests today. I’m clearing you for your whipping.”

Tara’s heart sank at this news. “So, tonight?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Sooner, I think. Maybe after lunch; some of the guests have to leave later this afternoon and don’t want to miss the show. I’ll have them bring you a light breakfast-toast and tea. Some of them have been known to lose it from the stress and he doesn’t like that.” With that word of cheer, the doctor turned and left.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Delia said, giving the finger, though Tara noticed that she did so only after the door was closed. Delia was rebellious, but not foolhardy enough to risk extra lashes in a meaningless and futile act of resistance.

And so they sat, awaiting their whipping. There was no TV, their phones didn’t work and neither one was up for a repeat of last night’s Sapphic encounters, so there was nothing to divert them from the contemplation of their upcoming suffering.

They sat, not sure if they would take lashes on their buttocks and be unable to sit for a while, then got up every so often to pace around the room. They wondered if they should put some clothes on, but they would likely have to take them off for their flogging, so it seemed not worth the trouble. After a bit, though, Tara put on her bathrobe, and, seeing no reason not to, Delia followed suit.

Soon enough, there was another knock at the door. Delia went to answer this time. Kelly threw the door open. “It’s time, you two,” she said, crooking her index finger. Part of Tara was relieved that the waiting was over, though part of her wished this moment had never come.

“Should we, like, get dressed?” Delia asked.

“Dressed? It’s a flogging, not a prom. You’ll be naked, no protection against the lash. You can wear those robes; they’ll be easy enough to take off. Now stop stalling, bitches and let’s go.”

Knowing that there was no point to further argument, they followed her down the corridor. They could hear the buzz in the great room as they approached. The guests were seated in a few rows of folding chairs facing an open area into which the bar that Amanda had hung from had been lowered on its chain attached to the ceiling beams.

Kelly escorted them to stand next to the bar, facing the crowd. The Prime Minister was there, along with the “Principal”, the men who had bought them at the auction and all of the other guests, including some whom Tara had not seen before and may have flown in in the last day or so. The crowd was around thirty or so men. The other Personal Companions were there as well, seated on the floor in front of the first row of men.

He stood from his seat in the front row and went to stand between the two of them, facing the audience. “Tara and Delia,” he said, “You are here today to answer for your dreadful performance in the cart race.”

“We’re so sorry, sir,” they both replied.

“I’m sure you are. Nevertheless you were warned about the price of such a miserable effort, were you not?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied, their heads hung in shame.

“How do you explain yourselves? The others all managed to finish while you didn’t even make it into the forest.”

Tara thought of mentioning the weight of Big Fred, but decided that would be unwise. “We are very weak and out of shape, sir.”

He looked disgusted. “Does Pitcher College not have a very modern and well equipped gym? I believe it was built thanks to a large contribution from yours truly,” he said, looking proud of his benevolence.

“It does, sir. The gym at Pitcher is very nice. Thank you for your donation,” Delia said.

“And how often do you two lazy cunts use it?”

“Not very often, sir,” Delia said.

“We’re often too busy studying, sir,” Tara said.

“Did you ever hear ‘A sound mind in a sound body’?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

“I’m extraordinarily busy doing business all over the world,” he said, “Yet I exercise for an hour every day.”

‘And busy getting happy-ending massages and blow jobs,’ Tara thought. “I’m sorry, sir, we should have taken advantage of the great gym you had built for us students,” Tara said instead.

“Well, it’s too late for that now. Your laziness has earned you two dozen lashes. Now get those robes off.” They quickly slipped the robes off to stand naked before the crowd. There was a chorus of hoots and hollers.

The “Principal” stood up. “Excuse me,” he said addressing his host, “They didn’t finish the race. Aren’t they due three dozen?”

“Yes,” he replied, “But the Prime Minister felt that his bulk was an unfair handicap and prevailed upon me to reduce their penalty. We are guests in his country after all.” Big Fred was beaming.

“With all due respect to the Right Honourable gentleman, I bet good money on these two worthless cunts and I want to see them suffer the full sentence.”

He looked back and forth between the Principal and the PM. Tara knew that to him, this was a business deal, like those he did when he wasn’t having slaves whipped. She and Delia were irrelevant, just like the workers in factories that might close because of the wheeling and dealings of men such as these.

“What if we split the difference and gave them thirty? Would that satisfy you?” The “Principal” nodded. The Prime Minister smiled and nodded. And so the deal was done. The surcease they had been granted yesterday was cut in half, without any action on their part. Still, Tara supposed that thirty was better than thirty six.

“Done!” he announced. “Robert, let’s get them ready.” Tara noticed the muscular form of Robert who had been lounging in a corner coming towards them. He grabbed her left arm in his large hand and steered her to stand beside the bar, which had been lowered to chest height. He inserted her left wrist through one of the straps attached to the bar and buckled the leather firmly around her wrist, which looked so small and delicate in his big paw.

Robert quickly buckled another strap around her right wrist. Tara noticed that there were two more straps attached to the bar. ‘What were those for?’ she wondered. She got her answer soon enough. Robert went over and took hold of Delia’s arm and brought her to stand facing Tara. He placed her wrists in the other two straps and tightened the buckle.

Tara looked at Dee. So, they were going to be whipped together, made to each watch the other one suffer as they themselves were suffering. This was a diabolical turn of fate, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. “Okay, Kelly, raise them up,” Robert ordered.

Tara felt the bar rise as the motor cranked, lifting their arms up over their heads. She could feel the chains going taut, the motor pulling her wrists up until she was up on her toes. As their bodies were stretched vertically, they were forced to slide their feet horizontally towards each other until their bodies were pressed together.

She and Delia were the close to the same height, so Tara felt Delia’s ample boobs, pressing into her smaller ones. Normally, she might have enjoyed this intimate contact with her bestie and, recently, her lover, but in these circumstances it was rather unnerving.

Finally Robert was satisfied and motioned to Kelly, who had been running the motor to stop. Robert grinned and said, “You’re going to feel pain like you’ve never felt before,” he said, smiling. Tara wondered if they’d be left to hang, as Amanda had been, until the muscles in their shoulders ached from the stress.

But the audience was getting restless, eager for the real show to begin. Robert walked briskly to a table and returned with the instrument. It looked like the one he had used on Amanda, a heavy wooden handle with six long cords attached. The cords each had three small knots tied in them near the ends. Tara hadn’t noticed those when it was used on Amanda, but perhaps she had missed it.

Robert took his place behind Delia. ‘So Dee is getting it first,’ she thought, though she didn’t know whether Dee would get all thirty before she got hers or whether they would alternate.

“You may proceed, Robert,” he announced. Tara watched Robert twirl the tails twice around his head, then slash them forward with all his might across Delia’s shoulder blades. She heard the smack and felt Delia surge forward from the force of the blow, pressing her tits into Tara’s. She saw the look of anguish cross her friend’s face and heard her laboring to catch her breath, as the air was driven from her lungs.

“One for Delia,” Kelly announced.

“Nice one, Robert!” someone in the crowd called. Robert bowed and waited. Delia was writhing, her body rubbing against Tara’s as the pain mounted. Robert waited until the movements diminished, then Tara saw the cords twirling through the air and felt the force strike Dee’s back again, pushing her forward.

“Fuck!” Delia cried. Her face was twisted in a rictus of pain. Sweat was already bathing her skin.

“That’s two for Delia,” Kelly said.

“Only twenty eight more, bitch. Enjoy!” a man cried

Tara longed to comfort her friend, but her arms were held firmly above her head. She saw the cords twirl above Robert’s head and heard them smack against her friend’s back. “Oh, my God! Ohhhhh!” Delia shouted. And she was only a tenth of the way through. Kelly called the third stroke.

Tara felt Delia’s chest heaving as she desperately tried to fill her lungs with air. “Be strong, Dee!” she whispered. She wasn’t sure Delia heard and if she did whether that would comfort her.

Now, Tara saw Robert moving now around the two of them coming to stand behind her. ‘So, he’s going to alternate between us,’ she thought. ‘Now, I’ll know how it feels, too.’ She glanced back and saw him twirling the cords over his head. She turned back to the front, unable to watch him deliver the lash to her own back.

She heard the smack of the cords hitting her flesh and felt the force drive her forward into Delia. For a second or two, she didn’t really feel anything, but, then, as the nerves picked up the signal, she felt a fire all through her upper back.

It was like nothing she had ever felt, far worse than the paddling from the “Principal” or the cart whip delivered by Big Fred, an all-consuming pain. She twisted wildly, desperate to manage the terrible agony. “One for Tara,” Kelly announced, as though counting out jelly beans.

The pain ebbed only slowly. Tara was sweating, just like Delia now, their wet skin sliding against each other. She heard the whirl of the whip cords and felt a new blast of pain. They had hardly even begun and this was already unbearable. The thought of twenty eight more of these lashes was beyond Tara’s imagination. She shook her head. “No!” she shouted.

“Yes! Give it to her good!” a man shouted. Tara looked at the audience. The men in the front row had their pants down and the other Personal Companions were kneeling in front of them. Tania had their employer’s dick in her mouth, while May was servicing Big Fred. The other four were each taking care of one of the other guests.

Tara heard the whistle of the cords and there was the third flash of agony. She thought she felt a trickle running down her right side. Could she be bleeding already?

“Good one, Robert. The bitch is bleeding,” a man called.

Through eyes filled with tears, Tara saw Robert come around in front. So, the next three would be Delia’s. It hurt her terribly to see her friend suffer, but she was desperately happy to have a break. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel after ten times as many as she’d already taken, since she was already close to the breaking point. But what could she do?
 
“Should we, like, get dressed?” Delia asked.

“Dressed? It’s a flogging, not a prom.

I think I may have mentioned before ... these two are not very bright :doh:

“What if we split the difference and gave them thirty? Would that satisfy you?” The “Principal” nodded. The Prime Minister smiled and nodded.

Sounds fair enough :rolleyes:
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The pill the doctor had given them to help them sleep last night must have been powerful, because Tara had slept like a log. No nightmares about being whipped, pulling a cart that wouldn’t go, being sold as a sex slave or any of the other things that had happened to her in the last several days.

She heard the pounding at the door as though it were coming from another planet, but slowly shook herself awake. Delia still looked dead to the world. ‘Damn that Kelly,’ Tara thought as she got out of bed and padded to the door.

She noticed that her feet were only mildly sore and when she picked one up to look at it, the cuts seemed much better than they had yesterday. ‘That cream the doc put on really worked,’ she remarked. She opened the door a crack. To her surprise, it wasn’t Kelly, but the doctor.

“Open the door, I need to examine you,” the doctor ordered. No please, but then she and Delia were slaves, so niceties weren’t needed. She walked in and went straight to Delia and shook her awake. “Get up, I need to examine you.”

Delia groaned and rolled over onto her right side.. The doctor yanked the covers back and pinched her left boob. “Ow!” Delia yelled. “What are you doing?”

“Get up you lazy cunt!” the doctor ordered. “On your feet so I can examine you!” Here on Pirate Cay, the doctor was a sadist like the rest of them, healing you only so that you could be fresh for your next punishment or act of sexual service.

Delia scrambled to her feet. “Go stand next to your worthless roommate,” she ordered. The doctor did a cursory examination of both girls’ back and ass, took their blood pressure and listened to their hearts. “You’re both OK. The rest did you good and I think you’ll put on a good show for the guests today. I’m clearing you for your whipping.”

Tara’s heart sank at this news. “So, tonight?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Sooner, I think. Maybe after lunch; some of the guests have to leave later this afternoon and don’t want to miss the show. I’ll have them bring you a light breakfast-toast and tea. Some of them have been known to lose it from the stress and he doesn’t like that.” With that word of cheer, the doctor turned and left.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Delia said, giving the finger, though Tara noticed that she did so only after the door was closed. Delia was rebellious, but not foolhardy enough to risk extra lashes in a meaningless and futile act of resistance.

And so they sat, awaiting their whipping. There was no TV, their phones didn’t work and neither one was up for a repeat of last night’s Sapphic encounters, so there was nothing to divert them from the contemplation of their upcoming suffering.

They sat, not sure if they would take lashes on their buttocks and be unable to sit for a while, then got up every so often to pace around the room. They wondered if they should put some clothes on, but they would likely have to take them off for their flogging, so it seemed not worth the trouble. After a bit, though, Tara put on her bathrobe, and, seeing no reason not to, Delia followed suit.

Soon enough, there was another knock at the door. Delia went to answer this time. Kelly threw the door open. “It’s time, you two,” she said, crooking her index finger. Part of Tara was relieved that the waiting was over, though part of her wished this moment had never come.

“Should we, like, get dressed?” Delia asked.

“Dressed? It’s a flogging, not a prom. You’ll be naked, no protection against the lash. You can wear those robes; they’ll be easy enough to take off. Now stop stalling, bitches and let’s go.”

Knowing that there was no point to further argument, they followed her down the corridor. They could hear the buzz in the great room as they approached. The guests were seated in a few rows of folding chairs facing an open area into which the bar that Amanda had hung from had been lowered on its chain attached to the ceiling beams.

Kelly escorted them to stand next to the bar, facing the crowd. The Prime Minister was there, along with the “Principal”, the men who had bought them at the auction and all of the other guests, including some whom Tara had not seen before and may have flown in in the last day or so. The crowd was around thirty or so men. The other Personal Companions were there as well, seated on the floor in front of the first row of men.

He stood from his seat in the front row and went to stand between the two of them, facing the audience. “Tara and Delia,” he said, “You are here today to answer for your dreadful performance in the cart race.”

“We’re so sorry, sir,” they both replied.

“I’m sure you are. Nevertheless you were warned about the price of such a miserable effort, were you not?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied, their heads hung in shame.

“How do you explain yourselves? The others all managed to finish while you didn’t even make it into the forest.”

Tara thought of mentioning the weight of Big Fred, but decided that would be unwise. “We are very weak and out of shape, sir.”

He looked disgusted. “Does Pitcher College not have a very modern and well equipped gym? I believe it was built thanks to a large contribution from yours truly,” he said, looking proud of his benevolence.

“It does, sir. The gym at Pitcher is very nice. Thank you for your donation,” Delia said.

“And how often do you two lazy cunts use it?”

“Not very often, sir,” Delia said.

“We’re often too busy studying, sir,” Tara said.

“Did you ever hear ‘A sound mind in a sound body’?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

“I’m extraordinarily busy doing business all over the world,” he said, “Yet I exercise for an hour every day.”

‘And busy getting happy-ending massages and blow jobs,’ Tara thought. “I’m sorry, sir, we should have taken advantage of the great gym you had built for us students,” Tara said instead.

“Well, it’s too late for that now. Your laziness has earned you two dozen lashes. Now get those robes off.” They quickly slipped the robes off to stand naked before the crowd. There was a chorus of hoots and hollers.

The “Principal” stood up. “Excuse me,” he said addressing his host, “They didn’t finish the race. Aren’t they due three dozen?”

“Yes,” he replied, “But the Prime Minister felt that his bulk was an unfair handicap and prevailed upon me to reduce their penalty. We are guests in his country after all.” Big Fred was beaming.

“With all due respect to the Right Honourable gentleman, I bet good money on these two worthless cunts and I want to see them suffer the full sentence.”

He looked back and forth between the Principal and the PM. Tara knew that to him, this was a business deal, like those he did when he wasn’t having slaves whipped. She and Delia were irrelevant, just like the workers in factories that might close because of the wheeling and dealings of men such as these.

“What if we split the difference and gave them thirty? Would that satisfy you?” The “Principal” nodded. The Prime Minister smiled and nodded. And so the deal was done. The surcease they had been granted yesterday was cut in half, without any action on their part. Still, Tara supposed that thirty was better than thirty six.

“Done!” he announced. “Robert, let’s get them ready.” Tara noticed the muscular form of Robert who had been lounging in a corner coming towards them. He grabbed her left arm in his large hand and steered her to stand beside the bar, which had been lowered to chest height. He inserted her left wrist through one of the straps attached to the bar and buckled the leather firmly around her wrist, which looked so small and delicate in his big paw.

Robert quickly buckled another strap around her right wrist. Tara noticed that there were two more straps attached to the bar. ‘What were those for?’ she wondered. She got her answer soon enough. Robert went over and took hold of Delia’s arm and brought her to stand facing Tara. He placed her wrists in the other two straps and tightened the buckle.

Tara looked at Dee. So, they were going to be whipped together, made to each watch the other one suffer as they themselves were suffering. This was a diabolical turn of fate, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. “Okay, Kelly, raise them up,” Robert ordered.

Tara felt the bar rise as the motor cranked, lifting their arms up over their heads. She could feel the chains going taut, the motor pulling her wrists up until she was up on her toes. As their bodies were stretched vertically, they were forced to slide their feet horizontally towards each other until their bodies were pressed together.

She and Delia were the close to the same height, so Tara felt Delia’s ample boobs, pressing into her smaller ones. Normally, she might have enjoyed this intimate contact with her bestie and, recently, her lover, but in these circumstances it was rather unnerving.

Finally Robert was satisfied and motioned to Kelly, who had been running the motor to stop. Robert grinned and said, “You’re going to feel pain like you’ve never felt before,” he said, smiling. Tara wondered if they’d be left to hang, as Amanda had been, until the muscles in their shoulders ached from the stress.

But the audience was getting restless, eager for the real show to begin. Robert walked briskly to a table and returned with the instrument. It looked like the one he had used on Amanda, a heavy wooden handle with six long cords attached. The cords each had three small knots tied in them near the ends. Tara hadn’t noticed those when it was used on Amanda, but perhaps she had missed it.

Robert took his place behind Delia. ‘So Dee is getting it first,’ she thought, though she didn’t know whether Dee would get all thirty before she got hers or whether they would alternate.

“You may proceed, Robert,” he announced. Tara watched Robert twirl the tails twice around his head, then slash them forward with all his might across Delia’s shoulder blades. She heard the smack and felt Delia surge forward from the force of the blow, pressing her tits into Tara’s. She saw the look of anguish cross her friend’s face and heard her laboring to catch her breath, as the air was driven from her lungs.

“One for Delia,” Kelly announced.

“Nice one, Robert!” someone in the crowd called. Robert bowed and waited. Delia was writhing, her body rubbing against Tara’s as the pain mounted. Robert waited until the movements diminished, then Tara saw the cords twirling through the air and felt the force strike Dee’s back again, pushing her forward.

“Fuck!” Delia cried. Her face was twisted in a rictus of pain. Sweat was already bathing her skin.

“That’s two for Delia,” Kelly said.

“Only twenty eight more, bitch. Enjoy!” a man cried

Tara longed to comfort her friend, but her arms were held firmly above her head. She saw the cords twirl above Robert’s head and heard them smack against her friend’s back. “Oh, my God! Ohhhhh!” Delia shouted. And she was only a tenth of the way through. Kelly called the third stroke.

Tara felt Delia’s chest heaving as she desperately tried to fill her lungs with air. “Be strong, Dee!” she whispered. She wasn’t sure Delia heard and if she did whether that would comfort her.

Now, Tara saw Robert moving now around the two of them coming to stand behind her. ‘So, he’s going to alternate between us,’ she thought. ‘Now, I’ll know how it feels, too.’ She glanced back and saw him twirling the cords over his head. She turned back to the front, unable to watch him deliver the lash to her own back.

She heard the smack of the cords hitting her flesh and felt the force drive her forward into Delia. For a second or two, she didn’t really feel anything, but, then, as the nerves picked up the signal, she felt a fire all through her upper back.

It was like nothing she had ever felt, far worse than the paddling from the “Principal” or the cart whip delivered by Big Fred, an all-consuming pain. She twisted wildly, desperate to manage the terrible agony. “One for Tara,” Kelly announced, as though counting out jelly beans.

The pain ebbed only slowly. Tara was sweating, just like Delia now, their wet skin sliding against each other. She heard the whirl of the whip cords and felt a new blast of pain. They had hardly even begun and this was already unbearable. The thought of twenty eight more of these lashes was beyond Tara’s imagination. She shook her head. “No!” she shouted.

“Yes! Give it to her good!” a man shouted. Tara looked at the audience. The men in the front row had their pants down and the other Personal Companions were kneeling in front of them. Tania had their employer’s dick in her mouth, while May was servicing Big Fred. The other four were each taking care of one of the other guests.

Tara heard the whistle of the cords and there was the third flash of agony. She thought she felt a trickle running down her right side. Could she be bleeding already?

“Good one, Robert. The bitch is bleeding,” a man called.

Through eyes filled with tears, Tara saw Robert come around in front. So, the next three would be Delia’s. It hurt her terribly to see her friend suffer, but she was desperately happy to have a break. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel after ten times as many as she’d already taken, since she was already close to the breaking point. But what could she do?
You obviously have a thing about sadistic doctors, does this indicate some unpleasant experiences in an earlier life?
 
You obviously have a thing about sadistic doctors, does this indicate some unpleasant experiences in an earlier life?
At a very early moment in my life one of them slapped me on the butt, or so I've been told...
I think I may have mentioned before ... these two are not very bright
They got themselves a free Caribbean vacation. Can you say the same? I seem to recall your getting both of us snatched by the Russian Mafia and locked in a basement.

Sounds fair enough
The Art of the Deal...
 
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