connoisseurs
Senator
Let´s compare those statements to the next quote
Those two have at least there moments. If I remember Barb´s history, there have been a few events where her decisions didn´t bespeak her superior intellect.
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Spring Break Slaves
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Just starting on reading into this,
As for the 'Companion' scam I was actually once witness of such a thing. Since it was real life it wasn't an entire island, just a manor, and also the target declined when the scam became too obvious...
Well in that case we'd assume, if someone is staying home and honestly concentrating hard on study ... that's exactly when they won't be aware of someone breaking in and sneaking up on them and it would be that kind of scenario...
As for the 'Companion' scam I was actually once witness of such a thing. Since it was real life it wasn't an entire island, just a manor, and also the target declined when the scam became too obvious...
windar
Teller of Tales
Well, there are private islands in real life (no I don't own one
) and sometimes declining is not an option...
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Of course there are ... there are also video cameras that conveniently fail and guards that don't do their job when strange gurgling sounds emanate from a prison cell...
windar
Teller of Tales
CHAPTER NINETEEN
He called a halt after each of them had taken twelve lashes. It wasn’t for the benefit of Tara and Delia, but for Robert, to maintain his strength so that he could deliver the remaining lashes with the same undiminished force as the ones that he had already administered.
For Tara and Delia, while the break from the battering cords and the knots tearing into their flesh was welcome, it came at the price of more time hanging from their wrists, their weight shifting between their aching shoulders and their toes. The shifting weight caused terrible distress to their feet which still bore the cuts from the rocks over which they had been forced to pull the cart.
They hung there, panting to recover the breath they had been expending shouting out their agony to the unsympathetic audience. Their bodies were coated with sweat, their hair soaked and disheveled, their faces streaked with tears and phlegm. They pressed their bodies together, partly for comfort and support, partly because their bonds left them little choice.
“Are you OK, Delia?” Tara whispered.
Delia shook her head. “It hurts so much.”
“I feel like there’s no skin left on my back,” Tara said. “I don’t know how I can take eighteen more.”
“I don’t know either, Tara. But what choice do we have?”
Tara saw the doctor approaching with her black medical bag. She watched her pour some liquid onto a swab and then felt it touch her back. For a moment it felt cool and soothing, but then it began to burn like pure fire. “Owwwww!” she howled, twisting and writhing against Delia. “Oh, God, it stings,” she wailed.
“Not as much as the money I lost betting on you two useless cunts,” one of the spectators shouted.
“Stop being a baby,” the doctor told her. “I have to disinfect where the skin is broken. It’s for your own good.” She moved to Delia and prepared a new swab and dabbed her back. Now it was Delia’s turn to writhe against Tara, her large breasts rubbing insistently against Tara’s smaller ones. She shouted several Spanish curse words, a few of which Tara had heard before and a couple of which were new to her.
When they had finally calmed down as the burning from the antiseptic died down, Tara looked at the doctor. “Please, we’ve had enough. I can’t take any more. It’s killing me!” she begged.
The doctor laughed. “Nonsense, you’re both young and healthy. You’ve only had twelve so far, for Pete’s sake. Plenty of girls have taken as many or more than you two are due and all of them survived.” Tara hadn’t really expected that the doctor would help them in any way, but she was so desperate that she didn’t care about embarrassing herself with a fruitless plea for mercy. The doctor turned and walked away, leaving them to bear the remainder of their sentence.
The men in the audience were taking advantage of the hiatus to enjoy the favors of the other Personal Companions. Shouts of triumph rang out as one or another man deposited his seed in one or another orifice of one or another of the girls.
But, all too soon, Robert was approaching, the handle of the whip in his hand, the cords dangling loosely towards the ground. He took his position behind Tara. She would be first this time. Her body tensed up, as she tried her best to prepare herself for the torment yet to come, which was going to be even more than what she had suffered so far, as she was not even halfway through her allotted punishment.
Before Robert could strike, the “Principal” interjected a request. “How’s about we give them the next ones across their asses? I’d love to see what those cords would do to those tender juicy globes of flesh.”
He had, of course, delivered paddle blows to their buttocks, but this would be much more severe. “Who wants to see them get whipped on their asses?” their employer asked.
There was a general chorus of assent. “Yeah, let’s whip their worthless asses!” one man yelled.
“Very well, Robert. Please administer the next strokes to the buttocks.”
Robert smiled and bowed and adjusted his position. Then, Tara heard the lashes whir through the air as Robert swung it over his head and then felt the tails strike with full force across her lower cheeks. The force drove her hips forward pushing her vulva against Delia’s crotch.
Then the pain hit her, like being stung by an angry nest full of hornets as the knots dug deeply into the soft, yielding flesh. “Ohhh!” Tara cried. The pain kept rising until it plateaued and then, only slowly, ebbed.
“Thirteen for Tara,” Kelly announced. Not even halfway through.
Robert struck again, the tails wrapping around Tara’s buttocks the knotted ends cutting into her upper thighs. She wriggled madly her nether regions rubbing against those of her friend and partner in suffering.
The next one, fifteen, was the halfway point. Tara couldn’t imagine how she would survive suffering again as many lashes as she had already taken, each one now landing on skin that was already battered and abraded.
She watched Robert move in front of her to stand behind Delia. Tara would get a brief reprieve at the price of having to watch her lover suffer. Robert whirled the cords over his head and slashed them across Delia’s ass. Tara felt Dee’s hips thrust forward, pressing against her pubic region. She thought about the pleasure Delia had given her last night, the caresses and kisses she had given to those very parts.
Robert struck again. Delia wailed, a chain of swear words in English and Spanish, as her hips shook and pressed hard against Tara’s hips. Tara could feel her friend trembling in reaction to the strokes already taken and in fear of the strokes to come.
Delia’s fifteenth lash was delivered. She was now halfway through as well, though her cries didn’t suggest much semblance of relief at that milestone.
The flogging continued. Three strokes to one penitent girl’s ass, her howls of pain her gyrations against the genitals of her friend and lover, then a switch to the other sufferer, the sounds of her anguish and the sight of more stripes added to her buttocks to entertain the audience.
Finally, Robert reached twenty four delivered to each girl. It was time to rest and recharge so he could deliver the final six to each of them at maximum force in order to satisfy his employer and his guests. It was also time for the doctor to renew her disinfection of the wounds, this time on Tara and Delia’s butts, the astringent liquid evoking similar howls and twisting in their bonds as when it had been applied to their backs.
And as they hung there, waiting to receive the final allotment of their punishment, the lashes that they had thought they would be spared, every part of their bodies was in agony, from their shoulders aching from supporting their weight to their upper backs and buttocks, scored by the knotted cords, to their feet, which ached from being forced to stand on tiptoe.
Their only comfort they had was that they were together in their ordeal, each one’s sweat-sheened skin pressed against the other’s, their pussies moist from grinding together as the force of the whip pushed their hips forward. They could look into each other’s eyes, drawing comfort and support from having a fellow sufferer, company in their misery.
Meanwhile, there was a discussion about where the final six lashes should be delivered. The “Principal”, of course, wanted them to be given on the ass. Others wanted the back. Some argued for turning them around and whipping their tits. Neither Tara nor Delia was consulted on the decision, even though it was their flesh that would suffer from the results. Neither was surprised by that.
In the end, in the spirit of compromise, it was decided to split the difference-three lashes on the ass and three on the back, with Robert making a special effort to wrap the end of the tails onto their breasts.
And, so instructed, the large powerful black man took his position behind Delia. Tara watched as he twirled the cords above his head and then slashed them across her friend’s upper back, with a special wrist flick that sent the knotted ends digging into the flesh of Dee’s right breast.
Tara saw the skin split, small droplets of blood welling up. Delia howled her displeasure, while Robert was smiling as the audience whistled their approval. Tara wanted dearly to kiss her lover’s breasts to comfort her, but their stretched position didn’t allow that.
Instead, she could only watch as Robert slashed a second blow across Delia’s ass, driving her hips once again into Tara’s pelvis. For the third of the set, Robert delivered a backhanded strike that cut into Delia’s left breast, dragging more piteous cries from the poor girl.
Now it was Tara’s turn. She watched Robert circle behind her and heard the cords whir around his head before they smashed into her back, the tails cutting into the side of her right breast in a blaze of agony that had her shouting her distress despite the hoarseness in her throat.
The next one came from the other side, scoring her left tit. The gashes they left behind looked awful, blood seeping from them in several places. The third of the set struck her ass, driving her pussy hard against Delia’s.
Tara saw Robert circle around again to deliver the final three to Delia, who bore them more or less silently, too exhausted to protest. Tara took her final three in more or less the same manner.
Robert bowed to the audience, who applauded and cheered his excellent work. Kelly, finally, lowered the bar. It had been nearly an hour that Tara and Delia had been stretched out. The relief for their aching muscles almost overshadowed the pain from the whip, which still burned in the most damaged places. They slumped to the floor in each other’s arms, unable to move.
“Look at those dykes. I bet they’d eat each other out right here to avoid any more lashes,” one man said to general laughter.
“Now, now, gentlemen, they’ve taken their punishment. That’s it for tonight, I’m afraid,” their employer said, to scattered boos. The doctor came forward, motioning to the other Personal Companions to help. Working together, they were able to coax Tara and Delia to their feet and help them limp to the clinic.
Tara and Delia were deposited face down onto beds in the clinic. “Would you help me by holding them down? I need to disinfect their wounds and it’s likely to hurt just a bit,” the doctor asked their fellow students. As the astringent liquid worked its way into the fresh wounds, it set off another round of shrieks and wild struggles from the prone bodies, newly revived by the latest treatment.
“Ok, that’s fine, thank you,” the doctor said after Tara and Delia’s gyrations ceased, shooing the others out of the clinic.
“Now, I’m going to put some of this cream on,” she told them. “It won’t hurt, I promise. In fact it will feel good and will really promote healing.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Tara said.
“Oh, I’m not doing it for you,” she told them. “I’m doing it for him. For some reason he sees some value in you two worthless cunts and asked me to take care of you.”
Tara didn’t really mind being called a worthless cunt as long as the cream worked. It was pretty hard to feel much self worth when you had spent the last hour being whipped naked to amuse and arouse an audience of wealthy, powerful men.
The doctor deposited a healthy dollop of cream on her gloved index finger and gently applied it to the wounds on Tara’s ass, then applied more to her back and breasts. Tara had to admit that it did feel good, strangely soothing, but also causing a tingling sensation which was very pleasant. She sighed happily.
Then, the doctor applied cream to Delia’s wounds, provoking similar sighs of contentment. Tara heard men’s voices talking loudly and laughing. Turning her head, she saw him, accompanied by the “Principal” and another one of the guests, a middle-aged man with a shaven head and a trimmed salt and pepper beard.
The men stood over the two women. “Robert does good work, doesn’t he?”
Tara could feel their breath on her inflamed skin as they bent to have a closer look. “He does,” the “Principal” said.
“I agree,” the other man added.
“May I feel the weals?” the “Principal” asked.
“Be my guest” the doctor said. Tara felt his fingers running along the ridges and cuts on her ass cheeks, pinching and kneading the raised, inflamed skin.
“Oww!” she moaned, as a new dose of pain seared through her poor ass cheeks. Finally, he moved on. She watched him perform the same examination on Delia, eliciting a similar response.
“That is a proper punishment for these little skanks,” the “Principal” pronounced. “I bet the next time, they’ll put forth some effort instead of lying down on the job.”
“No doubt,” the other man said.
“Most of these girls today are really in need of discipline. My paddle is simply not up to the job. Do you know where I can get a whip like that?”
“I’ll talk to Robert in the morning,” he said. “I’ve got some things to attend to, so I’ll leave you gentlemen to finish your inspection.” Tara saw him turn and walk away.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the “Principal” and the other man undressing. Both were sporting erections; the other man’s in particular was very thick.
“Mind if I have the blonde?” the “Principal” asked. The other man shrugged and nodded.
‘Poor Delia,’ Tara thought. ‘That’s going to hurt.’ She felt the “Principal” pulling her legs apart and lifting her hips to give himself a better angle to enter her. “Oww!” she complained as the change in position was quite painful.
“Shut up or I’ll see to it that you get another dozen or two,” he spat. Tara bit her lip to keep quiet as he placed the tip of his penis against her rear entrance. She felt his weight bearing down and then he was inside her. She heard Delia moaning as the other man shoved his large penis inside her.
The “Principal” began rutting away, each thrust re-igniting the fire in Tara’s ass cheeks as he pushed his pubic bone against her inflamed skin.
“You worthless whore, you deserve everything you got, don’t you?” he said. His movements were fast now, like a piston.
“I asked you a question, bitch. Answer me!” he demanded, breathless.
“Yes, sir,” Tara replied. He groaned and she felt him spurting inside her. And, at that moment, she truly did feel like a worthless whore deserving of punishment and humiliation, her spirit broken, her body just a receptacle for these men’s seed.
He called a halt after each of them had taken twelve lashes. It wasn’t for the benefit of Tara and Delia, but for Robert, to maintain his strength so that he could deliver the remaining lashes with the same undiminished force as the ones that he had already administered.
For Tara and Delia, while the break from the battering cords and the knots tearing into their flesh was welcome, it came at the price of more time hanging from their wrists, their weight shifting between their aching shoulders and their toes. The shifting weight caused terrible distress to their feet which still bore the cuts from the rocks over which they had been forced to pull the cart.
They hung there, panting to recover the breath they had been expending shouting out their agony to the unsympathetic audience. Their bodies were coated with sweat, their hair soaked and disheveled, their faces streaked with tears and phlegm. They pressed their bodies together, partly for comfort and support, partly because their bonds left them little choice.
“Are you OK, Delia?” Tara whispered.
Delia shook her head. “It hurts so much.”
“I feel like there’s no skin left on my back,” Tara said. “I don’t know how I can take eighteen more.”
“I don’t know either, Tara. But what choice do we have?”
Tara saw the doctor approaching with her black medical bag. She watched her pour some liquid onto a swab and then felt it touch her back. For a moment it felt cool and soothing, but then it began to burn like pure fire. “Owwwww!” she howled, twisting and writhing against Delia. “Oh, God, it stings,” she wailed.
“Not as much as the money I lost betting on you two useless cunts,” one of the spectators shouted.
“Stop being a baby,” the doctor told her. “I have to disinfect where the skin is broken. It’s for your own good.” She moved to Delia and prepared a new swab and dabbed her back. Now it was Delia’s turn to writhe against Tara, her large breasts rubbing insistently against Tara’s smaller ones. She shouted several Spanish curse words, a few of which Tara had heard before and a couple of which were new to her.
When they had finally calmed down as the burning from the antiseptic died down, Tara looked at the doctor. “Please, we’ve had enough. I can’t take any more. It’s killing me!” she begged.
The doctor laughed. “Nonsense, you’re both young and healthy. You’ve only had twelve so far, for Pete’s sake. Plenty of girls have taken as many or more than you two are due and all of them survived.” Tara hadn’t really expected that the doctor would help them in any way, but she was so desperate that she didn’t care about embarrassing herself with a fruitless plea for mercy. The doctor turned and walked away, leaving them to bear the remainder of their sentence.
The men in the audience were taking advantage of the hiatus to enjoy the favors of the other Personal Companions. Shouts of triumph rang out as one or another man deposited his seed in one or another orifice of one or another of the girls.
But, all too soon, Robert was approaching, the handle of the whip in his hand, the cords dangling loosely towards the ground. He took his position behind Tara. She would be first this time. Her body tensed up, as she tried her best to prepare herself for the torment yet to come, which was going to be even more than what she had suffered so far, as she was not even halfway through her allotted punishment.
Before Robert could strike, the “Principal” interjected a request. “How’s about we give them the next ones across their asses? I’d love to see what those cords would do to those tender juicy globes of flesh.”
He had, of course, delivered paddle blows to their buttocks, but this would be much more severe. “Who wants to see them get whipped on their asses?” their employer asked.
There was a general chorus of assent. “Yeah, let’s whip their worthless asses!” one man yelled.
“Very well, Robert. Please administer the next strokes to the buttocks.”
Robert smiled and bowed and adjusted his position. Then, Tara heard the lashes whir through the air as Robert swung it over his head and then felt the tails strike with full force across her lower cheeks. The force drove her hips forward pushing her vulva against Delia’s crotch.
Then the pain hit her, like being stung by an angry nest full of hornets as the knots dug deeply into the soft, yielding flesh. “Ohhh!” Tara cried. The pain kept rising until it plateaued and then, only slowly, ebbed.
“Thirteen for Tara,” Kelly announced. Not even halfway through.
Robert struck again, the tails wrapping around Tara’s buttocks the knotted ends cutting into her upper thighs. She wriggled madly her nether regions rubbing against those of her friend and partner in suffering.
The next one, fifteen, was the halfway point. Tara couldn’t imagine how she would survive suffering again as many lashes as she had already taken, each one now landing on skin that was already battered and abraded.
She watched Robert move in front of her to stand behind Delia. Tara would get a brief reprieve at the price of having to watch her lover suffer. Robert whirled the cords over his head and slashed them across Delia’s ass. Tara felt Dee’s hips thrust forward, pressing against her pubic region. She thought about the pleasure Delia had given her last night, the caresses and kisses she had given to those very parts.
Robert struck again. Delia wailed, a chain of swear words in English and Spanish, as her hips shook and pressed hard against Tara’s hips. Tara could feel her friend trembling in reaction to the strokes already taken and in fear of the strokes to come.
Delia’s fifteenth lash was delivered. She was now halfway through as well, though her cries didn’t suggest much semblance of relief at that milestone.
The flogging continued. Three strokes to one penitent girl’s ass, her howls of pain her gyrations against the genitals of her friend and lover, then a switch to the other sufferer, the sounds of her anguish and the sight of more stripes added to her buttocks to entertain the audience.
Finally, Robert reached twenty four delivered to each girl. It was time to rest and recharge so he could deliver the final six to each of them at maximum force in order to satisfy his employer and his guests. It was also time for the doctor to renew her disinfection of the wounds, this time on Tara and Delia’s butts, the astringent liquid evoking similar howls and twisting in their bonds as when it had been applied to their backs.
And as they hung there, waiting to receive the final allotment of their punishment, the lashes that they had thought they would be spared, every part of their bodies was in agony, from their shoulders aching from supporting their weight to their upper backs and buttocks, scored by the knotted cords, to their feet, which ached from being forced to stand on tiptoe.
Their only comfort they had was that they were together in their ordeal, each one’s sweat-sheened skin pressed against the other’s, their pussies moist from grinding together as the force of the whip pushed their hips forward. They could look into each other’s eyes, drawing comfort and support from having a fellow sufferer, company in their misery.
Meanwhile, there was a discussion about where the final six lashes should be delivered. The “Principal”, of course, wanted them to be given on the ass. Others wanted the back. Some argued for turning them around and whipping their tits. Neither Tara nor Delia was consulted on the decision, even though it was their flesh that would suffer from the results. Neither was surprised by that.
In the end, in the spirit of compromise, it was decided to split the difference-three lashes on the ass and three on the back, with Robert making a special effort to wrap the end of the tails onto their breasts.
And, so instructed, the large powerful black man took his position behind Delia. Tara watched as he twirled the cords above his head and then slashed them across her friend’s upper back, with a special wrist flick that sent the knotted ends digging into the flesh of Dee’s right breast.
Tara saw the skin split, small droplets of blood welling up. Delia howled her displeasure, while Robert was smiling as the audience whistled their approval. Tara wanted dearly to kiss her lover’s breasts to comfort her, but their stretched position didn’t allow that.
Instead, she could only watch as Robert slashed a second blow across Delia’s ass, driving her hips once again into Tara’s pelvis. For the third of the set, Robert delivered a backhanded strike that cut into Delia’s left breast, dragging more piteous cries from the poor girl.
Now it was Tara’s turn. She watched Robert circle behind her and heard the cords whir around his head before they smashed into her back, the tails cutting into the side of her right breast in a blaze of agony that had her shouting her distress despite the hoarseness in her throat.
The next one came from the other side, scoring her left tit. The gashes they left behind looked awful, blood seeping from them in several places. The third of the set struck her ass, driving her pussy hard against Delia’s.
Tara saw Robert circle around again to deliver the final three to Delia, who bore them more or less silently, too exhausted to protest. Tara took her final three in more or less the same manner.
Robert bowed to the audience, who applauded and cheered his excellent work. Kelly, finally, lowered the bar. It had been nearly an hour that Tara and Delia had been stretched out. The relief for their aching muscles almost overshadowed the pain from the whip, which still burned in the most damaged places. They slumped to the floor in each other’s arms, unable to move.
“Look at those dykes. I bet they’d eat each other out right here to avoid any more lashes,” one man said to general laughter.
“Now, now, gentlemen, they’ve taken their punishment. That’s it for tonight, I’m afraid,” their employer said, to scattered boos. The doctor came forward, motioning to the other Personal Companions to help. Working together, they were able to coax Tara and Delia to their feet and help them limp to the clinic.
***
Tara and Delia were deposited face down onto beds in the clinic. “Would you help me by holding them down? I need to disinfect their wounds and it’s likely to hurt just a bit,” the doctor asked their fellow students. As the astringent liquid worked its way into the fresh wounds, it set off another round of shrieks and wild struggles from the prone bodies, newly revived by the latest treatment.
“Ok, that’s fine, thank you,” the doctor said after Tara and Delia’s gyrations ceased, shooing the others out of the clinic.
“Now, I’m going to put some of this cream on,” she told them. “It won’t hurt, I promise. In fact it will feel good and will really promote healing.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Tara said.
“Oh, I’m not doing it for you,” she told them. “I’m doing it for him. For some reason he sees some value in you two worthless cunts and asked me to take care of you.”
Tara didn’t really mind being called a worthless cunt as long as the cream worked. It was pretty hard to feel much self worth when you had spent the last hour being whipped naked to amuse and arouse an audience of wealthy, powerful men.
The doctor deposited a healthy dollop of cream on her gloved index finger and gently applied it to the wounds on Tara’s ass, then applied more to her back and breasts. Tara had to admit that it did feel good, strangely soothing, but also causing a tingling sensation which was very pleasant. She sighed happily.
Then, the doctor applied cream to Delia’s wounds, provoking similar sighs of contentment. Tara heard men’s voices talking loudly and laughing. Turning her head, she saw him, accompanied by the “Principal” and another one of the guests, a middle-aged man with a shaven head and a trimmed salt and pepper beard.
The men stood over the two women. “Robert does good work, doesn’t he?”
Tara could feel their breath on her inflamed skin as they bent to have a closer look. “He does,” the “Principal” said.
“I agree,” the other man added.
“May I feel the weals?” the “Principal” asked.
“Be my guest” the doctor said. Tara felt his fingers running along the ridges and cuts on her ass cheeks, pinching and kneading the raised, inflamed skin.
“Oww!” she moaned, as a new dose of pain seared through her poor ass cheeks. Finally, he moved on. She watched him perform the same examination on Delia, eliciting a similar response.
“That is a proper punishment for these little skanks,” the “Principal” pronounced. “I bet the next time, they’ll put forth some effort instead of lying down on the job.”
“No doubt,” the other man said.
“Most of these girls today are really in need of discipline. My paddle is simply not up to the job. Do you know where I can get a whip like that?”
“I’ll talk to Robert in the morning,” he said. “I’ve got some things to attend to, so I’ll leave you gentlemen to finish your inspection.” Tara saw him turn and walk away.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the “Principal” and the other man undressing. Both were sporting erections; the other man’s in particular was very thick.
“Mind if I have the blonde?” the “Principal” asked. The other man shrugged and nodded.
‘Poor Delia,’ Tara thought. ‘That’s going to hurt.’ She felt the “Principal” pulling her legs apart and lifting her hips to give himself a better angle to enter her. “Oww!” she complained as the change in position was quite painful.
“Shut up or I’ll see to it that you get another dozen or two,” he spat. Tara bit her lip to keep quiet as he placed the tip of his penis against her rear entrance. She felt his weight bearing down and then he was inside her. She heard Delia moaning as the other man shoved his large penis inside her.
The “Principal” began rutting away, each thrust re-igniting the fire in Tara’s ass cheeks as he pushed his pubic bone against her inflamed skin.
“You worthless whore, you deserve everything you got, don’t you?” he said. His movements were fast now, like a piston.
“I asked you a question, bitch. Answer me!” he demanded, breathless.
“Yes, sir,” Tara replied. He groaned and she felt him spurting inside her. And, at that moment, she truly did feel like a worthless whore deserving of punishment and humiliation, her spirit broken, her body just a receptacle for these men’s seed.
M
montycrusto
Guest
..a deeply moral tale, this really should be a set text in schools
windar
Teller of Tales
The "Principal" agrees..a deeply moral tale, this really should be a set text in schools
malins
Stumbling Seeker
It's all one big vast conpiracy isn't it? Those doctors with their marvellous plant extract creams...
This guy might exit the stage suddenly...
Jackie1111
Tribune
(ahem)
I just want to point out that the International Ponygirl Association requires that pony girls be judged not only on their speed, but on their beauty and poise as well.
Attachments
Jackie1111
Tribune
I love how you positioned Tara and Delia for their whippings. I wish we saw that in more pics and vids. A couple of old pics I've always loved:
Attachments
windar
Teller of Tales
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tara and Delia spent the rest of the day lying in their room on their stomachs, naked, as the wounds on their backs and buttocks precluded any contact with clothing or bed sheets. The doctor stopped in a few times to apply more of her healing cream. One of the local women brought them dinner. Tara was surprised that she was hungry, but ended up eating most of it, as did Delia.
In the evening, the doctor came by again to give them a sleeping pill as they had had the previous evening. “I’m surprised he’s allowed this,” she told them. “We usually don’t give this after the whipping. Tossing and turning all night is part of the punishment, but he must like you guys.” Then she rubbed on more of the cream. “You’ll be surprised how much healing you’ll see by tomorrow morning,” she told them.
Tara slept deeply, dreamlessly as far as she remembered on waking, no nightmares of floggings or anal penetration. When she went to the bathroom, she examined her back and ass in the mirror. They looked bad, but not as bad as she would have imagined after such a severe whipping.
After breakfast, the doctor looked in. “Everything is healing well. One more dose should do it,” she said as she rubbed more of her cream into their skin.
It felt really good. Tara was tingling all over. “That stuff is amazing,” she said. Delia nodded her agreement.
“Yes it is,” the doctor said. “You should be grateful that I’m giving some to two worthless bitches like you.”
“We are,” Delia said, not arguing with her characterization of them.
“Well, perhaps some time in the future, you’ll have to express your gratitude in more than just words, but for now I have to go and attend to some other things. Take it easy today and you should heal just fine. I’ll be back to check on you later,” she said as she left.
Tara and Delia spent the day lying on their beds, bored and listless, still aching from the cart race and their flogging, but slowly regaining their strength. In the late afternoon, there was a knock at the door.
Kelly barged in without waiting to be asked. “Well, look at you two princesses leading the life of leisure,” she said, snidely. Tara wondered which princesses lay around naked, their skin marked with wheals from a whipping. “Better get your acts together, he wants you at dinner tonight.”
“Sure,” Delia replied.
“What should we wear?” Tara asked.
“Wear?” Kelly snickered. “You come like that. Everyone needs to see what you look like. The whip marks and everything. Wear,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I’ll come get you when it’s time. And you had better be contrite unless you want another dose,” she warned.
The Two Musketeers both shook their heads. “Please, Kelly,” Tara begged, shocked that she would even suggest that as a possibility. “I wouldn’t survive that, please.”
“You would, but just see that you behave, OK?”
“We will, Kelly, count on it, Delia said.
Tara wondered what would be asked of them that night, servicing how many men, under threat of another session on the bars, where the whip would bite into the new skin that covered their wounds thanks to the doctor’s cream. ‘How could such a thing be possible,’ she thought. Well, this is Pirate Cay and anything can happen here.
But, to her surprise, when they got there, there were no guests, just him and the other Personal Companions and the doctor seated at the table. They followed Kelly as she approached the table.
He smiled. “Tara, Delia, how are you doing this fine evening?”
They bowed their heads. “Fine, sir,” Tara managed to mumble.
“I want to commend both of you on last night’s show.”
‘Show?’ Tara thought, incredulous. Did he think they were faking, putting it on, that they weren’t really in agony?
“Thank you sir,” she mumbled.
“That was a new thing here at Pirate Cay. We’ve never whipped two Companions bound face to face before. That was Kelly’s idea brilliant idea.”
Tara turned to look at Kelly, who smiled evilly. “Thank you, sir,” Kelly replied.
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Kelly,” he said. Turning to Tara and Delia, he asked, “Now, did you two learn your lesson?”
“Yes, sir, we did,” they both replied, though Tara was a bit confused as to what lesson they were supposed to have learned. Don’t get assigned the cart with the fat guy on it?
“And that lesson was?”
Tara blanked, not sure what she should say-definitely not what she had just thought. Fortunately, Delia came to the rescue. “That we should workout so we can do better pulling the cart.”
He smiled broadly. “Excellent, Delia! Tara would you agree with that?”
Relieved to have something to say, Tara nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir, when I get back to Pitcher I’m going to go to the gym every day, rain or shine. And think you for being so generous as to build it.”
“Good, I’m glad you guys have a new attitude. A sound mind in a sound body is what I always have believed in. Now, the doctor doesn’t want you sitting just yet to protect the new skin on your buttocks. So take some food and you can go stand at the bar and eat. Oh, and Tara, I want to see you after in my office.”
Tara’s heart skipped a beat. What could he possibly want? Here on Pirate Cay it was likely to involve pain and humiliation on her part, but what could she do? She wasn’t feeling hungry all of a sudden, but he had ordered them to eat, so she filled her plate and did her best to eat most of it.
Finally, he got up from the table and motioned Tara to follow him into his office. He sat behind his desk. Unable to sit, Tara stood naked in front of him.
“Tara,” he began. “You’re young and you may not understand this, but I’ve reached the age where one begins to consider one’s own mortality.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, completely at sea as to where this was going.
“For various reasons, I have never married and had children, at least none that I know about. So, when I die, there will be no one to carry on my business and to inherit my fortune.”
Tara’s head was spinning. Was he proposing to leave her his money, this island and this house and his other properties?
“The time has come for me to pass my genes on to the next generation,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I think you should do that.”
“That’s good Tara, and I want your help.”
“Help, sir?”
“Yes, I want you to have my child.”
‘Oh my God!’ she thought. “Sir, I’m flattered,” she mumbled, “But I’m a worthless whore, not fit to have your child.”
“That’s true, Tara. You are a worthless whore, and perhaps I’m crazy, but that’s what I want. And I have science behind me. Your DNA is a great match with mine. The doctor says there’s an excellent chance we would have a brilliant child together. No guarantee, of course, but, the odds would be favorable.”
“Sir, you tested my DNA?” Tara asked, puzzled.
“I have all the Companions tested. Yours came out on top. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Where did you get my DNA, sir?”
“When you drink from a glass, you leave cells behind. The kitchen staff collected all the glasses at dinner and kept track of which one is from which of you. The doctor sent the samples to a lab she knows.”
Tara was speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s simple, Tara. This is what I want and your role is to please me, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, it is,” she said. He hadn’t said what would happen if she refused, but she didn’t really want to find out.
“So, you won’t be returning to school at the end of the week. You’ll be staying here. The doctor will monitor your cycles and when the time is right, we’ll try. If it doesn’t happen this month, we’ll keep trying. I don’t think it will take too long. No other man will be allowed to have you, of course.”
“Once you’re pregnant, you’ll be given the best nutrition and medical care until you deliver. Then you can go back home. I will make sure our offspring receives a suitable upbringing that will prepare him-hopefully it will be a boy-or her to take over my empire.”
“But what about school?” Tara asked.
“You will be given a leave of absence. When you return you will have a full scholarship and I will compensate you so that you will complete your studies in comfort. I give Pitcher plenty of money and they will be glad to arrange this. You’ll send emails to all your family and friends telling them you love it here and you need a break from your studies and will see them in nine months. I’ll review them before you send them, of course.”
“What about Delia?” Tara asked.
He thought for a moment. “That’s a good point. I could see you being lonely and depressed here and that won’t be good for the baby. You and Delia are close, I hear, very close.”
Tara blushed. “Yes, sir, we are.”
“The Prime Minister really likes her. She can tend to his needs whenever he stops by and she can keep you company. If he wants to knock her up, that’s his business. We’ll get her the same leave of absence from Pitcher as you.”
Tara didn’t know what else to say except, “Thank you, sir.”
“Good, then it’s all arranged. You’re going to have a great year here at Pirate Cay, I guarantee it.”
Tara and Delia spent the rest of the day lying in their room on their stomachs, naked, as the wounds on their backs and buttocks precluded any contact with clothing or bed sheets. The doctor stopped in a few times to apply more of her healing cream. One of the local women brought them dinner. Tara was surprised that she was hungry, but ended up eating most of it, as did Delia.
In the evening, the doctor came by again to give them a sleeping pill as they had had the previous evening. “I’m surprised he’s allowed this,” she told them. “We usually don’t give this after the whipping. Tossing and turning all night is part of the punishment, but he must like you guys.” Then she rubbed on more of the cream. “You’ll be surprised how much healing you’ll see by tomorrow morning,” she told them.
Tara slept deeply, dreamlessly as far as she remembered on waking, no nightmares of floggings or anal penetration. When she went to the bathroom, she examined her back and ass in the mirror. They looked bad, but not as bad as she would have imagined after such a severe whipping.
After breakfast, the doctor looked in. “Everything is healing well. One more dose should do it,” she said as she rubbed more of her cream into their skin.
It felt really good. Tara was tingling all over. “That stuff is amazing,” she said. Delia nodded her agreement.
“Yes it is,” the doctor said. “You should be grateful that I’m giving some to two worthless bitches like you.”
“We are,” Delia said, not arguing with her characterization of them.
“Well, perhaps some time in the future, you’ll have to express your gratitude in more than just words, but for now I have to go and attend to some other things. Take it easy today and you should heal just fine. I’ll be back to check on you later,” she said as she left.
Tara and Delia spent the day lying on their beds, bored and listless, still aching from the cart race and their flogging, but slowly regaining their strength. In the late afternoon, there was a knock at the door.
Kelly barged in without waiting to be asked. “Well, look at you two princesses leading the life of leisure,” she said, snidely. Tara wondered which princesses lay around naked, their skin marked with wheals from a whipping. “Better get your acts together, he wants you at dinner tonight.”
“Sure,” Delia replied.
“What should we wear?” Tara asked.
“Wear?” Kelly snickered. “You come like that. Everyone needs to see what you look like. The whip marks and everything. Wear,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I’ll come get you when it’s time. And you had better be contrite unless you want another dose,” she warned.
The Two Musketeers both shook their heads. “Please, Kelly,” Tara begged, shocked that she would even suggest that as a possibility. “I wouldn’t survive that, please.”
“You would, but just see that you behave, OK?”
“We will, Kelly, count on it, Delia said.
Tara wondered what would be asked of them that night, servicing how many men, under threat of another session on the bars, where the whip would bite into the new skin that covered their wounds thanks to the doctor’s cream. ‘How could such a thing be possible,’ she thought. Well, this is Pirate Cay and anything can happen here.
But, to her surprise, when they got there, there were no guests, just him and the other Personal Companions and the doctor seated at the table. They followed Kelly as she approached the table.
He smiled. “Tara, Delia, how are you doing this fine evening?”
They bowed their heads. “Fine, sir,” Tara managed to mumble.
“I want to commend both of you on last night’s show.”
‘Show?’ Tara thought, incredulous. Did he think they were faking, putting it on, that they weren’t really in agony?
“Thank you sir,” she mumbled.
“That was a new thing here at Pirate Cay. We’ve never whipped two Companions bound face to face before. That was Kelly’s idea brilliant idea.”
Tara turned to look at Kelly, who smiled evilly. “Thank you, sir,” Kelly replied.
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Kelly,” he said. Turning to Tara and Delia, he asked, “Now, did you two learn your lesson?”
“Yes, sir, we did,” they both replied, though Tara was a bit confused as to what lesson they were supposed to have learned. Don’t get assigned the cart with the fat guy on it?
“And that lesson was?”
Tara blanked, not sure what she should say-definitely not what she had just thought. Fortunately, Delia came to the rescue. “That we should workout so we can do better pulling the cart.”
He smiled broadly. “Excellent, Delia! Tara would you agree with that?”
Relieved to have something to say, Tara nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir, when I get back to Pitcher I’m going to go to the gym every day, rain or shine. And think you for being so generous as to build it.”
“Good, I’m glad you guys have a new attitude. A sound mind in a sound body is what I always have believed in. Now, the doctor doesn’t want you sitting just yet to protect the new skin on your buttocks. So take some food and you can go stand at the bar and eat. Oh, and Tara, I want to see you after in my office.”
Tara’s heart skipped a beat. What could he possibly want? Here on Pirate Cay it was likely to involve pain and humiliation on her part, but what could she do? She wasn’t feeling hungry all of a sudden, but he had ordered them to eat, so she filled her plate and did her best to eat most of it.
Finally, he got up from the table and motioned Tara to follow him into his office. He sat behind his desk. Unable to sit, Tara stood naked in front of him.
“Tara,” he began. “You’re young and you may not understand this, but I’ve reached the age where one begins to consider one’s own mortality.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, completely at sea as to where this was going.
“For various reasons, I have never married and had children, at least none that I know about. So, when I die, there will be no one to carry on my business and to inherit my fortune.”
Tara’s head was spinning. Was he proposing to leave her his money, this island and this house and his other properties?
“The time has come for me to pass my genes on to the next generation,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I think you should do that.”
“That’s good Tara, and I want your help.”
“Help, sir?”
“Yes, I want you to have my child.”
‘Oh my God!’ she thought. “Sir, I’m flattered,” she mumbled, “But I’m a worthless whore, not fit to have your child.”
“That’s true, Tara. You are a worthless whore, and perhaps I’m crazy, but that’s what I want. And I have science behind me. Your DNA is a great match with mine. The doctor says there’s an excellent chance we would have a brilliant child together. No guarantee, of course, but, the odds would be favorable.”
“Sir, you tested my DNA?” Tara asked, puzzled.
“I have all the Companions tested. Yours came out on top. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Where did you get my DNA, sir?”
“When you drink from a glass, you leave cells behind. The kitchen staff collected all the glasses at dinner and kept track of which one is from which of you. The doctor sent the samples to a lab she knows.”
Tara was speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s simple, Tara. This is what I want and your role is to please me, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, it is,” she said. He hadn’t said what would happen if she refused, but she didn’t really want to find out.
“So, you won’t be returning to school at the end of the week. You’ll be staying here. The doctor will monitor your cycles and when the time is right, we’ll try. If it doesn’t happen this month, we’ll keep trying. I don’t think it will take too long. No other man will be allowed to have you, of course.”
“Once you’re pregnant, you’ll be given the best nutrition and medical care until you deliver. Then you can go back home. I will make sure our offspring receives a suitable upbringing that will prepare him-hopefully it will be a boy-or her to take over my empire.”
“But what about school?” Tara asked.
“You will be given a leave of absence. When you return you will have a full scholarship and I will compensate you so that you will complete your studies in comfort. I give Pitcher plenty of money and they will be glad to arrange this. You’ll send emails to all your family and friends telling them you love it here and you need a break from your studies and will see them in nine months. I’ll review them before you send them, of course.”
“What about Delia?” Tara asked.
He thought for a moment. “That’s a good point. I could see you being lonely and depressed here and that won’t be good for the baby. You and Delia are close, I hear, very close.”
Tara blushed. “Yes, sir, we are.”
“The Prime Minister really likes her. She can tend to his needs whenever he stops by and she can keep you company. If he wants to knock her up, that’s his business. We’ll get her the same leave of absence from Pitcher as you.”
Tara didn’t know what else to say except, “Thank you, sir.”
“Good, then it’s all arranged. You’re going to have a great year here at Pirate Cay, I guarantee it.”
THE END (At Least for Now...)
windar
Teller of Tales
So ends our tale. I'm curious what people think of it. My goal was to portray a slow descent into submission, driven initially by the girls' need for money, but then manipulated to produce real submission, at least on Tara's part (Delia may retain some will). I also wanted to portray a villain who was refined and showed mercy as well as sadism, because I think that real submission requires some subtlety on the master's part and the occasional dispensation of favors. Interestingly, @malins made a similar point in another thread http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/the-emergence-of-legal-slavery.7853/page-3#post-498804 , though after I had already written my story!
Bald faced lie ... in fact, spring semester at Pitcher College resumed after break, with no word from either student. The matter of their absence from classes was duly referred to Windar, Dean of Students Affairs, for investigation and resolution.
twonines
LIMERICUS
Ouch!
M
montycrusto
Guest
I enjoyed it very much, though I was shocked and disgusted by the offensive wealth of all these loathsome billionaires. I would have liked more torture and less “rich bastards eating all the pies as usual“. But then, I am an incorrigible liberal... except perhaps when it comes to torture...
Apart from that (minor) quibble, I thought your story was by turns funny, menacing, sexy and highly readable, it was long enough but didn’t outstay its welcome, was well written, smart and entertaining. Thank you!
connoisseurs
Senator
As far as reaching your goal - for me you have done it in an excellent way. You have a way to bring your figures to life that I find amazing.
And the end of the story? Unexpected fast and with an unexpected plot.
Once again, thank you for a fantastic story.
windar
Teller of Tales
Thank you for the kind words. The options at the end were either to send them back to school or keep them on the island. And since the latter seems more interesting, I wanted something that would make the rest of their stay not just more of the same. And after all, barefoot and pregnant is the fate of a sex slave, isn't it?
I share your politics, Monty, but poor slobs tend not to own private islands under a bought and paid for government. They grab girls off the street and hide them in a cabin in the woods. Nothing wrong with that, but that's a different story than the one I wanted to tell.enjoyed it very much, though I was shocked and disgusted by the offensive wealth of all these loathsome billionaires. I would have liked more torture and less “rich bastards eating all the pies as usual“. But then, I am an incorrigible liberal... except perhaps when it comes to torture...
Apart from that (minor) quibble, I thought your story was by turns funny, menacing, sexy and highly readable, it was long enough but didn’t outstay its welcome, was well written, smart and entertaining. Thank you!
The question is, are these rich bastards more evil than the poor bastards or just better positioned to act on their desires and escape punishment? To quote Delia, "I think a lot of guys are like that. Most of them can’t do anything to make their fantasies real, like these rich shits here can, but they would if they could."
Jon Smithie
Tribune
The end? Here's a young woman, Melissa, wondering how she's going to pay for the next semester in the Ivy League school she's attending.
(Melissa Benoist as Supergirl)
And here's Kelly convincing her to drop her inhibitions and come and have fun in the sun!
(Brianna Brown and Melissa Benoist in Homeland s1e2.)
(Melissa Benoist as Supergirl)And here's Kelly convincing her to drop her inhibitions and come and have fun in the sun!
(Brianna Brown and Melissa Benoist in Homeland s1e2.)
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
An ending I just did not expect.
I had the story all mapped out in my mind when they went back to college, but were so pleased (in an Epilog) when they were invited back because they were missing the excitement.
Since you had a pair go back I figured the experience would not be too bad, so was unprepared for the resulting brutality.
But a good read, one of those when the brain goes: "Oh good, another episode!"
I had the story all mapped out in my mind when they went back to college, but were so pleased (in an Epilog) when they were invited back because they were missing the excitement.
Since you had a pair go back I figured the experience would not be too bad, so was unprepared for the resulting brutality.
But a good read, one of those when the brain goes: "Oh good, another episode!"