Tuesday, April 19, 2011

A teaser on the new story. Still just a draft.


Ch 9
Java
We repaired to the living room to finish our drinks. Java left the bottles of sherry and brandy on the coffee table, on a silver salver. William served himself a second snifter of brandy and offered me a second round of sherry which I declined. He lit a cigar.

"Don't you drink cognac?" I asked.

He showed me the bottle of brandy. It was dark,almost black in color in sharp contrast with all I knew about brandy that called for the liquor to be as pale as possible. It's aroma was potent and its taste, when he offered me a sip, was fiery yet smooth.

"It's brandy from Jerez," he said, "made from sherry wine."

"I'd never heard of it." I confessed.

"It's far superior to most cognacs," William said, "smoother and more full of flavor if you ask me." he placed the bottle down on the salver.

"We use cognac for cooking here. I never drink it."

"Do you require anything else sir?" Java asked from the entrance.

The sound of her voice, smooth as balsam, yet gravelly shocked me. That she would be a part of the upcoming festivities was, by now, to me self evident.

"Yes Java," William said.

"Please take Mrs Chartres down to the basement and prepare her."

I felt blood rushing, hot and red to my face yet, unprotesting, I stood up. 

"How shall I prepare her sir," Java asked.

I felt blood rushing up to my face and down to my pelvis.

"Arms up," he said, "breasts exposed."

"Only that?"

"Yes, just the breasts."

I approached the dark skinned young woman, who stood, waiting for me, by the door. Her large eyes, the color of a forest pool on a moonless night stood out on her smooth face. Her lips parted in a hint of a smile giving the tiniest peek at her perfect teeth. 

"Follow me madam," she said when I reached her.

I wondered what her racial background was. There was black in there, yet there was something vaguely oriental in her movement and her butt, perky and well formed was definitely not black.

At the bottom of the stairs she flipped a switch. The large basement was washed in halogen light from tracks on the ceiling. Spot lights, currently unlit hanged from the roof at strategic locations, as did more ominous chains. 

At the center of the large room she stopped and, turning around, said:

"Please madam, take off your blouse."

I did so, placing it on her extended hand.

Unasked, I removed my bra placing it too on her hand. She turned around and hanged them from a clothes tree in the corner. She picked up a remote control from a shelf and used it to lower two chains from the ceiling, one on each side of me. The chains had leather shackles on them.

Picking one up she said, "Madam, please give me your wrist."

I could have accepted it better if she was domineering or took superior airs with me, but she did not. She remained exquisitely polite, subservient even.

"Please to raise your arms madam," she said.

After I did so, she used the remote control to take up the slack in the chains, so I could rest the weight of my arms on them.

It was so degrading to stand here, thus exposed, in front of this house servant maid. Even more so because of her exquisite politeness. The churning in my lower abdomen revealing things I'd rather not have revealed. I was glad I kept my skirt and undies up to now. I wondered if I would be allowed to keep them all night.

A voice in my head asked me 'Would you want to?"

A door opened and I heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

"The master arrives," Java said.

William stood in front of me, admiring my naked torso, and my breasts, held obscenely up and forward by my arms. Java's face remained blank, inexpressive, although I caught her, in a moment when she thought I wasn't looking, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue, with a speed and discretion that made me wonder, for a moment, if I had seen it, or merely imagined it.

"Java," he said, "bring me two alligator clamps."

"Yes sir," she said.

While she retrieved the instruments from a cupboard on the wall, William approached me.

His hand touched my breasts, sliding lightly over the fair, smooth skin. 

"Did it excite you? Having Java prepare you so?" he asked.

"Why don't you check yourself?" I answered, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice.

I feared, for a moment that he would indeed check, revealing my anger to be bluster and shaming me, even further. 

With his face close to mine, I saw his nostrils dilate with his breathing and feared that he might smell my arousal. But I saw no sign that he did. His pupils remained the same size, and the sound of his breathing did not change. 

He turned around and stepped away from me. Java deposited two large alligator clamps on his hand. 

I squealed when the toothed jaws bit into the skin of my areolas. I swung from my wrists as I squeezed my thighs together, to contain the flow that threatened to come out of my female regions. I hope he saw the anger in my eyes as I regained my self control. 

He smiled.

Java stood, behind him, silent, expressionless, a knee slightly bent, awaiting orders from her master.

"Java," he asked, "bring me the three tailed whip."

I raised my face, looking at him, defiant. 

He began to strike my breasts with the flogger, slowly getting into rhythm, first one, then the other, not very hard at first, making me squirm in my bonds.

I struggled, in my chains to contain my screams, fearing what they would reveal. I crossed my thighs, under my skirt while twisting, almost dangling from my chains. William continued to strike my bosoms with his three bladed flogger while Java looked on, impassive.

I could contain myself no longer; the flogger hit my boobs harder and the thin crotch of my thong could not hold the juice of my snatch any more. I began to gasp with every stroke of the triple tailed whip, as the alligator clamps sunk their teeth deeper into my flesh with every squirm of my body.

And then my gasps turned into moans, then screams.

Then he stopped.

I gasped for breath, my knees bent, all my weight dangling from my wrists. My thighs clasped tight, trying to drown the little bolts of energy that radiated, like the legs of a spider, up from my depths.

William approached me again, whip dangling from his hand. "Does it excite you, to be whipped, with Java watching you?"

I had no answer for him.

He extended his hand, Java took the flogger from him.

"Single tail," he said.

The long bullwhip cracked the air, its tip cutting into my breasts. It took a fraction of a second for the pain to sink in. Deep, explosive, visceral. It took me no longer than that to begin to scream. Everything else wiped out of my conscience by the crack of the whip and the searing, cutting, blinding pain of the single tail striking my orbs. I did not even notice when one of the alligator clamps flew of its nipple amidst my thrashing. I did not even notice when he stopped. I continued to scream, and to thrash regardless. 

When I finally noticed, my boobs were twin mountains of lava. Only one of them still adorned with the clamp, swinging up and down with my labored breathing.

With a conscious effort I slowed down my gasps.

"Focus!" I said in a whisper.

I concentrated on my breathing, eyes closed, until my lungs were no longer a ragged bellows. Then I opened my eyes. 

William stood in front of me, the single tail whip dangling, inert, from his hand. Beside him stood Java, her huge eyes open, her lips parted, her breath moving, I knew, in and out between those two pink, perfect sausages of flesh. I saw the faint tightening, firming, of the muscles around her hips, mute witness that the sight of my body writhing under the whip, my breasts quivering under the lash and finally, the clamps biting on my tender skin, did not leave her as inert, as passive, as she pretended to.

My pelvis filled with blood, my tissues, inside me, engorged with the hot, viscous fluid, throbbed in unison with the beating of my heart. I wanted to clamp my thighs shut, to dam the flow that threatened to pour from my tunnel but the sheer mass of the red ball in my pelvis prevented me from doing so. My legs wanted to fly open of their own accord, the lips of my pussy, engorged and wet, wanted to open wide, to welcome his touch, her touch, the whip's touch.

I thought he would ask me the question he'd been asking all evening, yet he did not. Whether because he knew the answer already, or because he did not care, I do not know.

He handed the whip into Java's hands and turned his back to me.

"Give her a bath," he said, "and get her into bed."

He turned his head around and said, "Good night Helen. Get some rest; we have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

I heard the sound of his footsteps receding up the stairs, just as the pain of the blood rushing back into my nipple hit me, when Java removed the clamp that had hung through the whole evening on to my breast.
When she released my hands, unable to stand, I fell into her arms.

She helped me up the stairs and into a chair in my room. She went into the bathroom and I heard her open the faucets in the tub. She helped me into the small tiled room and, kneeling in front of me, she helped me step out of my skirt. The smell of my own arousal hit my nostrils like a punch in the gut. Exhausted as I was, I did not have the strength to blush. I did notice her nostrils opening up, to capture my odor, just before she removed the soaked thong from me. Now I stood naked, in the bathroom as I waited for my bath to be ready. 

She closed the faucets and poured some bath salts into the steaming water. The bathroom filled with the odor of eucalyptus, chamomile and rosemary. Without even testing the water temperature, Java took me by the hand and helped me into the tub. 

The water temperature was perfect. Not hot enough to scald, yet warm enough that it's heat soothed sore muscles, twisted sinews.

I soaked in the aromatic water, closing my eyes. I felt her hands massaging, kneading the tight cords on my neck. I opened my eyes and saw her, she had opened the black top of her maid's uniform which hung about her waist, but kept her black bra on. She smiled at me; her teeth, as I suspected, were perfect pearls.
Her hands slid down my chest, a sponge on them, sliding carefully over my skin. I whimpered when she soaped my breasts, and whimpered again when they slid between my thighs. 

Too soon it was over.

She dried my body with a plush towel and, at my urging, applied the cream I used to prevent bruising all over my breasts. 

I could not help my breath getting deeper, as she massaged the white ointment into my formerly white orbs. My blood rushed again to my pelvis and I felt faint. My knees buckled and I reached around her shoulders for support.

She helped me into bed.

I watched her put the top of her uniform back on.

I needed release and, somehow, I knew that my middle finger, seeking my nub between my nether lips was not going to cut it.

Was she going to leave me like this?

"Please," I asked.

She turned her strong, thin face towards me and smiled.

"Of course madam."

She pulled the sheet off my nude body and her hands found the skin around my waist. She knelt on the bed as my thighs came open of their own accord. Her lips sought my center. Her tongue found my nub. 

My pelvis exploded.

Later, I saw her face, wet with the juices of my spending, rise between my thighs, her wide smile betraying her own pleasure, her own delight.

I reached for her with my hand, willing to return the favor, but she got off the bed took a step back.

"Not tonight madam; it is late."

She opened the door and left me in the bed. Before closing the door however she said:

"Maybe tomorrow."

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