Chapter Sixteen

 

A musky odour seeped into Cyril’s consciousness. Gradually he became aware that his mouth was pressed against something soft, something that yielded to pressure. At the same time there was a feeling of warmth surrounding his limp member; a warmth that was gentle and moist.

The odour grew stronger. His eyes flickered open. The first thing he saw was flesh-coloured. Tender flesh.

Unable to move his tightly bound hands, he touched the flesh with his tongue, raising his chin to do so. The flesh quivered as his tongue ran across its surface.

The aroma was identifiable now. It had the unmistakable smell of Woman. A woman’s secretion . . . and his mouth and face were pressed down into it.

His cock quivered. The warmth surrounding his member was now firmer, stronger.

His mind was starting to work more rapidly now, seeking answers, rejecting improbabilities. His senses told him he was bound to a woman. What was more, he was facing her genitals, and she was facing his.

Even if they had not been tied together, they would have been attracted to one another, by reason of scent, of their closeness and of taste. All senses were aroused.

His organ twitched. She was clearly getting as many thrills from him as he was from her. He wanted to show her his appreciation, his understanding, and his desire to continue.

He started to lick between her thighs. He went slowly at first. As the tension rose, his movements speeded up. On her part, she began sucking more intensely, faster and faster still.

They were now furiously giving each other satisfaction. He did not know who she was, but it didn’t matter. All he knew was she was reciprocating the pleasure he was giving her.

A series of low-pitched moans reached him. They did not come from his partner, he knew, but from behind him.

He turned his head to one side. Standing astride them was Lashley. Her hand was between her thighs as she masturbated vigorously. Her mouth had fallen open and there was a frantic expression on her face as she rubbed her hand backwards and forwards, moaning sporadically. A riding crop dangled from her other hand.

As he watched, Cyril saw a patch of dampness suddenly appear between her fingers. The patch became larger, developing into a glistening trickle running down the inside of her thigh. Her face contorted and her moans stopped. She started to give gasps which became quicker and quicker. Her luxuriant breasts heaved, the nipples rampant. Her knees started to give way.

For a moment Cyril thought she was about to collapse on the couple lying beneath her.

With an effort, she stopped herself from falling. The tip of her pink tongue ran over her lips.

‘Come, you wankers. COME!,’ she panted.

She raised the crop and brought it down across Cyril’s buttocks. The unexpected cut brought a howl from him.

Again she brought the crop down, this time against his partner’s bare thighs which reacted violently, revealing a black garter.

A feminine squeal came from beneath him. Cyril now knew to whom he was tied. It was the trainee-Dominatrix who lost the hate-fight.

The crop came down again on each one in turn. Thinking he was being urged to come quickly, Cyril pulled himself in and out more quickly to try to give out. At the same time, he dare not stop kissing and licking the fragrant cunny.

The tied couple spouted almost at the same time. As Cyril shot his spunk, he felt warm juice trickling into his mouth.

Lashley was now cropping them indiscriminately, screaming in unrestrained frenzy.

‘COME, you wankers, COME!’ she screamed. Every word was accented by a fresh cut from the crop.

Cyril was drained. Unable to produce another drop, he lay motionlessly on the ground, absorbing every stinging slash rained on him. Feebly he was also aware that nothing more was oozing between Black garter’s thighs. She, too, was spent.

At last the lashing stopped. He felt the bonds being cut away. On being ordered to stand up, in spite of his efforts he was unable to obey.

The Dominatrix managed to scramble to her feet. Her face was distorted with pain and wet with her tears. She sank to the floor again and fumbled with Cyril’s cock, ripping the flesh with her pointed fingernails.

Then she leaned over him and sank her teeth in his bum, leaving her toothmarks in various places.

She picked up his weary cock, trying to milk him again. Unable to give any more, he found the pain excruciating.

‘Please . . . No more . . . Please,’ he begged.

Lashley had now recovered her strength.

‘You have seen the superiority of Woman over Man,’ she scoffed.

Cyril nodded as he groaned agreement.

‘Very well,’ Lashley said. ‘As you have a weak cock, it must be strengthened. ’

She ordered the cherubs to strap him down on the table.

‘Icepacks,’ she commanded.

One of the giggling cherubs held up his flaccid cock and flicked it with his finger. Cyril shuddered as the other cherubs placed the packs around his shrivelled member, packing them round until it was numbed by the cold.

A bottle was brought to the table. Through the glass, he could see a small black beetle scampering inside.

His cock was lifted out of the icepacks and a razor blade laid against it.

His eyes widened with fear. Before he was able to utter a word, the edge of the blade was dragged down his organ, the flesh was parted and the insect taken out of the bottle and pushed inside the cut. Then the edges of the cut were quickly sewn together. The procedure was carried out so quickly the chilled blood did not have time to escape.

He could feel the beetle moving inside his member as it struggled to get free.

Lashley laughed as she saw his futile efforts to ease himself. He begged for release.

‘Oh, no,’ she scoffed. ‘I want to see you in the grip of perpetual orgasm. ’

His body twisted from side to side as ecstasy mixed with agony.

She bent over him and ran her tongue over his nipples, bringing them alive. His shuddering squeals of delight pierced the air.

Squeals of delight - but accompanied by the torture of unsatisfied lust.

She laughed at him.

‘FEMINA DOMO HOMO,’ she mocked. ‘Woman dominates Man. ’

Cyril panted his urgent agreement.

‘Cane me,’ he begged. ‘Make me suffer - but give me release. ’

‘No!’

The reply thrilled him. He knew that the more he suffered, the greater his exquisite pleasure.

He was not to know further degradation awaited him.