Shona's Surprising Slave - Chapter 23

Femdom romance in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!

Read more of my erotica…

I’m back to erotic fiction! If you’ve lost track of the story, maybe read the previous episode first…

The spare room door closed behind Hal. His caged groin hardened and his new slave collar tightened around his throat. His welts started to itch.

"Alone at last," said Angela, behind him.

Bright light spilled through the gauzy white curtains so it was like walking into a Generic Heaven Set from a US TV show. There should have been a man in a white suit lounging in Mistress's office chair by the window... or maybe that Country and Western singer with the big breasts...

Angela let out a nervous giggle.

Hal sensed her gaze on his bare back. His cheeks burned. She must be contemplating the shameful marks Mistress had left and the ridiculous steel collar sealed around his neck.

Angela remained silent.

What was he supposed to do?

Hal had a flashback to his ex girlfriend kneeling to nuzzle between Mistress's thighs in this very room. His penis twitched forlornly. Even at the time, he'd known the red-haired Amazon didn't care about his reaction. And now she'd casually lent him to a friend, and she probably didn't care how he felt about that either.

And, actually, he felt hurt... hurt and angry.

Ruth's deep voice boomed from the other end of the flat. Mistress laughed and he imagined her at the table, not a care in the world.

Hal should march right back to Mistr--- to Miss Armstrong... to Shona... and tell her where to get off.

She'd only laugh some more and punish him again...

That thought sent a thrill of fear into his groin.

Which was stupid.

Hal was a free man. He could just walk away!

Walk away to what, though?

He had nowhere to live, no job, not much money.

Even if he could sort all that out, he'd have no sex life. Mistress's review would destroy him on HrLckr, assuming she ever released the exclusivity lock. She obviously liked women better than men, so it might be enough for her to know he was suffering somewhere, no orgasm and now no pussy...

Panic fluttered in Hal's gut.

He was trapped. He had to go through with this.

His pierced penis pulsed in its cage and he realised his only recourse was to have the secret revenge of enjoying himself.

He turned to face Angela. "I am at your service, madam."

It was a stupid, theatrical thing to say, but it made the radiant blond flush.

"Oh." Angela's small eyes took on a feral glint. "So you are." She crossed her ankles and jiggled her shoulders, all the while chewing her lip.

She looked angelic and virginal in her patterned cream sun dress. Her skinny calves and skinnier arms made her seem almost girlish, for all that she must be in her late thirties. Silvery high-heeled pumps and long pink-painted fingernails added to the impression that she was playing at princesses.

Angela was neither young like JustHannah, nor wildly dominant like Mistress. And she was too weirdly unformed. Hal simply didn't desire her.

Finally, she ordered, "Get undressed." She giggled. "Slave!"

Hal's heartbeat quickened. OK, still no desire, but maybe a little fear? It took moments to slip out of his shoes and fisherman's pants.

Now he was naked except for his new slave collar.

Her blue eyes focussed on his crotch. She flicked back her long blond hair. "No little red button?"

Naked except for the collar and the permanent chastity cage he had grown horribly used to, that was. Hal couldn't think of what to say.

"Did Shona really press it?" asked Angela.

Hal blushed and nodded mutely. Now he was aware of it again, the cage made him feel even more naked and exposed. He flexed his fingers and fought the urge to cover his shame.

Angela also nodded. "Much, much neater."

"Thank you, madam," mumbled Hal.

"And did you want her to?"

Now Hal's cheeks burned. "No, madam."

She gave a sharp intake of breath and fanned herself with an perfectly manicured hand. "So you're suffering for real?"

"Yes, madam."

"Just t be clear, no orgasm for you again, ever? And you didn't consent to that?"

Hal's penis pulsed forlornly. "No, madam."

Angela clapped her hands, making him flinch. "Well turn around then!"

He shuffled to put his back to her.

"Wow," squeaked Angela. "Just look at your arse!"

Her heels clacked. Clammy fingers brushed Hal's buttocks. Then her nails scratched over his welts.

He flinched and bit back a whimper.

Angela giggled --- still nervous, maybe, but what of? "Shona's a real monster!" She dragged her nails up his spine, reigniting the pain of yesterday's beating stroke by stroke.

Hal squirmed and bit his lip.

"Does that actually hurt?" she asked. "For real?"

"Yes of course-" he began, then remembered his place. "It hurts, madam."

The nails dug into his right shoulder blade. "Shona wasn't playing?"

"No, madam."

Angela took away her hands. "So what about that whip?"

"Of course, m... madam." Hal moved to the wardrobe. He glimpsed her in the mirrored door, neat eyebrows arched over small wide eyes, thin lips pursed. Then he slid the door back to reveal the vintage golf bag Mistress had designated for whip storage.

Angela leaned past --- her bare arm brushing his shoulder --- and snatched up the short riding crop. She tilted her head to contemplate it. "Is this about right for a beginner?"

Hal just stared at her. She still looked... innocent.

"Well, go on." The blonde flicked the crop. "Bend over. Brace on the bed."

As if in a dream, he turned, adjusted his feet and bent over to brace his hands on the bed frame. His caged genitals swung between his open thighs, his cock resolutely shrunken in its cage. He'd never been whipped without also being tied up. He wasn't sure he could do this.

"Nice..." Angela's footsteps circled. The crop brushed his back, teasing his welts.

Hal winced and screwed up his eyes. At least with Mistress, he had raw pent up lust to insulate him from the pain.

The crop swished, thwacked into his buttocks.

Hal yelped and wobbled.

More pacing behind him. "Did that hurt?"

He nodded. "Yes, madam."

"I do believe you're faking." She grunted. The crop hissed, tore into his rear. Red flashed across his vision. He squealed and wobbled forward. A second stroke, another flash of red. His lost cock heaved to a wet hardness.

"Oh?" she said, as if she'd just found a favourite necklace at the back of her sock drawer.

Hal sensed the next blow coming, clamped his jaw.

The crop cracked across his buttocks.

The pain jolted up his spine, forced a squeak of agony from his throat.

"Oh, God!" said Angela. "This is too much."

Hal relaxed. It was over.

There was a rustle of fabric. Then she rushed past the bed, summer dress swishing, and settled in Mistress's typing chair facing him. The light from the window turned her blond hair into glowing halo. Her face was flushed. Her small eyes burned with a dangerous fire and she was still holding the crop. She extended a perfectly manicured finger and pointed down between her feet. "Come here, slave."

The word sent a ripple through Hal's cock. New welts still smarting, he scrambled over to kneel between her silver high-heeled pumps. Close to, her legs were perfectly smooth, with the odd pink scuff to show she had recently shaved... and that she was flesh and blood and not marble.

Angela adjusted the chair so it rocked back a little, shuffled her bottom forward, opened her skinny legs and raised the hem of her pale dress.

Hal's eyes widened.

The earlier sound had been her removing her knickers. There, between slender thighs, was her pussy, as smooth and marble white as that of a Roman statue, except where a fleshing frill of lipstick-pink inner lips flourished from between her plump outer lips.

"Would you like a climax, slave?"

Hal's penis heaved against its cage. He whimpered

She laughed. "When was your last orgasm?"

Hal licked his lips and answered without taking his eyes off her crotch. "I don't remember, madam."

"Wank or shag?"

Hal had a flash of Tabitha kneeling at his feet in nothing but her leather slave collar and cat ears. "Blow job, I think."

"Ugh," said Angela. "Serves your right." She tilted her pelvis suggestively. "Lick."

Very aware of the steel collar against his throat, Hal ducked forward. He inhaled and caught the scent of rose soap with just a hint of female musk. Then his tongue made contact with the fleshy frill --- when had he become so used to this? --- and he caressed it upwards, seeking her clitoris.

Angela had a delicate taste, almost bland, that reminded him of prawn. It was enough to make his permanent chastity cage tighten. Perhaps he was going to have fun after all?

She tapped his back with the riding crop.

"Suck and lick."

Hal adjusted his posture and covered her shaved pussy with his mouth. He sucked. Her inner lips swelled against his teeth. Her juices flowed into his mouth. The tip of his tongue found her pert clitoris and he started to grind.

"Oh..." Angela squirmed. "Nice... Nothing you'll ever experience again... a tongue on your penis I mean, eh?"

Without breaking contact, Hal gave a little shake of his head.

"All those... years ahead of you," said Angela. Her juices became just a little saltier, the musk heavier. "Oh... yes... YES!" She exhaled.

Hal slowed to a stop.

The crop hissed, caught the tender edge of Hal's hip bone and whipped over his left buttock. He howled into her pussy.

She giggled merrily. "I didn't say stop, slave."

Hal went back to licking, every muscle tense.

She carried on brightly as if presenting an employee induction; "Here's what's going to happen next. You're going to lick me and I'm going to beat you, and if you stop licking I'll tell Shona and she'll give you a real beating. Do you understand?"

"Mmm," managed Hal.

"Lovely!" she said. She lent forward a little. "Ha!"

The riding crop cut into his right buttock. Pain slashed through him, making his penis throb.

Hal screamed even as he licked.

She squeaked with delight and she struck him again. This time the blow was across his shoulders. It ignited a web of old welts. The pain pushed his caged cock into a prickling hardness that could never find relief. He sucked harder, licked faster, racing towards the finish line when the pain would stop.

Shuddering, she set to work with the crop, so that each swish-thwack! came hard on heels of the one before. Pain rained down on Hal's shoulders and buttocks so that it seemed sheet lightning crushed him into her soft pussy.

Angela tensed. Her pussy slurped. Juices pooled in the back of Hal's mouth. The blows became more frequent, more savage. "Oh... Oh!"

Nearly there!

The pain coiled through Hal, electrifying his tongue, setting it flickering against her swollen clitoris.

Angela let out a surprised groan. "Another climax! But not for you!"

Hal's penis spasmed wetly but he kept licking.

And Angela kept beating him.

She lashed into him through a third, then a fourth orgasm, each time reminding him of what he couldn't have.

As she reached orgasm five, Hal realised, with a detached horror, that she was multiple-orgasmic.

Now he could only slosh his tongue up and down her moist slit while his world throbbed with pain and lust and she writhed and undulated in computer chair, groaning and quivering, flaying his back until a hot wetness trickled down his ribs.

And then the beating stopped.

Hal sobbed into the smooth flesh between her thighs while the effort caught up with his tongue and made his jaw ache.

Angela's heels lifted, dug into his wrecked buttocks. She leaned forward, gouged his back with her nails. "Climax ten for me. More than you'll have for the rest of your life."

Hal forced tongue into one last flurry, while juices spattered his face.

Angela's groan became a rising squeak. At last she flopped back in the computer chair. "Oh, wow. Just wow. But not... for you..."

Hal gingerly withdrew to sit on his heels.

Angela's skinny thighs were still parted. Her inner lips were swollen now and shiny with juices.

Hal realised he was shaking uncontrollably. It felt as if molten metal were streaming down his back. His groin, meanwhile, was a throbbing knot of... He wasn't sure what the term was any more. Not lust. You could do something about lust.

Arousal. Pure arousal.

The blonde sighed and stood up. She brushed her skirt down and suddenly she was angelic again in her silvery heels and sweet sun dress. Her face was flushed though.

"You had better clean up." Angela clip-clopped past Hal, leaving him with the riding crop and her discarded panties, and the whip marks, and the blood trickling down his bare back.

Ten scant minutes later, Hal hobbled back into the lounge. He'd washed his face, washed out his mouth. A fresh T-shirt hid the damage Angela had done, but every movement hurt.

The three friends were having an animated discussion.

"My first was a Russian fisherman, actually," declared Mistress. "Hung like an ox."

"Farmer's lad," said Ruth. "No complaints."

"I made mine keep his boxers on," confided Angela. "So I have no idea!" She lowered her voice. "But he did have a very nice tongue."

The other two hooted with laughter.

Then Ruth noticed Hal. "Speaking of which, your chew toy is back!"

Mistress hardly glanced his way. "You took your time. That's ten demerits. Now clear the dishes... Ladies? Are we ready for coffee?"

As Hal took their orders, he watched Mistress's face for any sign of emotion. Sudden jealousy would have been nice, but he would have settled for mischief or even sadism.

Nothing.

She really didn't care.

He stumbled as he reached the kitchen door.

"Fuck," said Mistress, behind him. "Angela? Have you actually vandalised my slave?"

Angela giggled. "I might have got a little bit carried away," she said as if admitting to eating an entire box of chocolates.

"Oh well, if that's what you like, you do realise there's a neuter living in your stair who's into this stuff?"

"A neuter?" squeaked Angela. "One of my neighbours?"

"Aye, a virgin too... I pressed the little red button myself."

"You're both terrible," boomed Ruth.

Hal stifled a sob. He fled into the kitchen and closed the door.

His penis chose that moment to inflate to an uncomfortable hardness against its bars.

He clenched his fists. He shouldn't be aroused!

Shouldn't!

He'd just discovered that he wasn't the only neuter Mistress had made!

No wonder she didn't value him. From her point of view he really was interchangeable... a literal nobody... as close to a real slave as she could legally get.

The realisation was weirdly... liberating?

A wet spurt escaped his permanent chastity device.

Ruth's deep laugh rumbled from the lounge.

Then Mistress's voice.

Hal flinched.

Coffee! He was supposed to be making coffee. He couldn't face another beating.

A few minutes later, as he loaded the tray with three perfect lattes, he reflected that he might not be able to get mistress to value him as a person --- not until their date at any rate, which would surely fix everything.

However, very few men were as good at cleaning and cooking as he was.

What was it they used to call good housekeepers?

Treasures.

He would be one of those.

He would be Mistress's treasure.

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If you haven’t already, now’s a great time to read my first novel in the CARGO ‘verse, set 10 years after the passing of the controversial Act!