18 Master Ch. 13: Vacation Saturday

I awoke to hands groping my tits and a cock being forced into my mouth and opened my eyes to see two new guards assaulting me. Good morning, at The Castle.

I'd been rinsed off the night before, but I'd been so exhausted I hadn't brushed my teeth and they felt fuzzy. My cunt and jaws ached. I remembered the night before, a canvass for my Masters' appetites and then gang raped by the kitchen staff. Well, not rape exactly, I was a willing participant, but it was more than I'd expected.

I started sucking cock, figuring the fastest way to get to a toothbrush was to get him off. Of course, then there was the other guard. He flipped me over and lubed my ass, sparing my aching cunt for the moment, adding new aches next door.

When they were done, they let me eat some oatmeal, and let me pee in the hole in the corner, leering at me the whole time. As soon as I was done, they attached the chain to my manacles and led me out of the cell. I was taken back to the shower area, but not chained up this time, just hosed down, including my cunt. And I was handed a toothbrush, thank God. They let me use a sink with a mirror to brush my teeth. I looked tired -- fucking a few dozen men will do that to a girl. An attendant checked that my pits and legs and cunt were still hairless -- I'd been well-waxed before we left. Was it really just yesterday? Someone else did my hair and makeup. He made me suck his cock after but at least he didn't mess up his work, so I was still presentable. And presented I was.

As my guards paraded me through the hall, I could see them smiling. I could hear screams, and the crack of implements.

The proprietors of The Castle had gone to a lot of trouble to recreate a very scary medieval dungeon. Racks, iron maidens, stocks, hot irons. Disneyland for twisted desires. The only light was from torches. There were six women chained, naked, to the back wall. I became the seventh while my three Masters conferred with a man wearing a black tunic and black leggings. He was quite handsome -- rugged face, dark brown hair and well-barbered beard. He had one ruby earring in his ear. He was showing my Masters a rack with dozens of impact toys -- floggers, single tails, galley whips, bullwhips, crops, buggy whips, canes, paddles.

We had impact toys at home in my "penthouse dungeon", and in my first few weeks of slavery my Masters had hired some teachers to show them how to do things to me, like throwing a single tail. Some of them, like Master Chris, still practiced the things they liked best, while others were happiest just chaining me up and fucking me. I liked being used as the demo subject by the teachers, but my Masters still needed a lot of practice. Actually, the thing that got me off the most was being restrained and vulnerable. I loved that they chained me up every night when they put me to bed. And I was seriously wet being chained, hand and foot, to the wall of the dungeon with these other women.

Ruby Earring showed my Masters several implements, using a pillow as a test dummy. The lesson went on for a while. I watched other women being taken from the wall and used in various ways, some by Masters and some by men dressed like Ruby Earring. Some of the women were stoic, silent, while others screamed their heads off. As long as they didn't say words, it was OK.

Soon all the other women were being worked on in the dungeon, leaving me alone. Eventually, Ruby Earring brought my Masters over to me.

"Is she wet?" he asked Master Chris.

"See for yourself," replied Master Chris.

Ruby Earring smiled and shoved two fingers in my cunt. I was sore, but from his pumping, and from watching the other women being tortured, yeah, I was dripping wet. He looked at me like a toy he was about to dismantle. I actually shivered and found I had to look down, look away, look anywhere else. I wanted him. His casual dominance, without a word, made me want to kneel at his feet and do anything he wanted. Master Chris could sometimes evoke that sort of response from me, but there was something about Ruby Earring that felt much stronger.

He unchained me from the wall and led me to a St. Andrews cross that was free-standing in the only part of the dungeon not already being used. He clipped me into restraints on my wrists and ankles, facing the bare wood of the cross. He grabbed my hair and forced me to look at him. I couldn't look away this time. I was terrified. And fascinated. He ran a fingernail down the side of my face. I had to fight not to shiver visibly. He smiled and stepped behind me.

I was expecting him to start in on me right away, but he surprised me. He moved his hands over my bare ass and back, prodding some areas, gently massaging some of my muscles, almost mapping them. When he started beating me, it was gradual. He used a sort of slappy thing that felt really good. He lectured my Masters about warmups and how to build up so I could handle longer and longer scenes.

After the slappy warm up things, he started using some sort of flogger, but a very stingy one. I liked it. He got a good rhythm going, stroke, stroke, stroke, HARD, stroke, stroke, stroke, HARD. Each hard one felt a bit harder than the one before it, but the funny thing was, the longer it went on, the less it hurt. I felt my hips rocking again, without me realizing I was doing it. By the time he was done with that flogger, the strokes in between felt as hard as the first hard strokes had been, but they felt good. Sharp, but good.

He let my Masters try a few strokes, guiding them to various parts of my back, ass, and legs, so no one area got too overworked.

WHAM. The next thing he hit me with felt like fire running across my ass. It moved up my back, along either side, and then back down to my ass, then my thighs. The first few hits had a good burn, but after the fourth or fifth time he passed over my body, the heat felt like it was building to an unbearable level. I writhed, trying to get away but I was firmly restrained by my chains. He laughed.

"Horsehair. Very stingy. Builds up fast. Here, try it", he said and offered it to my Masters. They each took several swings. I was screaming by then.

"Gentlemen, look at her hips. She likes this one a lot."

It was true -- as he worked the stingy single tail over my ass, my hips were moving, inviting the strokes, even as I wailed like a banshee.

The next sensation was a pure line of fire across my ass. I couldn't breathe for a minute. We all paused, frozen, and then I drew breath and the fire came back. Higher. Lower. Tracing. Trancing. I think they are talking. I don't care. I was flying.

Back in the harsh world of realities, I am one of those anxious planners, always trying to think through the possibilities and having contingencies for everything. I am the one who makes sure people show up on time. I am the one who makes sure no one forgets anything. Subjecting myself to slavery freed me from that. I go where I'm told. I do what I'm told. I fuck who I'm told. Within a few weeks, I found most of my life outside of my office hours turned into a gentle, meditative state. It's like I used to have a huge whiteboard in my brain, full of all the to do lists and tasks and don't forgets. Being in 24/7 slavery was like erasing most of the board, except for a small space I needed for my job. This is better. It's like I don't even have a whiteboard anymore. I am the lash. I am the manacles. I am the chains. I could stay in this perfect moment for the rest of my life. Stroke, CRACK, scream. Stroke, CRACK, scream.

And then it stopped. After a heartbeat, a year, I was aware I was unchained. My body was supported as I was wrapped in a blanket. Someone lifted me and placed me belly down on a flat, wooden surface with my legs propping me against one edge and my face hanging off the other edge. My hands were chained again, this time out to the sides, away from my head. My ankles were chained again. I was still floating as I feel a cock slide into my dripping cunt and another cock slide into my throat. A different feeling on my back, lots of sharp strands all at once, the flogger strands hitting in time with the cocks in me. I knew the one in my mouth is Master Josh -- I can tell every Master's cock by how it feels and tastes in my mouth. I guessed the one in my cunt is Master Chris. I felt Master Josh explode in my mouth and tasted his salty cum. Another cock replaced his, not one I know. A hand grasped my hair, pulling up slightly so I could see it was Red Earring, my torturer. But someone was still flogging my back; I couldn't see who. Someone else was fucking my cunt; I couldn't see who. Red Earring came and pulled out. Another cock took his place. When my cunt was vacated, a well-lubed cock slid into my ass and pumped away.

I heard someone ask my Masters if they could invite the other staff in for this gang bang. Master Chris said yes, of course.

They told me later it was the dozen or so dungeon masters plus some of the groundskeepers who fucked me over and over. I just remember flying, the fucking, the lashing, the pain and lust all together. I remember curling on Master Chris' lap as he stroked my cum-streaked hair and told me what a good girl I was. I don't remember anything else until waking up in my cell later, alone, no cocks waiting to be serviced. I could feel my back was tender and bruised, so I curled more tightly on my side and went back to sleep.

To be continued