Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One (25 page)

“
This is gonna hurt, I take
it?”

“
You’re about to find out,”
Ione replied, letting her grey tone express a threat words could
not convey. Mark looked away,
conducting a
silent debate of some kind.

“
Fine,” he shrugged, as much
as the thick rubber restraints allowed. “Get on with it,
bitches.”

Ione kneed onto the bed next to him and the
device was fixed to the bottom of his cock by its spring clasp. The
rounded metal fender hovered protectively over his balls, anchored
by the implacable rigidity of his manhood.

From the weapons dangling off the rim of the
bed’s canopy skirt she selected a capable-looking fabric flogger,
and Emma meditatively acquired a rubber-haired whip. They took
places athwart him, staring down with quiet menace.

Ione raised her weapon, strapped him across
the chest, tagging a nipple.

“
Ow! You cunt!”

Emma warmed his thighs with a trio of
swishing impacts.

“
Oh, and fuck you too…” he
advised her with a slit-eyed wince.

“
Just relax and accept
what’s coming,” Ione instructed.

Mark hissed as
she
laid onto his
erection
, striking across
the underside of the shaft. The strap fell partly across his
testicles where—had it landed on them directly—he would have been
stimulated
beyond
the threshold of pleasurable pain. His penis
twitched,
stiffened
anxiously to brace
the
fender, and
she
strapped him
painfully across the body of his shaft again.

Emma
brought the whip down a moment later to impact on his
cockhead, its fine rubber strands wrapping
along
the
engorged length of his pecker and
down
across the testicles to shiver the
metal
shield;
a
sinister
intimidation
of the
helpless
anatomy it guarded. Mark groaned, straining to
keep the
fender
fortified.
Emma whipped him twice
again.

“
Fuck, Emz!” he
breathed.

Ione grunted softly, knees shifting on the
mattress for better balance, brought the strap down with perfect
precision on his cock tip.

“
Asshole!”

“
He’s really warming to
us,”
Emma decided, and they began
to methodically discipline him.

Smack!
H
is penis was
censured
by
Ione’s
broad strap.

“
He took that
pretty
wel
l
,”
said
Emma. She
came
down hard across the base of his cock with the whip and Mark
yelped
.

“
But
that
one, not so much,” Ione noted.
“You work the shaft and I’ll ring his things.”

She and Emma
struck
him in alternation,
and his objections became increasingly violent. The bed shook
despite its great size, testament to the tremendous strength of
their captive, and Ione wondered what Manassa was making of it all,
stationed just outside the apartment to defend them from the
curiosity of other women.

They paused after another
flurry of blows. Mark was heaving about in the restraints, eyes
fixed
helplessly on his manhood
with a flattened regard that conveyed a disturbing
inner simplicity.

“
Well he
does
like it,” Emma
crooned
. “Let’s give
his
marbles
a nice
hard workout
.”

Ione
smiled and lofted the fabric flogger, brought it down
with
unchecked
force onto Mark’s groin.

Smack!

He shouted as the fender
rang, but this time it was not a signal of negation, and Emma swung
her own
whip
on his
nuts, viciously rattling the shield again.
Ione
leaned in and hissed
unpleasantly.

“
Make as much noise as you
want. We’re never going to let you come. Don’t you get it? This is
how we control you!
”

Mark
was
murmuring hoarsely,
breath coming fast
,
and
they
raised
the
ir
implements
high,
struck
him
together, weapons singing off his
flesh, shivering the fender. H
is body
spasmed
direly
and
the bed jumped
.
Ione whipped
his genitals
back and forth till he
was offering
them
in jumpy little
presentations
, meeting each whistling
reproach.

“
Oh no… oh no…”

“
I think he’s softening,”
Emma gibed. “Let’s get after his balls again!”

He was treated with another torrent of blows
and the fender rang repeatedly over his terrified scrotum.

“
Harden up, skulk, or we’ll
make you beg!” Ione screamed, belting him furiously.

“
You
love
it, don’t you…” Emma rasped,
smacking him imperiously on the prick head. His erection quivered
in affirmation.

“
That’s right,” Ione coaxed,
voice pitched to a humiliating simper. “Your cock knows what it
wants, even if you don’t!”

“
He likes a firm hand on the
strap, that’s for sure,” Emma jauntily observed.

“
Look at the color,” Ione
marveled at his pain-darkened shaft. “Isn’t it
exquisite?”

“
Let’s beat him till he
cries!” Emma suggested.

“
Yeah. He needs a nice,
soothing emotional release,” Ione agreed.

They swung with a new resolve, landing a
flurry of blows on his genitalia, leaving the fender to safeguard
his testicles from this unrestrained censure. Its metallic
resonance filled the air with indisputable evidence of their
commitment.

“
That’s it!” Emma cried,
lashing with all her strength till his body went utterly slack. A
skulk stared back at them.

“
Now!” Ione hissed, and they
trounced him together, screaming for his submission.

Mark stiffened for one
seething instant, then roared,
spewing hot
quantities of
semen into the air
to
arc with dizzying
leisure
about the bed, spattering them
all.
Ione
strapped
him in a frenzy of satisfaction,
coaxing
every drop
forth
, watched his frustration drain with
each giddy spurt till the flow relented to a dribble.

Silence reclaimed the Lap apartment. She
stared down, breathing recklessly, eyes wide.

Mark blinked
slowly
. “T
hat was
intense,
” he croaked.

Ione felt a new
possessiveness
form
as she regarded his softening manhood, satiated at
last. She carefully unclasped the fender and they proceeded to
remove his bondage restraints.

“
Feel better?”
Emma softly inquired as he gingerly sat
up.

Mark took a deep breath, smiled shakily.
“Yeah. I do…”

Auditions

The Tent bathed in the glow of another
sunset, a heat and hue forever veiled from the Merkin’s direct
experience. He had servants to describe the time of day and the
moods of the sky and everything happening in the city, but their
reports couldn’t rival his imagination for that world long lost. He
had taught them not to try.

For most of the day the Merkin had worked on
his play script, motivated as always by the competitive threat of
his ancient adversaries, the Dowser and Gnomon.

By now naked partygoers would be lining up at
the top of the hill for a wild night of dancing and drinking at the
Dowser’s massive Club, and the Gnomon’s Tower on the other side of
the City was likely just as engaged with its more cerebral
concerns. Gnomes beamed down on busy streets, lit homes and
buildings and plazas, stared everywhere but the park at the center
of the City, suffused by a dense mist that drifted up in an
impenetrable column to slake the thirst of clouds permanently
wheeling overhead.

The Merkin regarded his most recent addition
to the play script; a short scene that whimsically illustrated a
crucial proposition of social sexuality. The core concept was woven
into the scenario, but his demonstration of the idea was flawed in
some fashion he could not yet discern. Was it the subversive
influence of pride? Fear? Or was something else lacking?

SCENE:
T
he night is
quiet
on the gardened
walk
ways
of a
stately neighborhood. T
hree
well-dressed
men are
strolling with their
lovers under the
amiable eye of a full moon.
Their paths
converge from different directions at a round, waist-high median
carpeted with lush grass.

NARRATOR:
“How shall intimate love and prurient
extroversion be reconciled by society? Both are required for sexual
fulfillment, but look carefully and you will see that these desires
work in opposition…”

THE
MERKIN
: “
G
ood night to you my
friends
!”

He nods cheerfully to the other men. His
companion is a smiling, full-figured beauty with a clingy red skirt
flirtatiously curtaining broad hips. At his gesture she lies
face-up on the grass, spreading voluptuous legs wide.

THE
DOWSER
:
“
And you
…”

His woman,
a haughty blond
with
an expansive
décolletage,
has already assumed a
submissive position on her knees,
full
lips drawn to a ruddy pout
.

THE
GNOMON
:
“Indeed…”

At his bidding the Gnomon’s woman bends at
the waist and plants her chest to the median, legs straight and
feet wide to boldly present her pertly muscular hindquarters.

All the women are
beautifully
dressed
and decorated, rouged and
perfumed and coiffured, every detail of their appearance contrived
to accentuate the various postures of submission.

The Merkin rubs his
woman’s wide-stretched legs in affection, sociably slipping her
skirt back to offer the pantied bulge of her pubis to view. As the
other men admire her, he
studies
their
lovers.
After a while he speaks to the Gnomon.

THE MERKIN:
“
A problem here, my friend?”

The Gnomon looks
displeased with his companion. Her
flared
buttocks are tense and
restless.

THE GNOMON: “No. Well…
perhaps.
It is long since I strolled in
contentment with my partner.”

THE DOWSER: “She fidgets.”

THE GNOMON: “It is obvious, then?”

THE DOWSER: “I should say.”

The men are silent for a time.

THE MERKIN: “Perhaps there is a means to
diagnose this unhappiness. I would be willing to try.”

The Gnomon frowns at this suggestion,
glancing possessively to his woman.

THE GNOMON: “But I am a private man…”

The Dowser nods in agreement with the
Merkin.

THE DOWSER: “No. We must diagnose!”

There is a distant rumble of thunder.

NARRATOR:
“A tension has arisen and a decision must be
made…”

The combined will of the Merkin and the
Dowser overcomes the Gnomon. He reluctantly lifts his woman’s skirt
to display the flourishing width of her bent derriere, tautly
spanned by pale blue panties.

THE GNOMON: “As you will, then…”

The Merkin
t
akes hold of
the
woman’s
hips from either side, gently
massages her flesh, whispering gentle sentiments. He unzips his
trousers and a thick penis promptly swings erect, oiled
with an unseen gesture
.
Slipping the
woman’s
panties down, he exposes her muscular sphincter; a
pursed
inlet compulsively gathering and
relaxing to display a hidden rhythm of the body
. The Merkin aims his member at this
trembling mouth,
then gently slides
in,
abetting
the
penetration
with an unhurried step
. The Gnomon
l
ooks on
anxiously
as the Merkin reaches deep
inside his woman’s body, questing for the source of her
malady. She wriggles indignantly at this
occupation, but he methodically rectifies her flesh till it
receives him generously, straightened on the steadfast linearity of
his manhood. Silent at first, she whispers reproachfully into the
grass after a little, then finally relents to a muffled warbling,
helplessly rising and falling in pitch with the depth of his
access. When it is clear that her mood has improved the Merkin
thoughtfully w
ithdraws.