Authors: Trent Evans
Erica let the woman’s hand pull her head forward, her lips
pressing to the soft, wet labia. Her scent overpowered Erica for a moment. She
loved the smell of her Mistress, though she’d never confessed as much. Both of
them reveled in her discomfort and her pain; they’d take advantage of such knowledge,
use it against her somehow.
“Just the lips” Kathryn admonished, squeezing Erica’s hair
in a fist. “The clit can wait, for now.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Blaine said. “Show starts in
five minutes.”
“She’ll never make it. “ The disappointment was plain in
her Mistress’ tone. “The slut spent too much time swallowing your cock, Blaine.”
Laughter rumbled from Blaine. “She was a good girl, too.”
Erica wanted to beam at the praise; such a kindness
sparsely doled out to an eager, long-suffering submissive. Erica wouldn’t have
it any other way, hard though that fact may have been at times.
She didn’t want things to be easy; she wanted to be pushed,
controlled — even forced. Working at the direction of another had a purity to
it, a simplicity that relieved her, in an odd way. There was peace to be found
in submission, contentment in obedience … and pleasure, even in the pain.
Erica eagerly lapped at the wet pussy, licking between the
folds, tasting the spicy juices of her Mistress. Her hands stroked over the trim
thighs, luxuriating in touching the woman who so rarely allowed such contact.
“Slow down, Erica. That’s it, get it right in. Yes!”
Blaine
chuckled. “Keep a
lid on it, honey.”
“Oh God, that’s it, slut,” Kathryn hissed, her legs
clenched tightly, the firm flesh of the thighs warm over Erica’s ears. Her
hearing muffled, everything was her Mistress, her scent, her wetness on her
tongue, her lips. Fingers twisted into Erica’s hair, holding her fast.
Erica slipped two fingers between the swollen labia, pushing
deep. She took up a quick twist-thrust, curling her fingers so the knuckles
brushed along that special spot that made her Mistress fly apart. Before long,
both hands were clutching Erica’s head, her Mistress bucking her hips. Erica
longed to touch her own lonely, aching clit, just one little touch. But it was
not to be — at least not then.
Those slim, yet cruel hands ground Erica’s face against the
open, flooded sex, painfully smashing her nose against the woman’s pubic bone.
“Keep licking,” Kathryn breathed, her voice a strained, desperate whisper.
“Don’t fucking stop.”
“You’ve got one minute, girl,” Sir’s voice rumbled in her
ear. “If you don’t make her come in the next minute, you’re going to be
punished. Right here, right now.”
Oh, shit.
Erica attacked her Mistress’ pussy, her tongue working the
hard clit repeatedly, adding a third finger to give her that delicious
tightness, that slight stretching she so loved.
“Oh Jesus Christ, oh
fuck
,” her Mistress said, her
voice almost a whine.
Erica felt movement against her side, and looked up, even
as her tongue was playing ruthlessly over her Mistress’ clit. Blaine had
clamped a big hand over Kathryn’s mouth. He glanced down at Erica, winking at
her.
Light washed over her Sir and Mistress, and she heard the
booms a moment later. The show had started. Blaine looked up, smiling. “Ah,
here we are. Very nice!”
With a shudder, Erica knew she’d let them both down, and
she both feared and anticipated the consequences of her failure.
“”Finish her, girl.” Blaine said, leaning down, the corners
of his mouth lifted in a rueful smile. How she wanted to kiss those lips.
She continued working the hard clit, the wet slit. Her
tongue was tiring, her arm and wrist burning from thrusting into her Mistress.
The woman’s hands pulled on her hair hard one last time, then her entire body
went rigid, the thighs shaking, squeezing Erica’s head. She thought she heard
the long, low whine of her Mistress’ climax over the booms and pops of the
fireworks overhead. Copious amounts of juices washed over Erica’s questing
tongue, wetting her chin and cheeks. She lapped it up, swallowing gratefully,
just as she’d been taught to do.
Blaine
took his hand
away, planting a gentle kiss on his wife’s cheek. Kathryn finally relaxed, the
tension in her thighs easing slowly. Her hands grew gentler, languidly stroking
Erica’s dark locks. She pressed soft kisses to her Mistress’ inflamed labia,
slipping her fingers from the soaked pussy. She hoped the gentle caresses from
her Mistress were a good sign. She hadn’t brought her off in time, but it had
been close. Perhaps they'd judge it to be good enough.
“Look at me, Erica,” her Mistress said, her voice growing
husky once more. She met the cold gaze of the woman, and Erica gulped. She knew
then that they'd deemed it
anything
but “good enough.”
“What did we tell you?” There was a bright flash, then a
deafening boom, the sound vibrating in her chest. She heard a faint chorus of
oohs and aahs from people nearby. Her Mistress glanced up, her lips forming an
‘O’, then she locked her gaze with Erica once more. “Well?”
“That I’d be punished … if I didn’t make you come in time.”
Erica had to force herself to grind the words out loud enough for them to hear
her over the din.
“And did you?” Erica turned to Sir’s deep voice. His
expression was stony, unreadable.
“No, Sir.” She dropped her eyes, not wanting to see the
disapproval in his.
“Did I tell you to look down?” Kathryn leaned down, Blaine pulling the blanket back slightly to allow her more access. Her hands slapped Erica’s
breasts, sending both of the heavy clamps swinging. The aching pain flooded
through her anew, her nipples awakened from their numbness under the stricture
of the clamps.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Erica raised her eyes, the light
from the fireworks washing Kathryn and Blaine in a kaleidoscope of colors.
“Turn around. I want your head down and your ass up.”
Kathryn’s eyes flashed. “We’re going to see how obedient you can be now that
you’ve earned yourself a punishment.”
Erica nodded her head miserably as she turned underneath
the heavy blanket, her breasts aching as the clamps swung. The absurdity of the
situation would’ve made her laugh if she didn’t fear the imminent pain of
punishment. Hands roamed over her proffered buttocks, tugging at the knot at
her hip that held up the tiny strip of the bikini bottoms. The fabric fell
away, fingers tugging it away from her pussy.
“Her cunt is sopping wet. Look at this, Kathryn.”
She heard her Mistress’ laugh, and Erica wanted to burrow
into the sand — despite the fact her embarrassment made her want them more. Her
twisted desires shamed her, even as she craved more of what she needed.
Fingers splayed her labia wide, dabbing at the moisture
within. They fluttered over her clit making her catch her breath. She arched
up, groaning as her clit was pinched, hard. The pain/pleasure of it made her
want to lunge out of reach, but the thought of her now nearly naked body
surging out from beneath the shelter of the blanket mortified her. She could
picture the news stories as “shocked” onlookers’ recounted tales of a naked
woman crawling like a dog on the sand, shiny metallic clamps swinging pendulously
from her nipples. No, she’d stay right there, no matter how much pain she’d
have to endure.
A slender palm tapped the swollen lips of her sex. “Spread
your legs and hollow your back. Show us that cunt.”
Erica obeyed, and immediately that palm cracked across her
pussy, the fingertips wrapping below, harshly smacking over her clit. She
froze, not sure what was happening. They’d never done something like this
before, but more than that, she was afraid the wet sound of the blow would
attract attention.
“Spread more,” Kathryn said, two fingers tapping the plump
lips. A hand smacked her ass, heat blooming across her skin. Erica hoped the
booms overheard really did mask the sound; the blow sounded deafening from
within her prison of blankets.
“Here, let me,” Blaine murmured. Strong hands spread her
buttocks wide, exposing Erica’s vulnerable bottom hole to the wind and their
gazes. “Such a pretty little ass.”
A sudden gust of wind caught the blanket like a sail, sand
blowing into Erica’s face. The covering slid down to the middle of her back,
and she scrambled forward to stay hidden beneath it. Blaine cursed, snatching
it back from the clutches of the breeze.
“Get back here girl,” Kathryn said, her fingers closing
over Erica’s ankle. She moved backward, to within reach of the cruel fingers,
and the harsh smacks.
“Erica, I want you to hold very still now.” She froze as
something cold touched her throbbing clit, fingertips easing the hood away to
expose her fully.
Pain exploded through her pussy as the clamp squeezed the
bud of her clit in remorseless jaws. Erica whined, panting at the white-hot
pinch, the hurt rapidly intensifying.
“Hold it for thirty seconds, Erica,” Blaine said, his big
hand patting her ass. “Do this and all is forgiven.”
Time seemed to stop for her as she crouched in the sand;
the loud cracks of the fireworks above them intermingled with the approving
sighs and cries of the people nearby. All of it faded into the background as
each second ticked slowly, inexorably by, each one an eon to Erica’s screaming
clit. She grunted, digging her fingers into the sand, her cheek pressed to the
cold Earth. The situation was truly surreal; a grown woman, naked, prostate on
her knees, with heavy clamps crushing her nipples and clit, enduring her pain
for the pleasure of the two most important people in her world. All this while
surrounded by unsuspecting strangers, people, and neighbors out enjoying a
holiday evening at the beach.
The delicious irony of her practical slavery on the
celebration of Independence Day was not lost on her. But was that really true?
She
did
feel a kind of liberation in her abjection; a letting go of her
will, in embracing her submission. Perhaps it wasn’t ironic after all?
Her clit had grown numb by the time they released the
clamp. She shoved her own hand in her mouth to stifle the scream that
threatened to burst forth as the blood flow and feeling returned to the sensitive
bundle of nerves. She willed herself not to cry as the pain washed through her
in waves. Shockingly, it soon transformed into a heated, pulsing pleasure, her
consciousness unmooring, drifting.
Slender fingers eased Erica’s pussy lips apart, penetrating
her, curling deep within the clutch of her sex. She sighed as those cruel hands
ministered to her, rubbing the life back into her flesh. Thankfully, they
avoided touching her clit straight away, the smart of the clamp leaving it too
sensitive. But when Sir’s long, thick fingers took her roughly, claiming her
pussy as his, Erica couldn’t help but reach back and ease her bud between two
of her fingers. The pain of it mingled with, became lost in, the pleasure of
her Sir’s fingers driving deeply, the thrumming, angry clit fully reawakened to
sensation.
“Sir, I need …”
“Come for us Erica, make it all better,” he said, the
pleasure evident in his rich voice. ”Be a good girl, and show us.”
Her orgasm overtook her with frightening swiftness, her
fingers rubbing frantically at her inflamed clit as Blaine added a third finger
to her overfull pussy. All the pain, the excitement, the uncertainty, and the
promise combined into a dark storm of sensation that drowned her as she yelled
into the back of her hand, her teeth closing over her own skin. She had no care
anymore for who saw her, who heard her. There was only this pleasure, this
moment in time, this perfectly pure feeling of … belonging to another.
“Come here Erica,” her Mistress said, her voice soft. Hands
guided Erica’s hips as she turned and knelt up to embrace Kathryn. Her Mistress
stopped her, pulling up the thin t-shirt and unclipping both clamps from
Erica’s tortured nipples. She quickly dropped the t-shirt back over the aching
breasts, and Erica buried her face against Kathryn’s torso, the tears coming
full on as the pain in her breasts overwhelmed her once more. She wrapped her
arms tightly around her Mistress’ hips, wanting her closeness, needing her
touch.
“It's okay, it’s okay, sweet girl. You did great,” Kathryn
whispered, planting little kisses on the crown of Erica’s head, her hands
rubbing circles over her back.
“All is forgiven Erica,” Blaine said, his hand tucking her
hair behind her ear, his palm caressing the vulnerable curve of her ear.
She simply hugged her Mistress for several minutes, the
cacophony of the fireworks show all around them. When her breathing had settled,
she looked up into her Mistress’ eyes, the wetness of her tears cold on her
cheeks. Her Mistress smiled down at her, a slim finger tracing Erica’s eyebrow,
feeling the contours of her swollen mouth. Erica pressed a kiss to the
fingertip, and smiled.
“You know,” Blaine said, with a gentle tweak to Erica’s
earlobe. “Richard and Kerri will be coming out for the annual Trust meeting. Do
you think we’d have enough time to get her moved out and settled in before
then?”
Relief and joy flooded through Erica to see her demanding
Mistress’ smile. “Do you — do you mean what I think …?”