Abigail's Abduction Ch. 02

I had spent a really lazy day, and woke next morning ready for anything. Just as well, as it turned out!

Bea arrived too late to prepare a hot lunch -- she had been to buy the clothes she needed, with the money and instructions Trina had given her. When she had changed into the little black pleated miniskirt, white silk blouse, black seamed stockings and patent heels, she looked altogether different from the girl who had appeared for interview, clad in jeans and a sloppy t-shirt. I knew Trina would have forbidden underwear, and felt a brief pang of jealousy, with the knowledge that Bea would claim a little of my new Mistress's attention.

As we were finishing our salad, the telephone rang, and Trina picked it up, replying in Portuguese. When she hung up, she said, 'We've got a visitor, a guy from Immigration -- he's coming about seven.'

'Immigration?' I queried, in some alarm.

'It's alright,' she smiled, 'they're in touch with Quantico, and he's bringing us our new papers.'

At seven o'clock precisely, the front gate's bell sounded. We had dressed for dinner, not just to impress our visitor, but because Trina had decided we should make a habit of doing so. I was wearing a long white silk gown, the material soft and luxurious, with a halter neck, my marked back prettily exposed, while Trina wore a short, tight latex sheath, shiny midnight blue, which hugged her lovely body and restricted her to short steps.

When our visitor was led into the lounge by Bea, I did a double-take. He was gorgeous!

Perhaps in his late thirties and a trifle over six feet tall, he was well-muscled, in an athletic sort of way, and moved with easy grace. He wore his dark hair a touch long for current fashion, curling over the collar of the white open-necked shirt he wore with beige slacks and loafers. His eyes were of the palest grey, and when he smiled, he showed rows of even white teeth.

'Luis Silva,' he announced himself, 'at your service, ladies!' He spoke excellent English, with an appealing accent. He gave us all the papers we should be likely to need, including credit cards in our new identities, saying that our money would have been transferred to the local bank already. I was glad when Trina invited him to stay and dine with us, an invitation he accepted readily.

Bea served us with her first cooked meal, a nice roast, but when she showed signs of pampering our guest, Trina said, 'That will be all, thank you, Bea!' and she scuttled off to her room.

When we sat down to coffee, which Bea had left on a hotplate, Trina sat down on the sofa next to Luis, whilst I was opposite them in an armchair.

'I couldn't help noticing your back,' the Brazilian said to me, 'it looks sore. What happened to you?'

'She was whipped,' said Trina, as if commenting on the weather, but looking directly at our guest, whose mouth dropped open at the news.

'But....why?' he asked, 'Had she done something wrong?'

'Oh no,' replied Trina, 'don't you find it.....er, interesting?'

'Very,' said Luis, and, quite suddenly, Trina's slender fingers were sliding up his trouser-leg.

'Yes, I think you do find it.....interesting!' she said, as she located the growing bulge in his slacks, and stroked it lightly. 'Abigail, would you masturbate for our guest, please?'

It was an unexpected request -- order, really -- but the sight of my Mistress, her fantastic body tightly encased in shiny latex, releasing the man's ramrod-stiff cock from his trousers, and caressing it tenderly in her hand made me eager to seek release. I slid the soft silk of my dress up my legs, which I then hooked over the arms of my chair. My eyes didn't leave the tableau opposite as Trina took the very tip of his long, slim tool into her lips. I parted my labia with the fingers of one hand, then, with the other, opened myself as wide as I could, so that Luis could see deep into the dark hole of my wet cunt. Then, as Trina took his whole length into her mouth, and started to suck audibly, I matched her rhythm, finger-fucking myself while I massaged my clit with the other hand. Luis's eyes never left my pussy.

Just when I thought our guest was certain to cum, Trina grasped the base of his shaft, an came up for air.

'Don't cum!' she ordered me, 'and kneel in front of your chair, now!'

I did as she told me, and without having to be told, lifted up the hem of my dress, baring myself to the waist.

'Open your legs, just a little,' said Trina, 'and spread your buttocks!'

My face crushed down on the warm velvet of the chair, I reached behind me and opened up my buttocks with both hands. In no time at all, Luis was behind me, kneeling between my legs. Trina held his cock, and guided it home, into the portals of my arsehole.

'Oh,' he groaned, as I sheathed his stiff prick in my velvet tube, feeling the sensation of a hot, living weapon, filling me to bursting.

'Oh, fuck me hard!' I told him, and he drove as deep into me as was humanly possible, holding it there for a moment as I savoured the ecstasy of having my arsehole penetrated again.

'Fuck me, fuck me now!' I shouted, and felt Trina's hands massage my tits as he did so.

He thrust hard into me, and I was conscious of moaning with sheer joy, until Trina left my side, and went around Luis's back. I suddenly heard him roar, and felt him stiffen and give one almighty thrust, as he felt Trina's forefinger go hard up his arsehole. He shot his hot wad deep into my bowels. At that precise moment, I came too, great gushing floods of my vaginal fluid running down my legs, and my mind completely devastated by the cataclysmic climax.

When I had recovered sufficiently to speak, I said to Trina, 'I came, but what about you?'

'Oh,' she said, 'I came too, darling.'

Luis went on his way, promising to call and see us again, and Bea served us with mugs of hot chocolate as we watched television, curled up together on the sofa.

Next day Trina's new car was delivered, and we went shopping again. After some hilarious attempts at asking the locals, we eventually located a sex shop, where Trina bought some new 'toys' including several dildos, a long bull-whip, handcuffs and other restraint and bondage items. She also got from the proprietress the phone number of a carpenter who would come to the house and make necessary alterations, with complete discretion -- at a price. She wasted no time in contacting him, and he promised to start work the next day. After buying some shoes, an expensive video camera and tripod, and more clothes, we went home in time to spend an hour by the pool before it got too chilly.

Two days later, we were relieved when the middle-aged, overweight carpenter bade us farewell. I thought he would dearly have loved to try out the work he had done most efficiently for us, as he looked longingly at me when we provided him with a sandwich, and made a poor attempt to cover up the fact that he tried to see up Bea's skirt, but he settled for the large fold of notes that Trina gave him.

We inspected his work, and I was mildly surprised by what Trina had instructed him to do. In a spare downstairs room, which Trina had already dubbed 'the playroom' she had had a St. Andrew's cross installed -- but instead of being up against the wall, it was firmly fixed horizontally a foot above the floor. At the extremities of each arm were steel rings, to which ankles and wrists could be attached. A whipping post had been placed against one wall, also with rings set into it, and a stout wooden chair, topped by a symian, with a huge dildo attached, had been bolted to the floor. Chains depended from the ceiling in two places, with snap-links attached to their ends.

'I'd like to try out the cross tomorrow, darling,' said Trina, 'would you like that?'

'Oh yes, Trina,' I replied. It had been a little while since I had been whipped. My welts had faded, and I longed again for my Mistress's whip, but I appreciated that she always gave me notice -- time for delicious anticipation of the pain I craved. Little did I know what was really in her mind.

At dinner, Trina was aloof, as she could sometimes be, and when I told her there was a lovely old film on the television that evening, she said, 'I shall not be watching it, I have something else to do.' Then she went into her shell, and it wasn't until we were having coffee, that she spoke to me again, then she said, 'I have told Bea to come to my room this evening. You may watch on the television, if you please -- I can set up the video -- but you are on your own this evening.'

I was stung and upset by what I saw as Trina's treachery, and told her I felt unhappy, so she stood up and came across to me, where I sat in my usual armchair, where I had been fucked so recently by Luis. She bent and kissed me, saying, 'Don't be sad, darling -- I love you, you know. If Bea does well, I'll let you have her too, but tonight she is mine.'

I cheered up a bit at that, but was still unhappy when Bea took away the coffee things, and Trina said to her, 'Don't bother washing the pots, my dear, just go up and wait for me.'

I had decided not to take her up on her offer of watching them, but soon after Trina went up curiosity got the better of me, and I switched on the telly, navigating to the communication channel.

What I saw was Bea standing, shifting from high-heeled foot to high-heeled foot, in her little pleated skirt, silk blouse and stockings. Trina was nowhere to be seen, but then she came into view, out of her private bathroom, wearing a gorgeous short white nightdress, quite transparent, fur-trimmed at hem and neckline. Her glossy black hair, which she had worn up at dinner, was loose, cascading down her back to her waist. I ached for her touch, and longed for the moment when I should be strapped to the cross, her whip lashing my back.

Trina sat on her bed, right in front of the camera, and said, 'Undress, Bea! Slowly, if you please.'

Bea shrugged off her blouse, and crossed her arms over her breasts.

'Don't be shy, my dear,' said Trina, 'let me see you.'

The maid dropped her hands by her side, and her small, pert, firm breasts came into view, in contrast, I thought, to the sharp outline of Trina's lovely tits, whose dark brown nipples poked at the tranparent material.

Bea unclipped the waistband of her skirt, and let it fall down her long bestockinged legs, then stepped gracefully out of its little pool on the floor. She presented, I had to admit, a beautiful sight, standing there in very high heels, long black, lace-topped, stockings and a little satin garter belt. Jealousy was a bitter pill, and I almost turned off the television as Trina beckoned to the maid to come to her. But curiosity again won the day, and I watched, horribly fascinated, as my Mistress sat back on the bed, lifted the fur-trimmed hem of her nightdress, raised her knees, and opened her legs, so that her glistening pink pussy was lewdly displayed. Hesitantly at first, then more eagerly, Bea knelt between my Mistress's legs, pushed her long, silky blonde hair away over her shoulder, and ducked her head down into Trina's waiting crack. She was obscuring my view, but the slurping noise which issued forth from the video's sound system told me all I needed to know -- and more -- and when Trina began to moan and caress Bea, stroking her hair, then kneading her young breasts, I switched off in disgust. But in minutes, I felt compelled to have another look, and they were now in a full '69' position, Trina with her face buried in the girl's shaven pussy, the sounds of their incessant moans assaulting my ears. I turned off the set, and went to bed, crying myself to sleep.

I slept surprisingly well, and awoke as sun streamed through my window, becoming suddenly aware of someone by my bed. It was my Mistress, carrying my breakfast on a tray. She was smiling gently at me as she sat down beside me on the bed, and pushed my unruly hair out of my eyes.

'I love you,' she said, simply.

'But you took Bea....' I began.

'That's right,' she said, 'and it was nice, but it's you I love, my little slut -- no-one can take your place. Enjoy your breakfast, then slip on the dress I have put out for you and come and see me in the playroom. I'll show you how much I love you.'

Feeling much happier, I enjoyed the coffee and rolls, then got a surprise when I saw what she had laid out for me -- it was a black latex dress, just like the one she had worn the evening we had entertained the man from Immigration. I struggled into it -- thankfully it had a long zipper under the armpit -- and it sheathed me so tightly I could hardly breathe, the hem fitting tightly around my knees so that I felt completely restrained. I stood into a pair of extravagantly high needle-heeled sandals, which laced up my ankles, and had difficulty bending over to fasten them. I walked carefully down to the playroom, to find Trina sitting on a chair in a black negligee. I did a double-take when I saw that she had clipped on thick leather ankle- and wrist-restraints, each bearing a metal ring. I looked a question at her.

She smiled back. 'I've been bad, and now you must punish me, Abigail,' she said.

'But, Trina, I love you, I can't... I won't!'

'Yes you will, darling, I want you to, please!'

She had already walked over to the big wooden, horizontal cross, and was sliding the negligee off her shoulders, and I now knew she meant it -- I had no option but to do as she wished, even though I was no dominatrix, and had serious doubts as to whether I could do it.

'You look lovely, darling,' she told me, and ran her hand down my latex-covered body, 'I can hardly wait for you to whip me.'

Resigned to doing her bidding, I watched her lay down, spread-eagled, on the cross, and slipped the snap-links closed onto the rings in her ankle-and wrist-restraints. I had to admit she was a fantastic sight, naked and vulnerable, her honey-toned flesh an invitation to whatever I could do to her. I stroked her thighs and her gorgeous rounded buttocks, felt the wetness of her slit, and couldn't resist sliding two fingers briefly into her moist cunt. She said nothing, just gasped faintly as I did that.

'What would you like me to use?' I asked.

'Start with the strap,' she told me, 'then maybe the cane, if you want, but I want you to hurt me.'

I picked up the strap, which was, in fact, a pair of rubber thongs, about a foot and a half long, mounted on a leather handle. I gave her a tentative stroke across the buttocks.

'You're going to have to do much better than that,' she said, 'I told you to hurt me.'

I wielded the strap and thrashed her much harder, but she turned her head and looked at me scornfully. 'If that's the best you can do, I'll have to find someone else -- perhaps Bea could do better?'

Stung by her words, I lashed her with all my strength, and she flinched this time, as a reddening appeared on her bottom. I started to become more expert with the strap, and layed into her buttocks, lower back and thighs, until they were well-reddened, but I knew from my own experience that it was the cane she really needed, and changed implements.

Using much the same force with the thin bamboo cane, I immediately saw results, and traced a narrow red wheal across both buttocks, drawing a low moan from Trina.

Alarmed, I asked her if that was too hard.

'Oh no,' she gasped, 'go on, go on!'

When I lashed her hard across her superb, graceful back with the cruel switch, she squirmed and cried out loudly -- I knew she had cum as her agony turned into the ecstasy that only pain can truly bring. I carried on whipping her several more times, listening to her tortured moans, and now enjoying my work, so much that I too was on the verge of an orgasm. I stopped and squeezed the handle of the cane up my skirt, until I encountered my pussy, bringing myself immediately to a shuddering climax, and leaving my legs too weak to stand. I sat on an extremity of the cross, and began to unfasten Trina's bonds. Her back and buttocks were criss-crossed with red stripes, and I wanted to tend them, make her better. She allowed me to rub in some cream, but said, 'I understand that rubbing salt in is very painful indeed -- I don't think I could stand that, but perhaps we'll try it out on you some time?'

I blanched at the idea, but felt myself nodding my assent -- my God, I thought, I am a real pain-slut, no mistake!

Later, we lay beside the pool, idly watching Bea swim lengths -- it was her free time, and she liked to keep in trim.

'You caned me well,' observed Trina, 'I came on that cross, you know.'

'I knew,' I said, 'and I came when I had finished whipping you.'

'I love you,' she said, 'let's both take Bea to bed tonight, shall we?'

'I'd like that,' I replied, 'but I'm still waiting for you to whip me again.'

'Then I will,' she said, 'come to my room after lunch, in a long silk nightdress, please.'

This seemed a strange request, but I knew better than to question Trina's orders.

After a cold lunch, during which I was suddenly quite nervous, I went to my room, stripped naked, and slipped on a floor-length, peach-coloured silk nightgown, soft and luxurious, caressing my skin as I walked along the corridor in a pair of high-heeled mules.

When I got to Trina's room she was waiting for me, still dressed in the tight black cocktail dress she had worn at lunch.

'Go into my bathroom!' she ordered, and followed me there. I started to take off my nightgown, but she stopped me.

'Go and stand under the shower,' she said, and I stepped into the big, open, tiled shower space, feeling strange, still wearing the nightgown and mules. Trina clipped handcuffs onto my wrists, and lifted them up to attach me to the shower-head, high above me. Then, without warning, she turned on the cold water tap, full-blast.

The ferocious, icy-cold jets stung me, even through my nightgown, the soft silk immediately saturated, clinging to my body like a second skin. Trina reached through the torrent and turned off the tap, and when I had the chance to breathe again, I looked over my shoulder, to see her stood there, riding crop in hand. Without a word, she slashed the crop with all her strength across my back, and the sting I instantly felt was all the worse for the wet silk between my flesh and the cruel, braided leather. I cried out, but that inspired my Mistress to greater effort, as she landed another vicious stroke, lower down than the first. I groaned with the agony of the awful whipping, as again and again the crop gave me a new insight into the searing pain it could inflict.

'Shall I stop, darling? Had enough?' Trina asked, and someone -- it must have been me -- said in a tiny voice, 'No, please hurt me more!' The truth was I craved the pain my Mistress's whipping brought to me, and my desire for her built to a peak as she continued my punishment. When finally she put down the crop, I was sobbing, not only with the agony she had inflicted, but with emotion at my love for her, and in the aftermath of the orgasm that had shaken my very soul.

She unfastened my cuffs, helped me strip off the soaked nightgown, and turned me about, so that I could see the new red welts on my back -- nowhere near as serious as they had felt, but a pretty ladder of stripes I was going to be proud of for several days -- or until my next whipping, I thought.

After lunch, I was stretched out, face down, on a lounger by the pool, enjoying the warm spring sunshine, when Bea came to tell Trina the bank manager was on the phone. When she went off to answer the call, Bea lingered, and said to me, 'Did it hurt?'

A bit sleepy, I replied, 'Did what hurt?'

'These marks on your back -- you've been whipped, haven't you? I heard you scream this morning, anyway.'

I turned to face her, and smiled. 'I can't expect you to understand, Bea,' I said, 'but I live for the time when my Mistress will next punish me.'