Initiation

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angiquesophie
angiquesophie
1,313 Followers

And the torture went on.

The tender flesh of her inner cunt got sensitised beyond the limit of pain. Her clit grew so hard that it seemed to scream with a voice of itself. Her orgasms didn't fade. They echoed on and on. Fantastic colours blossomed in her dark realm.

Kristie slumped in her chains after endless, excruciating minutes. All energy flowed out of her. It left her totally spent.

A hand grabbed her blindfold and tore it off.

She fainted.

***

The darkness seemed to stick to her eyes and her face. It glued her lashes together. It also had icy cold fingers that made her skin ripple with shivers. Her teeth clattered.

Life seeped back into her body. Gradually. First it warmed her slow, heavy heart. Then it spread throughout her flesh, fractions of inches at a time. But her fingers stayed numb, as did her feet.

Kristie opened her eyes, but the darkness lingered.

Then all rushed back to her. The blindfold, the gag…the awful people. The monstrous creature, its panting tongue. And the pain at the centre of it all, her Mistress, who had done nothing to save her, nothing to protect her.

Most of all there was the shame.

It was the shame of knowing how those people had been watching her. They had witnessed the wild pleasure that had seared through her bound body. And they must have concluded correctly that she had no control over the slut inside her.

A dry sob shook her shoulders.

She had never felt so alone in her life. She was lost, humiliated, abandoned. How could Mistress have been so cold? And yet again so unbearably sweet when all was over? To dismiss her so cruelly again? How could she ever be expected to understand? She had fallen deep. She was a fallen angel. She lay crushed against a cold, indifferent stone. She hugged the marble.

She begged it to open up and take her in.

When the blindfold had been torn away, she had seen the horror of the monstrous dwarf. His drooling mouth, askew and misshapen. His claw like hands, the useless leg. The stench of his breathe, the hunchback. She had also watched the people cheer and applaud. Then she must have fainted.

A sharp waft of smelling salt had brought her back to consciousness. She had gasped and blinked the world back into focus.

She had lain on her knees, obscenely spread. Her arms were still up, caught in the chains. But they had been slackened enough to allow her to sink down. The two men and the woman stood around the fireplace.

They chatted and drank their drinks. The dwarf had gone. A gloved hand cupped her chin. It made her look upwards into the smiling face of the Mistress she thought she had found. And now had lost so cruelly.

"You must have had so much fun, darling," the woman said. "You passed out completely. Sweet Björn has the most incredibly skilled tongue, don't you agree?"

The guests looked in her direction now. They walked over. Undoubtedly they wanted to see this cheap slut from closer up. Kristie turned her head in disgust. But Angique held her face in a vice like grip. She did not allow her to look away.

"Now let me make you a bit more comfortable," she sang with her sweetest voice. She undid the chains at the wrist cuffs. Kristie let her limp arms fall to the ground. She felt the blood rush back with a million pin- pricks. Then she noticed that the strap at the back of her head slackened. She pushed the ball out with her tongue. She exercised her aching jaws. Sticky strands of saliva dripped down her chin onto her breasts.

Angique lowered herself beside the girl. She locked her green eyes into the darkened hazel ones.

"Now, Kristie," she said. "We know you are not a selfish girl. You had all this incredible pleasure Björn gave you. Don't you agree my friends should at least share in that?"

Kristie stared into the treacherous emeralds. She did not know what to say. What did the woman mean? One of the people walked up to her. He was a rather thickset middle-aged man. He could have been her father. He undid his trousers' fly and fished out a fat, half-aroused cock. He took it in his hand and leaned in even closer.

He slapped Kristie's face with it.

"Suck it, you delicious little cunt!" he growled. He was the Brit with the precise Oxford accent.

Kristie tore her face out of the grip of her Mistress. She backed off. She tried to struggle up, but her ankles were still locked to the floor. She fell over on her side.

"Noooooooooooo…." she screamed. Then she broke down in a torrent of sobs.

Angique took her in her arms. She rested her against her tight leather suit. She wiped the girl's eyes and cooed in her softest voice.

"Now don't, sweet thing. Don't make your Mistress feel so sad. Don't shame me into believing that you'd mock me in front of my friends. You would not make a caricature out of my authority, would you? I gave such a wonderful account of your progress and your talents, little one. Now please don't make me the laughing stock. How could I ever meet them again and not be mocked and ridiculed?"

She whispered on in this vein. The sadness dripped off her voice. It seeped into the ears of the rigid girl.

"Do you hate me that much, Kristie? Is that it? Have I caused you to hate me that you want to break my reputation?"

Kristie's answer was a low moan of utter misery.

Angique let her hand travel down the leather-laced body. She slowly rolled a nipple. Then she let her fingers walk to the cunt lips. They were still spread open by silver clamps.

"Who are you, sweet Kristie? Please tell me who you are? You can't be this insignificant little waitress I picked up in America? Are you really this mindless little animal? Are you this girl that is only interested in working out her body and soaking up the sun? Are you the girl that went out with all these shallow, clumsy lovers? All these pitiful clowns who so often failed to even give you a tiny orgasm?"

Her fingers had found the still tender clit. It stood up at the top of her wide-open pinkness. She rubbed it. She softly scratched it with her nail.

"Oh my. Please say it isn't true, Kristie. Don't tell me this is who you are? For if it's true, you are a dirty little liar, you know? You lied to me when you called me Mistress. You lied when you agreed to come to Europe. And you lied to me when we sat on the rock in the lake, remember? You pledged your love to me. "I am yours forever," you said. You did say that, Kristie, didn't you? I warned you, but you insisted. You put your sweet little hand over my mouth to stop my warnings, remember? Was it all a lie?"

Under her fingers the girl's hips started slowly to gyrate. She pushed herself closer. But she never answered. Her eyes had closed. She moaned through clenched teeth.

"Ooooooooh, sweet Mistress!" she then cried out suddenly. "Don't call me a liar. You KNOW I am not!"

Angique just as sudden stopped pleasing the girl's clit. With her cum-dripping fingers she swept away the tears on the girl's cheeks. Then she said:

"Prove it!"

She pushed Kristie back and rose to her towering heels. Her arms were folded before her chest.

The girl lay kneeling on the floor. Her ass sat next to her still chained feet. One arm supported the leather strapped body. Her wide-open eyes shot from Angique to the other people. Then they rested on the now totally erect cock of the Englishman. He chuckled and stroked his hard flesh.

A slow drop of pre-cum danced down to the floor.

Kristie clambered to all fours. Then she did the most amazing thing. It made Angique gasp with surprise. The girl lifted her right hand. She turned her fingers up into a kitten's paw. Slowly she licked her nails and purred. She beckoned the fat man closer. Her pink tongue ran across her lips.

A sigh went through the room.

Kristie took the rigid pole in her hands. Her fingers seemed tiny around it. She started licking the dripping head. Her tongue drew a long, clear thread when she pulled back. It shone golden in the candlelight. Then she sank her lips over the ridge. All the while she kneaded the heavy balls and sent vibrating purrs along the shaft.

The Englishman had no comment. His leer had disappeared. He shivered and threw his head back, groaning. Angique smiled: the poor guy had the chance of an ice cube in hell to survive the next minute. And she was right. Even before Kristie could take all of him in, he started to buck. Then he pulled out and shot his fat cream all over her face and skullcap.

Kristie meowed. She slowly scraped the globs of sperm from her face. Then she started licking her fingers.

Angique fell onto her knees. She embraced the girl. Then she pressed her mouth on Kristie's. She tasted the male presence and sucked the mixture of come and saliva into her own mouth. There she mixed it with her own spittle and gave it back.

They took minutes to weave the sperm and saliva into a snowball. Then Angique rose high on her knees. She held Kristie's head and let the endless threads of goo sink into the open cave of the girl's mouth. She stroked Kristie's throat to make her swallow it all.

Then the two of them hugged again. Their eyes connected. They shared a feeling so precious that even their breathing stopped.

The world around them seized to exist.

That night Kristie served the men twice. She also ate the woman's cunt. After each climax she crawled over to Angique and shared the crop with her.

When the guests had left, they lay in each other's arms. Angique sipped a red wine. She shared it with Kristie, exactly as they had been sharing all night.

"You will be punished, Kristie. You know that, don't you?" Angique said, almost off hand. "Tonight you will be locked in iron as a punishment for your refusal. Do you understand that?"

In a reflex Kristie's mouth formed the word "but". But she never let it slip out. She nodded silently. Then she hung her head. All the hard won confidence and warmth was taken away again.

***

In the cold, marble place Kristie felt her consciousness return in full. She could lift her head a few inches. She looked around in the darkness. Angique had bolted her body down. She had spread-eagled the girl on a large slap of cold, slick marble. It lay at the centre of a huge cage, in the bowels of the Villa. All she saw was gray in gray, shadows in shadows.

The circle of torches had long since died.

Before she left, Mistress had knelt beside her. She had kissed her neck. She had whispered: "I am so proud of you, sweet pet." Then she had risen and walked away. She had turned a huge key in the iron door that was set in the iron cage.

The last Kristie heard were the echoing taps of heels. The cold had kept her awake. Then exhaustion threw its woollen cloak over her body.

Her consciousness slipped away.

angiquesophie
angiquesophie
1,313 Followers
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5 Comments
centralsquareguycentralsquareguyabout 2 years ago
I love your BDSM stories...

...so perfectly arousing.

AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
Bravo

Wonderfully done, so well written.

I'm not into BDSM, but the author drew me into her world with her imagery and narration. Thank you.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 10 years ago
CRAP

Real love...... NOT! I hated it, but you probably remove this comment.

GirlintheMoonGirlintheMoonover 12 years ago
Undeniably Beautiful

I loved EVERY word of this. The description of the oils... the shaven body... her beckoning him like a cat... every action described so vividly I could SEE it... I'm pretty speechless. To be able to write without being overly verbose and yet have the whole scene so perfectly laid out for the reader is a talent so rare you should wake up with a smug grin on your face every day!

This isn't a world I totally understand but have slowly been learning more about. It's so intriguing and stimulating. I'm enthralled.

Your story seemed more like a poem to me due to the beauty of the words and the imagery. I literally felt as if I was going through each step with Kristie... and I liked it. It was as though I was in the room with all of them, but as either the spectator or Kristie I can't be certain. All I can be certain of is that this is a fabulous tale and you are a wonderful writer. I can't wait to read more of your stories. Thank you for sharing this with us.

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
Sublime, captures the mental torments

It would be better if these were numbered but as thats my only minor quibble I have to say this is very fine D/s writing. You even had me wondering how you sneaked the German Shephard past the censor. Cheers. -- UK CYNIC.

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