Spice Plantation Ch. 07

I looked from the two women to Nate. "I guess I believe you know how to use that," I said, "but it must take a lot of practice. I don't know if I'd ever be that sure of my aim."

"Well, you certainly wouldn't want to try that right away," Nate agreed. "However, you can learn it faster than you think. You should first concentrate on placing the lash exactly where you want it and later worry about learning to control the sting. A good way is to use the paper cones. Dust the bench with talcum and then set the cones on it. You should learn to take them off without smearing the powder."

Susan moved over beside me and looped her arm through mine. "I'll work with him, Nate. I'm willing to bet that by next Seven Day he'll be ready to warm a couple of backsides."

"OK, I'm sure he will. But, Alex, if you don't feel completely ready, you can just help by using the cat. You can learn to handle that quickly enough and Susan will make sure you know how hard to use it. I think you can get a feel for the single tail by then as well. Trust Susan. She'll make sure you're ready."

Joan came over and whispered in Nate's ear. A smile spread across his face and he turned back to Susan and me and said, "If you can handle it, Susan, Joan has something else she wants to do."

Susan said, "I'll take it from here, Nate," as a wide grin spread across her face.

Nate and Joan quickly said good-night and left the shed.

"I wonder what they suddenly had to do," I questioned.

Susan laughed. "You can't guess?" I shook my head. "They had a sudden need to go to bed," she laughed. "That business with the candles and whip had Joan dripping. Believe me, I fully understand."

My look of surprise must had been easy to read, because she added, "It's really not surprising, Alex. We both know that Nate is good enough that there was almost no chance he would touch us with the whip. Still, even the slightest possibility lends a real edge to the excitement. Risk often acts as a really strong sexual stimulant."

I looked closely at Susan and now I saw the slight flush to her skin and saw her breathing was still slightly fast. "Do you feel a sudden need, too?" I asked.

Susan laughed. "Actually, I do, but let's put it aside for a while. If you're really going to learn to handle these things in the next seven days, we're going to need to practice some each night." She picked up the cat. "Let's work on this a little first."

We spent the next two hours working with the cat. First, Susan had me practice swinging it through the air without striking anything at all. Then I moved on to deliver blows to the padded leather surface of the bench. I would swing a couple of times and Susan would evaluate my work. "That was more of a flat blow, Alex. No sting. Try snapping your wrist just before the tails strike."

I corrected and Susan encouraged me. Then she would fine tune it. "Listen to the sound of the tails striking the leather. Here, let me show you." Susan took the cat and landed a couple of strokes. "That's the way it should sound. Now listen to this." Another blow. "Hear how flat that sounded? A blow like that might hurt some, even bruise, but there would be no real sting. Listen to this one." She struck again. "Now that one would really sting. In fact, there would probably be no slap or thud at all, but the ends would have the victim screaming at the top of his lungs. That's a little harder than we would ever want here."

She demonstrated several times until I thought I could tell the difference between the sounds. Then she gave me back the whip and I began to strike, giving her my evaluation with each stroke. She would either confirm or correct my estimate of the effectiveness of the blow.

After a while Susan stopped me for a short rest. "What we try to do with the cat, Alex, is to strike so that the victim feels a slap as well as a sting sharp enough to hurt but not enough to overwhelm him." She stopped and thought a second. "I think I should give you an idea of how it will go. Why don't you get on the bench so you can get to feel what the victim experiences. We'll use these benches next Seven Day so everything will seem familiar to you."

I moved over to the bench and climbed up to kneel on the rearward set of ledges. I bent forward and rested my forearms on the forward set. This position immediately induced a feeling of helplessness, making me truly feel like a victim with no control over what was going to happen. My rear end was high up and spread open and I felt totally defenseless. Susan came around and started to strap my forearms to the padded ledges. When I started to protest, she said, "Come on, Alex. I want you to really get a feel for what it's like." I relaxed and let her bind my arms and also my lower legs to the padded leather.

I was then lying along the length of the padded rail, my sarong covered rear sticking up and my chest pressing against the rapidly warming leather. Susan moved alongside me and began to slowly drag the soft leather tails of the cat across my bare back. Then she reached towards my waist and unfastened the sarong, pulling it from my body. Now I was completely naked as well as bound in an open and helpless position. I could feel my arse tighten, but I could also feel my member begin to swell with unexpected excitement. The tails trailed on down across my bare buttocks and thighs and I sharply sucked in my breath.

"Now do you see why the men want to get punished?" Susan asked. "I mean, besides just to impress the ladies." I didn't have to answer because she went on. "I think, before I let you loose, I'm going to show you the difference between the different kinds of strokes. First some that are all slap." Susan swung the cat against my exposed rear. It landed with a flat "splat" sound and I felt as though I had been struck by one wide object, such as a paddle. It hurt a little, but not badly, and certainly not with any kind of sting. Susan delivered another dozen of these, varying the strength from a light swat to one which felt like I had been hit with a wide board. It knocked me hard against the padded leather. I could feel my skin beginning to warm but, in all honesty, id did nothing for me sexually.

Then she switched to stinging lashes. These had none of the slap of the first blows, but each left nine separate stinging hurts on my skin. The sting rapidly dissipated, but left a warm afterglow. I could feel my rod begin to stir in response. Then came a short series in which the sting no longer stimulated, but only hurt. Each wrung a cry from me and I attempted to break free, but to no avail.

"Now, Alex," Susan finally said, "this is what they should feel like." The next dozen strokes had elements of both the slap and sting. The broad slaps of the group of tails striking my flesh were not hard enough to bruise or drive me into the bench, but they left a wide, warm area in their wake. But each stroke was also accompanied by a set of sharp stings as the ends of the tails struck. Susan moved these lashes around so that different areas of skin were struck and no one spot became overly damaged. While some of these blows again caused me to cry out, I found that the overall effect was one of intense sexual stimulation. My rod was by then straining against the padded leather in an attempt to stand upright. If I could have raised myself high enough for it to fit between my stomach and the bench, I am sure I would have climaxed all over the smooth leather.

Suddenly Susan stopped and I groaned in frustration. "Before we finish, Alex, I think I should let you feel a couple that are beyond what we want. These will hurt " - did that mean she thought the others hadn't hurt!?! - "but I think it's important for you to know what the result of an error in judgment on your part would be like for the victim. Just three strokes."

I tried to brace myself for what was to come, but when the first blow struck, I was nowhere near prepared. The slap was hard enough to drive me forward onto the bench, but the real pain was from the nine stings. Sting is too mild a word. The nine individual pains were like nine sharp nails being quickly dragged along my skin. I screamed in response and strained against the straps holding my arms and legs. Susan didn't give me time to beg her to stop or otherwise I'm sure I would have. Instead she delivered two more strokes which seemed to slice me in strips as they landed. With the last of these, the ends of the tails curved around the rounded shape of my buttock and disappeared into my crack where they seemed to set fire to the most sensitive skin on my body. Then she stopped and as my cries diminished and I began to breathe a little more easily once again, her smooth hand began to stroke the abused area. "I didn't do that just to hurt you, Alex. It really is important that you know what a mistake on your part will do. Forgive me?"

I was still breathing hard and trying to regain control, but I managed to answer, "Of course, Susan. I understand why you did it, but it still hurt like hell."

"Poor Alex," Susan murmured. "I'll try to find some way to make it up to you." Then I felt her tongue begin to lath my abused bottom. Susan's firm tongue swept over the damaged area and her small hand worked itself around my balls, giving them small squeezes. For several minutes she continued her oral and manual attentions and I began to forget the earlier ordeal, my mind filling with the immense pleasure of the current happenings. Her hand left my testicles and made its way up and around my now totally stiff member, her fingers beginning to lightly stroke around the sensitive underside below the head. Just as I felt myself about to loose control completely, Susan's tongue pushed hard against my anus and I felt myself began to flood her hand with spurt after spurt of warm fluid.

Susan released me and got a damp cloth to clean me and the leather of the bench. "There now, Alex. Did that help take your mind off of the whipping a little?"

I smiled back at her. "What whipping?" We both started to laugh but somehow got distracted by a long kiss.

We practiced for another half hour before we quit for the night. Susan seemed to think I had mastered the cat enough to use it at the next session and said that we would concentrate on the single tail whip for the next few days.

March 13 ( One Day )

Tonight Susan once more took me out to the shed after dinner and spent nearly three hours instructing me on the use of the single tailed whip. As Nate had suggested, she first set up a row of the paper cones along the punishment bench, but didn't bother with the talcum powder. When I asked about it, she just replied, "First you have to learn to hit them." I didn't think it would be THAT hard, but I quickly found out I was mistaken. The first time I began to try to hit the row of four cones, it took me twelve tries to knock them down, and I got the last two with one stroke. Of course the strokes struck more than the cones. Sometimes I missed completely but others I hit the leather of the bench or both the bench and a cone. I even managed to strike my own ear once.

By the end of the evening, however, I had improved to the point where I could knock down a cone without striking the leather of the bench with about one stroke out of three. Susan said this wasn't bad, although I felt I should have been doing a lot better. She suggested I might see if I could get free for an hour during the day to come practice as well as each evening. I could do that even if she wasn't available then. I'll try to do so tomorrow.

March 16 ( Four Day )

After dinner tonight we were all sitting around outside with a cool drink. Susan and I planned to go back and practice some more, but before we left one of the workers hurried up with a sheet of paper and handed it to Nate and me.

I should mention that the plantation has a wireless transmitter and that we maintain a fixed listening schedule for an hour on each even numbered day. Since the schedule of the cargo ship which carries our supplies and takes the finished products to market is not fixed, this allows us to be ready when they dock.

However, tonight's message was not about the cargo ship. Nate read the message and then looked up. "Well, everyone, guess who is coming by on Seven Day."

Bob was the first to speak. "You don't mean von Holt, do you?"

"Right first time," Nate said.

"But it hasn't even been six months since he was here," Deborah said.

"True," Nate replied, "but he's in this part of the world and plans to stop by. It will just be a short visit this time. He only plans to stay for three or four days. He also adds that everything is fine and don't go to any special trouble for him."

"Sure," George muttered. "No matter how nice the boss, you always want everything to be just right when he comes. Well, actually, we're in pretty good shape right now. At least, mechanically."

"In other ways also," Nate added. "Probably he couldn't have picked a better time, actually."

I was a little uncertain about the whole thing. Nate had told me that von Holt stopped by for a visit about once a year or sometimes a little more often. He then just went over the books with Nate, over any management problems with the General Manager (Me!), and in general had a very casual visit.

"Just what should I do to get ready?" I asked.

Nate turned around towards me. "Nothing, really, Alex. He's just stopping by for a quick visit. If you have any questions for him, get them ready. I know he'll want to meet you in person, but you don't have to prepare anything special. Oh, and I guess it means you'll probably have an additional audience for the session on Seven Day."

"You mean the punishment session will go on as scheduled?" I asked in surprise.

"Of course," Nate replied. "Von Holt knows all about them and approves. In fact, I think he may have had something to do with starting them himself. I know he - and maybe his 'friends' if he brings any with him - will definitely want to watch."

I still felt nearly panicked. "Maybe I should wait and participate the next time," I said. "Let you experienced people handle this one."

"Nonsense," Nate said, dismissing the idea. "Susan tells me you're coming along nicely. I'm sure you'll be ready."

We talked about the visit for a while longer before the group broke up. Susan and I started walking out to the shed for more practice which I now feared would never be enough in time. She tried to relax me. "Look, Alex, he's very casual about everything. Just think of him as another staff member."

"That's hard to do when I've never met him. After all, I was hired without even speaking with him. What is he doesn't like me?" I was probably overly concerned because of my past history of short employments. Of course those had usually resulted from too much contact and disagreement with the boss, rather than not enough.

"Don't worry so, Alex. He trusts Nate completely in terms of personnel. In fact, I think this entire plantation is just a kind of game with him. He never seems to be to interested in the fine details, just the overall operation. And that the staff and workers are happy."

"Nate said something about 'friends.' Who's he likely to have with him?"

Susan smiled. "I don't know, but I'm sure you'll like them. I've been here for three visits from Herr von Holt. He travels on a private boat, a sixty foot sail craft. He has a small crew and each time he has visited he has been accompanied by two, three, or four beautiful women. I don't think they have anything to do with running the plantation at all. In fact, I think their main activities are carried out horizontally. They might make some demands of you, but I'm sure you can handle them, Kawi-Kawi."

I stopped and stared at her. "You mean sex?" I blurted out.

Susan's laugh sparkled the air around her. "Whatever gave you that idea? Of course, I mean sex. Each time he's been here, his traveling companions seem to be thinking about only one thing. I expect the men - whoever they are and however many they are - who are getting punished on Seven Day may find themselves worn out by next One Day." Her face took on a little more serious look. Alex, I can't be sure, but from what I observed and my professional training, I think that all of von Holt's women are, if not nymphomaniacs, the next closest thing."

I stared at her. "You really mean that?"

"I don't mean there is anything pathological about them, but from what I've seen, they don't seem to be able to get enough. You know that everyone on this island loves sex and spends a lot of time engaged in those activities. But von Holt's women don't seem to do anything else. I can only imagine that the men who crew his boat must have immense stamina, because I don't see any way von Holt could handle them by himself, no matter how good he is."

"Oh, is he supposed to be pretty good?" I asked her teasingly.

"Well, the girls do seem to line up when he stops by." Susan giggled. "I've even heard the idea that maybe his name is really von Horse."

"Know that from first hand knowledge?" I taunted.

"Actually, Alex, yes. When von Holt stops here he sleeps with most of the female staff and a lot of the native women. And, yes, he is hung like a horse. At least ten or eleven inches or so."

I stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am. He is the largest man I have ever seen. And remember, as a doctor, I have seen a few." Then she took on a serious look. "Alex, size isn't everything. Having a man that big is definitely a unique experience, but, frankly, he's not my ideal lover."

"Oh, and just how would you describe your ideal lover, anyway?"

Susan looked up at my face. "I'm beginning to think that would be you, Alex." Then she broke the mood, slapping me on the rear and starting to run towards the shed. "Come on, Lover. You'd better get to practicing."

March 18 (Six Day)

The last several days have been extremely busy. No matter what was said, everyone did spend a lot of extra time to make sure the plantation was as near perfect as possible for the arrival of "the boss." In addition I have been spending several hours each day practicing with the whips. In this time, I have become much better than I would have expected and now have enough confidence that I am only a little terrified of performing in front of everyone (including von Holt!) tomorrow.

An hour after dinner, Susan and I once again headed towards the shed for some more practice. During our session last night I was able to remove twenty of the small paper cones from the talcum covered leather bench without disturbing the dust. In addition, Susan judged from the sounds and the conditions of the fallen cones that I was striking with the correct control. We had tried several dozen strokes on the leather and again Susan pronounced each of them an effective, but not damaging, stroke. Tonight, as we entered the shed, I felt as though I only needed to keep my acquired skills, rather than still needing to prefect them.

This attitude lasted until we stepped into the dim interior of the shed. Unlike most nights, I could see that the gas lights had already been lit. I didn't think too much about this until we opened the door and stepped inside. Here I froze and much of my newly gained confidence seemed to flow from me and disappear. I stared into the center of the shed where four of the padded leather punishment benches we have been using to practice were arranged in parallel, side by side. And attached to three of them were the lovely nude and bound bodies of Joan, Jenny, and Deborah. Each girl was straddling the padded bar, her knees and lower legs strapped to the two small shelves on the sides, her forearms strapped to the two smaller shelves on the front sides. Three lovely, smooth posteriors projected above the rest and, needless to say, their spread legs gave me a most inviting view of three sets of private parts.