Kinky adventurers Ch. 02: Pt. 11

Ilya froze. She felt her insides curdle with fear. Now, at last, she knew what--and who--she was facing.

"I have a hard time believing," Vinselius sniveled incredulously, "that those involved in this atrocious heist have no idea the priceless value of what they have taken."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Indigo replied. "The world is full of hapless idiots."

It was at that moment that Maeve, the travel-weary elf directly across the table from Vinselius, reached a hand stealthily between Ilya's legs and gently dragged one of her long, painted fingernails along the crotch of Ilya's tight, leather panties.

I: Sebastian, make another dexterity saving throw for me

Sb: Oh, great. [Rolls]. 9?

I: Hehe. Not enough, buddy.

"Oh!" Ilya gasped and jerked instinctively in reaction to a foreign touch on her most vulnerable place. Wine sloshed out of the jug and onto the pristine tablecloth. Some of it soaked sliced bread in a basket between Maeve and Vinselius.

Silence descended over the table. For a short moment that felt like an eternity, no one moved.

"Oh my," Maeve blurted finally, her fingers at her lips in a gesture that said 'oops,' but without a trace of remorse in her voice. Ilya, too scared to look at Mistress, merely stood still, holding the jug to her naked abdomen.

"Victoria."

The young woman at the far end of the table--who until now hadn't said a word--looked up. "Yes, boss?"

Indigo leaned back in her chair, a curious mixture of anger and satisfaction in her posture. "This slave needs to be punished."

"Yes, boss," Victoria replied crisply.

"Do it here. Do it now."

"Yes, boss."

"You'll find everything you need in there." Indigo lazily gestured toward a chest of drawers across the room. Immediately, Victoria scooted back her chair, stood, and headed to the object Indigo had indicated. "Glorian," Indigo continued in a bored drawl.

"Yes, boss?" Now it was the turn of the half-elf next to Victoria's seat to snap to attention.

"Make yourself useful, you lazy slug."

"Yes, boss!" Glorian, curly blonde hair quivering as he hurriedly got to his feet, strode smartly toward Ilya. Taking the jug of wine with one hand, he placed the other on Ilya's upper arm and pulled her away from the table toward an empty spot in the room just beyond it. Ankles still hobbled, Ilya stumbled after him, boobs bouncing and nipple bells tinkling. She had no idea what was about to happen to her, but she was scared. She knew now who these people were and what they were capable of.

Victoria--curly, shoulder length brown hair framing a narrow, cute face with cold, amber eyes--shut a drawer with a crisp snap and approached Glorian and Ilya. Silently, everyone seated at the table watched as if it were a performance, some kind of entertainment.

They're about to do something to my body, Ilya thought in a panic, and they think it's entertainment? Who are these people?

"Slave boy," Reya calls to Sebastian, "finish serving beverages to our friends and then meet me over there." She gestures with a nod of her head to the corner of the room. The one with the giant St. Andrew's cross in it. Sebastian looks up from handing a can of hard cider to Ingrid, then follows Reya's gaze to the imposing, wooden 'X'.

Emma gapes, then covers her open mouth with her hand. Her face has a look of 'oh shit' on it. She exchanges glances with Silus, whose eyes glitter with excited apprehension.

"Aw, but Sebastian hasn't spilled anything," Yuna protests lightheartedly. "He's been a perfect slave boy."

"Mmhmm. He has," agrees Reya, looking Sebastian over. "Cute and perfect in every way. But I've been itching to flog his body for a while now. And since I'm the boss, I get what I want." Yuna giggles in response, clearly appreciating Reya's confident dominance.

To Ilya's surprise, Victoria produced a small, silver key and unlocked both her wrist bonds and the chains hobbling her legs. This unexpected turn only made Ilya more nervous. Handing a coil of rope to Glorian, Victoria unspooled another and began tying it to the leather cuff around one of her wrists. Glorian followed suit with the other. Ilya looked at the seated guests with Mistress at their head, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She felt terribly vulnerable. They watched her dispassionately.

Moments later, Ilya felt her arms hauled up toward the ceiling under tension as Glorian and Victoria, standing on chairs, threaded the working end of the ropes they had tied to her wrists through metal hooks fastened into the ceiling. Ilya had not noticed them before, but instantly recognized their purpose. In a moment, Ilya found herself standing, facing the table, with her arms stretched out and toward the ceiling, her body in a 'Y' shape.

This position made her breasts feel all the more exposed, but she didn't have much time to dwell on it. As soon as she was finished tying Ilya to the ceiling, Victoria stepped behind her, tucked her fingers into the waist of her tiny, black panties, and pulled down. Ilya gasped as she suddenly felt her underwear stripped off of her. Skimpy as they were, she nonetheless felt incredibly exposed and bare, now entirely naked in front of the dinner guests.

"Step out," came Victoria's cold, crisp command. As if by reflex, Ilya obeyed, stepping out of the panties lying loose around her ankles. Ilya felt Victoria place her boot against the inside of her left leg, then push hard toward the left. Ilya's foot slid across the smooth, tile floor. She staggered, but the ropes binding her wrists to the ceiling held her up.

"Oh!"

Immediately after, Victoria repeated the same movement on Ilya's right side. This time Ilya managed not to cry out, but now her body was in an 'X'--her crotch exposed and her ass slightly upturned as she struggled to balance in this new position. Mistress' guests looked on silently with expressions of apathy and mild amusement on their faces.

Next, her captors knelt and bound ropes around Ilya's ankles, pulling the working ends away from her once done and fastening them to a marble pillar on one side and a foot of the chest of drawers on the other. Ilya felt like she was being stretched apart, with her naked crotch and torso suspended in the middle. She pulled at the ropes, groaning softly as she tried to balance the tension on her arms and legs.

Pushing Sebastian against the dark, stained wood, Reya leans in and nibbles softly on his ear. Sebastian moans every so softly in reply. She places her hands on his sides, slides them slowly down to his waist, then his hips. In a sudden movement, she mimics Victoria by snagging the waistband of his underwear with her fingers and pulling sharply down.

Sebastian gasps in embarrassment. Facing away from the room, his erection is mostly concealed, but his bare ass is there for all to see. A distinct speedo tan line is obvious.

Reya steps back dramatically after stripping her sub to allow everyone an unimpeded view of his body. After leaving him a spectacle for 20 or 30 seconds, Reya returns with rope--obviously hemp from the farm-like smell it gave off--and ties a length around each of Sebastian's wrists and ankles. Then, taking his left wrist, she draws it up to the metal ring in the upper-left corner of the cross. Holding it pinned there for a moment, she presses her body against Sebastian's, buries her nose to the crook in his neck, and breathes in deeply. Sebastian shudders slightly and sighs.

Reya now gets to business, quickly and effectively binding her sub's wrists and ankles to the four corners of Ingrid's bondage device. Stretched out like this, Sebastian can do little more than wiggle his body a bit. Reya gently places her fingers between the cheeks of his ass, drawing another gasp of surprise and pleasure from him. With a smile of satisfaction, Reya walks to her bag of toys and withdraws a leather flogger.

"Ooooh!" Yuna drools. her eyes go wide like a child's in a toy store. "That's gorgeous!"

"Why thanks," Reya replied in her sly drawl.

"That really is beautiful, Reya," Ingrid agrees, eyes fixed to the flogger. It has a round pommel and hilt of woven, black leather. The handle is made of the same material, but interwoven with red chevrons. The tails protruding from the hilt are thick and made of red felt.

"Can I feel it?" asks Yuna with glee.

"Yuna," Ingrid gently remonstrates. "She's in the middle of a scene. And that's her implement, not a toy." Yuna, whose hand had been reaching toward the felt tails, pulls her arms back in toward her body like a chastised child.

Reya laughs. "Naw, it's all good," she soothes as she hands the flogger to Yuna. "Take a look." While Yuna ogles the flogger with Emma eagerly leaning over her shoulder to get a better look, Reya pulls a short, black rubber bar with straps from her bag and walks back to Sebastian. Without warning, she brings the bar over his head and pulls it back between his teeth as far as it will go.

Preoccupied with finding her balance, Ilya tasted the gag before she saw it. It smelled of leather and tasted bitter. It felt like a horse's bit--a horizontal bar of leather pulled back as deeply into her mouth as it would go. Helpless to do otherwise, she bit down on it.

"Grrllnnggrrllngmmff!"

To Ilya's surprise, no one made a snide comment on the pathetic noises she made. Apparently, whoever these people were, gagging your slave before having your way with them was simply par for the course, nothing worry of even so much as a derisive snort. Ilya's breathing grew more rapid and shallow. Feeling panic taking hold, Ilya tried to calm herself by watching the pretty, blue jewel in her belly button go in and out, in and out.

Crack!

"Unngrrng!"

Ilya felt the first impact as a shock. The gasp of surprise flew out of her with the blow.

Crack!

Expecting it, Ilya managed to take the second blow without a sound. They stung, but oddly so. The impacts felt wide and broad on her bare ass, but only the edges of the impact zone felt painful. The rest felt solid, like a thump--almost comfortable.

Whud!

This one struck her in the lower back. Again the initial impact felt heavy, almost nice, then rapidly blossomed into painful fire around the edges. "Grrrlngrl!" It was humiliating to have her cries garbled, as if even bravely enduring pain was being denied her. She was a slave, suffering exactly what and how her masters wanted her to suffer. They had full control of her.

Thwack!

This one struck across her left butt cheek and Ilya felt her entire ass jiggle and quiver. The bells on her pierced nipples rang out clearly. "Unngngrl."

The pattern continued: smack, tinkle, moan; smack, tinkle, moan; smack, tinkle, moan. Anticipating each blow, Ilya moved as far foward as she could; but this only succeeded in thrusting her naked body at her captors seated at Mistress' table in a kind of lewd gesture.

Reya targeted most of her blows on her submissive's supple ass, evidently enjoying the way it shook with each accurate strike. At first, Sebastian would wiggle and squirm after each impact, as if somehow he could avoid the next. Soon, though, he remained still and submitted in stillness to the succession of blows.

He did not submit in silence, though. Each hit produced a gagged moan that was half pain, half pleasure. Emma watched intently, her breathing shallow, her thighs grinding slightly together. Behind her, Yuna watched Emma's reactions closely, a naughty, excited gleam in her eyes.

The doors to the chamber opened and a cart rolled in, laden with food. Feeling like she'd been caught in an embarrassing sex act, Ilya glanced over in shameful panic. The servants in aprons and chef's hats pushing the cart froze, equally ashamed, their eyes glued to the naked girl bound and gagged in the middle of the room.

Crack!

Ding, ding, ding!

"Unnnggg!"

The pain in her back and ass was getting more intense as more blows fell on previously struck flesh. She squirmed and writhed but to no effect except the entertainment of her masters. Her naked body was a helpless, bare target.

The kitchen staff remained frozen in place, watching the kinky spectacle.

"Zinny!" Indigo's voice cut through the repetitive, hypnotic pattern of leather strands striking bare flesh, followed by pitiful, gagged moaning. Another tinkling sound--different in pitch and timbre from Illya's nipple bells--sounded from the far end of the vast chamber. From beyond a dividing line of red drapes a little gnome girl dressed in button-up white shirt over green, pleated skirt came running. A little metal disk jingled at her throat.

"Yes, mommy?" Zinny asked. Then, registering the guests and Indigo's disapproving look, corrected, "Yes, Master?"

"Set the table so these good servants can return to the kitchens. We've had a little difficulty with our slave for the evening." Indigo's voice was paternalistic--a parent speaking to a child.

Suddenly, Zinny took in Ilya, bound naked and stretched tightly between the ceiling and the floor, a black bit wedged in her mouth. They locked eyes for a moment.

Thwud!

Tinkle, tinkle.

"Unnnnggggg!!"

Zinny's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Zinny!" Indigo said in a lilting voice, like calling a dog's attention with treats. Zinny's gaze snapped back to her master. "That's a good girl. Now, the food, please?" Then, in a cold tone to the servants, eyes still glued to the naked girl being whipped in the center of the room, she said, "You may leave." They quickly departed, closing the door behind them.

To her astonishment, Ilya watched as Zinny flicked her hand lazily and, one by one, the plates of roasted meat and vegetables on the cart rose of their own accord into the air, soared gracefully, and landed without incident on the table in front of the guests.

I: Can someone make a perception check at disadvantage for Sebastian? He's a little tied up right now.

Em: I'm on it! [Rolls. Checks Ilya's character sheet.] That's a 4.

I: Mmhmm. Like I said, a little too tied up to notice.

She might have thought more of it had not her attention in that moment primarily been absorbed by the experience of having her naked, bound body flogged in front of an intimate group of onlookers.

"So, as I was saying before I was so inexcusably interrupted," Indigo said, her voice back to a confident, nonchalant drawl, "we'll have your possessions back in no time."

The conversation continued, utterly ignoring her pathetic moans, the rhythmic impact of the flogger against her flesh, but Ilya couldn't follow what they said. It sounded like boring table banter between rich elites--complaining about this or that and mocking everyone but themselves in the process.

In the meantime, Ilya's world was the regular, heavy thud of leather on her body, followed almost instantly by a bloom of iridescent pain around the borders of the impact. As the flogging continued, her skin became more sensitive and sore and the pain grew more and more intense. Her gagged moans, which had begun as expressions of surprise and protest, soon turned to begging and pleading. The pain, while sharp and awful, was far from unbearable. But the relentless nature of it made her desperate. Worst of all, Ilya began to sense that it would go on unless and until her Mistress intervened. If so, she had every reason to swallow her pride and abjectly beg her Mistress for mercy, to make a public show of having been thoroughly punished and chastised.

I have to make myself her toy, her thing, Ilya told herself in an attempt to find some measure of personal control in a helpless situation.

I have to play her game by her rules. If I willingly submit myself to her, things will go better for me, a quiet, small voice inside her solemnly intoned.

"Alright, Seb," Ingrid interjects. "I know you can't roll, but I need you to make a choice for me. One that will determine where this goes for Ilya."

"Rrnggllmmmrllng."

"Yes, I know you're gagged, darling," Ingrid replies as Reya continues her flogging unabated. "I want you to think how Ilya would respond in this moment. Does she choose the safe route and try to make herself small enough to survive? Does she submit fully to her new Mistress?"

Ingrid pauses and in the silence another blow lands on Sebastian's left butt cheek. It jiggles while Sebastian moans in delight.

"Or, on the other hand, does Ilya fight back against the small voice, the urge to become small to survive? Does she fight back?"

Smack.

"Rrrnnggg."

"Give me one short, gagged grunt if she goes with the little voice; two grunts if she resists it."

A long pause. Whack! "Rrllnnggg."

Sebastian's friends sit perfectly still, waiting silently to hear his choice.

Then, two clear grunts.

Thwump. "Mmmrnnngg."

Sebastian's ass is bright red by now, making Emma giggle in embarrassed sympathy. But, lost in the throes of the scene--and facing the wrong direction--Sebastian misses the shared looks and warm grins and smiles that pass between his friends. Silus reaches out and grips Ingrid's shoulder.

"Good job, you," he whispers quietly.

Ilya knew this voice. It had been her faithful companion for a long time. In some ways she knew this voice better than she knew herself. In some ways, she was the voice. It was her. Deep down, Ilya knew that the voice had been with her through hard times, had helped her get through when no other help was available--times she still only dimly recalled, yet deep down the body memory was there. The voice was only trying to help, arising instinctively to fulfil its role of helping her through another hard thing, another period of helplessness.

This time, however, another voice arose in response. A voice of rage.

No!! We will not go back to that! We will NOT be put in that cage again!

Ilya found herself breathing quick and shallow once more, but this time it wasn't from panic or fear. This time, it was anger--at her bonds, at her captors, at people who would use and exploit and hurt her, and at her own helplessness. She felt the pressure of her rage build, each relentless impact of the flogger fueling it with unjust pain and abuse. Rather than moaning pitifully after each strike, her anger began to spill out of her gagged mouth--first as grunts and barks, then yells and finally screams of rage.

"Aaahhhrrnnggg!!"

Conversation at the table stopped. All eyes turned to the naked slave.

For Ilya--eyes closed now--time slowed, then seemed to stop altogether. She knew the next impact was coming; there was nothing she could do to avoid it, nothing she could do to stop the pain. Why was someone flogging her?! Why was the world always trying to HURT HER!!

Thwack!

As the wildfire of pain rippled out in slow motion across her bare ass, something inside Ilya snapped. The rage was familiar, the breaking point familiar. She felt a hand pull viciously on her hair, a jagged blade pressed wantonly against her exposed throat. In her mind, she reached back with both hands to grasp whoever was hurting her, making her feel afraid for their own gain. Power surged through her body with the unstoppable force of a tide. Her mind flashed white.