Ship of Remorse

With my wrists still bound to my waist belt, and my head firmly secured with nose and lips between the rounded rear hillocks, I will spend the night. The balls within me seem to move with my breathing. I want to gyrate my hips, but if the bell sounds, I will be chastised. I divert my thoughts. I indeed lick, concentrating on her pleasure and not mine.

The mechanics of servicing my benefactor are simple. Thus while my tongue flutters away, I once again recall that traumatic evening with Madam Chang in a New York hotel.

“You’ve been such a good girl. I think you’ve earned a reward.”

Madam Chang released me from the horrid table. My back was quite stiff, having had to maintain an arched position to relieve the tension from the hooks in my nostrils. She recognized the discomfort.

“Come over here. I think this will help.”

I was led by my collar across the room. There firmly attached to the floor by two poles was a brass bar resting horizontally at a level slightly above my waist.

“Left foot on the bar then bend for me.”

I complied but became concerned as once again the men and the naked servants began to gather. The pose left my shaven and lubricated pudendum most exposed and my labia separated. I felt the room air on my clitoris.

“Yes. Very nice. My guests enjoy viewing a girl’s charms.”

Madam Chang positioned herself behind me. Her left hand came around my torso and cupped my left breast then began to knead the soft body of the gland.

“You need to be drained.”

Yes, I did, and was grateful for the knowledgeable touch. But the fingers of her right hand begin diddling my genitalia and once again a perfectly smooth digit found its way between my well parted outer labia. With all the KY jelly, it easily slipped into my vagina.

“Your buttocks are quite warm. The caning seems to have been appreciated. Just relax and show the nice gentlemen how good girls are rewarded. Bad girls find their other passage opened.”

Two fingers slipped in as Madam Chang busily milked me. Then three. Then four. Her hands were small and smooth. I began to understand the reason for her modest manicure.

She moved slightly in order to switch breasts. Milk was pouring to the carpet and in the silence the drops could be heard despite the softness of the material where they landed.

The switch proved to be a diversion, for as she attacked my right breast, her right thumb folded under and I felt incredible tightness in my vagina despite the lubrication. Pangs of pleasure were overriding the slight discomfort. My own wetness flowed adding to the water-soluble jelly. My vagina turned to a river. Madam Chang softly laughed.

She was fisting me and my Japanese audience watched raptly. She enjoyed the power, her hand penetrating to the very depths of my most intimate anatomy.

“There are women who find they cannot go back to the penis after a good fisting. Do you want to know how deep I am? Can you feel this?”

She clenched her hand and twisted. I moaned in both pleasure and pain. My lecherous viewers saw her wrist slowly rotate and laughed with the knowledge of what was happening... what I was feeling.

Two zippers were lowered. And talented Asian tongues began to once again apply their oral skills with my oiled, naked and thoroughly penetrated body utilized as a catalyst for lust.

Then she begin to thrust in and out. Slowly at first. Then faster. I began to scream in ecstasy. Her left hand left my breasts. I felt a pinch at my well-exposed outer labia.

“Can you squirt for the nice gentlemen? You’ve been generous with your milk. Let’s see what else you can offer them.”

I felt fingers move up toward my navel. The right hand twisted and thrust firmly and deeply. The searching fingers of her left hand found my lonely and exposed clitoris. She pinched between thumb and forefinger. Had I not been aroused the pressure would have caused intolerable pain. But in my excited state it was pure pleasure. I felt liquid hit the rug near my right foot. She was making me climax. I was having an orgasm before a dozen strangers. I closed my eyes in shame. But it felt so good.

Madam Chang indeed had me squirt for her Japanese guests. I ejaculated on cue at her whim like a fountain she could turn on at will. My ignominious display met with much laughter and approval. I had never before felt such ecstasy.

The hand slipped out and I fell exhausted to the floor. Someone carried me back to room 827 where I awoke.

When I finally arose, implanted in my stretched and still wet vagina I found a small clear plastic cylinder. Inside someone had taken humor in folding a fifty-dollar bill.

Chapter Twenty-nine

The doctor’s prognostication concerning Mr. Fatipton’s health unfortunately began to become evident. Over the next few weeks he became weaker and weaker and I was only able to coax two more sperm samples of any reasonable size.

His suckling was also sporadic, beginning a session with strong satisfying draws only to falter as his strength quickly dissipated. Thankfully, Ms. Powers would give me a firm and thorough hand milking every evening, which was essential if a proper level of lactation was to be maintained.

Meanwhile, during his more conscious times, Mr. Fatipton took great delight in toying with the golden sphere peeking out between my flushed and reddened labia. Yes, Ms. Powers insisted that the balls remain in place, which made urination difficult. For any other girl it would be a simple matter to push the lower ball aside and do business, but I was not permitted to touch myself there. So, I had to request the assistance of one of the domestic help. It very much reminded me of the procedures aboard ‘The Scarlet Letter’ only Nurse Inga’s duty was fulfilled by one of the Estate’s precocious maids.