‘She’s feeling it now,’ said His Lordship. ‘She needs more. Harder.’
The whoosh of the lashes was loud and the crack as they landed explosive now. Justin was beginning to sweat and grit his teeth. My wrists and ankles strained like mad, succeeding only in marking themselves with red rings. I howled and blurted incoherent pleas. No safeword, though. His Lordship would not hear me invoke that.
‘This is what you need, Keris, isn’t it – good, hard whipping? Regularly. Frequently. I would see that you got it.’
I wanted to touch my clit, I wanted to buck and rear and kick the whip from Justin’s hand.
‘I need her arse bright red and hot to the touch,’ His Lordship continued. ‘It’s how it should be. It’s how she should be, all the time.’
Please, come and touch me. Come and fuck me. Fuck me with the whip handle. I don’t care. Just do it.
Justin laid one final killer blow and then fell on to his knees, dropping the whip on the bed, exhausted.
His Lordship approached my whimpering form and sat on the bed to inspect the damage at close quarters.
One fingertip brushed each inner cheek of my bottom. The way they had been spread had meant that the flicky tips of the martinet had got right into the tender flesh around my anus, and I knew it was going to throb and hurt there for a long time. He dragged a fingernail along the welts, bringing them to even more painful life and I moaned, my sphincter twitching at his touch.
‘One day we’ll do this with a plug inside you,’ he promised me. ‘Perhaps a ginger one. Then this will seem like a gentle stroke in comparison.’
‘Ohhh, you’re cruel,’ I sighed blissfully.
He smiled.
‘Thank you.’
He patted each sore cheek, harder and harder, until he was spanking them and I was soaking and begging for an orgasm, twisting my hips this way and that, trying to push out my clit.
‘I know what you want, Keris,’ he said, still smiling. ‘I can see that you’ve no shame and you don’t care who knows getting whipped makes you need to come. Tch tch. Look at her, Maz. Have you ever seen a slut like it?’
‘No way, sir,’ said Maz enthusiastically. ‘Not even that chambermaid you had last year.’
Chambermaid?
‘She’s in Zurich now,’ said His Lordship contemplatively. ‘With a banker.’
He stopped spanking me and pinched the tip of my clit. My howl sounded heartrending, even to me.
‘All yours, Justin,’ he said. ‘For now. No foreplay, please, just use her.’
I watched Justin shrug off his toga. The whipping was as much foreplay as he needed, his cock curving out before him, the harbinger of his whippet-thin, tight-muscled body.
He only paused to slip on the condom, then he landed on the bed on his knees, peering down at me through my awkwardly spread thighs.
‘Hey there, slave girl,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve had your punishment and now it’s time to do your duty to your master. But I want you to ask me for it.’
My voice was shredded and my lungs felt bent out of shape from the uncomfortable position but I managed to rasp out the necessary plea.
‘Please fuck me, master.’
There was no preamble, just a hard shove into the yielding flesh of my cunt. He steadied himself by holding on to my hips, which were sore in places where the lash had wrapped around the curve of my behind, lowered his stomach so our pelvises met, and began to thrust.
He didn’t look at me, just stared at the headboard, banging away, hard and fast. I had to realise that this was not for my pleasure. I was providing a service, a duty, a raison d’être. If I couldn’t be fucked, I was useless trash to be discarded. I was my cunt.
The thought kept my juices flowing, along with the raging prickling heat of my arse. I embraced the graceless violence with which Justin pounded at me, grunting for more. I was directly at the centre of my sexuality, whirling inside its layered rings, living my kink at last.
Justin came before me, just as the first stirrings started up inside, and he withdrew immediately, leaving my cunt trembling as if begging for more.
I moaned and thrashed while His Lordship laughed on the sidelines.