Friday, October 1, 2010

Chapter Twenty Three

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Three

Dinner conversation was comprised of small talk. When Johnnie served coffee, Erma knew to arise and move to the dormer where she finally released the masturbator from the slow torment of hours and hours of being hogtied and blindfolded.

“Would you mind if we observed, Madam?”

“Of course not, Brandy. It would be a privilege to have you and Pat join me. I think of it as an exotic dessert after a wonderful meal. I’m sure you feel the same.”

Erma led our staggering masturbator down the stairs to the correction room. Madam Soong rose and as Pat and I followed I once again could not help visually examining her attire, as I had during dinner. She wore a brief sleeveless black latex halter which conformed precisely to her torso, outlining modest but athletically firm breasts. Her waist was encircled by a flowing silk skirt of crimson. She wore boots..., black patent leather. The heels were high and sharp, yet she walked effortlessly, obviously accustomed to what for others would be awkward imbalance.

“Gran Marnier in the correction room Johnnie.”

We descended into the cool depths. Erma had the masturbator lying on his stomach on the padded bench. The broad waist belt was firmly in place. I watched as Madam selected the thinnest of whips while Erma cuffed the ankles to ensure that our night’s entertainment remained kneeling.

“Would you please secure the glove, Erma. Hook it nice and high. It nicely presents the buttocks and genitals.”

Erma complied with Madam’s request and, as the masturbator struggled within his bonds to relieve the stress of having his arms pulled back and up, his testicles dangled enticingly between spread thighs.

The Madam removed her silk skirt. I gawked. The latex of the black halter continued below her waist where it formed the narrowest of ‘V’s’, leaving her hips bare, tapering to small strip over her pubes and thinning to nothing more than a string as it passed between her thighs. Her boots reached just over her knees.., otherwise she wore nothing. She turned to search in a cabinet and revealed her backside. The back of the halter likewise formed a ‘V’, the string running between her cheeks to leave her buttocks uncovered. She had pert rounded hillocks, small but obviously well exercised with an enviable layer of firm flesh.

“You have the perfect salve here. I like to apply it before the flagellation. It makes the whip produce the most frightening sound.”

She turned and caught my gaze.

“In Chessu a good flogging can last for hours,” she offered as explanation. “Comfortable attire is important and you’ll soon see the utility of being sleeveless.”

Again the evil smile appeared, her comments spurred thoughts within about some day perhaps visiting the province.

The trim and athletic Madam casually smoothed the healing solution over the masturbator’s tempting backside. Incredibly, she also coated his scrotum. The masturbator stirred with feminine hands smearing his precious organs with such insouciance. Even with the trepidation he stiffened.

“You’ll thank me later, boy,” the Madam noticing the masturbator’s reaction.

She strolled to his front. With the masturbator’s first sight of the Madam he cowered. Dressed in black latex and leather she resembled a medieval torturess. But he could not help staring at her sex, the tapering partially exposed her labia, a normally forbidden sight for the intact male at The Anguished E.

“I’m going to have you sing for me, boy. I like to hear the reaction to the whip, so you’ll howl loudly. Make the walls vibrate.”

Her right hand momentarily disappeared beneath the tapering latex over her abdomen. It slid downwards, her fingers diddling her lips, then slid out to the masturbator’s face.

“Something for you to think about. I am aroused seeing a boy trussed and ready for the whip.”

Her wet fingers slowly smoothed over his nose and lips. He trembled from her touch and the Madam laughed.

“Yes, boys should be afraid whenever I am aroused..., because there is only one thing that satiates me”.

She uncoiled the whip and flicked it, creating a crack that made the masturbator jump despite his tight bondage.

Laughing evilly, she stepped to his rear. The flagellation of the masturbator began. Erma, Pat and I found comfortable chairs.

The scene was that of a ballerina dancing to Tchaikovsky. With the smoothest of movements, the Madam drew back her whip hand and deftly brought it forward ending the motion with the simplest flicks of the wrist. The length of leather instantly uncoiled, seeming to randomly flash through the air. But when the second journey ended with an ear splitting crack, a uniform red welt appeared on the masturbator’s buttocks precisely below that caused by the first stroke. I realized there was no randomness. Madam Chang was an admirably skilled flagellator of boys.

The sound of each crack was immediately followed by a paroxysmal but forcibly restrained thrashing of the young male body and an equally ear splitting bluster of anguish.

I noted that her attire was indeed utilitarian, allowing her arm to swing freely without impediment.

After the second stroke the teenager began to cry. Blubbering away, the Madam ignored his indiscernible entreaties, continuing the evenly paced flogging. In time her brief attire revealed more than her anatomy. Madam Soong was indeed aroused, her scent causing me to glance between thighs where slight traces of moisture formed.

The door at the top of the stair opened. Momentarily flashing unwanted light into the dark chamber and distracting us. Johnnie sashayed down the stairs with a tray of after dinner drinks.

The Madam noticed the diversion and paused as Johnnie served each of us with a curtsy.

My Gran Marnier was well chilled in shaved ice as I demanded. I sipped and watched Madam survey her handiwork. A perfect pattern of welts covered both buttocks. The Madam’s hand brushed over the reddened swollen flesh and reached between to the genitals. She pulled downward on the masturbator’s penis as if pulling on the udder of a cow. Despite his semi comatose state he spasmed. His manhood was erect! Madam clucked her tongue but smiled.

“You see, Brandy. Despite the pain the truly submissive male tumefies. Look at the stiffness. But for his bound hands, he would probably be masturbating for me.”

It was curious that Madam Soong intuitively knew of the masturbator’s reaction, fully expecting the engorged organ to reveal an innate masochism and tugging it into view as proof of the boy’s desire to be subjugated.
She stepped back and resumed. Just two strokes to send a message that the agony would end at the Madam’s behest, not as a result of an unexpected interruption. Then she put down the whip and joined us in sipping our drinks.

Johnnie stared. Having often been caned he had evidently not before witnessed the drama of a single tailed flogging. The noise level was that of gun shots. Our maid humbly turned and left, obviously cognizant that he could be next.

“This boy will do nicely, Brandy. We’ll talk price in the morning , yes?”

I nodded. As stated the masturbator had provided the most delightfully sordid entertainment over the first few months of operating the ranch. But I needed the space. It was time he moved onward.

The session ended with the Madam selecting a small penis whip. Short and thin it was designed to excoriate the eponymous sensitive organ, inducing pain with minimal damage. Madam used it on the masturbator’s scrotum. Standing close by, she methodically applied forehand and backhand flicks and soon turned the dangling bag into a mass of red. Our hoarse masturbator resumed his bellows but to no avail. At that point exposed sensitive areas which were untouched by Madam’s whip hand could not be located. She paused to look over her handiwork. I am sure my own feminine scent joined that of Madam’s.

I turned to Pat and she simultaneously looked at me. We both needed to be with Tony. We excused ourselves as Erma applied cold compresses to our semi conscious masturbator.

Pat proceeded to our bedroom. I stopped in the kitchen to have Johnnie follow me with a wine bucket stocked with crushed ice and a bottle of Chardonnay.

When I entered, Pat already had Tony kneeling on the floor with his torso lying flat on my bed. His ankle chain had been removed.

“Do you want ice tonight, Tony? You’ll feel more without it.”

Pat was taunting the long chaste and infibulated Tony. Yes, he would feel more without the numbing ice and what he would feel without it would be pure pain.
As she spoke she released the chains attached to his testicle rings. Rarely did his gonads feel such freedom. I had his genitals constantly restrained since his eighteenth birthday many months before, though because his scrotum was slowly stretching the chain had to be released and shortened on occasion.

Meanwhile I was eager to feel Tony’s tongue. Watching the accomplished Madam utilize the whip so effectively made me wet. I began tossing aside my clothing. As stated, if there is one skill which a seasoned model acquires it’s the ability to remove clothing with speed. I was naked in a minute and smiled as Tony instinctively gazed at me, like a dog looking to his master.

Pat also stripped but her body didn’t draw the attention of mine, though personally I very much enjoyed the sculptured muscling.

I sat on the bed and slid toward Tony with my thighs open. His eyes widened being afforded the view for which he had pined daily for many years.

“I think the ten incher should do the job, Pat. But you may want to see if Tony approves.”

Pat buckled a formidable dildo harness around her waist and pointed to the door to ensure Johnnie’s departure. He reluctantly left as Pat picked a massive rubber phallus from a fully stocked drawer and placed it on the bed in front of a trembling Tony. It was an enjoyable ritual we could not resist, playfully asking Tony whether the implement that would thoroughly ream his tight rear aperture met with his approval.

He just looked with fear.

“Bigger?” inquired Pat with a chortle.

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