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He slides his fingers in deeper, then slips them out and replaces them with the speculum.
“Ohhh,” I moan, unable to help myself, nearly coming at the intrusion of the cool, metal object.
He stoops down and uses the flashlight to peer inside me.
“Any pain?” he asks.
“Mmm…only the good kind,” I assure him.
He straightens and smiles a little, then he pulls the speculum partway out before pressing it in again. My hips rise to meet it, and as he begins a slow fucking, pleasure simmers in my system, spreading from my pussy into my stomach, my tits.
My lashes flutter closed and I moan again. I can’t help myself. And when I open my eyes once more, my two beautiful Masters and the lovely Madame Gemma are just inside the door, watching. Madame Gemma is biting her plush red lip, and I want her to kiss me with that gorgeous mouth. But of course that won’t ever happen.
In two strides she’s across the room and pinching my nipples in her strong fingers.
“A medicinal orgasm?” she asks my Masters.
“Yes. Have him do it,” Master Séverin answers.
Her Boy fucks me harder, and the damn speculum hurts as he presses deep, but I love it so much. And perhaps even more, I love Madame Gemma’s fingers torturing my nipples, twisting and pulling and pinching, hurting me in the way I crave most at this moment.
As sensation builds, then coils like a serpent in my belly, I see Master Séverin, his gaze locked onto my face, and I meet his dark eyes as I come, harder because of the way he’s looking at me. Through me. I feel it even as my climax rips through my body, making me shake all over, making me clench down on the hard, metal speculum shoved deep into my cunt. And I fall a little in love.
Chapter Seven
I have been at the cabin with my two Masters for a little more than a week. They have tortured me with wooden paddles, rubber floggers, and toothy rope binding my nipples or strung between the seam of my pussy lips, then left me alone for hours. They’ve shoved enormous metal plugs into my ass, hung me in leather straps to make a sort of sling attached to bolts in the ceiling, and whipped me with a single-tail until my skin is on fire from the lashes, then rubbed salve into my wounds.
I’ve had an enema every few days while Master Séverin fists me, and each time it’s become harder and harder to hold it all in: the scalding hot liquid and my orgasm. I have not been allowed to come since Madame Gemma’s slave Boy fucked me with the speculum. And every night I lie on my pallet on the floor and listen to my beautiful Masters fucking. Their panting breath, their sighs of pleasure, their growls as they come, make me suffer more than any of the implements they use on me.
The scent of their sweat and their come has become a comfort to me. A comfort and an aphrodisiac. Listening to them is torture in itself, but what beautiful torture it is.
And when I am with them, sometimes Master Séverin will look deeply into my eyes, as if he wants to ask a question. But he remains silent as he searches my face.
Master Erek hurts me the most, but it’s always countered by his gentleness with me, his wickedly lovely smiles. And on those very rare occasions when he makes Master Séverin laugh, it pleases me in some strange way, when I have never before been concerned about my Mistresses or Masters, other than serving them well and knowing they are pleased with me. But there is something happening here, a kind of almost organic symbiosis between all of us. An ebb and flow of pain and pleasure, of simply being together.
I am probably giving my existence in their life far too much significance. I am merely a slave. An object to them. And yet, so often when they are fucking with me—especially those enemas, when my sternest Master gazes into my eyes—I find I lose myself completely, sometimes for several hours at a time. And when I come out of it and back into my head, all I can think of is how very desperately I love them. And Master Séverin perhaps most of all.
I am one fucked-up Girl. But I am, finally, exactly what I’m supposed to be. Lost in my slavehood. An object to myself as much as I am to my Masters. And the relief is indescribable. I crave those moments even more than ever before, because now I know what it feels like. And I cannot get enough.
It’s my ninth night with my beautiful Masters, and I lie on the floor listening to them as they start fucking, which they do every night. My body heats as the scent of their desire permeates the air, stronger even than the wood smoke from the fireplace in the room. I squeeze my thighs together, then force myself to stop. I know better. But oh, this truly is torture, knowing they take their pleasure with one another, but not with me.
A tear escapes and slips down my cheek, then another, then more as they continue to fuck, their groans of need filling the air. When the groans dwindle to sighs of satisfaction, I go to wipe the tears away with my hand, but my wrist is caught in a hard grip.
Master Erek.
My heart pounds.
“Come with me,” he says, pulling me from my pallet and guiding me to the bed.
Master Séverin is propped up against the pillows, dressed only in black silk boxers. His body is lean and beautiful. I can see the fine lines of his form in the dim firelight. His hard cock tents his boxers, making my mouth water.
“On your knees on the bed, Girl,” Master Erek orders.
I comply, climbing onto the bed, the down comforter sinking a little under my weight, and I bend down until my head touches the fluffy whiteness at Master Séverin’s feet. My pussy is dripping wet already.
The mattress shifts, and then Master Erek is lying on his side, his face next to mine.
“Girl,” he whispers. “Such a pretty, pretty Girl. One of the prettiest I’ve ever seen. And so compliant. And yet…I feel as if something has been missing in you.”
