Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One Page 4

  With the faint suggestion of a flourish Ione bent, took to hand a flam, a special instrument of discipline composed of three parallel rubber leaves hinging from a stiff handle. She stepped to position directly in front of Emma so that Manassa had a prime view of the proceedings from where she sat cross-legged nearby.

  Ione straightened, granting them all a reference image for what would follow; one woman poised with a whip, another bent to receive its instruction. She waited until the cavern was quiet, then questioned her lover with slow, mocking solicitude.

  “Did you take pleasure in yourself today Emma?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “In what manner?”

  “I masturbated on the boat. Twice, when you weren’t looking.”

  “Even knowing it would only deepen your frustration?” Ione mused.

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t seem very logical.” Ione circled her with sinister gravity.

  “No.”

  “Did it occur to you that your self-indulgence might have a cost to others?” she prodded.

  “Yes…” Emma timidly acknowledged.

  “But you did it anyway?”

  “Yes, Ione. I’m sorry.”

  “So it goes with any slipper who’s allowed to administrate the business of her own twat. Does that seem wise?”

  “No…”

  “Indeed. So you will return that stolen passion now—governing your own reduction for best effect. After that we will address your passion for self-arousal in a more productive manner. Ready yourself for a whipping.”

  Emma marched her knees a little wider and thrust her posterior as aggressively to the vertical as her submissive posture would allow.

  Jaw clenched, feet spread wide for balance, Ione raised the flam, paused to thicken the smaller woman’s fear, then swept it down to lick her pantied flesh with a cracking triple impact. The spring-separated leaves arrived at distinct intervals, one on top of another, conferring a stern, vibratory kiss between her well-rounded cheeks. Emma was instantly roused by the effect, issued a muffled hiss as she assimilated its complex stimulation.

  “A little harder, please…” she hesitantly requested.

  “Of course,” Ione obliged.

  She brought the flam down again more forcefully, tagging her squarely across the asshole, and Emma spasmed left to right, thighs wagging voluptuously.

  “Just a little harder…” she whimpered when she had composed herself, and Ione duly accommodated her with another tripled whipfall.

  Her arm moved fluidly, sweeping the weapon along a whispery arc through warm cavern air to administer a taut punishment onto her lover’s soft flesh. Emma shivered at each new connection, a seething dissipation of pain Ione gauged with grim detachment.

  “Maybe just a little harder…” the little blond disingenuously advised, voice pinched to a throaty rasp.

  “As you need.”

  The flam was steady in her grip, drawn up from each stroke to a precise inclination, offering its staccato report over and over till the echoes danced cheerily about the cavern. It was good to be on unambiguous terms with fate once again, if only for the moment, and she found herself relaxing, vagina moistening secretively from the aesthetic beauty of the smaller woman’s tensely postured body. Other couples were exploring each other with a developing certitude of role and relation, kissing and fondling and figuring dominance, inspired by the doyennes’ sensual theater. Ione was grateful for this, as they were far too numerous to educate or regulate by any other means.

  She covertly evaluated Manassa’s reaction to their affairs, looking for new insight into her personality, but couldn’t add much to what had so far emerged. She grinned habitually, was friendly to everyone, but even the biggest women found her size and unpredictability intimidating. Her nude pubis was a constant distraction. And she was fascinated by clothing for some reason—Ione had watched her examine every article recovered, lingering with the panties, none of which were large enough for her. She observed Emma’s reduction with an expression that was less than innocent now, not quite lust.

  Ione looked squarely at her for an instant, and the peculiar features of their brief adventure together subtly aligned to yield a faint but definite intimation of threat.

  “Just a little harder,” Emma miserably implored, recalling her to duty. “Give me a nice stiff one on the asshole…”

  Ione did as requested, endowing her lover to negotiate the devious protocol of droll reversal; a technique of psychological domination which induced a whirling self-antagonism in a subject that could be stewarded to an amusingly volatile pliancy.

  She collected the whole of her intent to the little blond’s auto-disciplinary program, marking her reaction to each measured application of the flam. When it was perfectly wielded—and this was a matter of fingertip precision—the little rubber leaves would land straight down the sensitive valley of her sphincter, and Emma would react with almost comic intensity, reflexively dispersing a wave of agony that crested at the nape of her posterior, shimmied down the radius of her sensually bowed back and wide-stanchioned thighs to set her calves dancing on the blanket. Her shapely limbs twitched in helpless abetment of the pain Ione delivered to her specification, throat issuing a slurred, witless appeal, an all-encompassing term for torment.

  Then without apparent meditation she wilted, testing Ione with an artful capitulation to her mastery.

  “No more, please… I won’t masturbate without permission again,” she sniveled. “I promise. Maybe if–

  “Yes?”

  “Maybe you could spank me by hand instead. It would be more personal and humiliating…”

  “A more effective deterrent as you see it?” Ione waited to see if her carefully cultivated self-abuse had taken hold.

  Emma considered, then gave way to the inertia of the proceedings. “Well… no. I guess not. What I need now is a real smacking,” she decided, shrugging down in anticipation. “Let me have it,” she presumptuously gritted.

  “Then get your ass in the air!” Ione roared, obediently canceling all leniency. The flam came down with a new plenitude of misery, flogging Emma with an accuracy and intensity she could barely withstand. Ione savored the thought of her sensual little pucker writhing under the low-cut pink lingerie, answering to a schedule of correction under her own, ironic control. Her lover’s voice was an unmodulated gasp that issued forth to inspire the women of the camp, wrestling on soft blankets now, aggressively negotiating size and psychology by the deep red lambency of the gnome overhead.

  “Harder! Nice and stiff! Get into it!” Emma rasped, commanding her reduction with an increasingly obvious sincerity.

  Ione obliged with an ass-whipping that more than answered her desire, gradually steering her behavior to a ruthless, bitching believability. She finally halted to let Emma contemplate her own ambition for a moment.

  “Ohhhhhh that fucking hurts…” she hissed, humbled by the flam’s mastering tuition.

  “Are we finished?”

  “No, we are not finished. We will continue, but in a more humiliating place this time.”

  “Where will this new connection occur?” Ione deferentially inquired.

  “At the quim. The snooch, the snatch, the pussy!” Emma spat.

  Kneeling, Ione pinned the smaller woman’s neck under her crotch, raised the flam again. “Your will commands all. I will do as you instruct,” she murmured obediently.

  She raised the flam, swung with careful velocity, laying it along the curve of Emma’s rump to snap down on her vulva, each leaf conferring a distinct kiss that compounded to a fluttering vibration. Emma groaned in mingled agony and bliss, and Ione striped her again a little harder, judiciously evaluated the result.

  “A little stiffer…” Emma encouraged, and the rubber leaves flattened noisily on her twat, just reaching her clitoris for an abusive kiss.

  Emma shivered at this sensation and lost her composure, lurching out of position. Ione helpfully secured
her wrists behind her back with one hand, planted her crotch down hard on Emma’s neck and brought the flam down four times in fast succession. Emma yelped, a senseless, pain-randomized utterance, then belligerently demanded more.

  “Mmmm… that’s good… snap it up…” she directed. Her tone was almost unconsciously dictatorial now.

  “As you wish,” Ione returned, and dressed Emma’s pantied labia with carefully whipped triplets, the first priming her flesh for the progressively softer, more sexual touch of each following. The little blond began to make amorous sounds under her periodic, hissing articulation of the flam’s disciplinary message, gradually bridging pleasure and distress, and Ione laid the toy down her vulva with increasing rigor to facilitate the exchange.

  “Moremoremore…” Emma bawled, wildly aroused now, and Ione gratified her for a noisy, productive interval, agonizing her mounded womanhood with an accelerating frequency that gradually built to an intense, pud-shuddering vibration.

  “Smack it, smack it up, nice and hard…” Emma warbled. She had lost control of her personality as intended, was now blindly committed to her own reduction. “Don’t stop no no don’t you stop… Oh… Ohhhhhhh…”

  But Ione did stop, knowing her lover was uncontrollably close to climax. She released the smaller woman and stood, gazing down at her trembling flesh.

  “May we consider your selfishness properly addressed?”

  There was a labored pause before Emma could reply. “Yes,” she sulkily confirmed.

  “Very well.” Ione circled her meditatively. “Now as for these cravings you contend with…” Emma perked up, blinking off tears.

  “Would you like to give a demonstration of your sensual nature? Grant us the spectacle of orgasm, perhaps?”

  “Oh yesssss… please…”

  “Remove your panties then.”

  Emma did as instructed, but Ione moved with unhasty menace to intercept this article before it could be flung aside, raising it high for the collective inspection of the camp as Emma squirmed. After a moment Ione shook her head. Her fist drooped, traced a slow arc down, expressing a fine disappointment all the way.

  “Emma?”

  “Yes.” Her lover’s voice was barely audible. Ione saw that slippers everywhere were listening intently. Manassa looked on in fascination.

  “I have been disciplining you for a while now. Was it instructive? Effective?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “It was quite painful, wasn’t it? Not an experience you would like to repeat?”

  “No!”

  She dangled Emma’s pink lingerie in front of the smaller woman. “Will you tell me then why your panties are sopping?”

  “I… it was because–

  “They’re dripping, Emma. Drenched.”

  “It was just that–

  “What?” Ione grated, voice rolling grandly about the camp.

  “I’m sorry!” Emma squeaked. “It just started feeling good and I–

  “It was intended as punishment—not another opportunity for more self-indulgence.”

  “It hurt! It really did!” Emma swore, but Ione was unsympathetic.

  “And so will this. Present your vagina for a bare whipping.”

  Her lover blanched but rolled without question onto her back, cast her legs wide to a shivering linearity and thrust her crotch high on back-bracing forearms. Her tear-flecked blue eyes gaped at the exhibition of her own reddened femininity, copiously exuding a lustrous salivation to tickle her whip-sore, blinking sphincter in lazily dribbled rivulets.

  Ione knelt between her legs and folded the panties into a strap, situating the wet interval of crotch fabric at its distal tip.

  “I no longer desire your self-reductive counsel. You are free to express yourself submissively this time.”

  “Yes, Ione…”

  Emma inhaled noisily as she brought the improvised strap down with a swishing snap to kiss her spread pubis, delivering a smart admonition to its lachrymose inner lips.

  “Oh!” she started, curling sensuously from the contact, then fearfully resumed the proper posture.

  Ione whipped her vulva a second time, more firmly, and Emma sighed, wriggling helplessly on the blanket.

  “The shameful situation of your underclothing is troubling you now, I imagine.” Ione strapped her again, at full force this time, stirred by Emma’s glistening sexuality.

  “Ohhh fuck…” the smaller woman slurred.

  “Dry panties are a sign of discipline, Emma. A statement of loyalty. And a privileged discretion. But they only confer useful privacy…”

  She smacked Emma soundly, provoking a liquid, sleazy whimper.

  “…when they actually are dry,” she emphasized, snapping Emma’s kernel with clench-jawed precision to elicit a sharp ululation of dismay. She risked another glance at Manassa, fixing on her groin long enough to detect a gleam of interest there, barely visible in the shadowed valley of her massive thighs.

  Ione planted her knees wide, eyes dimming to slits as she mercilessly slapped Emma’s just-vacated anatomy with her own sodden lingerie—a perfectly condign reprimand. Her improvised strap hailed the ceiling over her shoulder, returned for a new wetting at her lover’s sexuality again and again, flinging her savor on a wide arc about the blanket. She anguished the little blond’s womanhood till she wailed uncontrollably, desperate to get off, arrested only when Emma finally lost control, spasming out of posture.

  “Let’s just make love? Please, Ione…” she begged. “Any way you want…”

  “Oh, lovemaking is our next concern. But you’ve already admitted you don’t need anyone else for it.”

  Ione stood, discarded the panties and selected a thick metal rod with soft rubber phalluses mounted at either end. One pointed straight up, the other was curved back around, forming a sensual, ‘J’-shaped implement. Ione lathered oil onto the lower cock.

  Emma was confused. “Are we both going to use that?”

  “Even better—how about a threesome?”

  Emma glanced joyously to Manassa.

  “You and these two skulks, that is,” Ione nastily amended. “You’re going to play suck-and-fuck while the whole camp watches!”

  “Oh…”

  “Grab your legs.”

  Jittering in anticipation, Emma folded her legs into a locked self-embrace, back rounded on the blanket, tear-streaked countenance molded to a needful plea. Ione poised this new toy, called a jape, over her tensely postured flesh. She positioned the tip of the straight upper phallus at her waiting lips, and the recurved lower member at her anus. Her voice issued grimly forth to the camp.

  “There are skulks at your throat and thighs. Both are determined to climax in you, but only one will attain this pleasure. You will service them until a victor emerges. Do you understand?”

  Emma breathed a feeble assent.

  “Then let their penises into your flesh,” she commanded, urging the lower head firmly into the muscular ring of her sphincter. The jape was ridged where it curved back around her labia, and Ione pressed it deep into the seam there, bestowing a brief but intense pleasure.

  Taking the straight cock in hand, she forced it into Emma’s pouting lips. “Draw it in.” Her lover obediently sucked the top phallus into her mouth, pulling its anal counterpart farther into her rectum.

  Ione stood to peruse her condition from a loftier vantage.

  “You will begin with fellatio. Grip the phallus between your legs.” Emma closed her eyes and flexed. Her anus cinched tight, immobilizing the lower member of the toy.

  “Now suck.” Emma began to gently minister to the penis in her head, easing it seductively in and out.

  “Deeper,” said Ione, and Emma did as required, neck working to force its bulging head farther inside. “Good. More aggressively now.”

  Emma lathered the cock thirstily, thighs tense from the effort required to anchor the toy in her posterior. It slipped there when she lunged on the oral member, flirtatiously rubbing her labia, an
d Ione let her frustration build for a spell, then switched patronage to the other skulk.

  “Now grip the penis in your mouth and pleasure the one in your butt.”

  Emma clamped down hard on the top cock. Her abdomen knotted and the shaft in her bottom slid out a little. She groaned as the ribbed curve of the jape slid across her clitoris, each knurled indentation delivering an oily, libidinous kiss. Her body quickly adapted to this new regime; one penis securely pent in her head, the other shoving rhythmically into her hind as the curved and ridged interval rode her vulval groove. Emma began to helplessly fuck herself.

  “Mmmmsss…” she warbled around the toy’s rubber dick.

  “Easy,” Ione warned. “Don’t rush.” She let Emma proceed thus for a taunting interval of self-stimulation, pacing meditatively about. “Good. Now do some fellatio again.”

  Emma cinched her sphincter to vise the jape’s lower phallus and switched to sucking the oral member, but the toy soon began to slip at her bottom.

  Ione reached down and gathered a fat, lolling tit, took its stiffened nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched hard. “Watch your technique!”

  Emma wailed around the throat-plugging phallus in her head, thighs quivering with the effort of securing the prick in her rectum. Ione straightened to reorbit her cringing form and Emma exhaled noisily as the agony at her breast relented.

  “Now pick up the pace, slipperlips.”

  Emma chugged harder, diligently servicing the penis in her throat, keeping good form for a time. But no matter how jealously the jape was imprisoned in her sphincter, its curved interval licked her vulva with each lunge, inducing a helpless pleasure.

  “Good,” Ione ruthlessly encouraged. “Now cinch up on the skulk in your mouth again and work the man in your ass.”

  Emma lustily complied, belly curling and relaxing to a servile syncopation as the jape swabbed across her womanhood with a tormentingly ungovernable touch. Her pretty features, sensually widened by the thick member in her head, were slackening by increments, discomposed by this self-excitation. Ione leaned down to inspect the fitful play of the cocks, meditatively feeling a thigh for tension.