Greetings fellow travelers in depravity:)

I’ll pick up where I left off last week in my WIP, a sci-fi bit of dark erotica called Bristol’s Rebellion.

The fetching maid Olivia has received a late-night summons from the Master. When she arrives, she finds it’s not just the handsome Master awaiting her…

* * *

“Come closer, dear,” her Master said, a nod of his head beckoning.

Olivia complied, reluctantly, moving to stand just to the right and behind the kneeling contafina. She was distinctly uncomfortable being so close to the pair, but at the same time she felt an electricity between the two that could not be denied, and it made Olivia’s pulse quicken. She wasn’t sure where to look, so she kept her gaze up deferentially.

“Olivia, look at her. She’s beautiful, is she not? She’s my ward, and as such she’s here to be admired,” he said, smiling. “Don’t be afraid.”

The contafina’s fingers fluttered at the small of her back.

Olivia allowed herself a look at the slave, her gaze traveling down the pale, narrow back to the slim corset-trained waist, the restless fingers of the slave’s bound hands continuing their dance. The waist, adorned with two dimples than any woman would envy, swelled out dramatically, the hips emphasized by the slave’s submissive position. The broad, fleshy buttocks bloomed above the kneeling slave’s bare heels, her bottom’s considerable breadth a pleasing contrast to so petite a waist. The round contours of the slave’s buttocks were enhance by the darkness of the deep cleft. The girl’s bottom was almost a uniform deep pink, with what looked like telltale handprints in a darker red at the edges of the hips and toward the top of the crevice of her buttocks. Standing out in stark relief from the pink cheeks, were two tramlines, their deep, swollen lengths interrupted by the cleft. The strokes, evidently from a cane, were spread evenly at the top of the buttock cheeks, just below the bewitching dimples.

Olivia tried to show an impassive face, but couldn’t help clenching her own ass cheeks sympathetically, knowing the pain the slave must have been feeling at so harsh a punishment.

The Master watched the maid take the sight in, his smile broad, a mischievous glee dancing in his eyes.

“As you can see, there is something amiss, my dear Olivia. I was in the midst of administering a nice thorough evening caning to my ward here, “ he said, smacking Malina’s cheek with his cock before laying it back down upon her proffered tongue. “I decided that since she’d not been seen to all day, that a salutary caning might be rather nice.”

He rubbed the head of his cock against the corner of the slave’s open mouth. The girl kissed the head lovingly, caressing it with her plump rose lips. He allowed the slave this for a moment, gazing fondly down upon her, before looking back up at Olivia, continuing.

“Well, as you may have noticed, two strokes does hardly a caning make. It’s merely a tickle, really.”

He looked down again, pulling his swollen member away from the slave’s devoted lips. “That’s enough, girl. Let’s have that tongue out again.” He gave a slight twist to the fisftul of her hair he clenched in his hand. His ward winced, complying at once.

“Farther, girl. That’s it,” he said, satisfied, his cock once more tapping the tongue stud.

The abject obedience of the girl to his whims, stunned Olivia anew.

“On the second stroke, I noticed a different sound. It wasn’t as solid as usual, and I’ve caned this girl’s big bottom enough times to know how it’s supposed to sound.”

Olivia swallowed. The two strokes the slave had received were now a livid purple, well laid on, and stinging hot no doubt.

“Are you listening, Olivia?” An edge had crept into the tone of his voice.

“Yes, Master. Sorry, Sir,” she said, her gaze snapping back to his.

“As I was saying, the sound wasn’t right. So I checked the cane, and I found it to be cracked. Cracked!”

Olivia blanched, sure of what was to come.

“Now, Olivia. What would I do if the cane were to actually break while servicing the lovely nates of this girl? Why it might splinter. She could be cut to the blood, by God!”

Though Olivia was truly frightened now, she could not help but recall the piercing of the slave’s nipples. While the girl had sobbed away, he’d calmly collected several drops of her blood on his fingers, licking them off as if they were a delicacy.

He’d not seemed particularly concerned with shedding her blood that day!

“Olivia, you’ve been with us what, eight months? Long enough to know how my house is run, no?”

Her mouth had suddenly become dry as a desert, her heart racing.

“So it pains me to find that someone who has been with us so much longer would let something like this happen,” he said, with a resigned shake of his head.

“Victoria was assigned to polish the canes last week. She should have spotted the crack, if she were doing her job correctly.” His expression darkened. “There is no excuse.”

He looked down at his ward once more. “Just the head now, girl. Let’s give your little tongue a rest.”

The slave began a slow kissing of the plum colored head of his penis, the swollen, crimson lips bestowing soft kisses, and mouthing the hard crown. Since she did not have use of her hands, the Master held his cock to her lips for her, allowing the obedient slave to express her devotion to the broad head of his penis.

“Nothing for it tonight, I’m afraid Olivia. It is getting rather late. But I want you to tell Victoria that I wish to see her blonde head in my study tomorrow evening at seven. You shall need her help preparing for our guest, so I won’t tie her up until later.”

Olivia, with a chill, wondered if the Master’s pun was intentional.

He gazed intently at his slave, murmuring to her. At his urging, she clamped her plump lips around the head of his penis and slowly sank down the thick, veined length of the shaft.

“We’ll just add the remaining tally of tonight’s strokes to tomorrow’s whipping. A few more strokes than usual won’t be too much for Malina here to take,” he said, glancing up at Olivia again, a wry grin on his rugged face. “You may leave now, girl. Go back to your duties.”

Olivia, her heart soaring, redemption at hand, curtsied thankfully, barely aware and beyond caring that her sex again flashed into view from below the brief shift. She walked to the door, opening it.

“Olivia, I shall require you to accompany Miss Victoria in my study tomorrow evening,” the Master’s voice intoned from behind her.

“Y-yes, Sir,” she said, her voice tremulous, so crushing was the realization of what was to come for the miserable maid.

A visit to the Master’s study never boded well for any girl.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this little snippet from the story. Perhaps I’ll post more next week?

In the meantime, please visit the other stops on this week’s hop. Thanks for reading!

Trent