Feast of Slavegirl Flesh

Jun 17, 2013

June’s ongoing ‘Feast of Slavegirl Flesh’ soared to new heights of depravity and kinkiness last night with the arrival at Hanwell Towers of my newest girl-subbie, the beautifully-named Beauvoir. True to her name, Beauvoir looked as pretty as a picture, especially once I had her strapped down to my medical bench and had snipped her panties out of my way. Even for such an experienced naughty-nurse as me it was hard to know where to start once her pert little nipples and her moist pussy lips were fully exposed to view.

With cameras recording our games for my members’ club site, I soon had her breasts decorated with a pin-cushion full of needles before turning my attention to the delights between her legs. I knew that Beauvoir was a little nervous about having needles through her labia – which of course meant that I had to insert some there as soon as possible. It was probably helpful that I had thoughtfully tightened the ball gag first because that gave her something to bite down on, as well as helping to stifle her squeals of pain as the needles penetrated her most sensitive flesh. My slavegirl took the first two pin-pricks without complaint but I decided that the remainder of her necessary treatment would be eased by the light application of my magic-wand vibrator to her clit. Even on its slowest speed setting, the wand soon had my patient wriggling and writhing with pleasure in her inescapable bondage. I was happy for her to get some enjoyment, as well as pain, from the examination in order that her pussy would be wet and ready for the next step: a thorough ramming with one of my many strap-ons. All too soon it was into the suspension room for a change of position and a change of story to add to my already-vast range of erotic films. I learned, to my astonishment, that my slavegirl had disobeyed one of my strictest house rules and had been flirting with a male slave. Even more astonishingly, the object of her romantic attentions was none other than my slave Arnold, a pathetic wretch about whom I joke that he is only allowed in the dungeon as part of my commitment to Help The Aged.

The most severe punishment was obviously called for to mark the flagrant breach of Miss Miranda’s regulations. I soon had both male and female slaves held in position, each with the soles of their feet ready for my cruel attention. Now, as many of you will know, bastinado, or beating of the feet, has long been used as a method of torture which inflicts pain and suffering without marking the beauty of one’s victim. It’s even referred to in the lyrics of one of Mozart’s operas, as I recall? My own preference is to make my slave sing their own operatic arias by slowly intensifying the sensation by progressing from a light ‘pussy whip,’ through the use of a crop and finally onto the cane. It gave me particular pleasure to punish these slaves in front of each other, watching the male squirm as the new love of his life cried out with each blow to her delicate little feet. I have to say that I not sure his affection was after all truly shared by Beauvoir because she seemed happy to busy herself with a vibrator when the time came to beat him into submission. Indeed, her orgasm seemed to hit just as his cries reached their peak of begging for my forgiveness. Women can indeed be fickle at times! Abandoning the male sub to his tears, I took Beauvoir off to my upstairs dungeon for a little well deserved rest and relaxation for myself. Life has been so hectic lately that I have hardly had time to be properly sexually serviced by my favoured boudoir slave. I decided therefore that a slavegirl would have to ease my frustration instead.

As a warm-up, I suspended her for a while from the ceiling with two stainless steel ball-hooks in both her pussy and her arsehole. It’s a distressing, tiptoe-inducing position, not eased by my applying clamps to her nipples, fixing her head back by her hair and tightening a mean little clamp on her tongue. There was a reason for all this cruel treatment – not that I require any excuse to be cruel at the best of times. I needed Beauvoir to be left in on doubt as to what might happen to her once her dildo cock-gag was in place and she was seated between my legs, working the rubber cock in and out of my welcoming pussy. It’s the sort of position for which my male slaves would willingly lose their right arm, two legs and one of their bollocks: NOT that there is any chance of that ever happening. On this occasion slavegirl did well, varying her rhythm at just the right times in response to my tugging her nipple chain as my own excitement increased. If she carries on like that then she may find herself with a permanent position. It’s good for my boudoir slave to know he has competition!

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