Chapter 4
The Master's naked foot wiggled into the girl's mouth. He stuffed her mouth, stretching her lips at the corners so that she could accept his wide foot into her narrow mouth.
He only did this long enough for her to feel his flesh inside her mouth. After her beating, he would give her more flesh to eat.
His utility belt was stocked with various devices designed to help him in his training tasks. He started by taking out two small clips.
"Give me your breasts," he said to the slavegirl Angelica.
She stretched her bust upwards toward him, even though the connection of her wrist to the floor was a straining one. She put her lovely breasts up for him. He stroked the nipples once or twice, and they became hard, stiff, red, swollen, ready.
Then he snapped the metal clip on her left, exposed, tit. It stung like fire when it first clamped itself on her. It was like a set of biting teeth, digging into her nipple, first with a terribly sharp sting, and then with a dull, throbbing pain which pervaded her entire breast area.
The young Whipmaster gave his slave a look which seemed to say, "I warned you to keep quiet."
She did just that, biting her lower lip until she broke the skin. She scratched the nails of her free hand on the floor. Anything to help her take the inevitable and prolonged pain.
Then he went to the other nipple, pulling it out of the ripped material of the loincloth by holding onto the nipple. The nipple was then clamped.
A guttural sound came from down deep in Angelica's throat. She tried to stifle it, but the pain was just too great. She had not yet become desensitized to pain. She wanted it, but it still hurt.
"I'm sorry, Sir," she apologized. "I didn't mean to make a sound."
"But you did, Angelica. You did. I told you that there were no accidents; no mistakes. The ultimate Master tells us that. It's one of his major sayings."
"I've heard it since the moment I arrived here," she replied.
"And yet you still resist," he parlayed. "You say you didn't mean to make a sound. If you didn't mean to make a sound, you would have stayed quiet. Obviously you meant to make a sound."
Angelica thought about it. He had a strange point there. Always she had heard people say that they had meant to do this, or they had intended to do that.
Then she remembered the ultimate Master's saying, "Everything you learned before was backwards."
Now she was beginning to learn some of the truth about life, under the domination. of a whip. She was a young girl, and she was able to learn. Older girls were more difficult to train. They were resistant. They had been practicing life backwards for too long.
But the ultimate Master promised that any girl who arrived at the house of the cult of the black whip would make progress. The very fact that a girl had arrived at the house, through whatever method she might have come, was a sign that this was meant to be for her.
Just like Angelica, any girl who arrived had already taken the first step in training.
"Master, how do I know what my intention actually was?" Angelica asked. "I thought that I wanted to stay quiet, and then I uttered a sound."
"Then you know what your intention was. You intended to make the sound. To know what it is that you intend, merely look and see what you've got."
"You mean, what I've got, and what I do, is what I intended?" she asked.
"What else?"
"But why?" she asked.
"I don't know the reason. Reasons don't really matter all that much. In this case, I'd guess that you wanted to be given more pain. You knew that I would beat you extra hard and extra long if you uttered a sound. And so you uttered a sound, even though you wouldn't even let yourself know the truth as to why you did it."
Angelica listened and it made some sense. She wanted to be fully responsible for all of her actions. She wanted to take control over her own life, rather than allow her life to take control over her. She asked the Master how she could do that.
"Submit," he told her. "Submit totally. Then you will be in control of yourself. You see, the only way that you will be able to be in control, is to give up wanting to control yourself. Give yourself up unto the Master. He will direct you. He will give your life meaning. And then you will see that you are doing what you've always wanted to do. You will be submitting to the will of a dominant man. Every girl wants that. Especially the haughty, snotty, rich and arrogant girls."
Angelica didn't think of herself as haughty or snotty. She wasn't really rich or arrogant. But according to the strict standards of the cult of the black whip, perhaps she was and had simply not realized that.
"Speaking of intention," the Whipmaster told the girl, "it is my intention to make you burn with pain. I am going to give you twenty-five more strokes with the black whip. They will leave your body a mass of welts and cut marks. I will hit every part of your body, from the top your head to the bottoms of your feet. And this time I will gag your mouth so that you'll stay quiet, as you were told."
Angelica swallowed hard. She was afraid that she might pass out, and she feared that even if she fainted, this strict authoritarian would continue to whip her. The rules he dictated were harsh ones. Punishment for breaking the rules was even more harsh.
She was looking up at the shaft of genitalia standing out proudly from his hairy crotch. The red star was plainly visible, and the idea of the pain that the man must have withstood in order to be tattooed on his penis made Angelica want to take all of the pain he had to dish out.
She wanted to take the pain from her Whipmaster's body into her own.
And she knew that she would be rewarded for her submission. She would be rewarded with the painkiller he had spoken about. She didn't want him to withhold it from her because of not taking a punishment fully. She wanted to earn it.
He reached into the leather pouch on his utility belt. This time he took out a thick, rubber f-piece, like the one she had seen being used on the slavegirl in the room through the peephole.
She watched in awe as he took the pliable f-piece and teased her with it. He placed it in front of her face and squeezed it. A liquid dripped from the soft rubber, and she wondered what the liquid was and where the f-piece had been before to have soaked up such juice.
She started to writhe and moan when he took the f-piece and ran it over her face. He ran it around her chin, and over her lips.
"Open your mouth," he told her.
She obeyed, and she felt the f-piece spread her lips apart. She felt her mouth being propped open by the f-piece, just the way the sex lips of the girl next door had been opened.
"That's it, that's it," he said as he fitted the f-piece further and further into her mouth until he had her mouth shaped just the way he wanted it.
She tried to speak with her eyes, since her mouth was now useless. She tried to let the Master know that the way he had propped her mouth open was making her ache at the sides of her lips. She thought she would die because she was so dry down in her throat, and she could no longer swallow.
The f-piece absorbed the saliva, and she realized that any moist place in which the f-piece were placed would provide liquid for the stretching device.
She wondered what kind of a thing the f-piece was modeled after. It was terribly wide, which was why it pained her so. The Whipmaster seemed able to read her mind.
"This is like the head of the cock of the ultimate Master," he told her.
Oh no! She wondered how she would ever be able to take such a thing down her throat. The length of his tool must be incredible, matching the width.
But that was not for her to consider at the moment. Now she had only to keep her mouth opened around the f-piece, and in addition she would have to do that while taking a whipping. Twenty-five more strokes!
Twenty-five strokes with that powerful whip, wielded by the powerful man, were nothing to take lightly. They hurt like hell.
He pelted her with the twenty-five, giving them one after another until she was flooded with pain. True to his word, he started at the top of her head, landing the length of hot whip across her. He worked his way down her fragile body, treating her the way he wouldn't treat a dog.
The back of her neck took the whipping along with the rest of her. Her back, her breasts, her stomach, her buttocks, the backs and fronts of her thighs and her calves, right on down to the bottom of her feet. Each foot received three cracking strokes, and if it weren't for the gag, she would have been screaming her lungs out.
Tears flowed from her eyes and dripped into the absorbent material of the f-piece.
Twenty-five! She had taken twenty-five hard lashes after having already endured nearly that many on her tender breasts.
Her breasts were still clipped, and the nipples were now swollen twice their normal size. They strained achingly beyond the metal clamps which the Whipmaster had placed on each pinkish-tan piece of flesh.
Once the whip had cracked down directly on one of the pushed up nipples. Another time the stroke of the whip threatened to dislodge the clamp entirely, but it didn't.
That was just as well for Angelica because if the clamp were removed by the whip, there was no telling how painful the result would be for her. She needed the clamps removed with care, and that was just what the Whipmaster was going to do.
Although Angelica still writhed about in pain, her body still expecting more, her punishment was over for now. She was to be rewarded with sex.
Various Whipmasters employed various techniques to train their girls. All of the Whipmasters were trained by the ultimate Whipmaster, himself, but each one of them had his own style and his own individual approach.
Some of them pulled the nipple-clamps off roughly, the way some people remove a band-aid. This Whipmaster placed his fingers on the lowest part of the aureole, and then undamped the clip itself with the other hand. He would place his own human pressure on the pulsating nipple as soon, as the metal clamp was removed.
Angelica felt the most pain when the clip Was removed. But the Master's fingers soothed the pain and restored the circulation to the tender area.
Her eyes were filled with tears as she watched the Whipmaster handle her. He took care of her other nipple in the same manner, and she was for once glad that she had the f-piece in her mouth because she would have certainly cried out were it not for the gag which the f-piece provided.
Also, she did stop to remind herself that the f-piece was patterned after the ultimate organ of the ultimate man. She had to accommodate her mouth to the hugeness of such an organ. Such an organ could certainly not accommodate itself to her. Again she thought about the purpose of her training and how she was being taught to serve a man.
He held the girl by the sides of her face. His hands were strong, and the right hand was damp and warm, having been grasping the handle of the punishing whip.
He felt her salty tears running into his flesh and he smiled because he knew that the whipping had released much of the badness from her. Goodness had been whipped into her in its place.
His fingers moved to the f-piece, and gently, he removed the thing from her mouth. Her jaws ached when it was removed. She tried to close her mouth and grind her teeth together, but even that was difficult at the beginning. The f-piece had really stretched her. She now knew what the girl in the next room had gone through. Well, she knew, almost.
"You did very well," the Whipmaster told Angelica after the whipping. He ran his fingers all over her flesh. Sometimes she winced when the gentle touch was too much pressure on the bruised flesh.
But his head cocked to one side and his eyebrow raised when that happened. His expression was telling her not to wince. She was to accept all of the pain into her body. His hands were there to soothe her and to make her feel better.
He fondled her breasts, feeling the heat he had stroked into them with the black whip. He felt the nipples and they were very swollen, distended, and hot.
He brought his mouth down to the abused nipples and licked them back and forth. Even that made her ache, and so he placed his lips around the sore flesh and sucked gently, swirling his saliva around the points to calm them.
Angelica's head tilted back and her eyes half-closed, as she writhed about in pleasure. This was not the pleasure of lust. This was the pleasure of gratitude. She wanted to thank her Whipmaster for the administration of the whip. She wanted to thank him, and what better way did this beautiful teenager have to thank him, than with her body.
"I want to give myself to you," she sighed. "I want to be broken in by you so that I can work my way up to the ultimate Master."
"We'll have to make certain that you are actually responding out of love, and not out of lust," he told her.
"I feel that it is love and gratitude, and desire for the pure love of the ultimate Master that is making me feel this way," she told him.
"I have ways of seeing if that is really so," he said.
Without further ado, he brought forth another slave bracelet. This one was for securing her other wrist to the rings in the floor. That way she was tied down by both hands.
"Now put your ankles together," he told her.
Of course, she obeyed, and when her ankles were close together, the Whipmaster took a length of rope from his utility belt. The thick rope was wrapped around her ankles several times, fastening them together. The rope was like straw, and it dug into her flesh and bones.
"The more you move around and try to squirm away, the more the rope will burn you," he told her. "Stay still, and you won't suffer rope burn."
It felt like rough sandpaper scraping her ankles when she moved her ankles or feet even a fraction of an inch in any way.
Then, when the Master was certain that the girl was fastened by her ankles and wrists, he began to test her to see if she was responding out of love or lust.
He stroked his massive organ, bringing the blood into it even more than it had already been. It was standing up and out, curved like a mighty spear. He squeezed the f-piece which had been removed from Angelica's mouth, and used the saliva to coat his hand which he methodically brought to the veiny shaft.
Angelica lurched forward in her bonds when she saw him stroking himself. The monstrous thing was spitting, and he let the drops of pre-orgasmic fluid fall near Angelica's body. They fell close enough to her to tantalize her. Close enough to be seen and perhaps even smelled in that tiny, enclosed room. But not close enough for her to touch.
She tried to get at the cock which he placed near her face when he crouched, but she couldn't move beyond the limits of her bondage.
"Tell me how much you want this gift," he said to her.
"I want it so much, Master. I want to feel it in my mouth. I've never had one of those in my mouth before, Sir. I want to start now, so that I can be ready for the ultimate Master in every way."
Her Whipmaster grinned. He enjoyed seeing her strain like a bitch dog on a leash.
He took his heavy organ and placed it close to her face. He placed it close enough for her to really breathe it in. Her tongue flicked out to taste it, but he slapped her tongue away.
He was wearing a ring in the shape of the star. It was a red sapphire. The stone was used to slap her tongue. For a moment, the indentation of the cut shape appeared to rise on her wet tongue muscle.
She felt the pain in the form of a star, and that was, in fact, the reason the star-shaped rings were given to the Whipmasters. Some of the girls had marks from those rings all over their buttocks and upper thighs, the areas which accepted a deliberate marking of that kind with the most facility.
"Not yet!" he told her sharply after smacking her longing tongue away.
"I'm sorry, Sir," she said.
"You'd better be. If you try that again before you're instructed to do so, you'll get something that you haven't asked for. When I tell you to lick it, you lick it. Now you just sniff it and watch it and long for it."
He took the head of his tool and pressed the slit. A liquid pearl oozed out. Placing the wet head at the girl's lips, he moved the organ around her lips in a circular rotation propelled by the slippery drop of semen.
He kept squeezing the fluid out and using it to lubricate the path he traced with the head of his red starred erection. He moved from her mouth, down her neck, to her cleavage. He watched the trail of wetness which flowed wherever he placed his prized organ.
Angelica had never been treated to such eroticism before. She had to hold her special muscles back from orgasming just from the feel of his warm slime trailing over her bruised flesh.
His semen was so strong, it burned several of the wounds which had cut through Angelica's flesh, even if the cuts were minor. The liquid bathed the red and welted flesh with a very special ointment.
Sliding on up the rounded curve of breast flesh, he slid his opening on her swollen nipples, one at a time. The hardened protrusion of her breast flesh pushed forward to enter the gash from which his gism had flowed in pre-orgasmic drips.
The thick ropes wrapped more than a few times around the girl's ankles were digging into her and abrasing her delicate skin, even cutting through to the bone in several places. She didn't care. All she was thinking about was the thing he teased her with.
"Tell me what you want," he said, taking it away from her and playing with it before her eyes.
"I want that thing between your legs. I've taken my punishments. Now I deserve to be soothed with the painkiller. You promised," she cried.
A sneer came to the Whipmaster's handsome face. He placed his hand down in the entrance to Angelica's nether region. His palm became moist with her teenaged dew. He used the sweet nectar to massage his tool in front of her.
"Please, please, please," she cried, lurching at her bonds. The metal of the rings tugged at the leather bands around her wrists. The thick and coarse rope which bound her ankles dug into her. The knots were expertly tied and would not yield to her pressure, even though she became more violent in her desire.
"Please, Master. Please give me the gift you promised," she cried. "I'm hungry and thirsty. I haven't had anything to eat or drink since I arrived here. I need the nourishment of the gifts of your organ!"
The Whipmaster stroked and stroked. He didn't let Angelica get at his organ. He only allowed her to watch in torment. She was beginning to wonder if he would actually deprive her of what she had worked so hard to earn.
"You have done well in taking discipline," he told her. "But you have forgotten some of the basic teachings already. You were told that you were to be in a state of love, not lust. I've been testing you for that. I find that you've been lusting."
"Oh, Master, please tell me how I've been lusting," she cried. She wanted it so badly, she could almost taste it. But almost wasn't enough. She really ached for it. She allowed the rope to cut into her ankles so that she could be nearer to it. She didn't think that she was lusting.
"You've forgotten that your ultimate goal is total submission. You were told that you have no needs here except your need to satisfy the Masters. Your sex life is determined by me and by the other dominants. You are to perform for me in whatever manner I tell you to. If I tell you to perform with other Whipmasters, or with other slavegirls, you are to obey."
"Yes, yes, I understand, Sir," Angelica replied.
"That is why I must deny you the prize. You were lusting for it to satisfy your own desires. You have no desires except the desire to please your men! You are our property, our plaything, and you must submit. Instead you have again expressed your desire to dominate; your desire to be aggressive. That is forbidden of a submissive. Therefore, you must watch as I deny you the very thing you craved."
Now Angelica really started to cry. She cried and cried.
The Whipmaster opened the door to her room. He leaned his head out the door and called out to the other Whipmasters who were working on the training of slavegirls down the long corridor of discipline.
"Is there are slavegirl who needs to be rewarded, or needs to be punished with semen?" he yelled.
Several doors opened up. Masters, dressed in only the utility belts, or robes, looked out. They were mastering young girls who were bound and beaten, as Angelica had been. In fact, looking down the peepholes, one could see the punished girls and their Whipmasters straight through as in a hall of mirrors. The sight of all that teenaged flesh, red and sore from well-deserved abuse, was bizarre, indeed.
Three Whipmasters responded to the call.
"I haven't given her any for two days. I've got a heavy load built up," one Master called back.
Two other Whipmasters came forward. They brought their respective slavegirls with them, tugging at their leashes to pull the girls along.
It was easy to spot which girl was in need of semen for punishment, and which deserved it for reward. (The same substance could be used as reward or punishment, depending on the way it was given.)
One Master had a beautiful dark-haired girl. She was part-Oriental, as evidenced by her almond-shaped eyes. Very exotic. And her hair was long, hanging down below her posterior. When she was whipped, the whip sliced right through her long hair. The straight hair didn't provide much of a cushion for the beating she took.
Her Whipmaster was an especially strict one. He had left her black and blue from her thighs up over her buttocks. The bodies of his young charges always stayed well-marked. Jade was evidence of that. Jade was seventeen years old.
She was slender, but her breasts were rather large and upturned. The nipples jutted off the soft flesh like missiles about to be launched, indicating that her Master had paid special attention to breast discipline.
She was obedient to a letter, having been trained well. Her left breast was marked with the red star. A thin rope was wrapped around her waist. It trailed down into the cleft of femininity, and then moved up the crack of her bottom.
She was trussed-up like an animal, which was the way her Master treated her.
Jade had not been brought up in the Oriental tradition. The Oriental tradition, from which the ultimate Master gathered much of his material and knowledge, taught females to be subservient. They were to serve the men, and wait on them hand and foot.
The geisha girls, for example, were taught to be humble and bow before their men. They were trained in the art of massage, even to the point of walking over the backs of their men. It was part of the treatment.
They were trained to speak in whispers, and to walk several yards behind their men in a gesture of their inferiority to the male.
Jade, however, was raised as a whore on a houseboat in Tokyo. She had been exposed to things that most females never see in their entire lives. It was nothing for Jade to speak in Oriental curses. She was too wise for her own good, and she needed the discipline offered at this house of pain.
Her Master used special Oriental punishments on her. He beat her with bamboo cane. The bamboo that he used was thick and strong enough to give her fleshy, meaty buttocks a good series of raised marks.
He pulled at her long hair and even went so far as to use Chinese water torture in her womb!
As a result of his efforts, he had produced a perfect lady, where once a spoiled gutter tramp stood. She had been picked up in Tokyo by the ultimate Master himself, when he visited the low life there to find potential slavegirls.
He had decided that Jade and her sister were ready for training. Jade was already a second-level slave. She hadn't seen her sister since their arrival except once in the chapel. The building was larger than it first appeared to the naked eye, and since the girls were placed in rooms which were little more than cubicles, many girls inhabited the place, and some never got to see the others, until they were presented to the ultimate Master on the golden platter.
It was obvious that Jade was in need of semen discipline for the purpose of reward.
The other slavegirl was another story. Her name was Lulabelle, and she was a flaming redhead. Her flesh was pale. Bruises had come up. She was marked with many bruises, some blue, some brown, some in almost every color of the rainbow. She was a virtual rainbow of bruises.
It was immediately obvious that she was unruly and had a dirty mouth. Her Master had made her open her mouth, stick out her tongue, and keep it out while he whipped it with a delicate whip. This was more effective than washing her mouth out with soap.
Now her mouth was covered with a wide strip of tape.
Although her mouth was hidden, the expression in her eyes revealed her anger. She resented her punishments. She had still not gotten over her upper-class, snotty background. She still had no firm purpose in life, other than getting her own way, and that, of course, was backwards, according to the ultimate Master.
Her red hair hung in rivulets, as it had been sweat-soaked during the voluptuous writhing incurred during punishment sessions that evening. When her Master pulled her toward Angelica's room, she fought back. She kicked him, which resulted in her Master kicking her back.
He kicked her hard enough to send her doubling over onto the floor. She didn't dare try it again, but she'd done it once, so she had a long way to go in her training. She was making it rough on herself, protesting, when her mouth wasn't taped, that she had been brought there against her will.
Lulubelle had been caught masturbating a horse in the stable of her parent's estate. Her frustrated father, unable to cope with the girl's ever-increasing misbehavior, found out about the school of discipline through a dream. One night he saw Lulubelle being dominated by a Whipmaster, and the next day, as if by black magic, Lulubelle was kidnapped.
She was never reported missing by her father, because the man had a feeling that the girl was better off. He believed that his dream had come true.
Lulubelle wouldn't accept that she was responsible for having brought the kidnapping upon herself in some way. She didn't understand how her vibrations had attracted the Whipmaster to the estate to take her as a hostage.
Anyway, the redheaded vixen had not yet responded to discipline, which was why she had not yet been honored with the red star.
She had been given a thorough shaving of her privates, as a discipline. She had been warned that if she writhed about or tried to resist, the sharp blade of the shaving razor would cut her where no girl wants to be cut.
Now she stood side by side with Jade outside the room of young Angelica.
Angelica's whipmaster had to choose which slavegirl he would use in his semen punishment. He intended to deny Angelica his wet gifts, giving them instead to one of these two girls before Angelica's envious eyes.
That was his stated intention, and, the Whipmaster always got his way.