Anguish of the Flesh

“You believe he will come to you immediately?”
“Not believe, know. I am teaching him that willingness to relinquish what one would keep is true freedom”, Lilith said decisively.
She sighed as her orgasm approached. Trapped between her powerful thighs was Miranda, her personal assistant, practising the ancient and sacred art of cunnilingus. The ritual was performed daily, representing the ultimate act of worship, combining as it did the twin criteria of intensity and restraint.

Kneeling before Lilith’s shrine, Miranda was overpowered by the nearness of her Mistress’s most intimate secrets; intoxicated by the sweet wine flowing from between her owner’s thighs.
Lilith lay on an immobile slave, her thigh booted legs around Miranda’s back. The shining black and red boots contrasted magnificently with her secretary’s creamy white skin. Her vagina moistened as Miranda lapped and nibbled at her hardened clitoris. At just the right moment, Miranda moved a hand beneath Lilith’s arching back and sought the small length of cord that protruded from her curvaceous bottom. Miranda pulled, and a series of small balls began to squeeze from Lilith’s tight little hole. Lilith panted with delighted ecstasy, soaking her assistant as she pushed her open labia into Miranda’s face.
Using another slave as her chair was a stunning woman. Verity was over six feet tall, not including the towering spikes of her red patent court shoes. She revelled in the complex power of clothing, its seductive sway; she knew that something as subtle as the height of heels could open up possibilities, some more unsettling than others. Her sensual Mediterranean skin shone with vitality.

Verity fixed her gaze on Miranda, and opened her legs to display a shaven vagina and a small length of cord. The Amazon tugged gently at the cord and pointed.
Miranda eagerly took her privileged position between Verity’s legs.

“He could not possibly drop everything to come here.”
Lilith laughed. “After his last visit, I told him he would be allowed another audience. I did not say when, as waiting sharpens desire! Surely, Verity, you don’t doubt my power?”
Lilith was undisputed pack leader; people were compelled to follow her. It was as if above her head an aura revealed her powers like an angel’s halo, the mere sight of which inspired worship for her superior being.
“Of course not”, Verity said. “However, I will wager you a hundred pounds he cannot make it here in an hour.”
Lilith passed her the mobile. “Call him.”

The display window read PAIN-SLUT, and the phone was set to ring.
Lilith gracefully stood, and snapped her fingers. A man hurried forward and, with a deep bow, fell to his knees. In his hands he held a dildo, which he proffered to his Mistress. She nodded, barely taking her eyes from the divine spectacle of Miranda’s head bobbing to the rhythms of Verity’s pleasure.
The slave buckled the dildo to the heavy leather belt, which girdled Lilith’s slim waist, and withdrew silently. Kneeling between the splayed legs of her secretary Lilith began to probe Miranda’s flowing wet lips with the rigid ebony phallus. They parted willingly, as Lilith slid her dark addition deeply into her secretary’s aching delta. Miranda gasped as the gentle force of the entry pushed her tongue deeper into Verity’s glistening cleft.
Verity pressed the ‘dial’ button with the tip of her extended forefinger.
After a few seconds delay, a hesitant male voice answered, “Hello.”
Verity splayed her thighs wider as the girl-slut lapped at her engorged slit.
The tremulous male voice queried the silent phone: “Hello…?”
Verity smiled broadly, leaning back in her chair, and locking her ankles in the small of Miranda’s back, hungry for orgasm.
A strange woman’s voice echoed in the Chairman’s ear.
“Pain Slut. You have one hour to get here.”
He did his best to hide the flush of nervous excitement welling up within him as he slid his phone into the pocket of his immaculately tailored suit.
He looked around the boardroom at the inquisitive, expectant faces of his Board.
“I do apologise. Something has come up. You must excuse me.”
As he closed the door behind him, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief at leaving that place to which he no longer belonged. His mind attuned to what was really important. Over and over, he replayed the voice on the phone. It was neither Lilith nor vicious Miranda, whom he knew he must be careful not to antagonise. This woman’s voice was rich with some unidentifiable accent.
“You have one hour to get here!”
One hour! He was sure also that he had heard what distinctly sounded to be a moan before the line went dead! He felt numb, as if in a trance. He had to do, without protest, what Mistress Lilith or any emissary calling on her behalf commanded.
He knew himself to be a mere tool in the service of her will. He had no real choice in the matter.
A large parasol, held by a veritable Adonis, shielded Lilith and Verity who, shaded from the sun, were deep in animated conversation. Miranda now wore her business suit of black leather skirt, white silk blouse and black stiletto heeled court shoes. She poured drinks.
Verity sipped.
“Your cocktails are almost as delightful as your skilled tongue.”
“Thank you, Miss Verity,” Miranda replied formally.
“I endeavour to please.”
“Oh you do.”

All three ladies laughed.

“What’s the time, Miranda?”

“12.20, Miss Lilith.”

“By my reckoning your boy has barely ten minutes left.”

“He’ll be here!”

“Of course he will,” cajoled Verity.

“Confident enough to raise the stake?”

“Certainly, make it two hundred.”

“Why not two fifty?”

“Fine, two fifty and the loser buys dinner!”

“Agreed,” said the sultry Domina. “Dinner at the Savoy then.”

They heard a loud chime. Lilith smiled at her defeated friend and, turning to Miranda, asked:

“Are the notes in place?”

“Of course, just as you commanded.”

“Good. Then go to greet our guest.”

“Certainly, may I proceed as last time?”

“Yes, Miranda. No slave training that forgoes physicality can be healthy!”

Like all good libertines, Lilith was constantly in search of new and ever more violent sensations. Some so called slaves were such easy victims, with all the effervescence of flat beer. Their taste was tepid and did nothing to excite her taste buds.

Taking from the rack a long slender whalebone cane, ivory white with a hooked end that settled comfortably in her hand, and a pair of nipple clamps linked by a chain, Miranda walked purposefully towards the South garden with a smile playing on her lascivious lips.
Immediately below the bell was a hand written message on a vivid yellow sign.

I walked to a tall, weathered door that was set back to obscure the road. A heavy brass bell hung to one side of the door. Underneath this was a hand written message on vivid yellow parchment.

I continued around the perimeter wall until I found a narrower gate surrounded by a deep cowl of scarlet clematis. Lilith had a penchant for red. The gate’s hinges and lock were rusting. There was no bell so, after a moment’s hesitation, and a deep breath, I turned the ancient wrought iron handle. Stiffly, it moved and the gate creaked open.

Inside was a large and beautiful garden. The world on this side of the wall, was in bloom. Every imaginable colour met my eye, and I was overwhelmed by a complex, intoxicating collision of fragrances. It was as if whoever planted this garden had used the forces of nature as a palette for the seduction of my senses.
Shutting the stiff gate behind me, I saw another hand-written note, on the same parchment, which read:
“STRIP THEN LOOK IN THE BAG”

At my feet, on gravel path, which seemed to lead towards a large house obscured in the distance by trees, lay a large bag. Though well secluded I still looked about for prying eyes! I undressed and found two iron leg manacles connected by a heavy gauge chain. I fitted them tight against my bare ankles and snapped the strong padlocks closed. I saw no sign of any keys. I lifted a circle of steel. It lolled open forming two half circles. A neck brace! Its weight was apparent immediately as I lifted it obediently to my throat.

It fitted tight like a noose to my skin and I stood, exposed, fearful but excited.
A stirring began in my loins.

I used the empty bag to store my clothes, and looked up startled as I heard the crunching of gravel. Someone was approaching. I hoped it wasn’t Miranda, praying I would be spared her cruelty.

Miranda’s hips swayed as she walked purposefully along the gravel path, towards her victim. She swished her cane as she walked, revelling in the whistling sound it made as it cut through the air. With her free hand she twirled the chain-linked clamps.

A dead caterpillar hung from a fine silken thread attached to a clematis bloom. With her toe, Miranda broke its fine redundant lifeline. She crushed the bug with her shoe, collecting as much dirt as she could in the process. She wanted to hurt this male fool, but without breaking her beloved Lilith’s rules.

When finally she cast her eyes on him, she could not help thinking how much he looked like an ill proportioned repulsive insect. How could any woman be attracted to these vulgar creatures? She felt the gall rise in her throat. His appeal was totally lost on her.

When necessity demanded, Miranda could be cruelly self-centred. Using the flimsiest excuse, she could readily inflict on a person; even one she cared for, a wound that would never heal. Only Lilith could contain her resentment at the intrusion of men into their lives. This one would be no match for her. She would prove to Lilith that there was no service he could perform that she couldn’t improve upon.

Miranda’s personality was full of conflicting extremes, displaying lofty spirituality one moment and then the brazen young slut. But today, she was particularly sullen and irritable. All her senses hankered for raw callous pleasure.

“You made good time. At least one Mistress will be pleased.”

“One Mistress?” he questioned.

Ignoring his query, Miranda ordered him onto his hands and knees. She turned and walked away from the victim, who crawled after her.

“Stand,” Miranda commanded.

She stroked the palm of her hand over his nipples. His exposed cock began to stir as the unexpected pleasure continued. Her unruly black mass of curls, her heady fragrance, were exerting their timeless spell. With each glance from her dark bright eyes he felt himself pulled down deeper into inevitable submission.
“Men are so shallow,” she mocked, flicking his half erect cock.

“Here today, gone tomorrow.”

He grunted as Miranda connected the clamps to his nipples.

“Hand out, palm up,” she snapped.

His shaking hand presented itself. For lingering effect Miranda tapped the cane against her skirt. His eyes followed the movement. The pale wood contrasted sharply against her supple black leather. He became rock hard. Miranda lifted the cane over her head, so that the tip touched the back of her skirt, just above the curve of her bottom. It carved the air with a whoosh that was quickly matched by the howling exploding from Pain Slut’s mouth.

He cupped his hand to his mouth and blew on the damaged palm.
“Put it back out!” She ordered.

“If you move your hand away you will get double what I intended. Do you understand?”

“Yes … sorry Miss.”

“You will address me as Miss Miranda.”

“Yes ... sorry Miss Miranda.”

More slashes followed.

“Do you have anything to say to me slave?”

“Thank you Miss Miranda.”

“That will do.”

Miranda slashed the cane again over his aching hand.

“One extra for your insolence. Legs apart.”

He stretched as far as the chain and manacles would allow.

Her nylon clad knee crashed into his balls. He lurched forward, falling to his knees. She allowed him seconds to recover.

“Lay on your back.”

With some hesitation that earned him a short sharp kick he took the new position. Miranda dragged a garden chair alongside his prostrate form.

Raising one foot she dug a steel-tipped heel into his navel and stepped onto him. His grunt of pain was met by the sole of her other shoe stepping hard on his face. She laughed as, not needing to be asked, he began to lick filth from her sole. Bug and grit fell into his eager mouth. Miranda placed one hand beneath her skirt and began to press fingers to her soaking vagina. Maintaining the pressure of her full weight on his gut, she raped his mouth with her long slender stiletto, pumping to the rhythm of her masturbation.

He half swooned at the glorious image above. A firm and pulsing erection returned.

“Don’t waste too much time on that idiot!”

Lilith shouted from the house.

“Just finishing Mistress.”

Miranda replied shakily, as her slow-building climax erupted.

I stumbled forward, using my forearms to crawl after Miranda. A shadow fell across my field of vision but I dared not look up.

A rich, Spanish accented, female voice spat vitriol at me; it was the voice from the phone, the one who had summoned me.

“This is the scum that has cost me two hundred and fifty? This little piggy?”

I was kicked over onto my back. Towering astride me stood a fantastic Amazonian vision, over six feet tall. Verity. She kicked off the clamps that still gripped my nipples. I screamed out at the sensation. Verity’s delectable red six-inch stiletto hovered briefly above me, and then stabbed my exposed chest.
I squealed beneath her weight, like the fat pig I now truly knew myself to be, as her steel tipped heel almost pierced my skin.

“Verity dear, don’t get carried away. You’ll spoil our fun if you cripple him.”

I had never been so relieved to hear that sweet sultry voice, steeped as it was in deliberate mockery.
“Come to me,” Lilith ordered.

Wincing, I forced my battered body to Lilith’s side. She was wearing red leather panties, and suspenders that secured her dark stockings peeking just above the tops of her boots. A leather bra adorned her fulsome breasts.

Verity wore black fishnet hosiery, which hugged the skin of her slender legs. They rose to a pair of soft red leather shorts, cut to appear bonded with her dusky skin. She wore no bra beneath a short, heavily embroidered, bolero matador jacket. The form of her pert breasts could be seen clearly. I felt beauty’s seductive deception and longed for the alluring vision, embodied in Mistress Lilith, where external and internal traits meshed to form… perfection.

“I am pleased you came without hesitation”.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“Of course you have upset Verity, who will pay me for your prompt attention. However you will pay her a much higher price for she hates losing. Pass those gloves from the table.”

He fetched her a pair of rich red leather gloves. Lilith peeled the fine leather over stiffened fingers, smiling at their delicate softness.

He saw Verity and Miranda, engrossed in conversation, walking out across the lawn of the South garden
Lilith selected a heavily sprung pair of nipple clamps, beautifully ornate and made with the loving care only ancient things seemed to have. She separated the clamps until the fine chain linking them together pulled taut. With a cruel grin, she fixed them to Pain Slut’s tenderised nipples. He breathed in sharply at the renewed pain, yet they both knew that this was the easy part. It was mere foreplay compared to the moment when they would be released and his blood would flow back once more into his tortured flesh.

Lilith lifted a cigar to her lips and gestured to a sophisticated lighter indicating he should click it for her. She took his marked and trembling hands gently. He was in turmoil, his fingers shaking as he worked the flint with his thumb. Steadying his forearms, she aided him with intimate attention as he strove to serve her.
Her cheeks fluted as the rich smoke was drawn into her mouth. A plume engulfed his face and as it cleared he saw her smiling, the impish glint in her blue green eyes shone brightly. Her hair was dazzlingly blonde in the glare of the sun.

Lilith held his pain-wracked hands, occasionally drawing on the cigar. There was soon a small tube of ash at the tip. Like everything around her, even this miserable slave, her cigars were of an undeniable quality. The more superior the cigar, the longer the ash gathers before falling. When it does it is decisive.

This did not escape Lilith. Just like the men whom she broke for her pleasure and amusement. She wondered if he understood the symbolism. Like most men, he was painfully limited and literal in his thinking.

Pain Slut automatically offered his mouth. She tipped ash into his throat. He swallowed it eagerly. Lilith traced the lines of muscles in his chest, running a pointed leather finger down to his waist - pausing only to tug gently at the nipple clamps. The brief pain splashed sensuous ripples across his face.

She cupped his testicles. Her free hand dropped to his rampant cock, circled it and pushed downward. A loud sigh came from the bewildered Pain Slut as she repeated the action slowly. He was soon secreting fluid that moistened his warm and pulsing penis. Lilith breathed l ightly on his neck, close enough to smell the fear rise in him, close enough for him to be intoxicated by her warm feminine fragrance.

Her every breath stole a newfound trust from him. His mind emptied of all reason, focused only on the fast rushing ride to orgasm. Only in this defenceless state could he truly perceive himself. He felt for the first time the grandeur, beauty and peril of the forces that now controlled him.

Abruptly Lilith stopped!

Miranda and Verity had returned, and, they brought pain, like an old friend, with them. The women knelt beside him, their mirth barely suppressed.

Their gloved hands wielded stinging nettles. Quickly their hands wrapped around his cock and balls. He arched back but felt other nettles being squashed into his bottom, tight up his hole and against his cheeks. Verity continued his masturbation but this brought him only agony. She moved to the very tip of his penis squeezing the head hard and engulfing it in stinging leaves. Still his orgasm rose. Both women pushed against him as he bucked with the now agonizing ejaculation.

Verity lifted her hands to his eye level. Some of the leaves were stuck to the leather of the gloves, held there by his ejaculate.

“Clean these… lick them… slowly…”

His tongue moved cautiously towards her palms but she pushed against his mouth, forcing the nettles around his lips and into his mouth. She made him suck both of her gloved hands finger by finger. She laughed sadistically as his lips began to swell, painful weal’s rising up just as his cock subsided in contrast.

Lilith lifted the remains of the cigar above his mouth. Even in his agonized state his mouth opened. His obedience was automatic, instinctive. She had trained him well. Her puppet on a string. Lilith dropped the burning butt onto his tongue and casually pushed his jaw closed tight.

She stood sovereign above her torment- vanquished slave

“You must learn to exceed your limitations boy. Follow me, Pain Slut!”