Whip and naked slaves bondage | bdsm stories | Sisters in Slavery 13

The braided leather of the whip curled around Dawnelle’s right hip and bit into the soft flesh of her lower belly, its stinging impact bringing a muffled squeal from the hapless redhead and drawing a thin red stripe of glowing heat across her pale flesh.

It was not the first such stripe to decorate her body, for Carlo Crespi was thoroughly enjoying his revenge and Dawnelle had learned, to her cost, that he was much more strict and far tougher than she had ever suspected.

As a work colleague, she had always thought of him as being inferior to her, looking down on him both literally and metaphorically and it had never occurred to her that his lack of height might disguise a will of tempered steel.

Only now, when it was far too late, had she learned what a dangerous and implacable enemy the small Italian could be and she bitterly regretted ever crossing swords with him and slapping his face.

The whip hissed out again, cracking across her left buttock and she gasped in pain as blistering heat seared across her rounded flesh, the shrewd blow adding another line to the fiery stripes which adorned her body from her knees almost to her waist, the result of Carlo’s retaliation for her slap.

Lounging at ease in a comfortable chair, Siteki nodded and smiled in approval as his slave paid a high price for her error and as Carlo Crespi decided to take a short break and sat in the chair beside him, the two dominant Masters sipped their drinks and surveyed Dawnelle’s whip-striped nudity.

With her long, slim legs padlocked to either end of one long steel spreader-bar and her wrists secured to a second hanging from the roof, she stood on tiptoe, her body forming a huge „X“ in the centre of the room and her features hidden under a thick leather isolation helmet whose inbuilt gag, blindfold and earplugs prevented any semblance of speech, excluded every chink of light and deprived her of both hearing and the smallest possibility of anticipating her Masters’ next move.

From where they sat, the two men had a perfect view of her splendidly proportioned figure and as they watched her, the muscle tremors that fluttered the smooth skin of her taut belly and fully extended limbs attested to the stringency of her bondage and the unrelenting strain it placed upon her.

„So, Carlo,“ Siteki asked casually, „Has Dawnelle learned her lesson yet, do you think?“

The Italian bared his white teeth in a mirthless grin, „Does it matter?“ he replied and as Siteki shook his head, went on, „We have much in common, you and I, my friend. Tell me, would you forgive a woman who insulted you and dared to strike you?“

Siteki smiled, „Never,“ he said flatly; „I would make her pay dearly for such a loss of face.“

„Exactly!“ Crespi agreed enthusiastically, „Just as I shall make Dawnelle pay!“

„Ah, I see. Now I understand,“ Siteki gave a soft chuckle, „It seems that she has a real talent for annoying people. First you, then Mr Shimatsu and me. Normally, perhaps, such a failing would not have mattered, but unfortunately for her, Dawnelle made the mistake of annoying the wrong people.

With the result that you see before you.“

Crespi leaned forward, his face animated and as he plied Siteki with questions, the Oriental told him the story of how Dawnelle had lost her freedom and become a collared bondage slave.

As Siteki ended his tale with a graphic description of Dawnelle’s submission to the other female slaves, Crespi wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, „Oh, I’d love to see the video of that!“ he snorted, „I’d make the bitch watch it while I took her!“

„An interesting idea, Carlo,“ Siteki agreed, „But why restrict yourself? We will both have her!“ and the cruel laughter of the two dominants echoed around the cell.

The break in her punishment brought little relief for Dawnelle, for she had no way of knowing that she was, for the moment, safe and continued to tremble and flinch in anticipation of whip strokes that did not materialise. In her brain and body, dreadful uncertainty added to the angry smarting of her reddened flesh and the aching discomfort of her stressed muscles and she wept in torment, unable to do the smallest thing to ease her misery.

From the moment she realised that Carlo Crespi was on the island, Dawnelle had known that she was in serious trouble, but not quite just how much trouble. Under the watchful eyes of the two men, she had not dared show the slightest sign of disobedience as she was taken down to the cell and even when her body had been spread-eagled to the long steel bars, she had still dared to hope that Carlo would be content with just arousing and taking her hopelessly vulnerable body.

That faint hope had died when Siteki had invited his companion to take his pick from a rack of whips and the grinning Italian had selected a fearsome looking scourge of braided leather, some six feet long and sent it hissing through the air in full view of her horrified eyes.

Knowing that she was to be whipped anyway, Dawnelle had pleaded for mercy as her gag was removed, but her Masters had not even bothered to reply and as the heavy leather of the isolation hood had been pressed against her face and laced tightly behind her head, her world had become dark and silent and terrifying.

Without warning, the dreadful whip had sliced across her firm thighs, sending scorching heat flaming through her immobilised body and as she howled in pain and terror and the first of many glowing red stripes painted her flesh, she had been unable to see the venomous smile that twisted Carlo Crespi’s lips or hear his mocking laughter as he had begun to take his cruelly-sweet revenge.

Entirely at the mercy of her ruthless ex-colleague, Dawnelle had soon lost count of the number of times the whip branded her, but as her thighs and belly and buttocks turned a fiery red and the whole of her lower body became a seething furnace of throbbing heat, the inside of her isolation hood had grown wet with the tears of her pain and despairing anguish as a familiar, but totally unwanted reaction had made itself felt.

Arousal!

Dawnelle had fought it with every fibre of her being, but her conditioning as a slave undermined her ability to resist and as her torment continued, her willpower had ebbed slowly away to leave her defenceless against the insidious slave heat that infiltrated her belly.

Her helpless bondage, the bite and sting of leather on her body and the knowledge that she was naked before two Masters who would inevitable take her whenever and however they chose, all conspired to defeat her and as her last defences had crumbled, Dawnelle’s belly had begun to churn and bubble with a heat that matched that of her whipped buttocks.

At every cruel cut of the whip, her humiliating need had grown stronger and by the time Carlo decided to take a break, Dawnelle would have gone willingly to her knees before him, displayed her naked body and begged him to use her as he pleased and extinguish the fires of her need in the soaring ecstasy of a true slave’s orgasm to her Master.

She would have done... but she could not and as she waited in fear and trembling for whatever was to come, Dawnelle sobbed in anguish, the helpless victim of her own submissive passions and the Masters who possessed and controlled her.

Carlo Crespi picked up his whip, then paused as Siteki gestured towards the hooded slave, „Just a moment, Carlo. Look at her nipples.“

Carlo looked... and grinned, „The randy bitch is aroused,“ he said wonderingly and Siteki chuckled.

„Yes, of course. She is a slave and slaves are trained to respond to the whip. And as you can see, Dawnelle is very well trained-„

He allowed his voice to tail off and Crespi frowned, „What do you mean? I don’t understand. Are you saying that I shouldn’t whip her again?“

Siteki gave a cruel chuckle, „Oh no, my friend. Quite the opposite. I think you should most definitely whip her again, but I feel that if you were to use your whip to stimulate her breasts and belly occasionally, you might be pleasantly surprised by the result.“

„Is that so?“ Crespi replied, his eyes gleaming, „Well, I’ll give it a try then,“ and he rose to his feet, coiling the whip in his strong fingers.

Unaware that her punishment at Carlo’s hands was about to resume and that he was intrigued by Siteki’s suggestion, Dawnelle clawed at the empty air as the whip slashed across her taut buttocks.

Instantly, the simmering slave heat in her belly ignited into a roaring flame and as two more stinging lines burned across the soft curve of her belly, she screamed her unconditional surrender into the gag between her jaws.

Curious to see what her response would be, Carlo moved closer, coiled his whip and used the last foot or so to flick delicately at her heaving breasts.

At the first touch, Dawnelle gave a muffled shriek of sheer terror and her body gave a convulsive shudder, but as the leather slid across her ringed nipples, the fascinated dominant saw the already stiff buds engorge to quivering rigidity and heard her screams change to soft moans of desperate longing.

He looked over to where Siteki sat, „Now I see what you meant,“ he said, „Is it OK if I make the bitch come now?“

„As you wish, my friend,“ Siteki confirmed and Crespi stepped back, uncoiling his whip.

„This will teach you not to mess with me, you redheaded bitch,“ he hissed and sent the whip singing through the air to land with a crack like a pistol shot on Dawnelle’s naked bottom. And then with no warning at all he landed a full-blooded lash on her breasts. Dawnelle’s body twisted into an arc of tormented ecstasy. Twice more he seared her heaving mounds, then he thrust the braided leather handle between her gaping thighs and into the unprotected channel of her sex.

Like music to his ears, the redhead’s muffled screams told of her terrible pain and shock and humiliation as the cruel agony of her punishment was compounded by her immediate and shameful submission to a whip-orgasm, her belly pounding wildly to foaming gouts of heated love juices as the thick leather penetrated her and sank into her body.

Subjugated to the ultimate degree, Dawnelle’s cruelly used body vibrated and spasmed in huge, racking shudders and as Crespi sawed the whip back and forth in her dripping sex, Siteki leapt from his chair to seize her erect nipples, his fingers rolling and tweaking her ringed flesh.

The additional stimulation, and the knowledge that Carlo Crespi was one of the two Masters ruthlessly pillaging her spread-eagled body sent Dawnelle hurtling into a second gigantic climax and as renewed spurts of love juices swamped her flooded belly, she was forced to exhibit the full, humiliating extent of her submission.

Squealing and sobbing, pleading wordlessly for mercy that neither Siteki nor Crespi would ever show her, Dawnelle writhed and flinched and juddered in her implacable bondage as the Masters whipped and toyed with her at random, the painful bite of leather on her cowering flesh followed by irresistible arousal as their fingers captured her swollen breasts and speared into the palpitating depths of her convulsing belly.

Built to peak after peak of straining, gasping sexual frenzy, Dawnelle climaxed again and again, her body running with sweat and her thighs glistening with long silver snakes of the juices which trickled from her sex as she paid enforced tribute to the erotic dominance of her Masters.

Until, shattered and utterly devastated by the number and power of the orgasms forced from her, she hung limply from her bonds, trembling helplessly to the slowly waning spasms that rippled through her belly as she was finally permitted to rest.

But not for very long, for the sight and sound of her multiple submissions had not been lost on her Masters-Released from the spreader bars that had held her for so long and placed face-up on the hard floor, Dawnelle forced her aching limbs into Display position, knowing that she was about to be taken by one, or more likely both of her Masters and unable to resist the submissive passion that the prospect aroused in her.

Only a few scant weeks before, secure in her wealth and power and playful dominance games, Dawnelle would have mocked anyone who had suggested, even as a joke, that she would ever have offered herself so humbly to any man, especially Carlo Crespi.

But that had been before she fell into the clutches of Shimatsu and Siteki, men to whom dominance was a whole way of life. Now Dawnelle knew that she would never return to a life of freedom, for she understood that the changes in her brain and body could not be reversed and realised that she would be unable to hide her submissive nature from the predatory instincts of the Masters who must exist in the suddenly-dangerous world beyond Shimatsu’s island.

If she should happen to meet one and he recognised her for what she was, her freedom would come to an abrupt end... again!

The thought had been a shamefully exciting one and Dawnelle had done her best to forget it... but then, weeks later, Carlo Crespi’s voice in the anteroom had brought the image rushing back.

Of all the men in the world, he was probably the one Dawnelle least wanted to witness her humiliating downfall, but her body had not been hers to command and as she had been taken to the cellar and her ordeal had begun, she had known that it must end with her being taken as a slave by him.

The fact that she did not want him to have her was irrelevant.

Her Master had offered the use of her body to the small Italian and Dawnelle knew that she would have to serve him... and serve him perfectly.

As she had been placed on her back, Dawnelle whimpered into the blackness of the hood covering her head, horribly conscious of the fierce heat of her enforced need glowing in her belly.

She was a slave like any other... and slaves did not choose which Masters they served.

Siteki bent and allowed the tips of his fingers to brush the wetly-glistening lips of Dawnelle’s proffered sex, chuckling as her hips arched upwards to meet his touch.

„I think this slave is ready for us, Carlo.“

„She’d better be! She’s had her fun and now it’s our turn.“

„I agree. Shall we take her hood off first, or would you prefer to leave it on her?“

„Leave it on, please. The bitch has got nothing to say that I want to hear!“

„Very well, then, I’ll have a seat until you have finished with her. Take your time and enjoy yourself. Dawnelle is in no hurry,“ and Siteki sat down, smiling.

Carlo Crespi stared down at the stained, whip-striped body of the woman who had once been his equal but was now just the sexual plaything of strong men and his eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as he recalled how he had once jokingly offered to whip her and how contemptuously she had refused. He had never for an instant imagined that he would ever get the chance to do it for real, but now that he had and had witnessed the sexual heat that the whip had unleashed in her, he knew that the cold, hard-nosed bitch he had known as Dawnelle O’Keefe, no longer existed, she had been replaced by the hot, provocative, submissive Dawnelle who lay spread and displayed at his feet.

Dawnelle, the slave.

He tore his clothes off and threw himself on top of her and as his bulging erection plunged into her body and his lips fastened on her breasts, her moist heat enfolded him and her muscles contracted to draw him into the innermost core of her quaking belly.

Even before his hard, thick shaft was properly embedded in her, Dawnelle’s first climax exploded and as she screamed in ecstasy and her heated juices showered down, he began to take her with brutal power, pounding into her spasming belly with short, fast thrusts.

Crushed beneath his weight and gasping to each merciless lunge, the redhead could only whimper as she was forced to submit to a Master she could neither see nor recognise and as his maleness pulsed in release and his spend jetted, a second tremendous orgasm crashed through her and a fresh wave of love juices deluged her belly with scalding heat.

Elated by the completeness of Dawnelle’s surrender, Carlo Crespi still had one cruel trick to play on his panting victim,

Slipping from between her thighs, he picked up his whip and with a flick of his wrist, sent the leather scorching across the quivering curve of her lower belly.

Dawnelle whined in stunned disbelief at the calculated cruelty of the blow and as agonising fire erupted through her pelvis, she sobbed in dreadful anguish and terror as her Master demonstrated that not even perfect obedience and utter submission could save a slave from his whip if he so chose.

Crespi’s revenge was complete for the time being and as he dressed and sat down, Siteki nodded appreciatively, „You used her well, my friend. That last cut with the whip was worthy of an experienced Master. Perhaps you should find your own slave when you return to the West. I cannot believe it would be too difficult for a man of your wealth and talents, for there are many women who secretly desire a slave’s collar, but only a few men with the courage to impose true discipline.

You could be one of them and as you have seen, the rewards are well worth the effort.“

Crespi hesitated, then looked down at the hooded, naked slave at his feet.

„Perhaps I will,“ he replied softly, „Now that Dawnelle has shown me the pleasure a slave can give a Master.“

Siteki grinned, „Yes, but she has not yet pleased me,“ and as Crespi watched, he stripped, yanked Dawnelle’s ankles wide apart and buried himself in her belly.

Taken by a Master for the second time in only a few minutes, Dawnelle was forced into yet another climax, her body helpless to resist the slave-trained responses ingrained into her over many weeks of enforced submission and as Siteki sated his lusts and her love juices flowed to the hosing jets of his release, the distraught redhead sobbed in misery.

Siteki grunted in satisfaction, then flipped Dawnelle onto her belly and locked her wrist and ankle cuffs together in a tight hogtie.

„That will hold her,“ he grinned, surveying the deep hollow of her curved spine, „She’ll still be here if we want her again later. Come, my friend, I think we deserve a drink,“ and as Carlo joined him, the two chuckling dominants strode from the cell.

Leaving Dawnelle hooded and inescapably bound to endure her despair and discomfort as best she might.

Until someone-anyone-might happen to find her and decide to use her whipped, stained body as they saw fit.

Some seventy-two hours after their guests had arrived, Shimatsu and Siteki toasted the four men with champagne, „We do hope you have all enjoyed your stay, gentlemen and trust our slaves have been fully satisfactory in every respect? If not, you have only yourselves to blame, my friends, for that would mean that you have been much too soft with them.“

A ripple of laughter greeted his words, but it did not extend to the four naked slaves who knelt before the seated guests, their beautifully displayed bodies offered to their Masters and their eyes lowered in submission.

Maxine, Melissa, Soo Lin and Dawnelle had all been thoroughly used over the preceding three days and nights and each bore the faded pink lines of their service in their smooth flesh, clear evidence of their temporary Masters’ liking for discipline.

Shimatsu waited until he had silence, then spoke again, „I have an important announcement to make. Minister bin Yussuf and I have reached an agreement to build a major new facility for his Government. This will require considerable effort on all our parts and a management re-shuffle. I have therefore decided that Andrew will oversee the building of the new plant, while Carlo takes over as Head of European operations. Naturally, salaries and bonuses will be commensurate with their increased responsibilities. To assist Andrew to settle in, I will be going with him and I am most grateful to Minister bin Yussuf for agreeing to provide accommodation for us all.“

The tall Arab nodded, „A pleasure, my friend. It is the least I could do in return for you making me even richer. I am sure you will find my Palace most comfortable and it has the benefit of security and total privacy, so there is no danger of your delightful slaves wandering off.“

As if jerked by a single string, the heads of three of the four girls rose to stare open-mouthed at him as Soo Lin, Maxine and Melissa learned that they were to accompany their Master to the home of the merciless Arab dominant and his muscular bodyguard.

Shimatsu bowed his thanks, then continued, „While Andrew and I are away, Siteki has agreed to assist Carlo in our European headquarters, so it seems that Carlo’s first task will be to find somewhere adequate to accommodate the lovely Dawnelle!“ and he chuckled at the newly-promoted Italian.

Slowly, a great grin spread across Carlo’s face and as Dawnelle gave a low moan of anguish, he nodded firmly, „I will make it my first priority, sir,“ he said, „Thanks to you, I know exactly what will be required,“ and the redhead trembled wildly, understanding that she was to return to Europe as the fully subjugated slave of two ruthless and demanding Masters.

„I am quite sure you do,“ Shimatsu replied, „Now, if you will gather round, my friends, there is much to talk about.“

As the men became engrossed in discussing the implications of Shimatsu’s announcement, the ignored slaves gazed miserably at each other.

None had ever expected to leave Shimatsu’s island and their experiences at the hands of his guests had made them wish they never would.

Soo Lin’s boyish figure and tight buttocks had swiftly become something of an obsession for Andrew Morrison and she feared his stinging crop with good reason, for now her bottom was to be available to him over an unspecified period of time.

Maxine and Melissa’s fears were different, but no less real.

Hamid bin Yussuf and his bodyguard, Ahmed had enjoyed the humiliation they had imposed on the blonde twins to such an extent that the scenario had been repeated twice more, each sister suffering the horrible indignity of submission to the giant dildo.

Once in his Palace, they had no doubt that he would indulge his scorn for the West by inventing even more ingenious and painful ways to humiliate them and demonstrate his absolute power to make them do anything he wished.

As for Dawnelle, she knew that her two Masters not only enjoyed punishing her, but felt that she had fully earned every stroke. It was not fair and after all the torment she had endured at their hands and the total, abject surrenders she had given, it was not, perhaps, even deserved. Not that that would make the slightest difference and Dawnelle knew that she could only carry on giving instant obedience and submission and pray for them to soften their attitudes towards her.

Forbidden to speak or even move, Dawnelle, Melissa, Soo Lin and Maxine faced their uncertain futures alone, coming to terms with their fate in whatever way they could and resigning themselves to an ongoing bondage each recognised she could not avoid.

With a last exchange of encouraging glances, each of the four straightened her spine to present her naked breasts and belly and thighs as beautifully as possible as the men’s discussion broke up and they strolled over to feast their eyes on the delicious curves of their captives.

For long moments, there was an appreciative silence as the men, dominant Masters all, enjoyed the perfection displayed before them, then Shimatsu raised his glass, „I give you a toast, gentlemen. To the continuing subjugation and enslavement of the lovely creatures who serve us so well!“

The glasses rose and as a chorus of agreement came from the group of men, all four slaves blushed with pride and pleasure at the compliment.

Slaves they might be and slaves they knew they would always remain, but they were women first.

Women who knew their own beauty and worth and understood how desirable they were to their Masters, their beauty only enhanced by their bondage and submission Above all, women who knew exactly what they were, knew the thrilling power of their own passions...and revelled in their submission to their true nature and desires.

Sisters in total and irrevocable slavery.

The End

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