Slave Of The Aristocracy: A Gentlemen's Agreement Part 17

She was exhausted and wanted to sag in the frame, but she couldn't tolerate any more strain on her shoulders so she swayed a little in place and forced herself to stay conscious.

The occasional gentleman wandered by and fondled a t.i.t or squeezed her a.s.s.

She could only endure whatever was done to her until the room finally cleared and she was released.

"Get in here and get licking."

Irene stood in the doorway and shook her head. "No. Lord Snow has given me orders not to do that any more."

Nickel's face flushed red. "I don't give a f.u.c.k. You're going to get down on your knees and you're going to eat out my c.u.n.t like a pro or you're going to feel my strap."

Irene walked away.

Nickel caught up with her in the kitchen.

All the slaves were sitting around the table, chatting.

"Irene just earned a p.u.s.s.y whipping," Nickel said. "Put her on the table and spread her legs."

The slaves stared at Nickel in shock. They knew that Irene was Lord Snow's favorite. They couldn't imagine that he would sanction her being strapped.

"You heard me," Nickel said. "You do as I say or every single one of you will get your own p.u.s.s.y whipped for disobedience."

That, they believed. Peach moved first. She tapped Apple and said, "Help me get her ladyship up here or you'll take her place."

Apple helped Peach grab Irene by the arms and drag her onto the table.

Irene didn't help, but she didn't resist either. Fighting with the other slaves wouldn't do any of them any good.

"Lime, grab her ankle," Nickel said. "Cherry, get her other one."

Now that Irene was on the table, the other slaves took their usual places when one of their number was to be punished.

Lime and Tamarind were on one ankle, pulling that leg wide and Apple and Cherry were pulling the other in the other direction. Peach was holding her hands above her head, grinning down at her. Peach had been looking forward to seeing the ex-lady get her c.u.n.t beaten since the first day she'd arrived in the kennel.

Nickel took her place beside her waist and told the other slaves, "For obstinately refusing to obey a direct order, this piece of property has earned severe discipline."

Nickel unfastened her strap from her corset and raised it high.

Irene flinched in antic.i.p.ation of the approaching pain and tried to close her legs. She wasn't trying to fight against the slaves that were holding her; it was purely an involuntary reflex.

The slaves expected the reaction and held her tightly.

The strap snapped hard down the length of Irene's v.u.l.v.a.

The pain was instant. It was the most intense pain that she had ever felt from a strap. It hurt more than the cuts to her a.s.s that a former owner had inflicted with a cane.

She howled and thrashed.

And the strap struck again.

And again.

Nickel didn't bother pausing between strokes. It was the acc.u.mulation of damage that was going to cause the greater suffering so she piled on the punishment.

As Irene's c.l.i.t suffered damage and swelled, it peeked out from beneath its protective hood and took the full force of the blows. As her outer lips puffed and stiffened, they separated so that her inner lips were exposed to the force of the strap.

Nickel kept laying the heavy leather down with expert precision.

Irene howled until her voice was hoa.r.s.e.

Tamarind broke away and fled the room but the other slaves held their places.

Vessels burst and blood began to acc.u.mulate on the strap.

The other slaves wilted in horror as they realized that Nickel wasn't going to stop until Irene had been permanently damaged. She intended to render Irene unusable for service ever again. But they kept their grip on Irene for fear that they would suffer the same fate.

Peach lost her grin and had to avert her face.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on here?" Lord Snow bellowed.

Nickel paused in mid-stroke. "This slave refused a direct order. I am administering the requisite discipline as you authorized."

Lord Snow looked at Irene's crotch in horror. Then his voice fell low. "Did I authorize you to destroy my property?"

Nickel looked defiant. "Maintaining property requires correction. Extreme disobedience requires extreme correction."

"And what order did Irene disobey?"

"She refused to provide service. That is the most critical function of any pleasure slave. To provide service as required."

"Service to you?"

"Service to anyone who requires it."

"Service to any person. Property cannot require service."

"Slaves can be required to practice giving service so that they are prepared for whatever is needed."

"I'm not arguing with a piece of property. Get to your cell." He turned to Tamarind who had followed him into the kennel. "Lock her door."

The other slaves released Irene and backed away, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Irene crossed her arms to hold herself and closed her legs as much as possible without putting pressure on her brutalized c.u.n.t. She whimpered piteously.

Before Nickel left the room, Lord Snow said, "Wait. Leave your strap and corset here. You'll not wear them again."

Nickel let her bloodstained strap and spattered corset drop to the floor and left the room naked. She was no longer whiphand.

Lord Snow looked again at Irene who was quivering in agony. "Don't try to move her," he told the other slaves. "I'll be back."

He left the kennel.

He returned a few minutes later and sat at Irene's head and dabbed at her face with a cool, damp cloth. "You're going to be all right," he said. "We can all be grateful to Tamarind for fetching me in time."

Shortly afterward, a kennelman arrived with a medical kit. He sat between Irene's still spread thighs and began probing delicately. "There's considerable damage," he said to Lord Snow. "But it'll heal. I don't think there'll be too much scarring."

"Nerve damage?" Lord Snow asked.

"We won't know until it heals, but I think she'll still be able to provide service."

"Will she enjoy it?"

The kennelman tried to hide his contempt when he looked at Lord Snow. "I don't know if a slave ever enjoys it."

Irene forced out the tear-drenched words: "I do."

The kennelman shrugged.

"Give her something for the pain," Lord Snow said.

"I'm sorry. I don't have anything. Kennelmen are prohibited from ever bringing pain relievers into a kennel."

When he finished st.i.tching a tear in one of Irene's outer l.a.b.i.a and bandaging her v.u.l.v.a, the other slaves helped her get off the table. It was too painful for her to close her legs so she had to waddle.

Lord Snow told them to take her to the bed in the pleasure room and then left her in their care.

An hour later he came back with a bottle of pills and ordered Irene to take two.

She fell into an insensible sleep.

She never knew that he remained by her side until dinnertime.

Two days later, Irene was sitting in the kitchen alone after breakfast. The other slaves were in their cells, cleaning up and preparing for the day.

Tamarind finished first. She came in and sat down.

"I never had a chance to thank you for saving me," Irene said. "If you hadn't told Lord Snow how badly I was being beaten, I think Nickel might have kept strapping me until my c.u.n.t was completely destroyed."

Tamarind shrugged. "We have to watch out for each other. There's n.o.body else who cares what happens to us." She smiled a little. "Of course, mostly, I was helping Lord Snow protect his property. If I'd let Nickel continue, you would have lost your value."

"We have to do what we can to ensure that our owners get a good return on their investment," Irene said. "Anyway, I want you to know how grateful I am."

"You know that Lord Snow doesn't think of you as property like the rest of us."

"I know. He remembers when I was a lady inviting him to our manor for dinner parties. It's a d.a.m.n shame that he won't let me service him. I really need to feel a man inside me. This celibacy thing is horrible."

Tamarind laughed. "Poor you."

Irene laughed with her. "I know. I want to have my c.o.c.k and eat it, too. A girl's got to dream."

"You're better off not being used while your p.u.s.s.y is still sore."

"I'd tolerate the pain with good cheer if I were getting laid."

"You must be desperate."

Irene nodded. "Desperate is the word."

"We're all desperate for something," Cherry said, coming back from her cell.

"I'm desperate for ice cream," Lime said, following her. "I haven't tasted ice cream since I was pressed into slavery. I love ice cream."

"I never tasted ice cream we couldn't afford it so I don't miss it. I guess I'm lucky that way." Cherry said.

Irene said nothing, but she made a mental note to provide ice cream as a reward in an upcoming entertainment.

Peach and Apple joined them and they discussed mundane matters until Lord Snow escorted two hard-looking men into the kennel. They were dressed in rough work clothes cheap and serviceable.

The slaves watched as Lord Snow showed the men to Nickel's cell.

Peach whispered, "Brothel owners."

They could hear the discussion. There was no negotiation. One of the men said, "Ten thousand plaqs," and Lord Snow said, "Done."

Nickel was taken from the kennel naked, leashed with her hands cuffed behind her back. The heavy chain about her neck was not merely symbolic. It was strong enough to restrain a tiger if necessary.

Nickel was no tiger. She hung her head so that her lank, greasy hair curtained her face but it wasn't enough to conceal her defeat. Everyone could see that her pallor was chalk white between her matted locks.

She looked like a person on her way to the gallows.

"The function of a pleasure slave is to provide service to any man who wants it," Peach called to her.

She flinched.

"Keep count," Tamarind said to her. "I bet you service more than ten thousand c.o.c.ks before you get sold to labor."

Irene could swear that she saw a tear trickle from Nickel's eye before she turned away.

She would never see or hear of Nickel again. Probably her new owners changed her name to something more alluring before they put her to work.

When the slaves were alone again, Peach said, "I've seen them before. They own the Lucky Rooster brothel down on the Seawall. Strictly a quick in-and-out for sailors off the freighters. She'll consider it an easy day if she has to suck only two-dozen c.o.c.ks."

Cherry smiled. "They'll get their money's worth out of her many times over, and then they'll sell her on the labor market."

Lime nodded. "A pleasure slave never returns to a manor after brothel service. Never."