Amity's Stories
Slave Camp - An Illustrated Femdom Fantasy - Part 3
©2000-2008 All Rights Reserved
Chapter Three
While Brad and I sipped wine and chatted, I fingered the crops, canes and whips that had been supplied for my pleasure as our discussion ranged several topics including what my boys' schedules would be in the morning. The good thing was that their bathing, eating and exercise would be accomplished early and I wouldn't be bothered with any of those chores. What they had learned, Brad elucidated, was that boys learned quicker and deeper when they were a little off-balance. Not having me around would facilitate their getting to know their various trainers better. I think that was his nice way of saying that I might be a distraction.
Whatever the reason, I was happy to know that I could sleep late and Luke would be there to bathe and dress me.
When I wear leather, I tend to get the need quickly and more intensely. My breasts were almost aching to play and I knew my erect nipples were trying to peek out of the tight leather bustier. I probably don't have to explain that my panties were no longer providing any useful purpose. Perhaps that's why I simply stood up and removed them. Brad smiled appreciatively.
"I like the feel of leather against my skin," I offered to his elongated grin.
His face softened and his eyes dropped just a bit. I almost missed it, but managed to catch the submissive posture even before he realized that he had done it. There was just one little thing I needed to do to prove it.
"Strip," I ordered and watched to see his reaction.
"Yes Ma'am," was all he said. I loved having submissives, especially camp directors, perform on-the-spot strip teases for me when I feel like seeing one.
Once
he was naked, he was mine.
"May I watch you in action, Ma'am?" he asked deferentially. Before I had a chance to reply, he continued sheepishly, "I've heard so much about you, and your boys and your lifestyle. I'd consider it an honor to watch you work."
With that, he dropped to his knees in front of my chair and bent his chin to his chest. I was touched.
Another 'what-the-heck' ran through my brain and my mouth answered, "Just don't get in my way," I smiled. "You don't want to know what will happen if you do!"
It was a safe statement that I was more amused than he.
Crawling
quickly to a corner, he turned to face the center of the room and knelt
in total silence.
"Where's my first boy?" I called loudly enough for the slave outside to hear. Without a moment's hesitation, the door opened to reveal my slave offering the boy's chain to me. I like them roped and ready.
"Ma'am, shall I latch him for you?" the slave asked.
"Of course," I replied, "but make sure he doesn't have too much room to move around."
The den in my cabin wasn't large, but it was furnished artfully, considering what activities I had in mind. There was plenty of floor space and at least 3 bolts I could see. One was in the center of the ceiling; the second in a corner on the floor, and the third centrally located on the main wall. I had never yet met the pain slut who didn't try to run at least once.
I
pointed to the ceiling and my slave hopped up on a chair to lock the chain
into the bolt. With the neck and wrist contraption holding him securely,
I wanted the chain tightened to make sure he had limited flexibility of
movement. I'm pretty careful with a whip and that entails making sure
the boy doesn't move around a lot.
"Tighten it," I admonished him and he raised it a few links.
Without a word, I threw the whip carefully across the slave's ass and watched the squirming and attempted scampering I expected.
"TIGHTER!" I spewed at him. The need was getting to me and overwhelming me with its voracity.
He yanked the chain through the bolt with his full weight and secured it in place. My pain slut wasn't going anywhere and I could feel the need grow up my legs. They claimed he was one of the best - and I was about to challenge their training. I enjoy the hunt.
"Name!" I called.
"Ben, Ma'am," my slave replied clearly.
I can't play with a sub unless I know his name. If I like the name, I use it; if I don't, I give him another that I like better.
Striding toward the immobile Ben, I brought my face close to his and whispered into his ear.
"You're mine," I hissed. My juices were flowing, literally and figuratively.
Although he was trained better than to react fearfully, I watched for - and saw - a tiny tremble in his upper lip. I stepped away, measuring the distance with each stride.
"Hand me that thick cane," I instructed and my slave hopped from the chair to select it for me. "Let's see what he's made of," I challenged rather loudly.
Something comes over me when I'm at the precipice of play. It's like I lose myself inside myself and find myself - all at the same time. It's not me, but it is me. The hand with the whip or cane or crop is mine, even though it seems like it belongs to someone else. The motion takes over, the need engulfs. I cross a magical line when I have a fine rattan cane in my hand.
There is an art to caning and I illustrated it on Ben's strong ass, thighs and shoulders. I barely raised welts in the beginning, but I moved to stronger and more forceful strokes as the joyful song sang in my head. If Ben were silent or screaming, I wouldn't have heard because all I wanted to see was his ass redden and welt for me. All I could envision was the totality of the strokes, where the sum is certainly greater than the parts.
Without thinking or speaking, I handed the cane to my slave and waited for another. It didn't matter which he chose because I knew that it would be the one I needed at that moment. Within seconds, I wrapped my fingers around the handle of a long whip, whose knotted leather straps were eager to meet the flesh of my victim.
"Dance
for my whip," I instructed and watched Ben swing his hips in a circle
to provide me a moving target. He was good and I wanted to find out exactly
how good he could be. I swung up from the bottom and the crack against
the bottom of his ass filled the room.
I heard him yelp.
Throwing my eyes toward Brad, still kneeling silently and watching the hunt, I saw his gaze widen and his lower lip drop slightly. His visceral reaction might have been fear, or even awe. The funny thing was that it didn't matter to me.
Turning
back to my pretty prey, I circled the whip loudly over my head and allowed
droplets of pain to greet his back and shoulders, then side-to-side, up
from the bottom and once again at the top. He was jumping to the rhythm
I selected and desperately darting from my whip with no hope of escape.
"Tighter! HIGHER!" I fairly screamed at my slave.
Hopping once again onto the chair, he struggled with the chain until Ben's toes barely touched the ground. There's nothing like a suspended sub meeting my whip.
"Use your weight," I dictated, "all of it. If his feet touch flat on the ground, then he'll be holding YOUR chain." I had the need and nothing was going to get in my way.
I think there is nothing more exciting than a suspended ass that is dancing under my whip.
I returned my attention to Brad. "Get me that single tail," I ordered and he hopped up to retrieve the item. Rubbing the leather against my neck and chest, I allowed the tip to sink into my bustier.
Another 'what-the-heck' rampaged through my mind.
"Open
your mouth," I ordered and Brad's lower jaw dropped immediately.
"Now suck until I tell you to stop!" I commanded in a voice
that left no room for hesitation. He crouched to my side and sucked my
breast along with the tip of the whip. "Just don't get in my way,"
I hissed at him and raised the whip high.
Throwing a single tail is an art form at which I have worked hard. Diligence and practice are the cornerstones of this skill and no amount of watching or thinking will improve your ability. I had successfully walloped at least 50 pillows and several tree branches before my mentor would turn me loose on a real body. The results of all that practice were now in my left hand as my breast was in Brad's mouth.
I took two practice swings before unleashing the evil monster onto Ben's well-used ass. The third swing rang true.
I heard him scream. It was another of the joyful noises he would make during my three-day stay.
After a few more great throws, I sat down and dragged Brad by the hair so his mouth would stay in place on my breast. With an offhand comment, I told the slave to lower Ben, take him outside and see to any welts that needed attention. When I'm done with a toy, I want him taken care of, but playing wears me out, too.
I needed a cold drink.
"Diet coke," I said aloud and nestled back in the chair, not knowing or caring who would fetch it because I knew that one of them would.