Star Slave

Star Slave
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ISBN:  9781780800165
Author:  Nicole Dere
Word Count:  70,224
Format:  eBook

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Chain of CommandChain of Command
Prisoners of PassionPrisoners of Passion
A Desirable PropertyA Desirable Property

'Stay there! Don't look.'
   She obeyed and felt his arms move around her, and then swing her round so that she faced the bed. He was still behind her. She realised he was naked.
   He positioned her on the bed, kneeling, facing the pillows, her punished bottom raised high. She braced herself, inched her thighs apart as she felt a hand squeeze between them, searching for the soft lips of her sex. But, instead, the fingers were probing the valley of her bottom. She gasped at the cold oiliness of the cream he was smearing there, and at the invasive finger that pressed into the tight and tiny fissure deep in the cleft.

For Felicity Keynes, discovery of her bisexuality is a shock, when real life mirrors the role she plays on camera with beautiful star, Stella Priest.

But their relationship pales into insignificance when, at the luxurious home of elderly rake, Lord Burnopside, Felicity falls under the spell of the alluringly mysterious Magda, head of a coterie of attractive girls residing at the hall.

After a series of tests, Felicity is admitted to the exclusive and secret society of the Whores of Babylon. Blindfolded, stripped, punished, Felicity discovers in the unique coupling with Grand Mistress Magda that pleasure and pain are inextricably woven strands of a shattering fulfilment.

'I'll take her up, your lordship,' Magda said, and Lord B nodded. Sobbing pitifully now, the naked figure slipped off the low table. 'We'll use the Green Room,' Magda announced, then crooked her finger at Felicity. 'Come on, sugar.'
   Felicity glanced around, all the old inhibitions of modesty sweeping back at the awareness of her nudity before all these people. 'You won't need any clothes,' Magda added, with her deep, sensual chuckle. Head down, Felicity walked quickly over to her, terribly conscious of every staring eye.
   Outside the library the tears increased. Magda held her by the hand and led her up the wide sweep of the staircase and along a discreetly lit, thickly carpeted landing. 'What's going to happen?' Felicity asked.
   In the impressive Green Room Magda nodded towards the four-poster bed, with its heavy drapes gathered in bunches about the pillars. 'On you get, sweetheart.' Felicity's head was spinning. Was it simply going to end with her and Magda making love in these august surroundings? Was her public ordeal over already? She had not expected to be let off so lightly, and Magda's next move suggested she was right in her caution.
   'Spread yourself on your back, honey,' she ordered. 'Arms and legs out wide. That's it.'
   A blush invaded Felicity's face at the exposed vulnerability of her position. Tasselled velvet cords hung from each post, and Magda used them to secure Felicity's wrists and ankles, pinning her spread-eagled.
   'What's going to happen?' she pleaded, afraid again now.
   Magda sat beside her on the edge of the high bed and, reaching down, wiped her wet cheeks carefully, then let her large hand cup in a loving caress that lovely face. 'You agreed that you'd be mine, baby, didn't you?' Magda reasoned gently. 'That you belong to me. You said so. You swore you'd do anything for me - didn't you?'
   'Yes,' Felicity murmured, pouting like a reluctant child. 'Didn't you mean it?'
   'Yes.' Again came that small whisper of confession.
   'Because if you didn't, tell me now and I'll let you go. I mean it. You can have a ride back to London and there'll be no hard feelings - no recriminations... okay?'
   'Nuh - no!' Felicity blurted desperately. A sob shook her breasts, which were lifted and flattened against her ribcage by her position. The peaked nipples quivered. 'It's just - I'm scared, Magda. You - you won't hurt me, will you?' She thought of the whippings this fascinating woman had delivered; the agony of them, so different from the squirming spankings of their love play. They had not been many, these more serious chastisements, but they still frightened Felicity. Not least because of her own ambivalent feelings towards them; that shameful masochistic frisson of pleasure they gave her, the thought of surrender, and the burning proof of her love for this wonderful creature. And she thought too of that strange episode in the wood, and those three quite vicious cuts Lord B had given her with the riding-crop; so vicious that even though they'd been delivered through the thickness of her breeches and underwear, the angry red lines had marked her bottom for days afterwards.
   When she was away from Burnopside, away from his lordship and her beloved Magda, this new side of her character unsettled her immensely. What was it that made her go to them so willingly, to embrace pain - real pain - in her desire to be loved by them? Would she become addicted to pain the way people became addicted to drink or drugs? Is that what they wanted of her, with their tests and talks of obedience, and dictatorial use of her body?
   'Whatever happens, happens because we love you,' the compelling voice went on. 'You believe that, don't you?'
   Felicity registered the 'we', not 'I'. Who was that 'we'?
   Magda and Lord Burnopside?
   Magda and the girls?
   Everyone in this enchanted world?
   'Yes,' she whispered. 'I believe you.'
   'Good.' Magda knelt, the rustling silk of her gown spreading about her. Her long black hair swept against her shoulders as her head dipped, her face came close, and they kissed, a long slow kiss of passion, until Felicity was writhing instinctively, straining against the bonds. Magda's warm hand nestled between Felicity's sprawled thighs, cupped the mound with its soft fleece, pressed on the throbbing wetness, then moved away, and Felicity's body shook in another sob of hunger and frustration.
   'Sorry, my love. I know you're ready to blow your top, but I've got to keep you on the boil. That's part of the test.' She kissed the parted lips again, more gently and briefly this time, before withdrawing a little. 'Don't worry. Your time will come, as they say.' Again, the rich rumble of laughter.
   Felicity felt her head being raised. A black velvet eye mask was slipped over her head and adjusted, sealing her in all-embracing darkness. Her heart thudded. She murmured in protest, and felt the springs dip and rise as Magda climbed off the bed.
   'Be good,' the voice whispered, fading towards the door. 'I know you will be.' There was one last chuckle, and then Felicity heard a soft click as the door closed.
   'Magda!' she called sharply, but she knew she was alone.
   She lay there, tied on her back, limbs stretched apart, staring up into the impenetrable blackness. She had never felt more helpless, Or more vulnerable. She was deeply afraid. But she could not ignore it; she was fiercely roused. Her whole body, every fibre of her, quivered for satisfaction. She felt the tug of the velvet cords as she tried instinctively to draw in her limbs, to close her legs, to bring her hands down to touch the centre of her need, the maddening pulse of sexual hunger at her loins. God, this was cruel! She ached with the need to caress herself, to bring the relief her screaming nerves demanded. She began to sob, her body tom by convulsive shudders of grief.
   It was a long while before the fit passed. She realised she was cold, despite the heating from the old and inefficient radiators in the room. The cords didn't chafe as long as she lay still. Would they leave her there all night?
   Her mind drifted.
   She tried to conjure up the faces of those downstairs. She tried to recall previous Christmases.
   This was undoubtedly the strangest Christmas Eve she had spent in her entire life; tied naked and blindfolded on a bed in a lord's castle. It was the hot stuff of a teenager's fantasies. Except that no one was there to make her fantasies come true.
   She didn't know whether she had actually slept, but suddenly she was jerked to full awareness, straining her ears. There had been a noise. The door opening? She thought she could sense someone's presence. 'Magda?' she whispered. 'Is that you? Who's there?' She waited, there was a creak, she thought she could hear a soft rustle, like cloth moving. 'Who's there?' she called again, beginning to panic. 'Who are you?'
   She whimpered as a cold hand grabbed suddenly at her breast, crushing, squeezing, the thumb brushing against the tender nipple. A man, surely? Another clammy hand seized her other breast, equally brutally, and she gasped in shock as much as pain. Then a naked body was on her, covering her, and a searching slobbering mouth sealed hers, smothering the scream in her throat. A hand scrabbled at her belly, prised open her labia, a finger prodded into her, to the wet sheath of her vagina. Other fingers opened her and brushed across her clitoris. They rubbed until she involuntarily lifted her hips, gasping under the smothering weight and kiss.
   'Who is this?' she wept impotently when she could again speak. She felt the tears soaking into the velvet of the mask. 'Please,' she sobbed, quieter now, wilting under the onslaught. She could feel an erection resting on her belly, and then the stranger's hips lifting as he clumsily sought to enter her. 'Untie me,' she begged. 'It'll be easier...'
   She cried out at the sharp penetration, the sudden plunge deep into her clinging sheath. She groaned shamefully, knowing she was already roused to her former excitement.
   She fought instinctively to raise her legs, to wrap them around the lunging figure on top of her. She knew she was coming, arched her back, and screamed aloud, her cry dying to a long wail as the orgasm raged through her.

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Thursday, 14 July 2016  | 

Something for most tastes.


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