The Collector

The Collector
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ISBN:  9781907753343
Author:  Sarah Steel
Word Count:  72,802
Format:  eBook



Bouquet of BambooBouquet of Bamboo
Correction SquadCorrection Squad
Spilt MilkSpilt Milk

'Not too fast. Punishment must not be rushed. Pace her pain so that both her body and mind can savour it slowly,' Dr Stikannos whispered. The wheelchair rattled as he inched his metal mask towards her whipped cheeks. 'Four more,' he pronounced. 'But slowly, my dear. The pleasure of pain is a feast. But it is a banquet,' he added darkly, 'that must be taken leisurely, by both the punisher and the punished.'

Lured into the lair of the cruel connoisseur Dr Stikannos to catalogue his priceless collection, Emily becomes subject to his perverse whims. Her submission ignites the jealous fury of his very personal assistant - and Emily's naked flesh suffers fresh stripes from Ursula's vengeful crop and cane.

A sale is arranged: Emily the star attraction - and the prospective bidders are invited to inspect and intimately examine the 'slave' each desire to possess. Forced to taste the bittersweet torments of domination and discipline, Emily struggles to escape the dark delights and exquisite agonies of her servitude.

'But I didn't. I don't even know what you mean.'
   'Letters,' Ursula repeated. 'Where have you hidden them?'
   Emily shrugged, throwing her hands out wide.
   'They were in the Louis XV ormolu escritoire,' Ursula insisted. Emily blinked uncomprehendingly.
   'The writing desk at which you compiled your catalogue notes.'
   'Yes,' Emily nodded, 'I know. It's one of a pair made in the Corderey workshops in Nantes.'
   'There were four letters penned by Voltaire to his mistress in that escritoire. Two are missing.'
   'But that's not fair,' Emily protested hotly. 'I didn't even know about them and I certainly—'
   'Knew the value of the two you stole. Come with me.'
   'Where are we—?'
   'Shut up and follow me.'
   Angry at the outrageous accusation and eager to clear the matter up, Emily strode after Ursula out of the mansion, across the cobblestone courtyard and into the converted gym.
   Chloe, dressed in a tight-fitting white vest and tiny, buttock-sculpting shorts, was already there, standing directly beneath a neon strip-light, her breasts firm within the vest. She was caressing the scuffed hide of a vaulting horse with her flattened, smoothing palm.
   Ursula closed - silently locking - the gym door, then strode past Emily and joined Chloe at the horse. For a fleeting moment their fingertips kissed across the swollen flank of dull leather.
   'Strip,' Ursula barked. 'I'm going to search you thoroughly.'
   Chloe grinned, patting the hide impatiently, her fingers drumming their eagerness for the feast of Emily's flesh. Emily shook her head and stepped back. Turning, she scampered to the door. Her hand grasped the handle and twisted it down, then shook it vigorously. It was a futile gesture. She glanced over her shoulder. Chloe's sneer was triumphant. Her fingers were still busy at the hide.
   'No,' Emily shouted, her shrill protest echoing eerily around the gym. 'You wouldn't bloody well dare...'
   'I'm waiting,' Ursula purred, her flattened palm now on top of Chloe's: fused into a single flesh, their splayed fingers palmed the leather rhythmically.
   'Look,' Emily blustered, rattling the door handle violently, 'there's been some dreadful mistake.'
   'Which you made when you stole those two valuable letters. Private sale, was it? Suppose so; you've got the contacts. Or,' the green eyes narrowed accusingly, 'were they for your private collection?'
   'Look, I didn't touch them—'
   'Strip! At once. Chloe,' Ursula snapped, 'assist her.'
   Chloe abandoned the vaulting horse with a resounding slap and paced swiftly across the polished wooden floor. Her pumps squeaked sharply beneath her purposeful stride. Emily shrank away from the locked door and, sidling, backed up against a set of wall bars. As Ursula joined the advancing Chloe stride for menacing stride, Emily rose up on her toes and crushed her soft buttocks into the smooth bars behind.
   They caught her and stilled her wriggling, in a cruel pincer of gripping talons.
   'Hold her,' Ursula hissed.
   'Got the bitch,' Chloe grunted, her raven hair tossing tempestuously as, thighs splayed, she grappled with her struggling captive.
   They pinioned Emily with brutal efficiency, forcing her arms up behind her back. They stripped her naked with cruel economy, leaving her top, leather miniskirt and panties in a puddle on the polished gym floor.
   'A natural blonde,' Chloe hissed, her fingertips straying briefly across the rasp of Emily's pubic nest.
   'Cut that out,' Ursula snarled, her green eyes flashing angrily. 'Give me a hand getting her across the horse.'
   Moments later, Emily was forced belly down across the apparatus, her naked breasts squashed and bulging into the harsh hide. The gym echoed to her ringing shrieks of protest. Chloe, pinioning Emily's wrists in a fierce grip, held her wriggling captive securely by dragging Emily's out in full stretch. Emily twisted and jerked as Ursula approached her from behind, standing between her splayed thighs.
   Emily squealed as a firm palm cracked down viciously, instantly reddening the swell of her right cheek.
   'Keep still, bitch. You are entirely at my mercy now and will suffer unless and until you confess to the theft.'
   'But I didn't,' Emily wailed.
   A second severe swipe of flesh upon flesh seared down across the writhing nude's upturned bottom. And then two more in swift succession.
   'Unless and until you confess to the theft and return the letters, understand?'
   Silence reigned for long seconds. Then Emily sobbed aloud.
   'Stop snivelling,' Ursula hissed, and four crisp spanks followed in a sharp staccato. The punished buttocks blazed beneath the onslaught.
   'No, stop, please - I didn't—'
   'Hold her down,' Ursula ordered. 'She needs a little persuasion.'
   Emily screwed her eyes tightly and squirmed against the leather, shivering as the departing footsteps paused then slowly returned towards the horse. What had Ursula meant by persuasion? What had she picked up from the table over by the far wall of the gym? Emily's mind was a whirlpool of torment. Into that anguish stole the sounds of Ursula's slow but certain tread. Unhurried, but utterly assured. Emily panicked, the full horror of her helplessness brutally vivid. She was bare-bottomed across the vaulting horse. Bare-bottomed, pinioned and helpless before her cruel tormentor. A cruel, closely cropped tormentor whose green eyes had flashed jealousy - and jealously - at Emily since her arrival. A cruel, green-eyed tormentor who was now gripping an instrument of persuasion; an instrument of persuasion designed and destined to bring pain to Emily's naked cheeks.
   Ursula's voice was calm. Calm and reasonable. It betrayed nothing of her devilish intent. 'Can you tell me what this is?' she inquired politely.
   Emily felt the cool kiss of dimpled latex alight upon her left cheek.
   'Hmm?' The dimpled latex depressed the curved buttock beneath its weight.
   'N-no,' Emily whispered uncertainly, her lips mumbling into the hide, her tongue-tip shrinking from its feral tang.
   Ursula depressed the table tennis bat more firmly, almost flattening the ripe swell of the naked buttock beneath. 'Oh, come along now,' she bantered, cajoling her victim teasingly. 'Have a guess.'
   'I don't know.'
   'Then I'd better tell you, mm? It's a table tennis bat.'
   Emily groaned.
   'It has a beautiful, red rubber surface. I am going to beat your bare bottom, bitch, until your cheeks are as red as the rubber. Hold her,' Ursula warned, swiftly raising the bat aloft.
   Emily squeezed her cheeks, tightening the rounded hillocks of naked flesh in an automatic reflex against the imminent pain. Ursula snarled, and keeping the cruel bat aloft above the bunched buttocks below, forced the tip of her left thumb down into Emily's cleft. Cupping the outer curve of the cheek with her fingers, she slowly squeezed. The swollen flesh in her grasp whitened where the fingertips dug deeply.
   Despite the pain, Emily did not obey.
   'I said open up, bitch. I want your bottom big and round for the bat. Unclench your cheeks this instant.'
   Sinking her belly and upper thighs into the horse across which her nakedness was stretched, Emily loosened her muscles, unclenching her cheeks as instructed. She whimpered aloud as she felt Ursula's thumb bullying her sphincter; dominantly worrying the wet pink of her puckering anal whorl.
   'That's better.' The thumb stroked the anus with a savage tenderness, dragging the hot flesh from side to side. 'You'll find that obedience is best.'
   The words chilled Emily's heated brain - but it was Chloe's cruel laugh that froze her heart behind her ribcage. For a split second, Emily forgot about the bat.
   Crack! Crack! The bat splatted down twice in vicious succession, blistering her bare bottom. The dimpled latex left twin crimson blotches across the curves of each quivering dome. Emily howled as she writhed, wriggling and struggling frenziedly in a frantic bid for freedom. At the end of her painfully outstretched arms, she felt Chloe's grip tighten at each captive wrist.
   Crack! Crack!
   Emily yelped as four scarlet flashes exploded: two behind her eyes, two upon her helpless cheeks.
   Crack! A single, searing swipe. Emily's stubby nipples rasped the leather horse.
   'Ready to confess?' Ursula murmured.
   Emily moaned deeply as her tormentor plied the surface of the bat across the crowns of her scalded cheeks, smoothing the buttocks she had just blistered.
   'I didn't steal,' Emily whispered, tossing her golden mane free from her tear-jewelled eyes. 'I swear I didn't.'
   'Silence,' Ursula barked. 'Silence until you wish to confess. I'll have no more lies.' She cracked the bat down harshly, twice, once across each shiny-sore cheek. 'You've had your chance, bitch. You chose not to do so. And now you must suffer the consequences.'
   Chloe giggled, a perverse squeal of dark joy.
   Crack! Crack! Two more withering swipes of the red rubber-skinned bat barked out as the dimpled latex savaged the naked bottom of the helpless, outstretched nude. Twisting and jerking in her pain and shame, Emily ground her belly and breasts into the hard hide. To her alarm, dismay and shocked confusion, her labial lips rode the leather, lubricated by the juice weeping from her hot slit.
   Crack! Crack! Emily bubbled and grunted as her liquid heat popped silently, soaking her inner thighs.
   'I'm waiting.' Ursula whispered the words, then deftly flicked her wrist to angle the thin edge of the bat down between the punished cheeks. Emily moaned.
   'So, do you wish to speak? Speak, and confess?'
   Ursula forced the edge of the bat down into her victim's cleft.
   Bending her face down closer, as if to inspect her handiwork, Ursula narrowed her eyes into fierce slits of concentration. She plied the bat with subtlety, raking it firmly between Emily's hot cheeks. A second silver bubble winked at the dark lips of Emily's pouting pussy as the thin edge of the bat ravished her sensitive cleft. Ursula paused, withdrew the bat a fraction and rested it face down upon the reddened left buttock, and instantly jabbed the bubble of liquid arousal with her right thumb. It shivered and burst, soaking the scuffed hide of the horse below, the wet stain as dark as velvet.
   'More,' Chloe shrilled, her cruel lust tightening her throat, giving her words a strangled excitement. 'Give her more.'
   'Yes, she needs further persuasion,' Ursula nodded, weighing her words carefully as she now weighed the rubber-sleeved bat upon her upturned palm. 'Further persuasion.'
   Emily tensed, her twin cheeks suddenly moulded into rounded hillocks of firm, fearful expectation. Squeezing her eyes shut, she nuzzled the pungent hide of the vaulting horse.
   Then the curt tones of Dr Stikannos broke the silence of the gym. Emily opened her eyes in surprise. She had not heard the key in the door behind her. Or heard the door open. Had not heard the wheelchair's creak.
   'I need to speak with you. In my study, please.'
   Emily strained, twisting her face upwards a fraction. She saw the speaker box; an internal intercom system. The man in the metal mask was still behind his desk in the study where she had left him. He was summoning Ursula to his side.
   'Tie her hands tightly and bring her along to the study. He'll want to question her,' Ursula instructed, lowering the bat once more and squashing the punished buttocks dominantly.
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Not for the faint-hearted!
Tuesday, 5 January 2010  | 

Not for the faint-hearted! This authoress deftly sketches darkly erotic images on every page. The story perches provocatively on the periphery of misogynism, saved only by the heroine's reluctant willingness to enter into the sexual servitude of the enigmatic art collector. In the eccentric world of SM and bondage, Sarah Steel takes us deeper into the chimerical realms of fetishism. Details are meticulously described and no nook or cranny is left unexplained in this tale of domination and subjugation; of slave and slave master. This is pure, unadulterated, escapist fantasy!

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