The Marquis' Book of Pleasure & Property of the Marquis

Chapter 8

In time, Jason broadened his target, aiming lower to the base of her ass and the tender back of her thighs. With such abuse, Laney crawled into the corner of her soul feeling beaten but not vanquished, feeling burned but not consumed.

When Jason stopped, his erection was at her p***y’s door, thrusting meanly to get off. The act was swift and certain, and Laney’s response not unexpected. He tripped her climax before his shot off inside her. When he was finished, he pulled her back, her scorched ass resting on her heels, and made her lick the remains of his c*m from the head of his dwindling erection. They’d never been intimate, but now his s****l use of her seemed as normal as any odd act in this odd place.

“Now, get back on the floor,” he ordered. Turning to Erik, he added with a wry twist, “Your slave knows what she wants, she climaxed.”

“Perhaps those who fear the most have the most desire to burn off,” Erik suggested. “Shall we attend to the other two?”

“Creatively,” Matthew said, moving to the waiting Sandra and clamping her collar with a leash. He tugged her toward one of the alcoves fitted with both O-rings and an empty pedestal. Thrusting her belly down over the marble post, he then wrapped her hands with rope and affixed both wrists and ankles to a pair of bolts. Moving to Elise, he dragged her toward another alcove and bound her over a pedestal in the same fashion. Finally, pulling Laney along, she too was bowed over marble, tied in position. “I think these postures might mimic what old Barth might have done,” he said, observing his artful handiwork. “They’re locked secure this way, ready to be whipped or spanked or otherwise generally abused. What do you think?” He turned to his friends.

“I think our minds are becoming as devious as our hosts’,” Erik suggested. He took a paddle from the trunk and strut from bared ass to bared ass whacking each one until it was hotly colored. Even Laney’s ass took more abuse. Matthew followed with a riding crop, repeating the same rough treatment, and Jason added a few smart smacks of his leather spanker to Sandra and Elise’s roughed up behinds. Before they were finished, Matthew exploded his c*m over Sandra’s spanked behind, and Elise, untied and pulled from the pedestal, took Erik’s erection into her mouth, sucking until the orgasm thundered through him and his c*m spilled down her mouth and chin.

Resting from their tiring labor, the three men washed a few pretzels down with beer and finally untied their slaves, bringing them back to the fireplace on leashes.

In that remarkable hour, the nature of their stay on Marquis Island was written. No one had disagreed, there was not one protest—not even the thought of one passed through their minds. The transformation was complete, but eerie, even dreamlike, as though they were all the puppets of an unseen master who, with sleight of hand and wily schemes, directed their unspeakable acts.

Three slaves slept at the footboards of their master’s bed that night, contentedly, while in the minds of the men who relished the comfort of real mattresses, more wicked thoughts of domination appeared in their minds. They woke startled by what their dreams had to tell.