Bound for the Future · Part 2 (2/2)
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id to the sand at her feet. It was all uncannily real, right down to the sweat trickling from her armpits. She could feel the men's hungry gaze devouring her fair-skinned body. Even the trainer seemed impressed.
His evil look when he traced the outline of her tits with the flagellum was truly frightening. Going around behind Barbara, he took his aim and distance. She felt the rush of air from this practice swings over her shoulder. The sensation made her shiver.
She'd had her share of playful whippings, but she had a feeling this was going to be different. Different was hardly the word. When he laid into her with the flagellum, slashing down across her shoulders with it full force, it felt like a buzzsaw. A startled shriek was torn from her lips.
Obviously, this whipping was not intended to amuse her. The next stroke, a little further down, was even harder, burning into her skin like a hot iron. Barbara thrashed and writhed in her bonds, which only tightened as a result. Tears welled out of her eyes and poured down her cheeks while the flagellum struck with savage accuracy, scorching each cheek of her ass in turn. Over her own piteous wailing, she heard the gladiators' cruel laughter. Clearly, they were enjoying her pain and humiliation. And, weirdly enough, so was she.
Barbara could not deny that she was growing wet between the legs, even as the merciless flagellum raised its thick, red-flecked weals up and down the back of her whole body. It was all so convincing, Barbara couldn't believe it was only happening in her mind. The next development seemed even more real. With a slice of his short sword, the trainer severed the thongs holding Barbara between the post.
She collapsed in a sobbing, naked heap, only to be set upon by the gladiators and dragged over to some stakes pounded into the ground. There, she was tied out flat on her raw, throbbing back on the hard ground, spread-eagled between the pegs.
It wasn't hard to imagine what, and who, would be coming next. Sure enough, one by one the gladiators began stripping off their gear and lining up. It was astonishing how true to life the sensations were, the weight of their bodies on hers, the smell of their sweat in her nostrils, the throbbing of their cocks inside her, even the spurting of their juices into her well-lubricated depths. It was all so literal, she was hardly aware of the subsonic vibration working away at her through the clit pads, producing wave after wave of seismic orgasms, each neatly timed to coincide with that of the simulated gladiator riding her at that moment. When they were done, they all stood around her, laughing, taking aim with the cocks that had so recently been inside her. She felt the streams of hot, acrid liquid spattering her nakedness, making her splutter as she tried to keep it out of her mouth.
And then it was all over. Total blackness again. To her amazement, Barbara could feel no residual effects whatever.
By rights, her whipped back should be agonizingly sore but, in fact, she felt perfectly fine, if a little winded. Fortunately, her next destination was a bit more relaxing.
When the screens popped on again, Barbara was in a dimly lit seraglio, all furnished in Moorish damasks and Turkish carpets.
She could smell incense and somewhere in the distance she heard the strange, nasal whine of a desert flute. But, more immediately, she was aware of girlish giggling all around her. Barbara was completely surrounded by a flock of the prettiest girls she had ever seen. Most of the them were olive-skinned with dark hair and dark eyes, marking them as daughters of the desert, but there was a fair scattering of blondes and redheads in the harem, testimony to the vast wealth and appetites of the sheik who owned them all, body and soul.
The girls' charms were much on display in their abbreviated costumes, which consisted of short, sleeveless jackets cut to just below the bosom, with a convenient absence of any buttons to hold them shut, and sheer, diaphanous pantaloons, slit up the legs and completely open in the center to reveal the fact that all were completely shaved between the legs. Barbara could truly appreciate this view from her position, which was flat on her back on a low bed, to the corners of which she had been tied down with silk scarves. She was already completely naked.
Glancing down at herself, she could see that she had been shaved like the other girls, one of whom, a voluptuous levantine beauty with a gold ring through the septum of her nose, sat on the bed next to her, pouring scented oil into her hand from a colored glass urn.
Slowly, skillfully, the woman anointed Barbara's body with the oil, starting at the collarbones and working her way down in lazy, circular strokes.
Her touch was perfect, firm but delicate, lingering over the regions where they met the warmest welcome. The other girls murmured with approval the ease with which Barbara's nipples were made to harden, and the small moans that soon escaped her parted lips.
Barbara felt well-oiled fingers sliding down alongside her clit, working their way up inside her. She became aware of the weight of additional bodies on the bed as the other girls joined in, touching, licking, kissing, sucking. There were lips pressed against her own, skilled little mouths at work on her tits, a naughty little finger gently exploring her backside from underneath. She opened her eyes long enough to see a pair of what looked like twin sisters with wide, sensual features and pale skin of the Southern Caucasus settling their faces in between her parted thighs. Barbara was impressed with the skill of their tongues and lips, though it occurred to her that they all probably got a lot of practice.
And then the thinking stopped as once again, Barbara gave way to pure sensation. She'd heard somewhere that there was no theoretical limit to the number of orgasms a woman could have in a day. It was all a matter of stimulation, and this was stimulation unlike any she had ever known. And this was only a warm-up. The girls suddenly scattered, failing to their knees in silence, heads bowed, as the sheik himself approached. A tall, handsome rogue in silk robes and a turban, his tanned, bearded face split in a wide grin at the sight of his new slavegirl, tied down, panting, on the bed.
"Well," he said merrily, "I see your sister-slaves have put you in the right mood to welcome your new Master properly."
From what she could see when he shed his robes, he was in a pretty welcoming mood himself. He was as smooth as the gladiators had been rough.
From Barbara's point of view, each approach had its advantages.
And then he was gone. They were all gone.
She was back in the all-consuming blackness. The hardest part, so far, was the abrupt return to normality. Barbara still felt aroused and excited, but the sudden lack of any external sensory input was odd to say the least. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait in this state for long. The system was already starting its next cycle.
The first sensation of which Barbara became aware this time, however, was definitely not pleasant. It was a deep, throbbing agony in her limbs and joints, as if she were being stretched like a bowstring which, indeed, she was. The setting this time was a medieval dungeon, complete with walls and floor of rugged stone, ominous looking torture devices and glowing braziers bristling with hot irons. The only light came from flickering torches bolted into the stone.
Barbara lay on a long, narrow rack, her whole body extended between the locked stocks holding her ankles at one end and the steel cuffs and chains locked onto her wrists and wound around a wheeled drum at the other. She wore only a plain, white chemise that would have been modest, had it not been for the many holes already ripped through it in the most strategic places and the way her anguished sweat glued it to her geography.
The nobleman who looked down into her suffering face was rather attractive, in a sinister sort of way. The glint in his eye bespoke the depraved pleasure he took in this kind of work.
"Are you ready to confess to the crime of treason yet, M'lady?," he asked with sarcastic politeness.
"Treason?," Barbara blurted out. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
With a weary sigh, the noble motioned to the hooded executioner, who leaned into the windlass to stretch Barbara just a bit further. The pain was electrifying, shooting through her body, which actually rose off the rack until only the back of her head and her buttocks were still touching the wood.
"I'm guilty!," she heard herself cry out. "I'll say anything you want! Please don't hurt me anymore!"
The nobleman smiled down at her evilly. "A much more sensible attitude.
Alas, now I'll have to have you executed for plotting against the throne.
Unless, of course, you'd care to marry into the royal family. As it happens, we do have one eligible duke at hand."
"Duke?," Barbara gasped through the haze of her misery. The nobleman doffed his feathered hat with an ironic bow.
"I know my proposal is a bit unconventional, but I'm sure you'll agree, it's preferable to the alternatives."
He started to signal the executioner again.
"No! Wait! I'll marry you!," Barbara screamed.
"A sensible girl. I like that," the nobleman smirked, unlacing his codpiece. He ordered the executioner to depart, sending him lumbering out of the dungeon. When the two of them were alone, Barbara's husband-to-be went to the windlass and released the tension on the chains. With a moan of relief, Barbara's aching body fell back onto the wooden plank. She was still completely helpless, the iron shackles biting into her bare wrists and ankles, but at least she was no longer being pulled like a rubber band.
"I don't suppose you'd object to consummating our union here and now," she heard him say dryly.
She shook her head vigorously from side to side. This was no time to argue. With that, he drew a gleaming dagger from his belt and skillfully cut away the remains of Barbara's ragged garment, pausing to admire her loveliness, sweaty and smudged though she was. Then he tossed the dagger away and joined her on the rack. Barbara couldn't believe, after all she'd been through already, that she was still so turned on. She must have had a half-dozen more while the duke had his way with her.
Fade to black once more, only this time when the lights came up, they were the filtered lamps of the laboratory. Dr.
Grace had removed the visor and was looking down into Barbara's face.
"Well, what do you think of our progress so far?,"
she asked in a tone of professional detachment.
"I'm going to recommend that we start production immediately," Barbara said instantly, her assessment ending in a sharp intake of breath as she felt the various probes being eased out of her insides. Obviously gratified, Dr. Grace went on to carefully unstrap Barbara from the X-frame.
Barbara stood up slowly, feeling a bit rubbery in the knees. With Dr. Grace's help, she slowly peeled off the polymer suit, which was soaking wet inside. The air on her skin gave Barbara goosebumps. She examined her naked body carefully. It was perfectly intact. Not a welt from the whips, not a scratch on a wrist or ankle from all the ropes and chains they had felt. In short, no trace of evidence of what she had been through.
"It must have been pretty scary, testing this system out for the first time," Barbara observed, tentatively gathering up her clothing. A strange smile came over the beautiful scientist's face.
"Actually, it was rather exhilarating," she said.
Barbara stared at her in disbelief.
"You mean you tried it on yourself first?"
"Of course. Next time you come down, I'll play you the program I devised for myself. I think you'll particularly enjoy the business with the pirates. I know I did. Now, about that additional research funding…"
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Bound for the Future · Part 2 (2/2)
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