The Society – Party Crashers · Part 2

The Society – Party Crashers · Part 2 (2/2)
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Yvette turned her head slightly to answer and said, "I can't believe how this is turning me on. If he keeps up like this I am going to be dripping on the floor by the time he gets to the last one."

"I am already dripping," replied Yvonne. "I just hope that I don't end up with a wet spot on my dress."

Squire Adamson was now selecting another implement from the tray. This time the twins took notice of the paddle as he hefted it in his hands, testing its balance before use. This paddle did not have ridges on it, but it did have holes… holes all along the center of its length. It made a slightly different swishing noise as the Squire swung it downward toward the slaves ass. And it made a much crisper "snap" as it contacted the flesh. Maybe less air was trapped between the paddle and the flesh and so it hit harder. Or perhaps he was just swinging it harder. In any case the short-haired slave gasped as the first stroke hit and her voice quivered significantly as she counted the stroke and thanked her master.

On the seventh stroke, she broke slightly and cried out. Squire Adamson waited patiently for her to regain her composure and force out "S-s-seven. Th-th-thank you, Master."

"You can do this," said the Squire softly. "I know you don't want to disappoint me in front of my guests." He then struck suddenly with the paddle. The "snap" was definitely louder than it had been, but the slave responded immediately, "Eight. Thank you, Master."

The ninth and tenth strokes sounded softer, and there seemed to be an overtone of relief in the slave's voice as she called out "Nine. Thank you, Master," and "Ten. Thank you, Master." Yvonne noticed that Squire Adamson patted the slave on the head as he set the paddle down before going back to the tray for a new implement.

He returned with a wooden-handled tawse in his hand. It appeared that the tips of the spilt piece of leather were somehow slightly thicker than the rest of the leather. Yvette winced and leaned over to whisper to Yvonne, "That is going to hurt."

"Yeah," answered Yvonne, but her voice was almost a moan rather than a whisper.

"One. Thank you, Master," came the voice of the slave with the pixie length hair. The Squire whipped rapidly and the slave spoke rapidly to keep her count in sync with the strokes. It was just a short time before she was saying, "Ten. Thank you, Master."

The Squire then removed the final implement from the tray. It was too short to be a cane, but at the same time it appeared too long to be a crop. But, since it had the little flap of leather on the tip like you would find on a crop, that is what it had to be. This time the Squire did not swing his arm. Instead he flicked his wrist and the overly long crop swung downward in a rapid arc. There was a very loud, very crisp, "pop," and the long-haired slave grunted slightly and said, "One. Thank you, Master."

Yvette could see the slave's ass and the imprint of the crop was a square, raised welt on her left ass cheek. Each pop brought another grunt and raised another welt. The Squire never hit twice in the same place and the slave never broke or missed the count, but her entire body was beginning to shake and quiver as the count approached ten. The last stroke was almost as loud as a pistol shot, and a slight trickle of blood oozed from the square welt, but the slave still merely grunted and said "Ten. Thank you, master." As soon as the Squire laid the crop on the floor at her head, however, she broke into deep, but silent sobs.

The squire dismissed the French maid who was now holding an empty tray, and turning to face the five kneeling slaves he clapped his hands three times. They all instantly came to their feet. Somehow, as they were coming out of their awkward punishment position, they were able to grab the instrument of their pain from the floor and have it in their hands as they stood facing their master.

Squire Adamson stepped slightly to the side so that the five red-assed slaves were now facing the trembling girl who had brought this punishment upon them. "Two for one. Rapidly," he said. Then after a pause he added, "Now."

The five slaves pounced upon the miscreant swinging their paddles, the tawse, and that awful long-handled crop. They were counting as they swung. Their victim tried to turn to protect herself, but they were surrounding her, and turning from one meant another had a clear swing at her ass. Besides, since all five were swinging at the same time, many of the blows landed on her front and breasts as well as her ass. It almost looked like the long-haired girl was timing her swings so that she always hit on the front. A series of small square welts, some of them bleeding, were visible just above the unfortunate slave's cunt. The crop must have hit even lower at least once, because there was blood dripping from a cut on one of her pussy lips. Finally each of the slaves called out "Twenty" and stopped.

The young slave stood there shaking and crying and repeating, "I'm sorry master. I'm sorry master. I didn't mean to disappoint you. I'm sorry master. I'm sorry master. I will try harder in the future."

"I know you will," answered the Squire, "but for now I want you to do something that I know you are good at. You will kneel outside the restrooms at the end of the hall. If someone orders you to go in with them, you will. You will be their toilet slave if that is what they desire, or you will suck cock or lap pussy if that is what they wish. Do not disappoint me again or I will sell you to your brother. He has wanted to buy you from me for some time anyway."

The slave's face turned white with fear. "Please, no, Sir. Please don't sell me – especially to him. I will do better, Sir. I will, Sir. I will." She turned and started to walk away.

"Crawl," came the command from the Squire.

She immediately dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl away.

"On your belly," he added and she dropped to the floor and pulled herself along, snakelike, toward the hallway.

"I again apologize for that interruption," said the Squire to his guests. "As enjoyable as it is to watch proper punishment, I think we need a little change of pace. I propose an orgasm contest. Lets see who can beat the machines – or at least last the longest. You can enter your favorite slave, or if one of the mistresses wants to enter, you can do so without risk… unless, that is, you have some side bets with another master or mistress. There is no official risk of losing standing or status within The Society associated with this contest."

He looked around the room and then continued, "We will start in fifteen minutes, so decide quickly who is entering. We have a dozen wands and a dozen trained slaves, so we can have up to twelve contestants. I guarantee you that the slaves are absolutely neutral." He laughed and added, "They have to be or they will be our next entertainment…, and it won't be pleasure."

"Oh God," moaned Yvonne to Yvette. "Now I am definitely dripping on the floor."

"I never would have believed this if I wasn't here." whispered Yvette. "All this time I thought that nothing ever happened way out here in the middle of nowhere, and this is going on right next door. Do you think mother knows anything about this?"

"Mother!" snorted Yvonne. "Are you serious!? She would faint dead away at the sight of what is going on here. I still wonder how she ever managed to have us."

The twins watched while twelve matching divans were brought out and placed in a circle in the very well-lit area in the center of the ballroom. The couches looked very much like ones the twins had seen in paintings from the middle ages with rather corpulent nudes lounging on them. They slowly filled as naked slaves were escorted to the center of the room and assigned a couch. A few of the slaves stood beside their divan, but the rest reclined on the curved surface and spread their legs exposing their sex to everyone.

Three women in rather elaborate costumes also came into the center area. They did not disrobe, but instead lay across the divans and bunched their ample dresses up around their waists. They had nothing on beneath the dresses, but unlike the slaves, two of them had thick bushes of pubic hair between their legs.

One of the women said rather loudly to the other two, "An hour a minute. Losers serve the winner for one hour for every minute she lasts longer than them. I am going to enjoy having you two at my disposal for at least a full afternoon."

Another of the women, who appeared to be a bit older laughed and answered, "You don't have the staying power you think you have. We will see whose tongue is in whose ass at the end of this."

Yvonne was suddenly startled when a deep voice right alongside her called out, "We still have two divans and two slaves ready and waiting. Do we have any more entrants in our little contest?"

She turned toward the voice and ended up looking directly into Squire Adamson's eyes. He smiled at her and asked, "Perhaps you two young women would like to participate?"

"I don't think so," answered Yvette and she grabbed Yvonne's arm and turned to walk away. Or, at least she tried to walk away. As she turned, she walked directly into the chest of the handsome black man who had spoken to them earlier.

"Oh, but I insist," he said softly as he took Yvette's hand in his own. "You must have wanted to participate in our festivities very badly or you wouldn't have gone through so much trouble to sneak in here."

He smiled at her. It was not a reassuring smile. "There are regular security patrols of the gardens and grounds. Between times, the video feeds are monitored by computers with facial recognition capability. You somehow timed your entrance exactly after one of the periodic sweeps and were not seen by any of the guards. Our automated security system should have still immediately alerted us to your coming onto the grounds, but for some reason it did not. After I realized that we had undetected intruders among us, I reviewed the video logs from the security cameras. I was amazed to see two, identical, naked young women climbing over the back wall."

He made a sweeping gesture with his arm and continued, "As you can see, all of the Masters and Mistresses are clothed. All of the slaves are naked. The alarm system is – was – programmed to only take note of slaves if they were attempting to leave, not while they were going about their daily duties. Had you gone over the wall naked – or clothed – in the other direction, it would have sounded an alarm in the security room. But the programmers, understandably, could not imagine why anyone would ever try to sneak onto the grounds totally naked. But you did. For some reason, you decided to sneak into Ten Oaks totally naked, and so the program read you as a slave going about your duties and ignored you."

He smiled again. This time it was closer to a genuine smile. "By the way, both of you look very charming in the moonlight. The pale light really brings out the beauty of your skin. The sexual flush and excitement is just visible as an undertone in your skin color and facial expression. The images of you coming over the wall and then walking up the old path toward the manor house are almost worthy of being framed and hung in a gallery. I am sure the security people have already made personal copies to take home with them. I may have a painting commissioned based on those images."

The Squire then took Yvonne's arm and explained, "This is a very tight-knit community of Masters and Mistresses. None of us recognized either of you, so we knew immediately that you were not invited Dommes. And yet you had somehow managed to get in past what is normally an excellent and inviolable security system. We had no idea who or what you were, so we waited to see what developed. When you came into the house, you were clothed as though you were Mistresses, but we have since figured out that you are just naive children playing dress up who blundered in through a flaw – now corrected – in our defenses."

"Remove your clothing and lay down on the divan." ordered the black gentleman.

"Just who do you think you are?" snapped Yvette.

"I am Master Tyrone, Grand Master of The Society. I have power that you cannot imagine, but we will do nothing to you that you do not want done. You are free to leave if you desire. If you wish, you can walk out the front door and back up the lane to White Manor. You are free to do that… if that is what you want to do. But I don't think that is what your body wants you to do."

"I could see your response to the slave's punishment. Both you and your twin sister had to noticeably restrain yourselves from reaching down and rubbing yourselves. If you had not been standing in the middle of the room, I am sure you would have put your hand under your dress to relieve your sexual tension."

Both girls blushed slightly and unconsciously held their arms tightly at their sides, almost behind their backs. Their body language proclaimed the accuracy of Master Tyrone's observations.

Turning slightly he asked, "Tell me… Yvonne is it? Look me in the eyes and tell me what you were thinking as you watched each of those slaves being whipped. As your cunt overflowed onto your legs, were you imagining yourself standing there swinging that long-handled crop….? Or perhaps did you see yourself on the other end of the handle?"

Yvonne lowered her eyes. A soft shudder swept across her. Her lip trembled and she struggled with herself whether or not to answer. Finally she said softly, "I was her. I was the one being beaten."

"We are not asking you to be beaten… yet." said the Squire. "Remove your dresses and lay back on the divans. This is pleasure."

"It is pleasure with a price, however," added Master Tyrone. "This is contest. In every contest, there are winners and there are losers. Anyone who does not last at least five minutes will receive one lash with a whip for each second that they fall short. In addition, the loser – the first one to orgasm – will receive 8 strokes of the cane. All you have to do to avoid punishment is to last at least five minutes, and then hold on one second longer than someone else."

As he spoke he was pulling down the zipper on Yvette's dress. When he finished speaking, he reached up with both hands and slid the fabric down off of her shoulders. Even though the dress had been tight upon her body, it now slid easily down to pool at her feet. She looked over at Yvonne. The Squire had done the same with her and she was now stepping out of the dress that was pooled at her feet and walking slowly over to one of the two empty couches.

"Slaves, check your wands," commanded The Squire and the room was filled with a loud humming as a dozen "Magic Wands" came to life. From a distance the wands looked like large salt-mill-style salt shakers, except they were made of white plastic rather than wood and there was a long electric cord trailing from one end.

"Begin now," said The Squire and Yvette suddenly gasped as the bulbous vibrating head of the wand was rubbed lightly across her slit. Both she and Yvonne had used vibrators before. They had even used them on each other. But it was never like this. The vibrations from the wands were intense, and the slaves knew just where to rub the tip of the wand and how hard to rub it.

The slave working on Yvonne moved her wand down between her legs and pressed it tightly against Yvonne's wet and sloppy opening. It slid in easily as Yvonne called out, "Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!"

The slave reached up with her other hand and grabbed the wand near the tip. She slid the wand slowly in and out of Yvonne's love canal while her fingers, now vibrating with the wand, slid over Yvonne's clit. Yvonne tried to say something to Yvette, but all that came out was one continuous, high pitched moaning cry.

It made no difference. Yvette would not have heard her anyway. She too had her head thrown back and her mouth wide open. To those watching the contest, the twin's voices blended together into a perfect note of sexual frenzy that grew louder and higher until simultaneously both Yvonne and Yvette thrashed their legs frantically and screamed out in orgasm.

Both slaves now moved to between the twin's legs and replaced the wands with their tongues. They lapped greedily at the freely flowing juices, all the while driving Yvonne and Yvette higher and higher into orgasmic ecstacy. The twin's voices were still united as one, but now it was a series of low pitched grunts as the slaves buried their faces deep between their legs.

Finally, Squire Adamson came over and tapped each of the slaves on the shoulder. When they looked up he made a slight hand gesture and they stood up and left the well-lit area. Yvette and Yvonne lay on their couches staring at the ceiling and moaning softly.

Master Tyrone came and stood between them. "You both lasted exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds. You tied as losers. And you both were seventy-eight seconds short of five minutes. That means seventy-eight lashes with the whip and then eight with the cane."

"We have a problem," said The Squire loudly as he signaled for silence in the room. He smiled, shrugged and then continued, "But all problems are just opportunities that we have not yet seized." He gave another signal and a large platform with two thick beams sticking upright from it was rolled into the center of the room.

"Here is where the loser was to be bound," he explained. "… with her hands and feet spread wide apart so that we could watch her entire body as she squirmed beneath the cane and perhaps the lash." He walked slowly around the outside of the platform. "Our two visitors went off seventy-eight seconds short of the five minute mark. Obviously they are un-trained. The worst time for a trained slave in the contest was almost eight minutes. They definitely lost…, but they tied. We have never had a tie for loser in any of our contests ever before."

He looked out over the assembled Masters and Mistresses. "I suppose we could try some tie breaker tests. We could perhaps see which of them could stand the most pain in their nipples or something like that. But they are twins and would probably just end up tying once again. So I propose that they share the punishment. We will bind them face to face between the posts and Grand Master Tyrone and I will administer the punishment to both of them simultaneously."

His proposal was met with a murmur of approval from the crowd.

Master Tyrone leaned down and said softly to the twins, "Would you please stand between the posts?"

Some of the people who overheard wondered at the Grand Master making a request rather than issuing an order, but they knew enough not to voice their questions or comments. Eventually they would realize that Grand Master Tyrone had chosen his words carefully. He knew exactly what he was doing in presenting a request rather than issuing a demand. He was asking the twins, "Are you willing to be punished?"

Would Yvonne and Yvette choose to accept this punishment? Grand Master Tyrone was, after all, giving them the final choice. It was their decision. And this was a very important decision for the twins.

Grand Master Tyrone stood calmly waiting for their answer. Did the twins realize that the choice whether or not to place themselves between those upright posts involved much more than seventy-eight lashes and eight strokes? Did they recognize the path they were about to travel? Did they realize where this path could – no, would inevitably lead? And perhaps most importantly, did they understand how difficult it would be for them to return to their former lives once they started down that path?

Almost as if in a drugged state, though the only drug was sexual excitement, Yvonne and Yvette rose and walked slowly over to the platform and stood face to face between the upright posts with their bodies pressed tightly one against the another. Four men in all black costumes stepped forward carrying long leather cords and tied their wrists and ankles so that they were secured spread-eagled between the beams.

Because they were twins, their bodies matched exactly as they stood face to face. Yvonne was looking over Yvette's right shoulder while Yvette's head rested on Yvonne's right shoulder. Their breasts pressed against each other nipple to nipple. Yvonne wiggled her shoulders back and forth slightly and Yvette moaned as their nipples slid past each other. Then the first lash of the whip struck.

Neither master was swinging with great force. This was, after all, more of a display whipping than a punishment whipping, but the force of the lash was sufficient to force both Yvette and Yvonne to clench their buttocks and rock their pelvis up and forward. That rocking motion caused each of them to press their mound directly into the others. By the fourth lash both were accentuating that movement to rub clit to clit with their sister.

Had they been true slaves, they would have been forced to count the strokes, but since they were, for the moment, still free women, they had the luxury of concentrating instead on the sensations between their legs and on their breasts. As they continued to rub against each other, the lash became just an accompaniment of sound and sensation to their dance of lust. Even when the lashing was completed and the Masters picked up the thin, whippy canes, they barely noticed.

Six welts rose red and angry across their ass cheeks, but they could feel only the pressure and heat of each other's cunt pressing into their own and the tantalizing sensation of nipple rubbing against nipple. After the seventh strokes with the cane, both Grand Master Tyrone and Squire Adamson paused. They looked at each other and both nodded. Then they pulled their arms well back over their heads and swung with terrible force for the eighth and final stroke.

The twins felt that stroke. Their screams pierced the room. But their high pitched scream of pain was followed almost immediately by a series of lower pitched grunts and moans as both of their bodies shook and trembled with tremendous orgasms.

Once their trembling seemed to abate, the four men who had bound the twins to the pillars returned and released them. Two naked slaves led them off the platform and over to where the Squire and the Grand Master were now standing.

"Lift your arms," instructed a nearby Mistresses who was holding Yvonne's dress. She did so and a naked slave slid the cloth down over her arms and onto her body. It stung slightly as it passed down her back and buttocks. Another naked slave came forward, handed her the shoes and mask which she had been wearing earlier in the evening and then helped her zip the dress. Another slave had slipped Yvette's dress on her and she now stood, fully clothed, alongside Yvonne.

"You may leave," said Grand Master Tyrone. He was not giving permission. It was an order and both girls knew it. Squire Adamson beckoned them and walked with them out the front door and down the driveway toward the main gate.

"Do not try to sneak in again," he warned. "At Twelve Oaks you are either a Master or a slave. It is obvious that neither of you is a Mistress or Domme and never will be."

The girls cast their eyes down as he spoke. He continued, "There is no shame in that. You cannot change what you are. You have discovered tonight what you are and what you are not. You – and we – now know that you are not a Mistress. So, if you ever want to return to Twelve Oaks Manor, it can only be as you first came in tonight, barefoot and naked."

He paused to face them. "Unless you are ready to make that choice, go home. Go back to your school and your busy life in the city."

He began walking again and spoke to them as they walked alongside him. "Maybe one day you will tell your friends about the wild party that you attended here and what you did and what was done to you. No one will believe you, but you can tell them anyway. Maybe as you talk about this party you will be able to recapture some of the feelings which stirred in you tonight."

They had reached the gate. He turned toward the small guardhouse and made a gesture with his hand. The gates swung open and Yvonne and Yvette walked slowly out toward the lane.

The twins had almost reached the road when Yvette stopped and turned to look at Yvonne. "I can't.." she sputtered slowly. "I have to…" she stammered. And then she stepped out of her shoes.

"What are you doing?" asked Yvonne. Yvette reached behind herself and pulled the zipper down. As she began to slide the dress down her body, Yvonne said simply, "Oh."

The Squire was walking slowly back up the driveway toward the house. He seemed to be taking his time, as if he was waiting for something. Two voices called out to him, "Master! Master Adamson! May we return to Twelve Oaks Manor?"

He stopped and smiled. He thought he knew what he would see when he turned around, and he was right. Kneeling on the asphalt just outside the gate were two naked and barefoot slaves. Their posture was terrible; their heads were not properly positioned; and they had no idea what to do with their hands. But all that was just a matter of training.

He signaled the guard to open the gate. As he approached the kneeling girls, he motioned for them to rise, and said, "Follow me." As they walked back up toward the manor house, he turned toward them and said softly. "Once I have seen to your training, your mother will be very proud of you. My father trained her well and she is an excellent slave. She often accompanies the Lord of White Manor to these parties."

Yvonne and Yvette looked at each other with shocked faces and wide eyes. Then they both smiled very crooked smiles and said together, "Mother never leaves her computer on. She always closes her email program if she even walks out of the room. And she has NEVER used a password program…. She set us up!"

Squire Adamson chuckled softly as he walked before them. He spoke without turning around, "Ah, yes. Sometimes mother does know best. Welcome to Twelve Oaks. I can assure you that here, you definitely will not be bored."

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The Society – Party Crashers · Part 2 (2/2)
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