THE PRIZE (24 page)

Ayesha
looked back at him, impudently meeting his eyes, inviting him to punish her in any way he chose and trying to tell him that she was proud to offer him her pain.

Chapter 27

Two days later, in one of the palace’s many dungeons, Conor Brien was enjoying himself immensely. The Prince had sketched out a deal involving this slave and she was proving an intriguing prospect, quite apart from her spectacular decoration she provided great sport as she fought her own body, challenging those working on her to work harder; to make her suffer more if they wanted to see her orgasm.

Currently, Gerd, his trainer was working on her back while
Conor himself
worked on her tits. A four foot stock whip of plaited leather with frayed ends was smacking regularly across her upper back. Gerd was keeping count and had reached forty, the side of her right breast was looking like a lunar landscape, pockmarked with small craters and ridges where the ends had snapped at her skin. She was trying to resist the natural urge to jerk her torso in response to the lashes
because
she knew perfectly well that it was not a good idea to move too much when needles were being applied to the breasts. Her ankles had been shackled to the bottom corners of the frame in which she stood with her arms raised, wrists clipped to the ring at the back of her collar. Conor had not raised her arms to the top corners of the frame, that would have stretched the breasts too much for his taste. The frame’s main
purpose was
the breast bars and these he had adjusted until the slave’s generously proportioned tits were squeezed tightly. The top bar was equipped with narrow holes and these were now filled by four of the long steel needles used for going right through the breast. The slave had panted and puffed a lot during that part of the procedure but had held off her orgasm successfully, now she was trying to twist her hips and lift her feet in futile attempts to deny the surges of pleasure pain that were shooting through her. Conor carefully threaded one of the short, plastic handled needles horizontally through the right nipple. It was a novelty to have nipples of two different colours; one he rather appreciated. The right one was the black at the heart of the snake’s throat.

Gerd reached fifty and took a break, walking out into the atrium and sitting by the fountain for a moment. In the heart of his palace, in the heart of his city and his country the Prince saw no reason to place his pleasure rooms underground.

Conor finished off with a vertical needle through the left nipple, just behind the horizontal one and stood back. The slave stared back at him proudly, her teeth gritted, her lips drawn back, daring him to do more. He laughed and went to join Gerd. She could simmer for a few minutes and be all the better for it.

The two men agreed that she was outstanding material but that she needed one more procedure before they could be sure.

They returned and Conor eased the long needles out of her breasts, lifted the top bar and freed her ankles while Gerd freed her wrists. She took a few minutes massaging and squeezing her breasts, wiping away the small spots of crimson at their roots. Conor noted that she made no attempt to remove the ones in her nipples. He liked this one! She would fight him all night - in a dungeon or a bedroom - she would challenge him all the way to do his worst and he would have a lot of fun deciding what his worst would be.

The two men led her over to the rack and she made no protest until she was stretched tight, even then a soft grunt was all she uttered. They swung the limbs of the rack apart so that she was spread in a taut X shape with her head hanging down and her sex available. Conor presented himself at that entrance. He knew he was massively endowed but the Prince had told him that she had an extraordinary cunt. It was all it was made out to be. Despite his girth he slid into her smoothly and comfortably but with the pleasant feel of her soft inner tissues welcoming him. He was impressed. Gerd presented himself to her inverted mouth and Conor watched as the stretched throat relaxed and opened. The men smiled at each other and began to move back and forth in their respective passages. Although the slave was responsive and was lying on her flogged back in fullest extension, she showed no signs of coming. Conor used the fingers of one hand to reach down and part her lips right at their juncture, then he pushed up, exposing the clitoris. He hovered his other thumb over it, ready to grind down on it. Gerd’s hands were meanwhile waiting over the pierced nipples. They grinned at each other and the slave obviously realised that something was in the offing, they felt the body tense under them.

Cono
r counted, “Three.....two........one.....Go!”

He drove his thumb down and ground it fiercely into her clitoris while simultaneously, Gerd grabbed both nipples by the needles and pulled. Even in her extenuated position the slave’s body heaved and muffled shrieks came from around Gerd’s cock as both he and his boss pounded her into a shuddering orgasm she was powerless to resist.

Only a few minutes later Karen, still trembling in the wake of the earthquake the men had caused to erupt in her was standing naked in the Prince’s office while the paperwork was completed.

“Right,” the big Irishman was saying. ”I’ll take her at the price agreed and she’ll be available - as at clause seven - for the purposes we have discussed. Now, as for the money, I’ve brought cash. I hope that’s okay.”

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem, Conor,” the Prince said smoothly and Karen’s masochistic heart leaped in excitement as she watched the Irishman take out one penny and place it on the desk.

She had been sold for one penny.

She felt it was the most delicious humiliation, it was something she could really be proud of and she could challenge any master to treat her as badly as a woman so sluttish she could be traded for a penny, deserved to be.

“That’ll do for her stable name, ‘Penny’,” the Irishman said.

The Prince laughed and returned the coin. “Then having accepted the money as full consideration, I freely donate it so it can be set into her collar.”

Karen looked the Irishman in the eye and smiled at him.

“I’ll wipe that smile off your face when I get you home. And I’ll make it my business to keep it wiped every day, until you learn proper respect!” He approached her with casual arrogance and utter certainty in his voice. She raised her head to keep looking him in the eye, spurring him on by her impudence. She liked him and was inviting him to start a contest she had no chance of winning. But if she was right about the cruelty she thought she saw in him, the manner of her losing would be her prize.

THE END