A Cautionary Note.
When I was a young girl my Mommy told me Fairy tales. When I was older I learnt that they are not real. When I was twenty I learnt that I was wrong, but that fairies sometimes are not as nice as I always thought they were! Not all fairies have pretty wings and eat ambrosia; some have pretty wings and whips and chains, and feed you gruel just for fun!
(The real part 2)
My Tale Of Continuing Woe.
The party had been perfect for my Mistress and her guests, I had been dragged in, secured to a wheel wearing a gossamer light dress and nothing else, and flogged as the wheel spun around. Being tipped upside down and having a strip of leather lashed between your out spread and very naked thighs, is not the nicest of experiences to suffer through. To have the added humiliation of having twenty-five strange warped creatures shouting for more, and encouraging the whip master to put more effort into his strokes, is even less pleasant. But to have your Mistress and owner sitting supremely on a large chair, watching you, her pathetic slave, screaming in agony, whilst she sips serenely at her goblet of ambrosia is just taking a day-dream TOO BLOODY FAR!
I, unlike a sensible savvy slave, turned my attention away from both the whip and the sea-sick feeling generated by being rotated anti-clockwise! Why not clockwise like most normal tortures seem to do, I wondered?
Anyway back to my mouth, from it flowed a string of obscenities, each designed to prod my Mistress out of her serenity. I failed in my aim but I did invoke a slight reaction from her, she raised a single finger and pointed, she didn’t even bother to say a thing! Her whip master knew and understood her desires.
You might be wondering why I would do such a stupid thing, well it is my day-dream, my fantasy, so why not, and besides it is not real is it? I am asleep on the grass of our garden right now, but a fantasy this exciting begs to be enjoyed. So damn it I prod her and wait expectantly…
I did not understand her intent, and if I had done I would have kept my big mouth shut. For at her command the wheel stopped rotating, the whip master approached and ripped away my flimsy gossamer light covering, revealing my fully naked and very vulnerable body to Mistresses guests. They, with the nature of goblins, but actually being fairies cheered riotously at my nakedness revealed, they encouraged the whip master loudly with their shouts and clapping, not that he needed any encouragement! He reacted by calling for a poke-it bar. Now that did not sound very nice from where I hung, and when it arrived I twisted my head as far as I was able, to see the damn thing.
A poke-it bar is a metal tube filled with an evil liquid which burns, by burns I mean it sets any slave flesh it touches on fire, but does no damage. It is also designed to be inserted up very vulnerable passages. In my case, and with the total support of My Mistress and the encouragement of her guests, it was my tightest little hole that the device penetrated. Once inserted a strap held it in place, and much to my relief it had not hurt going up my ass as much as I had expected. The whip master had coated it with a thick stick grease before inserting, which I was very thankful for at the time.
I expected the whipping to begin, not that I really had a clue what evil games my Mistresses guests would enjoy, or for that matter what she would enjoy! What I did not expect was that as the whip cut into my shoulders the wheel began rotating once more.
Now so far the whip hadn’t been too bad, in fact I quite enjoyed its kiss, but when the wheel had rotated enough for me to be upside down and for some of the liquid in the poke-it stick to have flowed out of the tube and into my guts. That was when my fantasy day-dream took a turn for the agonising. The liquid flowed, as it contacted my skin it began to warm up and at the same time itch! The heat built as did the itch until I was screaming in desperate agony for relief. I would even have welcomed a freezing ice pack up there or even a fire extinguisher if that were possible, in fact anything to ease the fire raging inside of me. The pain flowed as the wheel rotated, whip strokes lashed my flesh, as I passed each quadrant of the wheels rotation, but once I came to the point that I was upside down again, and felt more of the liquid flow from the poke-it stick into me, I screamed and begged and pleaded for all I was worth.
Those damn fairies kept me hanging in my torment for the whole of the evening, and I can tell you that fairies in this land party long and hard and slaves suffer even more and longer and harder than I had ever imagined suffering.
The nights get dark quickly, daylight just vanishes here one second gone the next, but not until quite late. I hung from the wheel exactly as I had been left with riotous sounds of partying filling the air behind me as tears filled my eyes, I cried in my frustration, trying to end my daydream and return to my own real world.
I could hear sounds which tore at my ears, gasps of agony and pleasure reached me as slaves were used and abused. My whip master blindfolded me once I was no longer the evening’s entertainment, just I imagine to encourage my mind to wander. Hands searched and touched me, male and female, my sex wept along with my eyes.
Then a voice whispered into my ear, it was a voice I knew, it was my original captor, the fairy that had introduced me to my woe. He had seen me from within the crowd and watched as I suffered under the whip, now he stood at my side. Another joined him and they talked quietly between themselves, not to me but about me.
“Admiring your latest capture I see master slaver!”
“Yes Mistress of the Light, she seems to have settled into you household quite well, I thought that she might when I first saw her, it is nice to be proven right.”
“As slaves go she is usable, but I believe she will take some breaking!”
“She is from the other place, the land beyond, she is bound to be resistant.”
“Yes resistant, a challenge as you would say.”
“Aren’t they all when they come from there?”
I listened, realising that they were talking about me, and I also realised that I was not the only, nor the first slave torn from my safe little world! There were or are others like me, normal Earth women caught and sold as so much chattel, I wondered if my Mistress owns other humans?
“My guests require my attention master slaver, if you wish to use my latest acquisition then please do!”
She turned away and I heard her leaving, blending into the now distant sounds of a building party. I heard a scream echo across the courtyard, followed by a multiplicity of laughter and applause, some other woman is now the centre of the party goers’ attention. I am alone with my first master, and he is stood behind me silently.
I felt his breath on my neck, his palms on my hips, and something prodding at my rear. One became two and the prodding became more desperate, my dripping slot welcomed the pressure of his invasion, shortly followed by my ass being entered as well! He thrust forward, I could hear his wings thrashing against the air, driving him deep inside of me, penetrating me in both orifices at the same time, in the same thrusting motion. Soon he was pulling at my hips whilst thrusting deep inside of me, my pleasure reared from nowhere, my sex reacted to its violation, my battered and abused ass hole swelled welcoming his entry, I came first but only just. The throbbing of two separate male members pulsing in combination pushed me in to my second orgasm, then my third. His pace slowed, his interest waned as I felt the last pulses of his seed enter my body.
Without a word passing between us he withdrew from me, pulling his male members out, twice not once, then with a hearty slap to my bottom he left me hanging in my orgasm and exhaustion filled bondage. My first master was gone; I hope he enjoyed using my body as much as I did being used by him.
What worried me was not being used by him but the insistent burning feeling and the itch which now filled my sex and ass hole, it had started right after he had ejaculated. I seemed to be reacting to his seed, the night passed very slowly for me. I wondered if I would always suffer this way after sex with a fairy, or was it just with him? I even began to hope that it was some residue his semen had activated within me from the poke-it stick liquid. I most certainly hoped it was, because this burning and itching could easily take the pleasure out of the aftermath of sex if it wasn’t. Not I think that any master or mistress would really care about my aftermath or comfort!
I tried to picture his sex organs, both of them, but my imagination could not fill in the mental details as my brain felt like so much mush. All I know for sure is he certainly knows how to use a female slave, thank god!
The next morning I was removed from the wheel and a hose filled my body. A hose that was attached to a large bucket of very cold water, the water flowed and for the first time in hours the burning faded, though the itch, which was nearly enough to drive a masochistic bitch on heat in to a nunnery, remained to torment me. In fact it only faded away three very long days later, and during each of those days of torment I was locked in a very cramped metal cage, swinging for my Mistresses entertainment from a large pear tree growing just below her bedroom balcony, and above a wooden bench wrapped around the trees trunk. Where she and any guests might choose to sit and look up at my torment.
Not a single one of those delicious pears entered my mouth during my incarceration in that swinging cage. Instead I was fed what I can only describe as ‘water with bits in it,’ or as they called it, soup…
Now I think that my Mistress has grown to like me, because each morning she would insist on looking out over her balcony edge and down at me, smiling to herself and shaking her head at me. I smile back at her, I could not speak to her because of the gag that the damn whip master had fitted into my mouth when he placed me in my cage, but I could smile just, and I did.
My Mistress bent down on the first day and picked up a pot which she tipped over me. The liquid contained in the pot was cool but stank, and was very familiar to me, to anyone really, as we have all been to the loo. Still for some reason despite the urine she daily emptied over me, I grew to think that she liked me. How wrong I was… She liked her power over me, not me, as I learned the hard way, hanging in the sun of my fairy world, locked in a small metal cage, cramped, gagged and helpless, a piece of property for my Mistress to do with as she pleased.
I began to wonder when I was ever going to wake up? My day-dreams rarely, in fact never, last this long, nor are they so real in aspect or sun burn!
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08.07.12
story continues in A True Fairy Tale 3
o0o