"Ladies and Gentlemen, Mesdames et Monseurs. On behalf of today's Hosts, the Mistresses Cov and Hun, the Faded Lotus Dolcett Village is both happy and proud to welcome you the last night of Earnestine Royal!
"As you will have seen in your programme, we have a busy schedule ahead of us, designed in part by our hosts. In approximately six hours time, we look forward to offering you a most succulent roast, well stressed, tenderised and seasoned with the Fades Lotus's own patented blend of spices and flavour enhancers.
"As a reminder, at the request of the Hosts, today's festivities are being covered by a crew from Fade Out Films. If you do not wish to be recognised on that film, please stay behind the yellow floor markings in all areas. Hoods and Masques are, of course, available for those wishing a closer, but still discrete, view.
"And now, I present to you the star of today's entertainment. Earnestine Royal!"
The Master of Ceremonies waved a flourish at the curtained alcove at the back of the stage, which opened to reveal the soon to be late Mrs. Royal nude and gagged, bound only by her hands above her head to a mobile frame.
Two attendant slaves escorted it out on a circuit through the audience as the MC continued his introduction.
"Earnestine Royal, formerly the wife of Mister Edward Royal, was one of a group of slaves recently sold by the Wheaton Heights Community Patrol. That's quite all right Sir; handle the merchandise by all means. We just ask that at this point you not cause any damage to either Earnestine or her attendants. There will be plenty of time for that later.
"Until very recently a staid and very vanilla housefrau, Earnestine has had her horizons, and other orifices broadened considerably, and has been delivered into our hands to provide the highest form of entertainment in her final hours. Her scores from the reputable F&S Testers were a dismal 50 for vaginal intercourse, a workable 85 for oral - I can confirm, folks, that she does give a mean blowjob - and the default ten for anal virginity. No, Mistress Winters, I'm afraid that that has already been taken care of. We have kept a couple out the back that you can help us with later, if you like."
The platform wound its way through past the tables while the MC continued his patter and Earnestine was poked, prodded, slapped, groped and pinched to a variety of muttered comments. It was obviously a well practiced performance and he wound down as the platform made its way back to the stage.
He leaned forward as she disappeared behind the curtain again and the audience quieted. "In a few minutes, we'll adjourn to the courtyard for the first event, something we like to call 'The Running'. Everyone knows that the meat is at its most tender after being exercised. I'm sure you've all heard the farm kids boast about chasing the spring lamb around the field before it was butchered for dinner. This is our version of that."
He waved a slave over from the wings. She was fitted out with a number of metal cuffs, heavy looking nipple clamps and a heavy chastity belt, and handed him a chain with a number of remotes.
"Earnestine is backstage right now being kitted out exactly like Sarah here, with ten separately controlled shock devices. Ten? you ask. Yes indeed. You can see most of them already, but let me demonstrate."
He started triggering the remotes seemingly at random, and the slave flinched as she was shocked at both ankles, both wrists, her neck, and both breasts in quick succession.
"That's only seven you say? Of course, I saved the best for last. Number eight is a butt plug - " the slave grunted as he activated that one. - " Number nine is a dildo" - another grunt, and the slave bent forward - "and the last one arcs straight across her clitoris." The slave struggled to maintain her balance as the last one went off, but managed and stood straight, with her hands behind her head as the crowd murmured appreciatively.
"Our hosts have kept some of these for themselves, but they have kindly offered five - chosen at random, I might add - to us here at the Faded Lotus to auction off for the benefit of the Sierra Club."
* * *
"Come on," I told Noreen as the auction started. She was kneeling on a cushion beside me and I helped her up as I stood. "You've got a role to play here."
She followed me quietly as I headed toward the courtyard where they were nearly finished setting up the electrified maze that poor Earnie was going to have to navigate while total strangers zapped her most sensitive places.
"One of the chasers," I told the attendant, who nodded and waved us toward the starting position. On the way, I maneuvered her over to the wall and pressed her into it, reaching around to fondle her breasts.
"You're doing very well," I whispered over her shoulder. And she was. This was the most public outing I'd yet taken any of them on and I'd tried to impress on her the importance of remaining in control and, putting it bluntly, not embarrassing me in front of my new peers. I'd picked Noreen for this because I figured that she was the most stable of my three 'house' slaves. The 'basement slave', Debbie, didn't count, of course, except as an object lesson.
I felt her relax a little under me and let her go and led her over to the starting gate.
There were two slaves already there, doing stretching exercises as we arrived, although they leapt to attention and made short bows as they noticed me. "One of the Chasers," I said, nodding for them to carry on, as I took a step back and compared them with my own slave.
There was a significant contrast. The two slaves were much younger than Noreen, for starters, and they were obviously extremely fit. There were two differences that really stood out, though, and those were their attitudes and their skins. Noreen was slightly hunched, still apparently overwhelmed by everything, if less so than before, while these other two stood tall and straight, proudly displaying their marked and scarred skin. Watching them gather Noreen in and examine her, I saw that they both wore patterns of scars from floggings that were almost artistic, and must have been excruciatingly painful when inflicted. One of them even had her hair styled to reveal rope scars up the side of her neck. They must be two of the "Dolcett Dolls" that Hun had been talking about.
I left them to it and wandered around the courtyard taking in the facilities. For starters, it was larger than I'd imagined, nearly a hundred feet square. The main hall where we'd stated took up one side, and there was in industrial-strength kitchen on another near the currently covered barbeque pits. Larger apparatus had obviously been pushed aside, and while I could recognise some of it - like the gallows, and two Jessica 3000 auto-spitting machines - some of the other pieces were more mysterious.
The third wall looked like storage sheds, but even they were adorned with bondage and torture equipment, even knife throwing wheels.
The fourth side of the courtyard was open, and led past several pillories and whipping posts to a large pool. Given the rest of the decor, I suspected that that, too, had ominous and sinister uses. And, apparently, a very serene Tea Garden. For 'Capital T' Tea, according to Hun, with appropriately trained servitors.
The maze itself took up most of the open space in the courtyard. There were a couple of covered spaces where there must have been other pits, and several more whipping posts have been incorporated into the structure. The walls were only a little over waist high - enough so that bouncing into them wouldn't tip you over, but low enough not to obstruct the view. They were made of panels of regular looking chain link fence, though the bundle of cables running along the base was only the first clue that they were electrified.
The pattern of the maze was simple: long stretches that ran along three sides like a "U" before twisting inside itself, getting tighter and tighter before popping out in the middle of the same side as the entry. Hmmm, I thought. A clever slave could -
A familiar yelping screech brought my attention back to the start of the maze, where Noreen stood rubbing her ass where she'd obviously just been shocked with the cattle prod in the hands of the Doll behind her. The other one pointed at her own breast and barked "DO IT, BITCH, or we'll run you before the meat gets here!"
Just inside its range, I used my remote to set up a slight tickle in Noreen's collar, just to remind her that I was around. She looked around wildly, and when she saw me, I increased the power, shutting it off when she nodded and bent down to pick up the prod she'd dropped when she was zapped.
She reached out tentatively toward the other woman and jerked as the second one grabbed her hand and triggered the prod. The first Doll barely flinched and then pointed insistently at her other breast. Even with the second still holding her hand from behind, I could tell by the way she screwed up her face that Noreen triggered the second shot herself. A quick shove-and-grab and Noreen had been spun around to repeat the process on the second Doll, who then zapped her again in return.
They did this several times before stopping to refresh themselves from the drinks table provided. The first Doll, somewhat to my surprise, even brought Noreen a cup of water, laughing - but not unkindly, from what I could tell - when Noreen half-raised her prod defensively.
People had been trickling into the courtyard over the last few minutes, but the flow suddenly increased, just as Cov and Hun came out of a side entrance leading a kitted out Earnestine.
I headed for a prime spot between the two exits of the maze, where more fence segments stood ready to loop them together and was quickly surrounded when the Master of Ceremonies began again.
"Welcome to 'The Running'," He announced.
"We like to consider this event a mere appetizer, something to whet your appetites for later activities. The concept is simple. Earnestine will run through the maze you set up before you, being careful to avoid the walls." He threw something into the middle of the maze, causing one of the fences to arc. "For the obvious reasons."
"To encourage her, we have three 'chasers' who will pursue her through the maze, menacing her with their cattle prods. And lastly, we have those remote controls. None of them are powerful enough to do much more than distract the runner, but two or three such 'distractions' at the wrong time, should provide all sorts of fun."
"The overall aim is to get all of those delicious 'fight or flight' hormones running through her system, tenderising her and adding that piquant flavour we've become so famous for here at the Faded Lotus. Given her age and general fitness level, we're going to aim for two complete circuits of the maze. If she makes it, she gets a rest before the next stage while we devise a ... creative penalty for our chasers. If she doesn't, the chasers get the reward."
I was close enough to hear one of the Dolls hiss to Noreen, "You don't want to this lot getting creative, understand?"
"I think we're ready to start. Chasers, are you ready?" The two Dolcett Dolls, followed quickly by Noreen, raised their prods to 'salute' and the tips crackled. "Very good. Masters and Mistresses, if you could test your remotes please." Earnie jerked and shuddered as all of her various attachments fired. "Excellent!"
He turned and addressed Earnestine for the first time. "Earnestine, when I say 'Go' you will have a ten second head start on the Chasers -"
"You better run, Bitch. As bad as today's going to be for you, we can always make it worse!"
The MC frowned slightly at the interruption from Cov. "Yes, indeed. Earnestine. Your run begins in Three ... Two ... One ... GO!"
Earnestine Ran.
Ten seconds later, the MC nodded at the chasers. One of them thumped Noreen on the shoulder and pointed her down the start channel. "After her!", while the other headed straight for the exit channel.
Earnie fell twice in the first straight as her 'equipment' was triggered, but she still got to the first corner before Noreen caught up with her. Just as she got in reach and swung her prod, someone dropped Earnie again, and caused the two of them to fall in a tumble.
With my attention fixed on my own slave, I almost missed what was happening virtually right in front of me as the Doll who'd pointed Noreen into the maze took a very short run-up and vaulted the fence into the next loop. The fence arced as she used one hand for balance, and she shook it out when she landed, like a bad case on pins & needles. Picking up her cattle prod, she started walking back through the maze, toward where Earnie would be coming toward her.
I recalled my earlier thoughts. Yes, a clever slave indeed.
Meanwhile, Noreen and Earnie had untangled themselves, and Noreen was helping the other woman to her feet. Earnie leaned on her former friend for a moment, before she was pushed away. Noreen waved the prod at her and hissed something before slapping her on the ass and firing the prod a couple of times. Earnie started to shuffle onward, until Noreen yelled "RUN!" and zapped her in the back with the prod. She picked up the pace, with Noreen trotting along behind and helping her up every time she was zapped from the audience.
At the 'top' of the next loop, the Dolcett Doll was waiting.
She, too, menaced Earnie with the cattle prod, but didn't zap her, merely falling in behind them and exhorting both to greater speed.
The MC picked up the commentary, although thankfully low key, not like someone commentating a horse race. "Joining Earnestine in the second loop is one of our own Dolcett Dolls, Rachel. Rachel is one of our senior Dolls, and the current record holder for The Running, both in terms of speed for a single circuit, and number of circuits completed. Neither of which look to be at risk here today."
Between the two chasers, they managed to keep Earnie moving at something above a trot until the very end of the circuit where the last Chaser was waiting.
All three chasers zapped at her same time as she cleared the exit and headed around to the start again, dropping her to her knees. Cov once again shouted from the sidelines, threatening dire consequences if she didn't complete the course.
The chasers picked up the pace again, and it was as if it was two chasers and two runners, because Noreen caught almost as many jabs of the prod as Earnie did. Or, at least, she did until she remembered her own prod, and swung it back and zapped one of the Dolls, to the amusement of everyone.
By this time, Noreen was starting to flag, and with the pressure taken off, slipped behind the Dolls. One of them, Rachel, Looked back at her and took mercy, sending her back to the start/finish area, where she took up a guard position at the start of the final straight.
With her out of the way, the Dolls sped up again, really pushing Earnie, who was suffering badly enough from the Run, and the frequent zapping of her attachments, let alone the prods of the chasers. She eventually collapsed about three quarters of the way through the second circuit, and multiple shocks couldn't motivate her to get up again.
"I believe that's the end of The Running," the MC announce formally. "Earnestine has been well run, but she didn't make it to the end, so our Chasers have earned their reward. To our guest chaser, your Master is well pleased, and will reward you when you get home. To our Dolcett Dolls, your usual award awaits you. In fact, yes, Rachel has qualified Terminus. I'll need to discuss it with our Hosts, but you are now on the Short List. Congratulations!"
The Regulars and staff burst into applause and Rachel's companion Doll hugged her fiercely. I was somewhat confused as to what was going on, but put it aside as a bone weary looking Noreen plopped to ground at my feet. I crouched down beside her and hugged her tight. "I am well pleased. You have done me proud," I whispered in her ear. She turned her head into me and started weeping. I lifted her to her feet and moved out of the crowd as the staff started to disassemble the maze. Soothing her, I guided her down the length of the courtyard toward the pool area, and sat down on one of the benched by the wall.
"Hush," I told her as I settled her in my lap and wiped at her tears. "It's over now."
She looked at me and said with utter conviction. "They're going to kill her, and it's just a game to them."
I nodded. "I know. But your part is over now; you don't have to help them."
"I don't want to watch, either. Master, my reward?"
"Yes?"
"Can we go home now? I'll cook, and then we can play, just the four of us."
Damn, I thought. I really wanted to stay, but if I made her stay, god knows what damage it would do. I brought her along to this, just like I'd taken Tia to last night's 'Private Party' where Cov and Hun had enacted a brutal orgy of humiliation and sexual degradation upon their slave. My plan had been to strongly imprint upon my slaves that whatever I might do to them, there was always a worse option. It might have backfired, I thought, and it definitely would if I pushed too much now.
"No," I said, and felt her go rigid. "I will send you home, but I'm going to stay until the end."
She nodded ad pulled away, using the wall for balance as she stood. "Thank you, Master." she murmured.
I stood, and together we walked back to the reception area, where I had the staff member call a taxi. Noreen stood further away from me than usual and stood with her head down, refusing to look at the art on the walls, or to meet my gaze.
As I ushered her into the cab, I made another decision.
"Noreen. Cook a good dinner for all of us. Tracey as well. It will have been a long time since lunch."
I got back to the courtyard as the end of the maze nearest the pool had been cleared and the MC's little podium had been moved to the side, near the row of whipping posts. Earnestine - and her owners - were nowhere to be seen, but the crowd was gathering again near that end of the courtyard.
I wasn't paying too much attention as I wondered along with them. Noreen's reaction to the first event was troubling. As far as I could remember it was the first time she'd actually asked me for anything, and gone so far as to impose on the supposed debt of a promised reward. Sending her home was the right decision, I thought, along with the implicit promise that I wouldn't partake of the meal. The question was, whether I had gone far enough?
The MC broke me out of my revere as he cracked a whip over our heads.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! While we give Earnestine a brief respite - in order to catch her breath - it is my very great pleasure to introduce to you our master leatherman, our artiste with the crop, Henri Avignon!"
A tallish man came out of the end of the building at the far side of the pool, trailed by five slaves. He was dressed in the same smart casual as the MC and some of the other staff members. The slaves, nude save for their collars and scars, were each carrying a different style of whip or flogger. They were all relatively well marked, although I didn't recognise either of the two who'd taken part in the first event.
They followed Avignon in a procession across the courtyard, one stopping at each of the five whipping posts, where they placed their implement on the ground, and were locked into shackles hanging from the top of the post.
"Mesdames et Monsieur's," he started in a moderately strong French accent. "For this brief interlude, I shall demonstrate the proper - ze artistic - use of some of the minor tools here. Oui, oui, I know most of you already know how to use them, but we have some new friends here, and even the best of you can learn some new tricks, no? Frankly, Madam Winters, your technique has gotten stale. I should add you to my dolls here, to remind you what a good whipping is. But No! We shall save that for another time."
He paused to allow the light laughter to die out, while a tall blonde in a dress suit waggled her finger at him.
"Zis is Sophia," he said as he stepped to the first of his 'dolls', who was facing us, "And zis is a riding crop." as he bent down to pick up the implement. "It is ze basic tool of the slave owner, used both for guidance, and for correction. It is painful, oui, but does little serious damage. As such, it can be used with impunity on the sensitive parts of a slave, such as the nipples and the clitoris." He struck her strongly on each nipple to emphasise the point and then waited as she lifted her right leg in a standing split. She managed to catch her heel behind her wrist just as he unloaded on her clitoris. She gasped, but managed to hold the position until he motioned her down. "It is also light enough that you can make ze amusing patterns with it. Turn around my cherie." He laid down a rapid flurry of strokes on her back, and then stood aside to reveal a stylised, but recognisable Fleur de Lys.
He bowed slightly to the applause, then waved it down and moved along the line of posts. "Now we come to Mercy, and her leather strap." The strap he picked up looked to be about six inches wide and half an inch thick. "This tool, also is painful for ze recipient, and does not do too much damage to the skin. It is wide enough to spread the impact out, you see. It is much heavier, of course, and so, it can leave deep bruising that will take days to fade. Ze trick is to overlap your blows, so that the damage compounds." He looked at the strap. "With a fifteen centimetre strap like this one a skilled user can get fifteen strokes inside the mark of the first."
"How many have you done?" someone heckled from the audience.
Avignon gave a very Gallic shrug. "Thirty-two. Ah Rachel, Cherie. I do hope you let me help in your Grand Finale."
"Like fuck!" called a voice from the back. "If I'm going to spend that long letting you paddle my ass, I want to be around afterward to appreciate it." Rachel, the Doll who'd helped chase Earnie came through the crowd to kiss the Frenchman on the cheek. "I literally couldn't sit for a week."
He shrugged again as everyone chuckled. "So crass. You can see why she needed to be 'paddled', as she says, no? One last thing about this strap. It can damage the soft tissues, so it is safest not to use it on the stomach, or around the kidneys. Unless you wish to cause such damage, of course. Now cherie, you will help me with young Mercy here, oui? Count my strokes, and make sure that I stay within the first mark."
He laid his first stroke across the top of her ass, and then proceeded to lay eleven further strips before Rachel announced that he's gone outside the first. Mercy yelled and jiggled in place with each one, but didn't break her basic position
He shook his head sadly. "A poor effort. You have upset me, cherie. Shall we try again?" Everyone laughed at Mercy's groan. "Non," he said smiling. "Mercy is her name, and mercy she shall have. Let us move on."
I watched rapt as he went on to describe the characteristics of the cane, the full sized maritime cat'o'nine tails and the single-tailed stock whip. I'd started on my own torture slave with the crop and the cane and had picked up some of the technique from my reading, but this was a master at work, enjoying his work.
Once he was finished he announced that there would be a brief opportunity for members of the audience to try out the tools he's demonstrated.
I quickly stepped to the queue for the strap. So far I'd focused on causing my Traci - my Debbie, rather - intense pain, rather than anything long lasting. I'd obviously not been completely aware of the possibilities short of permanent injury.
When my turn came, I took the strap from the previous guest and hefted it gently.
"Ah, le sinistre." I jumped to find Avignon standing beside me. "Bien, it will do her good to have some balance."
I looked from the strap to Mercy's backside and back. Given that the strap was a foot and a half long, I couldn't see any sign that one side had received any less punishment than the other.
"Monsieur Avignon," I started, wondering, "What would be the effect if I were to, say, whip only one thigh with this strap?"
"Ah? You like the asymmetry? Like ze Picasso abstracts, oui? This is not really the position - it is best if you isolate the target you want. Hmmm. If you do it well, the bruising is like a pulled muscle, yes? It restricts movement, and she cannot put the weight on it when she sits. She will lean, to put her weight on the other side. Mercy, turn around, and give the master your left foot. If you would hold it level, monsieur, at about waist height."
With me holding her leg out straight, he struck her evenly down the thigh about ten times, with a little bit of overlap each time. They weren't gentle blows - as well as feeling the weight through her foot, I watched her knee lock up each time.
"Like that, two or three times. Better if you hit the muscle down the back directly. Watch her this afternoon, but it might be the knee rather than the thigh." With that he handed me the strap and headed off to the next post.
Likewise, I handed the strap over to the next person in line and went in the other direction; to watch the tall blonde - Mistress Winters - offer advice to another woman on the use of the crop.
A little while later, the MC rapped sharply on his microphone. "If I could have your attention, please!"
When he had all eyes - and staff members were letting the Dolls down from their posts - he continued: "It is now time to welcome Earnestine back to Center stage. For this part of the festivities, we like to prepare our stars for their final showing. After tenderisation, we need to season our star. Henri will assist us in that process by applying his delicate touch to her skin, and then our hosts will baste her in our own special blend of herbs and spices, and letting them soak in."
As he spoke, Earnestine was wheeled out to the area of the whipping posts. She was stretched tightly between the corners of a vertical frame that was cleverly designed so as to be able to rotate in both the vertical and horizontal axes: Earnie could be spun backward, forward and even upside down. From what I'd seen of Henri's work he wouldn't bother. He would just make the tip of any whip he chose curl around and hit whatever part of her he wanted.
Cov and Hun escorted her out, and greeted Avignon surprisingly formally, both bowing as they presented their slave to him.
The Doll Rachel brought out a wooden case, and some of the audience members sighed reverently as he opened it and withdrew a long single tailed whip.
"For those of you who haven't seen her before," the MC 'whispered' over the public address system, "that is an eighteen foot bullwhip that Henri has named Marie, after both the French noblewoman Marie Antoinette, and the first woman he ever killed with it. It has a reputation here at the Faded Lotus of being capable of the most exquisite pain, and the most stunning artwork. Many of the Dolls here today have had their major patterns created by Marie."
Henri finished shaking the whip out and swung it gently a couple of times to make sure he had room. He bowed briefly to the Hosts and then began.
It was a virtuoso performance.
He started at the extremities: Clever bindings presented both her palms and the soles of her feet and he hit all four with the first four blows, leaving bleeding welts. The fifth, he placed around her right side, just below the ribs, the popping tip leaving a gash under her left breast.
Earnestine shrieked with each blow, and gasped between. Cov and Hun looked satisfied as they watched, expressions very like those I'd seen the night before as they tormented their slave.
Back to the outside, now, and Henri laid three welts around the bound woman's calves and forearms before stopping.
One of the staff members ran up to Earnie during the pause and quickly checked her pulse and responses before injecting a hypodermic of something into a shunt taped to the side of her neck.
I was surprised - I would have thought that this place wouldn't 'shoot up' its meat, that they'd insist on her stewing purely in her own juices - Organic Slave Meat, so to speak.
I mush have been obvious in my surprise because a quiet voice beside me said "It's a mixture of adrenaline, stimulants, some other anti-shock compounds and a nasty little nerve toxin."
I looked and saw the tall blonde I'd noticed earlier, one of the obvious regulars. I nodded for her to go on.
"Generally, it keeps you awake, alert and responsive. There's little point in whipping a woman who has passed out, after all," She explained. "The nerve toxin is an added extra. I'm told it increases the sensitivity of the pain receptors. A lot."
"Ah," I said, intelligently. "George Page," I added, holding my hand out.
"Claire Winters. That was your slave with the runners, wasn't it?"
"Noreen. yes. I'm afraid that was a bit much for her though, so I sent her home."
The eyebrow she raised made me feel about two inches tall, because I couldn't manage my slaves. "She's new," I added defensively, "and I didn't want to make a scene."
Winters nodded knowingly and looked back toward where Avignon was getting ready to continue.
He started with a shot at her thigh that clearly wrapped right around, causing Earnie to howl piteously. This time he went around in a circle, slowly spiraling inward toward her body. Earnestine never really got a chance to catch her breath, each new mark would cause her breath to hitch and then she'd howl again.
I though back over what little I knew of biochemistry. It wasn't enough, but that shit they'd shot her up with must be something really awful.
Another pause, and another hypodermic, and Henri went on to the body, laying a cris-cross pattern across her back - the first time he'd crossed his strokes - that bled at every intersection. Left to heal, I was sure that they would leave terrible scars - scars much like those on the various 'Dolls' that were watching, and moving through the guests.
After the back, he added half a dozen or so rings around her waist, and then he got fancy.
With a combination of backhand and forehand strokes, he snapped the tip of the whip around Earnestine's front to the applauded approval of the people watching on that side. I looked, later, and he'd laid those strokes blind, right up and down the valley of her cleavage, without touching her breasts proper.
The last three strokes were the most skillful. One choked off her howls as it wrapped itself around her neck, incidentally tearing out the shunt, and the others laid open the skin of her face, across the cheekbones and just touching her nose.
Everyone applauded, and Avignon bowed as he coiled his 'Marie' and placed her reverently bank in her case.
When he was finished, and two of the Dolls ceremoniously carried the case back into the building, the MC returned to his stand.
"Now that she has been prepared, it is time to baste our star, and once again, our Hosts have graciously allowed us to share that with you. Please, form a queue, so that everyone who wants one gets a chance to help apply our special blend."
I managed to get into the line near the front, so I was able to get to Earnestine before she was too splattered with the strong smelling paste. Heavy on both the spices and the garlic, I decided. I felt eyes on the back of my neck, and looked over to see Mistress Winters whispering to Cov, while the two hosts watched me.
On impulse, and to show that cow Winters something, I forewent the brushes everyone else was using and scooped up a small handful of the mess. and rubbed it into the side of her neck and jaw. She flinched away from me and whimpered, an animal look of hurt in her eyes.
I was surprised how level we were. I'm not an overly tall man, but even stretched in the frame our heads were at the same height. That made it easy to cup her chin and cheek and murmur 'Tina' before I had to move on. I fancied saw a glimpse of awareness return, just as I turned away.
"I, too, was a friend of Jamis," I whispered as I approached the slaves holding towels. Aware that Winters and co were still watching, I waved away the towel and beckoned to one of the slaves instead.
"Come with me and lick this clean," I ordered as I wandered over toward the hosts.
I chatted briefly with Cov and Hun and didn't rise to their semi-snide comparisons of the way we treated our respective Wheaton Heights Wives.
With Claire Winters looking on, I complimented them on the event so far, and thanked them for introducing me to Monsieur Avignon.
I let them go as they went over to Ernestine to join the camera crew for a more intimate interview.
All the while I'd ignored, as much as possible, the slave that I'd ordered to lick the 'basting' paste from my hand. I'd noticed her movements slowing down, and an increasing warmth in my fingers, but I'd been determined to show the women that I could be as callous as they could.
I may have done better than I'd known, because as soon as they were out of earshot, two slaves hurried over to us.
"Master," the first one to reach us said urgently, "That paste is mildly acidic, ah, it contains some chemicals that break down the skin to further tenderise the meat. Ah, it can cause permanent damage if we don't get it cleaned off quickly."
I quickly held out my hand for her to wipe down with a wet towel, while the other one hovered nervously. If they were so concerned about my hand ... Fuck!
"Can you neutralize it? For her?" I nodded at the slave who'd been licking my fingers.
"In the clinic, Master, can we?" They looked over to the back corner of the courtyard, where one of the arms joined the cross at the kitchen.
"Lead on" I ordered, helping my slave to her feet. I nodded as one of the others had her rinse her mouth out before taking a long drink of water.
The 'Clinic' they lead me to was a well set up little facility in the back corner of the complex, almost a mini-hospital, with several treatment rooms as well as a couple of small 'recovery' type wards.
The thickness of the doors on the 'treatment' rooms should have been my first clue, but it wasn't until I saw a slave - well, a presumed slave - strapped to the table in the last room, with what looked like a dozen surgical clamps attached to her breasts that I realised that this was as much of a torture facility as the courtyard or the dungeon I'd looked into.
Some of it may have been psychological, but by the time we reached the sluice area, my hand - my dominant left hand, of course - was beginning to sting quite badly. I didn't want to think about how the slave's mouth and throat felt.
I very quickly had the paste washed off, and a cooling anesthetic (and antiseptic?) gel smeared over it. When it was offered, I accepted a thin gauze glove as well.
Looking at my victim, I watched as she was made to rinse her mouth some more and then gargle a sharp smelling liquid.
"You're both medics?" I asked as her attendant shone the expected device down her throat, looking for damage.
The one who treated me snorted. "I'm an MD, and Kate's a registered nurse, or she was."
"Ah. This place would keep you fairy busy, then." Another snort.
"How is she?" I went on as she didn't offer any more information.
"Tongue and lips are the worst," the other one - Kate - answered, "But then you'd expect that. Throat's inflamed, but I don't think it's too bad. I doubt she swallowed very much."
"Good." I knelt next to my victim and took her hands.
"I'm sorry I did this to you," I told her, very much to her surprise, I imagine. "I didn't mean to, but that's my fault for leaping before I knew what I was putting my hand into." She nodded when I finished. "Is there anything I can do?"
"She'll get points for this," the MD said. "Not many, because there wasn't all that much damage, but I don't think we've ever had anyone eat the paste before. And her obedience was perfect, too."
I pulled a card from my shirt pocket and handed it to her. "If there's ever anything, give me a call."
***
Jesus, I thought as I wandered back out to the courtyard. I'd thought that I was riding the rough edge of my personality when I beat on my Debbie, but half the things I'd seen here were giving me ideas. I ambled past some of the displays that had been set up while the queue basted poor Earnie.
Most of it was low key stuff - girls in whipping posts, or getting fucked in pillories, that sort of thing. But there were a couple that stood out. They were winding up before the main event, so I couldn't watch them for too long.
One was a 'human dartboard': A slave was strapped to a wheel like an old knife thrower's assistant and the wheel was spun while the 'players' threw oversized darts. When the board spun to a stop, I was surprised to see the slave wearing a hard plastic mask over her fast and throat. I would have expected her to have to take her chances with getting a dart in the eye, but it soon occurred to me that it was Cov and Hun who weren't taking any chances: It wouldn't do to have some mere slave upstage their show by dying by accident.
That explained some of the urgency of the two medics, as well, I supposed.
The other interesting exhibit was more complicated. This time the slave was suspended by her feet from a gantry that extended out from the rooftree. With her hair just sweeping the ground, the swing arm must have been something like twenty feet. That part of it alone, I could see possibilities for - thank you Foucault - but it didn't stop there: on each swing, she swung between two large metal domes. As she did so, fat, juicy sparks leapt out from the Van der Graff generators.
She must have been well gagged, or very well trained, because I didn't hear anything over the Hummm-Zap! of the generators.
Like the dartboard, though, this one was also coming to an end. The swinger was slowed till she hung still, directly between the domes! The discharge rate went up dramatically until they were turned off. She was left hanging, but the machines were quieted so as not to distract from the main event.
While I'd been away, Ernestine had been moved from her upright frame to the 'kneeling supplicant' restraints of a Jessica 3000, her neck and spine held rigidly in place, her arms stretched out in front of her.
I worked my way to the front of the onlookers, up by her head, almost despite myself. I was damned sure I wasn't going to enjoy this anywhere near as much as I'd thought I would.
There was absolutely no expression in Earnestine's eyes as the tip of the shaft, the spit, was seated in her anus, and I wondered if I had hurt her more than I'd helped when I'd brought her back - if I'd brought her back - earlier. If she'd found some place inside herself, I'd probably not done her a favour.
Still, I was hardly the demon of this piece. The spit may have been ready, but Cov & Hun weren't ready to let their Earnie go quite yet. They stepped up to where her hands were splayed against the metal frame of the Jessica and rapped the machine hard with bulb-headed metal rods.
Earnie blinked at the sudden noise, but that was it: she didn't track her tormenters the way I'd seen her do the night before, or even as recently as her whipping. From the look of it, if they wanted a live spit roast, they'd better get on with it.
I was wrong. Earnestine focused and started tracking again the instant Hun brought her baton down to smash one of her fingers. Then it was Cov's turn, and they alternated until her hands must have been shattered.
I could understand why they did it - it was like Winters had said earlier, there was no point tormenting someone who wasn't aware of it - but there was something beyond callous in the way they did it.
Finally, they were done, and with a flourish, Cov pressed the button that started the machine. Earnie didn't react much for the first several inches, but I wasn't surprised given they way she'd been reamed out the night before, starting with myself and graduating up to Cov's fist. God only knew what they'd got up to after Tia and I left.
I could tell when it hit the first serious resistance by the way her eyes widened and the slight pause in the shaft before the sharpened point pushed through whatever membrane or intestinal wall it had hung up on and continued its remorseless inch-per-second progress.
Her breathing changed as it punctured her diaphragm, and then she spasmed - despite the rigid restraint - as the spit forced its way into her esophagus.
I watched her throat bulge at the end, just before it appeared between her teeth.
The shaft continued to come out until a full yard had passed completely through her before stopping. Earnestine's ragged heartbeat thumped out over the PA system as the MD slave I'd spoken with earlier held a microphone to her chest before bowing deeply to Cov and Hun and announcing solemnly "She is alive, Mistresses."
The two Hosts grinned hugely as the whole compound burst into applause. Bowing themselves, they reached forward and pressed the next button on the Jessica, causing the gutting blades to sweep out and disembowel their slave - their meal, now - in a gout of blood.
They walked hand in hand the length of the machine until they reached the offal tray at the end. Hun reached in and picked up something - I figured that it was probably the liver - and cut a long slice. She seared it quickly on a prepared hotplate and offered one end to Cov. Taking the other end between her own teeth, they embraced and nibbled down the virtually raw slice of meat.
I could barely hold down my gorge as they met in the middle and sank into a deep soul-kiss to renewed applause and a couple of cat calls.
That was it, for me, I had had enough. 'Friend of Jamis' I might have called myself, but at least Paul Atreides never had to watch the deathstill in action.
Earnestine Royal had expired, at last. I reached out and closed her eyes, only to look up into the smirk on the face of Claire Winters.
"Staying for Dinner?" she asked.