Holodeck (part 2)

Again, this story contains more than spanking.  To my love - I hope you get a thrill seeing the story I wrote for YOU posted in public.  To all my other readers - Enjoy!  And don't forget to leave a comment!

“A darker fantasy, now, love.  Only a fantasy; you’re safe.”  Colin whispered as the room dissolved into the next scenario.

Macy opened her eyes to a cold, dark space.  Cold metal circled her wrists and ankles, the shackles rough on her skin.  The floor beneath her naked body was rough hewn stone, cold and grimy.  Her neck felt heavy.  Exploring fingers found a metal collar, welded shut.  The metal was warm from her body heat; her skin adjusted to its weight as though this collar was an integral part of her.

A slave, then.  The shackles were padlocked, the metal rough and uncomfortable against her skin.  A slave, shackled, in a cell; Macy’s thoughts stopped.  This wasn’t a fantasy she would have chosen to play out, for all she had written it.  Set in some ancient, semi-mystical time, she had imagined the flogging and birching of a runaway slave – the fanciful combination of two judicially sanctioned punishments.  She broke out in a cold sweat.

Too soon, she heard footsteps down the corridor outside her cell.  The door opened, torch-light burned her eyes, forcing her to close them.  Two men took her arms, roughly pulling her to her feet.  They were followed out by the torch-bearer.

Macy stumbled, hindered by the chain that bound her ankles together.  The men pulled her on, heedless of her struggles.  She forced her eyes open, attempting to keep her balance.  She was taken to an open arena, where she blinked hard against the sunlight.  A crowd was gathered around, watching other punishments and jeering at the hapless prisoners.

Macy began to tremble, a fine shuddering that she could not stop.  The guards dragged her over to a magistrate – a man dressed in flowing robes, wearing magnificent jewels.  Colin stood at the man’s right hand, dressed in loose linen pants similar to those the guards wore.  Colin was gorgeous, bare-chested, with only heavy gold cuffs around his wrists.

“Runaway slave,” the magistrate intoned, appearing almost bored with the proceedings.  “Second offense,” he looked up at her, “A simple birching didn’t teach you?”

“A flogging first, then.  With the birching to follow,” the magistrate considered Macy for a moment before he turned to Colin, “A pleasure slave, her skin will be very soft.  But she must be taught.”

“Of course, sir.”  Colin said tonelessly, his eyes sparkling as he considered Macy.

In a loud, ringing voice, the magistrate formally announced her sentence.  Macy caught the date, clinging to that and ignoring the rest.  The guards pulled Macy over to a whipping post.  One slid a hook through the rings on her wrist shackles, pulling the line sharply upwards.  Another guard winched the line up further, raising Macy nearly off her feet.  The guards stepped back, leering at her.

Colin walked around her, carrying a heavy flogger.  No instrument of pleasure, this one, the ends were tied into hard knots.  Colin paced around behind her, considering.

“Her hair will be in my way.  Cut it.”  He snapped the words out to the guards.

“But sir, her owner…she is a pleasure slave,” the guard stammered.

“Her owner lost ownership when she escaped him a second time.  She will be auctioned.  Cut it.”

Macy’s trembles increased.  A slave auction was never good.  And her hair!  Rough hands pulled at her hair, dull knives hacked off the length of it.  She could feel the uneven ends falling back against her head.

Colin stepped forward to inspect the cut, leaned forward and growled in her ear, “Perhaps now you’ll be cheap enough that I can purchase you.”

Macy jerked away, wrenching her arms painfully.  Bought by a guard who made his living inflicting punishment?  Owned by this sadistic man?  A rush of heat passed over her, bringing a flush to her skin and wetness between her legs.  She wouldn’t have run away a second time if she didn’t relish the pain.

The flogging began and Macy struggled not to cry out.  But soon her screams joined those of the prisoners scattered throughout the arena.  The crowd jeered.  The bulk of the crowd had abandoned the other scenes to watch the gorgeous pleasure slave.  Her skin marked so easily, broke so quickly.  Her lithe body strained and twisted in seductive ways, making her far more interesting to watch.

Macy fainted once, was revived by cold water flung on her face.  Colin stood close, watching her face.  He offered her a dipper full of water from his own hand.  But the flogging continued.  Macy was certain the magistrate had pronounced a certain number of strokes, but she could neither remember the sentence nor guess how many strokes had been applied.

This was no fun, gentle, sexy flogging.  It was torture and punishment.  Her throat was raw from her cries.  Her face wet with tears.  And her gorgeous skin glistened with sweat.

Macy sagged with relief when the guards lowered her down, grateful that they caught her arms and kept her on her feet.  They did not go immediately to the birching block.  Instead, she was led over to the side of the arena and flung roughly onto a cot.  A healer washed the wounds and applied a stinking salve that burned.  Macy passed out again.

Cold water awakened her.  She shivered now from the endorphins and the cold water that ran in streams across her skin.  Colin watched her impassively, but Macy could see the twitch in his cheek that said he was worried.  She managed a smile for him; then the guards were hustling her up and across the arena once more.

The birching block was set high, allowing perfect access for a man of Colin’s height.  Macy was lifted across the block, her ankles secured and thick leather straps bound across the backs of her knees.  Another thick leather band encircled her waist.  Her arms were left comfortably in front of her, her wrists shackled into place.

Colin brought the birch rod in front of Macy to inspect it.  He checked the suppleness of the switches and inspected the leather binding that held them together.

“A traditional birching requires figging as well.  But you know that, don’t you?”

Macy nodded.  She yelped when someone unseen shoved a peeled piece of ginger into her ass.

“We shall begin, then.”  Colin said calmly, taking up his position beside her.

The birching that followed was every bit as painful as the one Macy had experienced in a play session long ago.  She struggled against the block, but there was simply no movement allowed to her.  She gave herself over to the pain, breathing through it.  Her breath was harsh, rasping in her throat, and punctuated by low moans, but she did not dissolve into tears.  Her internal fight carried her higher, away from the pain inflicted on her body.  She soared, her body writhing in silent agony far below.

The healer had tended to her wounds and she had been placed in the auction line before she fully came back to herself.  Her body ached, though not nearly as much as it ought to have done, given the tortures she had endured.  She was shoved roughly onto the stage with a group of listless slaves.  This crowd was all business, considering each slave as potential property.  She saw other buyers roughly examining slaves around the outskirts of the crowd, perhaps private sales.

The bidding was fast and incomprehensible.  Buyers shouted and guards pulled random slaves off the stage into the hands of their new owners.  Macy was roughly pulled to the side and deposited nearly in Colin’s arms.

“I won’t need the shackles,” he growled at the guard, “Remove them.”

“But sir, she has escaped twice…”

Colin reached out and grabbed Macy firmly by a nipple, “She’ll not escape me.”

Macy gasped in pain, her eyes filling with tears at the unexpected assault.  Her body was so raw, so sensitive.  He played that, glaring at her as he released the nipple and took the other.  Her body arched towards him, acting without her conscious thought.

“You see?  The little bit can’t get enough of me.  That’s why she escaped twice, to feel my lash again on that gorgeous skin.”

The guard hastily unlocked the shackles, thoroughly confused by the scene playing out before him.  Colin ignored the man, his focus on Macy – the heat in her eyes, the raw desire.  Ignoring the lead attached to her collar, he pulled her to the side of the room, his fingers tightening and twisting mercilessly.

He pushed her hard against the wall.  The cool, smooth marble was a pleasant torture to her back and bottom.  He pushed himself hard against her, pulling back to release his powerful erection from the confines of his pants.

“I’ll show them what they are missing, shall I?” he growled as he pushed hard against her.  His hands grabbed her welted bottom, lifting her from her feet.  He plunged hard into her wetness, shoving her hard against the wall.

Macy cried out, pain overridden by pleasure.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist.  Her hips bucked against him, taking him deeper, harder.  She was lost again, mindless in the combination of pleasure and pain.

There were gasps of admiration and good natured cheers from the crowd, but Macy and Colin were lost in one another, performing for a crowd they no longer noticed.

The crowd dissolved in a haze as they floated down from their climax.

“Tell me what year that was, Macy, and I’ll take you to one of your lovely fantasies.  If you’re wrong, the dungeon here will seem like a pleasant memory.”

Macy shuddered at the thought.  They had exchanged plenty of dark fantasies and millions of pleasant ones.  This one might even qualify as pleasant.  Although she had missed some of the details of her sentencing, she had focused on the date.  “April 15, 1692.”

“Good girl,” Colin said, stroking her cheek.  But which pleasant fantasy would he choose?