Passing the Baton

Passing the baton Ch 1

 

That night, Sarah prepared to go to Paul’s room, as she did most nights; only this night would be different. She showered carefully and trimmed her red bush again. She regarded herself in the mirror, an image of female perfection. Her green eyes took in her figure; trim, flat waist, flaring slightly at the hips. Long legs, firm, well curved. Small perky breasts, with pointed pink nipples. Alabaster skin, with but a hint of freckles around her small nose. Yes, she was beautiful. Not a trace on her of those two weeks in Brunei.

 

She passed by the dungeon and picked up a new bamboo cane and a ball gag. Paul had restraints in his room. She sighed and headed upstairs. She knocked on his door. He opened the door, smiling at the sight of her nude body; his dick, instantly erect. Even after seventeen years, she still had that effect on him. He had other slaves; most men in his class had even more than he did, but Sarah was his favorite. He seldom used any of the others. He approached her, and then he saw the cane and the gag. He stopped, surprised; he hadn’t whipped or beaten her in years. He opened his mouth to ask her for an explanation, but she touched his lips with her finger. She kissed him and smiled, sadly at him, giving him the cane and gag.

 

“You are going to need this tonight darling” She never called him master when they were alone.

 

“I don’t understand”

 

“You owe me a gift. Remember Brunei?”

 

“Of course I do love. How could I not?”

 

“I want to claim my gift” She whispered.

 

“Sure my love, what do you want?”

 

“I want you to snuff me on my birthday, in public, next month.”

 

They stood, facing each other, wrapped in a thick, cold blanket of silence. Finally he said:

 

“Ridiculous! Nonsense! Never! I refuse!” His face red, and spit coming out of his mouth, as he shook his head. “I shan’t do it” His knuckles white on clenched fists.

 

“You have never backed out on your word Paul Collins, and you are not going to start now” Sarah said “And you know it”

 

Her five feet, nude body, standing in front of him, seemed to tower over his 6 foot 2 inch frame.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you have to do it” Sarah was glad that the conversation took a more rational turn. “Everyone knows how you feel about me. You haven’t even whipped me in, what, ten, fifteen years? You almost don’t use the other girls”

 

“That’s because I love you, I care for you”

 

“I am your slave girl. You are not supposed to care for me”

 

“But I do”

 

“That’s your weakness. Your peers know of it. You cannot afford not to kill me. You’ll lose everything if you don’t”

 

“I don’t care!”

 

“I do” Sarah said, her face serious. “I love you Paul, I love you more than you can imagine, but I cannot let you throw all your life away because you want me more than your common sense. So, keep your word to me. I want you to snuff me on my birthday. In public. In front of your friends and colleagues. That’s what I want you to do”

 

She could see his eyes, wide with repressed anger; his face, red, flushed with blood. The blood vessel pulsating at his temple. She handed him the cane and gag. He took them, wordless. She walked to the closet and picked up the leather shackles and put them on her wrists. She approached him.

 

“I told you, you would need them” She smiled at him. He wasn’t smiling.

 

He took her shackles and snapped them together, then hanged her from the hook in the middle of the room. He pulled her up on her tip toes, and gagged her. Then he beat her. Hard. Long and hard. He beat her back, her ass, the back of her thighs. She took it, silent. He moved to her front. The front of her thighs, her belly, her breasts. She whimpered. After his arm tired, and the bamboo cane shattered, her skin was striped with wheals from the caning; shining with sweat. Her face, streaked with tears, gasping for air through her gag.

 

“Take it back!” He screamed at her, removing her gag “Take it back! Ask for anything else, anything”

 

“Snuff me on my birthday, in public” She said, exhausted.

 

Roaring with rage, he took her down and, without releasing her hands, threw her over his shoulder. Effortlessly he carried her to the dungeon. Swearing, cursing, frothing at the mouth, he carried her. Lila, who was doing some small cleaning task, kneeling in the corridor, found herself flying through the air, from a kick from his bare foot. She recovered, on the floor, in time to see his back, with an unconscious Sarah slung over his shoulder and the door to the dungeon, slam open, lock shattered, from another vicious kick from her master.

 

She ran, panicked looking for Juggy. She had never seen Paul, her master, in such a state.

 

“Juggy, Juggy” She sobbed “He’s killed her. He’s killed her and he is taking her to the dungeon” Lila was barely coherent by now.

 

Juggy got up from her bed; the slaves were not kept chained at night in Paul’s house, (another sign of weakness, Juggy thought) and ran to the dungeon followed by Lila, still slobbering.

 

When they entered the dungeon, through the door, hanging askew from its hinges, they saw Sarah, suspended from her wrists, from the center of the room. Her body, criss crossed with angry red wheals, hanging limp, her head, fallen over her chest. Her breasts however, still moving from her labored breath, testified that she was still alive. Paul, whip in hand, cuting into her fiercely, but in his anger, his lashes hit the walls just as often as they hit the limp form of Sarah, who barely whimpered with each lash.

 

Juggy approached Paul, and put her arms around him, barely avoiding the lash herself. She did not say anything. Nothing needed to be said. Paul dropped the whip, and let himself be guided back to his room.

 

“Watch her” Juggy whispered to Lila as she left the dungeon.

 

Lila knelt at the shattered door, looking at Sarah, hanging, skin torn in several places, bleeding. Lila did not understand, or perhaps she understood too well what had happened here. Her face folded over her chest, she cried.

 

In his room, Paul took Juggy violently. He ravished her pussy, which she liked. He had not been with her for more than a month, further proof that he was too besotted with Sarah, and he had only loaned her to a friend three weeks ago, so she was really horny, very easy to arouse. Juggy responded to his attentions as a slave girl being ravished by her master, gladly and easily reaching her climax. He then threw her on his bed and turned her over. He took out his frustration on her ass. Without preliminaries he raped her ass, not caring about her pleasure or his. The pain that the unlubricated insertion caused him was as irrelevant to him as the one it caused her. Only the anger, the immeasurable anger, and the deep sense of loss, which tore at his heart and loins, mattered. He came in Juggy’s ass, his orgasm as unsatisfying as the whipping had been. Juggy sobbed throughout her ass raping; not so much from the pain of her buggering, to which she was somewhat used to, but from the depth of her soul, she cried for Sarah and for her master. Through her ass and her ass cheeks she felt his pain, and took it upon herself.

 

After spilling himself inside Juggy, Paul, calmer now, pushed her to the side. She immediately knelt on the floor, appeasing. He walked out of the room. Juggy remained kneeling, waiting for, she knew not what. He walked back to the dungeon, where Lila still watched over Sarah, sobbing. He kicked her out and ordered her, crying, back to her room.

 

Paul approached Sarah and released her from the chain, freeing her hands. Falling on his knees, with her in his arms he hugged her close. Painfully she hugged him back. No words were needed. He kissed he neck, and then, finally, shaking, he cried.