Unnamed – Act 3, Scene 1

He woke with a stinging, burning sensation on the right side of his chest and reflexively reached for it, his hand stopping with a familiar jangling noise. Startled, his eyes flew open just as another lash fell on his left side, burning just as fiercely as the first.
“Awe, so glad you could join us sleepyhead” said the mistress as she circled his massive cherrywood canopy bed, testing the flail against her free hand menacingly, her perfect body tantalizingly lit by the flickering candlelight, clad only in the lingering marks of his ministrations, her choker, a pair of long gloves and a black leather corset. “After you slept through being chained up we feared you were going to sleep through my little revenge.”
“What are you-” *CRACK* went the crop as it caught him a stinging rebuke on his thigh, making him grit his teeth against a shout of agony.
“Tut tut Master, you should know better than that. You must only speak when spoken to. Understood?”
He hissed against the burning, lingering pain of her brutal assault but nods quickly. “Yes Mistress.”
“Good. After all, you must set a good example for our slave,” she said, calling his attention to the foot of the bed where their new plaything stood meekly wearing little but a translucent frilly apron, the standard choker and the marks of her training across her soft caramel skin, eyes wide behind her black-framed glasses, silky black hair pulled back in a ponytail, holding with trembling gloved hands a tray with the mistress’ tools.
He moaned and writhed against the tightness in his shorts, his imagination getting the better of him as the mistress ran her hands lightly over his marks, fingertips tickling the wounded skin, agony and ecstacy mingling in a potent cocktail. “You see slave? You should be excited when it’s your turn to receive our attentions. Grateful.”
“Yes Mistress”, the new slave whispered meekly, writhing a little awkwardly as she struggles to stand upright, a barely audible buzzing giving some hint to the source of her discomfort.
The mistress continues tracing her fingers down her captured master’s helpless form, then along the shape of his swollen member bulging through his shorts, teasing him wickedly before pulling it free. “My my…you’re quite excited, aren’t you Master?”
“Yes Mistress”
“Perhaps you should be the sub more often?”
He whimpered, knowing there was no answer that wouldn’t get him beaten, and suffered a strike to his errection with barely a moan of protest.
“Like that Slave. You should always reciprocate your Mistress’ work. Be quiet if you want to be rebellious – ” and she struck him again between the legs, making him cry out in agony, “- but you have to make some noise. Understood?”
“Yes Mistress”
“Louder!”
“Yes Mistress!”
“Put down the tray,” she demands, crossing to the slave with long strides.
She struggles to comply, barely able to set the tray on the bed before the lash comes hard against her backside, throwing her onto the bed and scattering her mistress’ implements everywhere.
“Now look what you’ve done”
“B-but Mistress, you-” *Crack CRACK!* came the lash, making her cry out and dissolve into pitiable whimpers.
The mistress digs out a pair of handcuffs from the strewn wreckage, manhandling the slave to a bedpost and chaining both wrists around it, forcing her face into the wood. “Lick it!”
Still whimpering, glasses helplessly askew and one perfect breast slipping from her apron, she slowly and passionately licks the polished wood shaft, bucking her hips against it as her Mistress circles the bed, piling pillows under their Master’s head.
“Get a good look, Master” the Mistress coos, climbing onto the bed and massaging his wounded cock roughly, “and tell me if that’s not the best tongue job you’ve ever seen?”
“H-hard to say” he croaked out, voice hoarse with unachievable desire.
“Mm, I bet you’re imagining our little innocent right now on her hands and knees, servicing your cock like she is that unfeeling wood, aren’t you? Seems a waste that she’s spending all that energy on nothing, but she has to exercise that tongue if she’s going to be any good to us. I didn’t say you could stop!” she yells, climbing up on her knees to deliver another blow to the girl’s chest, shredding the sheer apron and spilling her pinking breast into view.
The slave whimpers and redoubles her assault on the post, moaning obediently.
“Better,” says the Mistress, returning to tease her Master some more.

He bites his lip rebelliously against his moans, feeling an amazing climax coming and willing himself not to show her until it’s too late to stop, but all for naught: she pulls her hand away as he begins to throb with the helpless pulse of an impending orgasm, taunting him further with a little kiss on the very head of his cock before crawling sexily away, letting him admire her perfect body but denying him even the slightest touch as she wraps her long legs around the bedpost and the slave’s waist, pulling her close.
“You may stop now, Slave,” she orders, setting down the flail to caress her perfect pert breasts, pulling her closer so that the pole is against her cleavage, licking first her own lips and then the Slave’s, making her whimper with desire. She looks back at her bound Master through her luscious lashes and smirks playfully. “This is for the bit with the shop window,” she taunts before kissing their willing slave passionately, making their Master watch as she plays her hands over the slave’s pert breasts, pinching the nipples roughly, the slave obediently moaning loudly to be heard through the muffling kiss.

---