Beauty's Punishment - By A. N. Roquelaure & Anne Rice Page 0,24
a grieving and disappointed Stefan.
I had deliberately cast myself down. Yet in the midst of this terrifying place with its brutal, jeering throngs, I was struggling to stay ahead of the strap for another Master. My hair was in my eyes. My eyes swam with tears that had not yet started to flow. The twisting lane with its endless shingles and glistening windows dimmed in front of me.
“Stop,” my Master said, and gratefully I obeyed, feeling his fingers curled around my arm with a strange tenderness. There was the sound behind me of several pairs of feet and a little eruption of masculine laughter. So the miserable youths had followed!
I heard my Master say, “Why do you watch with such interest?” He was talking to them. “Don’t you want to see the auction?”
“0, there’s plenty more to see, Sir,” said one of the young men. “We were just admiring that one, Sir, the legs and the cock on that one.”
“Are you buying today?” asked the Master.
“We haven’t the money to buy, Sir.”
“We’ll have to wait for the tents,” said a second voice.
“Well, come here,” my Master said. To my horror, he went on, “You may have a look at him before I take him inside; he is a beauty.” I was petrified as he turned me around and made me face the trio. I was glad to keep my eyes down, to see nothing but their dull yellow rawhide boots and worn gray breeches. They gathered close.
“You may touch him if you like,” said the Master, and lifting my face again, he said to me, “Reach up and hold tight to the iron bracket on the wall above you.”
I felt the bracket jutting out from the wall before I actually saw it, and it was just high enough that I had to stand on tiptoe to grasp it, with some four feet of space behind me.
The Master stood back and folded his arms, the belt gleaming as it hung at his side, and I saw the hands of the young men closing in, feeling the inevitable squeeze to my flaming buttocks before the hands lifted my balls and pressed them lightly. The loose flesh came alive with sensation, tingling, quivering. I squirmed, almost unable to stand still, and smarted at the immediate laughter. One of the young men spanked my cock so that it bobbed sharply. “Look at that thing, hard as a stone!” he said and spanked it again this way and that as another man weighed the balls, juggling them slightly.
I struggled to swallow the huge lump in my throat and stop shaking. I felt drained of all reason. In the castle there had been those lavish rooms devoted exclusively to pleasure, slaves decorated as exquisitely as sculptures. Of course I’d been handled. I’d been handled in the camp months before by the soldiers who brought me to the castle. But this was a common cobblestoned street like the streets of a hundred towns I had known, and I was not the Prince riding through on my handsome mount, but a helpless naked slave examined by three youths right before shops and lodging places.
The little group shifted back and forth, one of the men pushing at my buttocks and asking if he might see my anus.
“Of course,” said the Master.
I felt all the strength go out of me. At once my buttocks were pried apart as they had been on the auction block and I felt a hard thumb pushed in me. I tried to stifle a grunting cry and almost let go of the bracket.
“Give him the belt if you like,” said the Master, and I saw it held out in his hand just before I was twisted to the side, and then it struck at my buttocks viciously. Two of the youths still toyed with my cock and balls, tugging at the hair and skin of my scrotum and cradling it roughly. But I was shaken by each stripe of pain across my backside. I couldn’t help but moan aloud again, as the stinging strap came harder from the youth than it had from my Master, and when the prying fingers touched the tip of my cock, I strained back desperately trying to control it. What would it mean if I were to come in the hands of these loutish youths? I couldn’t bear the thought of it. And yet my cock was deep red and iron hard from its torment.