Beauty's Punishment - By A. N. Roquelaure & Anne Rice Page 0,27
the desk, the light seeming to strike it for the first time as I noticed it. And her long fingers gathered up a large dab of cream and disappeared behind me.
I felt the coldness of it against my anus, and knew the appalling helplessness I always experienced when my anus was touched, opened. Gently but quickly, she spread the moisture, smoothing it well into the crack, and then into my anus itself as I tried to be silent. I felt the Master’s cold eyes; I felt the Mistress’s skirts against me.
The smaller of the two phalluses was lifted from the desk, and slipped sharply and firmly into me. I shuddered, tensed. “Shhhh ... don’t be stiff,” she said. “Push out with your hips, yes, and open to me. Yes, that’s much better. Don’t tell me you were never measured or mounted on a phallus at the castle.”
My tears came in a flood. Violent tremors went through my legs and I felt the phallus sliding in, impossibly large and hard, my anus contracting in spasms. It was as if there had been no other time, yet every other time had been as debilitating, as mortifying as this one.
“He’s almost virginal,” she said, “a mere child. Feel this.” And with her left hand she lifted my chest up until I was standing again, my hands behind my neck, legs throbbing, the phallus thrust up and into me, her hand securing it.
My Master came round behind me, and I felt the phallus rocked back and forth. I felt it shift in me even as he obviously let it go. I felt stuffed and impaled. And my anus, a quivering heated mouth around it.
“And why all those lovely tears?” The Mistress drew near to my face, her left hand lifting it higher. “Haven’t you ever been fitted before?” she asked. “You’re going to have a great many of them ordered for you now this very day with a great many different decorations and harnesses. It’s very seldom that we’ll leave your anus unplugged. Now keep those legs wide.” To my Master she said, “Nicolas, give me the other one.”
With a sudden muffled cry I protested as best I could. I couldn’t bear to look at that thick mass of black horsetail, and yet I stared full at it as it was lifted. But she only laughed softly and stroked my face again, “There, there,” she said sincerely. And the smaller phallus was slid out with lightning quickness, leaving my anus to grasp with an odd sensation that sent shivers through me.
She was applying more of the chilling cream, rubbing it in deeper this time, her fingers prying me open, while with the left hand she kept my face high, the room nothing but light and color in my vision. I couldn’t see my Master. He was behind me. And then I felt the larger phallus breaking me open wide, and I groaned. But again, she said:
“Push your hips back, open. Open ...”
I wanted to cry out, “I cannot,” but I felt it worked slowly back and forth, stretching me, and finally sliding in so that my anus felt enormous, throbbing around this immense object, which seemed three times what I had seen with my own eyes in the case before me.
But there was no sharp pain—only the intensification of feeling opened and rendered defenseless. And the coarse, tickling hair against my buttocks, being lifted and dropped, it seemed, the stroking almost maddeningly tender. I couldn’t bear to picture it. She held the hook, it seemed, and she moved the giant shaft, pushing upwards so that I stood on tiptoe as best I could and she said, “Yes, excellent.”
There it was, the soft words of approval, and I felt a lump in my throat break, felt the warmth in my face and in my chest expanding. My buttocks swelled. I felt shoved forward by the thing, though I stood still, and the soft tingling touch of the hair was all the more mortifying.
“Both sizes,” she said. “We will use the smaller ones most often for regular wear and the larger when it seems necessary.”
“Quite good,” said the Master. “I’ll send for them this afternoon.” But she did not remove the larger instrument. She was looking at my face most carefully and I could see the light flickering in her eye, and a swallowed sob caught in my throat silently.
“Now it’s time for us to ride out to the farm,” said my Master, and the words