Page 34 of Fear and Desire

“Please cane my breasts!” she shouted.

He didn’t swing the cane.

“Please, Master! Cane my breasts!” She was almost hysterical.

“Turn around.”

She sobbed as she twisted around. Her breasts were pulled high and tight from her position, as though they were being presented to him to abuse as he desired. Her head fell back, lifting her chin out of the way.

“Please, Master, cane my breasts.” It was only a whisper this time, and it was barely out of her mouth before she heard the air part, and the first strike landed. She screamed, stamping her feet, eventually forcing her eyes open to look down. A thin red welt grew in width and color until it was almost purple. Ironically, the tears falling from her eyes and dripping off her chin soothed the sting.

“Chin up.”

Her breathing was fast and irregular as she leaned her head back and screwed her eyes shut. This blow landed on the underside of her breasts with a loud ‘snap’ on the outside of the left. She howled, the pain centered in that one tiny area of impact.

He put the cane down and walked over to her, reaching out to run a finger along the line on the top of her breast. She flinched at the touch. He stroked the line on the underside, which was growing more sore by the moment. His finger’s journey ended at the painful spot on her left breast, and he pressed it lightly. She hissed.

“The lines will fade in a few days, but this little sore spot will remain for weeks. What is it going to remind you of?” His voice was soft and almost tender.

“Never refuse your orders, Master,” she whispered.

He nodded and turned away, handing the cane to Master 4 as he walked out.

Laura:

The next morning, Master 3 smiled evilly at her as he poured a healthy dollop of lemon juice in her enema bag. Laura, anticipating this follow-up punishment, simply gave him a level stare. The following twenty minutes were awful as cramp after cramp rolled through her stomach, and she knelt on the table crying and praying she’d make it through the enema alive.

Itwasabadday all around, with Master 3 making her life more miserable than normal. Claire listened to her whispered frustrations, and gave her as many hugs and hand squeezes as she could, encouraging Laura to hang on.

Just before dinner, Master 2 escorted her to the kitchen. Though she wasn’t being trained in formal serving any more, she often helped serve dinner to the masters. She suspected Dan knew she would appreciate doing something normal, and he was right.

Tonight, Master 2 stood watch as they bustled around getting the food ready. Suddenly, there was a screech from one woman. A decent-sized spider was scurrying across the floor. Everyone scattered as far away as possible, but Master 2 chuckled and grabbed a plastic dish, placing it over the terrified arachnid and scooting it out of the way.

“I’ll put it outside in a few minutes,” he promised.

They continued their work, each woman eying the container on the floor as she stepped around it. They dished up the plates, and the women started bringing them out to the men already seated at the table. Master 2 stepped out of the kitchen. Claire leaned over the trapped spider, and after a furtive glance around, picked up the container. Since Laura was deathly afraid of spiders, she spun around and moved far away, not wanting to know anything about what Claire was doing.

A moment later, Claire passed her with a plate in her hand. She exited the kitchen as Master 2 came back in. The other women finished serving, and a moment later, they were all back together in the kitchen as the men started eating.

Suddenly, a bellow ripped through the air, accompanied by the sound of a chair being flung across the room.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Master 1 demanded, as Master 2 opened the kitchen door and peered out into the dining room.

“Spider-spider- there’s a goddamn spider on my plate!” Master 3 yelled. “Someone get it! Kill it!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Master 1.

Master 2 spotted the turned-over plastic dish on the floor. With a meaningful look and a barely disguised smirk, he picked it up, grabbed a lid, and left the kitchen.

The women stared at each other, except for Claire, who was staring at the floor and struggling to hold back a grin.

The kitchen door burst open and Master 3 barged through.

“Who did this? I’ll whip you ‘til you bleed! Who did this?” He grabbed Jackie by the arm. “Did you? Tell me who did!”

Masters 1 and 2 came through the door on his heels.

“Master 3!” Master 1 barked. “Get ahold of yourself!”

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