Slaves of The Pentacle - Part 6
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by Simon Grail
Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: In her ongoing quest to find Viktor Wolff's stolen slave girls, Lyn Caxton and daughter Pippa must endure a painful group sex and punishment session to restore their master's flagging ego. Then Lyn crosses over to the parallel slave world of Albion Magna where she has to suffer the humiliations of an "Essence Collection Centre", where free women are obliged by local law to make regular donations of their orgasmic juices to produce the vital fuel: "Motive Essence". Here she and her companion are at the sadistic mercy of the "tappermen", who enjoy nothing better than degrading the helpless, naked, bound women under their control, and who have the right to use any means necessary to make the women produce the required quantity of their most intimate juices. If that was not enough, Lyn then offends the "Restorers", whose firebrand leader does not approve of Lyn's golem servant, her luxury car, or unmarried, independent free women, who he believes should know their "proper place" in Albion society. And that "place" requires Lyn and her companion to submit to the mastery of both himself and his followers.
eBook Publisher: Fiction4All/FetishWorld,
eBookwise Release Date: May 2012
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [81 KB]
Reading time: 49-69 min.
Taking up the centre of the room were two freestanding lengths of what might have been tubular metal fencing with posts the width of a door apart and about as high. The voids between the posts were filled with straps and chains. About half of them were bound about the bodies of naked women, holding them with their hands pulled out from their sides, their heads up and feet spread. They had large rubber plugs in their mouths with ring ends that made them look like oversized baby dummies. These were tied by light chains to the frame sides.
The women were standing raised above the ground on wooden blocks. Between the blocks were what looked like small motors connected to vertical rods on the ends of which were mounted glass cylinders with graduated scales on their sides. These rose up between the spread thighs of the women until the heads buried themselves in their vulvas. As the motors hummed the cylinders pumped up and down while vibrating rapidly.
The air was heavy with the scent of female juices, gasps and moans and the soft buzz and hum of the motors.
Three men in uniform shirts with their sleeves rolled up were directing the proceedings, moving round the frames in which the women were secured. These must be the tappermen Marjory had spoken of, Lyn thought. God, that made the women seem like rubber trees being cut and drained of their latex. The process looked about as pleasant. The men carried clipboards and had canes hung on their belts. Their heads were covered by leather hoods with necks flaps and front edges that came down over their noses to their cheeks, leaving only their mouths clearly visible. They were mismatched types, she noticed, one fat, the second tall and stringy and the last short. Odd sorts for a very odd job?