Authors: Lesley Owen
“Your good with your hands Sarah, I like it. Now my cunts wet too. I liked strapping you and you took it well. Get on your knees.” Sarah dropped down and Quinn spread her legs. “Use your fingers and your tongue if you wish. Explore me.”
Sarah played with the protruding cunt lips and then kissed Quinn on her pubic mound. “The stubble of your cunt hair is so soft!” She moved her hands back to Quinn’s backside. “Those scars on your arse! Please let me see them!”
Sarah moved to look. “My God you’ve been branded on both cheeks! A Tudor rose on one side and a gothic cross mark on the other! Oh and there’s one at the base of your spine! Just four circles. What does all this mean?”
Quinn pulled her chemise over her head and threw it away. “There you are! All my body is exposed for you!”
Sarah stood back up and looked at Quinn’s front.
“Oh captain! Your body! All those whip marks! I saw some of them the other day when you whipped Danielle. It’s all so magnificent!”
“You can call me Jacqueline. Do you like my marks?”
“Oh yes!” Sarah moved around Quinn. “Especially those branding scars on your arse! The thought of you suffering makes me feel weak at the knees. How did all this happen?”
“
I’ll tell you about it later.”
Quinn pointed to a large bowl of water on the window sill.
“
Wash and shave my cunt!” Sarah set to work. “When you’ve finished I’ll wash and shave yours. Then we can lick each other.”
When Sarah had finished, Quinn made her sit on the window sill to shave her. Sarah did as she was told. “Oh I like that! So gentle and dangerous!”
When Quinn had finished, she kissed Sarah’s shaven pubis.
“Sarah, m
y cunt needs your attention right now.”
Quinn lay with her back on the chart table. She moved slightly sideways, lifted one leg and placed her foot on the table close to its edge. Her crotch was exposed. Sarah knelt in front of it and ran her fingers in between Quinn’s labia. Quinn moaned.
“I can see that you’re wide open captain and so ready.” She
parted Quinn’s labia and licked and kissed her clitoris.
“You taste good captain.”
Then she slipped her fingers into Quinn’s wet vagina.
“Ah - that’s good. Put you hand inside me.”
Sarah put her thumb and fingers together
and
gently reinserted them all. Her whole hand slipped inside and she formed her hand into a fist inside Quinn’s vagina and started to move it backward and forwards.
“Oh fist me Sarah! Bring it out as far as you can! That’s good. Rub my clitoris with your other hand.”
It was obvious that Quinn was close, her breathing quickened and her hand
gr
asped the edge of the table. Then she let out a loud yell.
“My God
! A
aaaaaah! You fucked me good! Aaaaah!”
Quinn lay back exhausted and Sarah gently pulled out her hand. It was covered in fluid and more oozed from Quinn’s gaping vagina. Sarah admired Quinn as she lay panting.
Quinn sat up. “It’s your turn now. Lie with your back on the table, lift your legs and hold your knees with your hands. I’m going to rope you.”
Quinn passed the middle of a rope under Sarah’s backside, which protruded over the edge of the table and pulled it to her waist. She tied one end around Sarah’s right knee and then tied her
right
wrist to
it
. She then went to her
other
knee and pull
ed
the
other end of the
rope so that it spread Sarah’s
right
leg wide
. After spreading Sarah’s left leg
she also tied it around her knee
and
attach
ed
the wrist to it.
“How do you feel?”
“Vulnerable, but I like it. What are you going to do to me?”
“I told you I was going to work your cunt hard. I’m going use the strap and my
dildo
to drive you crazy. You’ll come several times
and
you won’t be able to resist.”
Sarah watched as
Quinn
went over to a cupboard and took out a belt with a large leather phallus attached. She attached the belt around her waist and fastened a strap around her crotch. The base of the phallus rested against Quinn’s pubis and protruded out a good ten inches. It was thick. Quinn
rubbed Sarah’s clitoris and ran her fingers around the opening to her cunt.
She
moved her hand away and started to strap the top of the insides of Sarah’s thighs close to her vagina, crossing from one side to the other. Sarah laid her head back and relaxed. The strap cracked as it hit her skin. Then Quinn laid a stroke on the flesh just above Sarah’s clitoris. Sarah jumped and let out a cry. Quinn knelt down and brought
the strap
fully square onto Sarah’s labia. The strokes now came down entirely on Sarah’s cunt, making
a
different sound. She cried out, moaned and moved her head side to side.
“Ah my young girl, you take a pussy whipping well!”
She slid her fingers into Sarah’s vagina and caressed her clitoris with her thumb. Then she inserted the phallus and shafted hard. Sarah came immediately, writhing and groaning. Quinn continued to shaft hard, she was not going to let Sarah off easily. Sarah came several times with the dildo until Quinn, drenched in sweat from the exertion, stopped.
It was now very late and they retired to Quinn’s bed, exhausted.
Sarah laid in Quinn’s arms with her head on Quinn’s shoulder, she looked up. “Jacqueline, tell me about those brands and what happened to you.”
Quinn laid back and looked towards the ceiling, stroking Sarah’s head.
“I remember it all so vividly, as if it was yesterday. Like you, I once
worked
on
the De Moncey
plantation
. I was
an English
teacher
and child minder to Françoise
.
After a couple of years I had become a sex slave to Pierre de Moncey. He would put me on display, sometimes whip me in front of his friends and make me perform all sorts of sexual acts.”
Sarah moved her head. “Yes. He did that to me as well – horrible man.”
“I was young and impressionable then and I have to admit that much of it was enjoyable. Anyway, Danielle was
jealous of
me from the start and eventually found out what was going on. S
he planted a valuable ring
amongst my
belongings
in my room and
then
accused
me
of theft.
I was so annoyed with her, I hit her. That was a terrible mistake because she then accused me of assault. The police were brought in, the ring found and I was taken off to jail. No one defended me and Pierre just didn’t get involved.
“I
was tried and condemned to
twelve
years hard labour at the notorious
Î
les du Salut penal colony off the Atlantic coast of French Guiana.
Immediately after I was sentenced I was stripped. They shaved my head, shaved off my pubic hair and gave me just a thin short-sleeved linen prison slip to wear. I’ve never forgotten that slip. It was too small for me and barely came down to cover my backside. I was half naked in it and my large breasts lifted the slip at the front. My shaved crotch was exposed for all to see. They put me in chains and took me like this down to the harbour to be shipped to the colony. Everyone stared at me as I walked. I was so ashamed. I have nightmares about it now. I was taken below deck to join a few other women in my predicament. We were kept there chained for the month’s journey to the colony. We were at the mercy of our jailors, we had to let them use us anyway they wanted or risk a whipping.
“We finally arrived at the Îles du Salut and I learnt that I was to be dropped off at the
lesser known
Île
Saint-Joseph, the southernmost island of the group
rather than the infamous Île
du Diable.
My hopes were raised but soon dashed, because I discovered that t
his island was reserved for solitary confinement.
Here t
he inmates
a
re kept
separated in
their own
cells with a
small patch
of land at the front where they have
to produce their own food.
“We arrived at
Île
Saint-Joseph
and I was taken to the guardhouse. Once inside the
guard took hold of the back of what was left of my filthy slip and tore it off me in one movement. I was now naked except for my chains and sweating in the hot stuffy atmosphere. There was no point in hiding myself, the slip hid little and I was their property now.
After they had done their paper work I was given a prison number – number thirty-eight. I was no longer Christine Cartwright but just this number ‘trente-huit’. This was all I would be called from now on.
“
They
t
ook me
to a building at the far end of the courtyard
, which they called
the blacksmith’s shop. I was pulled inside by my chain
s
. It was stifling hot and dark inside and the first thing I saw was the glow of coals in a fire. It took a moment for my eye
s
to adjust to the light. In front of me
,
beyond a strange iron frame was the brick surround of a raging fire. There was a large anvil in front and a bare chested man soaked in sweat was busy hammering a piece of red hot metal. To each side of the room were tables with various metal working tools. Another bare chested man was sorting through them. I was pushed towards the frame by the guard. The floor was stone paving
, but I remember it being warm
under my feet. I was close to the frame and could see its form more clearly. There were two substantial vertical metal posts fixed into the floor about five foot apart and eight foot high. There were three identical horizontal bars running between them finished by rings at their ends that ran around the posts
allow
ing
them to slide up and down. The
re was also a
low third post mid-way between the main posts
, it had shiny round end to it
.
“
I was told to turn around and move back so that my back touched the bars. The man I had seen sorting tools started to adjust the bars up and down. He slacken
ed
knobs on the outside of the posts to allow them to slide. He started with the top bar and got it level with my neck. Meanwhile the guard started to remove my manacles, freeing my wrists. The second and third bars had now been placed, level with my armpits and waist.
The guard removed my ankle bands and chains and placed them on one of the tables. He then removed my collar. I was so relieved to be rid of them all.
“
I was told to walk around the posts to the anvil.
I had to kneel in front of
it
and place my wrists on it. After looking at the size of my wrists the other blacksmith selected two thin iron wrist bands and pushed them over my hands onto my wrists. They were essentially open rings. He then held each one in turn with pliers and hammered them shut. They were tight enough to remain in place but not too tight to be of discomfort. I was told to place my neck down on the anvil with my head face down over its edge. A much larger ring was slid around my neck and was hammered shut. The hammering was unpleasant as the collar took much more effort to close. I was then told to lie on my back and place my ankles in the anvil. As I lifted my head I could feel the weight of the collar. Modesty made me cover my sex as I lay down. Similar iron bands were place on my ankles.