EXTRACT FOR
A Gentleman's Property
(Author Unknown)

6. Deck Games

     

     Mary had been kept constantly below decks since she came aboard, and all the portholes had been curtained, so she had no idea in which direction they had been sailing. The heat that struck her as she emerged into the open air immediately revealed that they had travelled far south. No land was in sight. Wherever she looked the watery horizon was obscured by a dancing heat haze.

     Madame was wearing a white blouse and skirt, as if for tennis, and such casual attire seemed general among the members strolling the decks. The slaves were all naked, and all beautiful. Some were walking arm in arm with their masters, as if they were equals who had simply forgotten to dress that morning, while others were on hands and knees, their necks caught in leashes. It was all a matter of whim. The next moment the bitches might become women again, and the women bitches. Madame Colet draped an affectionate arm around Mary, conferring human status on her for the time being, and began her promenade. All the masters greeted Madame warmly, although Mary noticed that several winked at one another lasciviously while her attention was elsewhere.

     On a raised portion of the deck they came across a dozen slaves sunbathing under the orders of an elderly member. He was seated at his ease, shaded by a huge parasol, and with a long cool drink at his elbow. The sweltering women were spread out before him, their backs glistening with oil, in the full glare of the sun. As Mary and Madame Colet passed by, the ugly old man croaked out "turn," and the twelve slaves rolled over in military unison. "Oil" was the next laconic command, and without rising from their backs the twelve reached to bottles at their sides and splashed liberal quantities of the lotion over their faces, their breasts, and their bellies. "Legs" said the old master, and twenty-four rose from the waist as one, so that the slaves could oil their thighs and shins without raising their heads from the deck. 

     As Mary looked back towards the sun deck this position exposed twelve pudenda to her anxious gaze. Most of the women had been shaved, and their labia showed stark and glistening. Two had also been ringed like Lady Logan, and one of these had a thick plug embedded in her cunt, and locked in position by her rings. She seemed older than the others, perhaps in her thirties. Mary soon learned her name, for the master now proved that he could manage more than one word at a time by ordering:

     "Mrs.Carmichael, two minutes peddling. Legs down, the rest."

     The other eleven women lowered their legs immediately, but the ringed redhead with the cunt plug wedged her hands below her hips for support, and began a vigorous peddling action in the air, while the master kept half an eye on her and half on his watch. The two minutes were never completed. Within seconds the increasing colour of her face and the faltering rhythm of her peddling showed her distress. After little more than a minute Mrs.Carmichael's legs went rigid, her toes pointed to the sky, and her laboured breathing indicated the intense struggle for self control raging within her. It was soon lost. She locked her left hand behind her knees, pulling them back almost to her face, as if to hide her blushes, and clamped her right hand to her clit. It fluttered there for a few seconds before she collapsed screaming in an oily heap.

     "The oldest member will make her pay for that," whispered Madame, "though I'll wager she has already put in half a dozen spurts of peddling this morning."

     "The oldest member, Madame?"

     "We call him that because it is literally true, but also in allusion to his tall stories about the feats of his youth. At different times he has told us that every woman at Victoria's court was his abject slave. He even hints that it was only her age that protected the queen herself. Sir George Carmichael is his name. You must have heard of him."

     "The same name as the slave!"

     "Yes. She is the wife of his grandson. The boy married against Sir George's wishes, and the old fox soon saw to it that the couple ran into the financial quicksand. Then he stepped in to save the poor fool from ruin, and the price you have seen for yourself."

     "The grandson sold his wife into slavery?"

     "Temporary slavery. And she loves him so much - God knows why - that she was a willing victim. She is saving him not only from bankruptcy, but from prison, for he had resorted to fraud."

     "Poor woman," murmured Mary.

     "I suppose so, especially as Sir George is never going to forgive her marriage. Her age is one problem - she is older than her husband - but probably a few years could be overlooked at a pinch. That is not her real crime. Middle class, you understand."

     "So am I," said Mary humbly.

     "Moi aussi," laughed Madame. "Aren't men silly?"

     Towards the bow there was a large open space covered by an awning. Here they found Sir Roger organising a team of slaves who were setting out various chairs and tables and other less familiar items, which seemed to have drawn their inspiration in equal parts from furniture, from sporting equipment, and from the implements of torture.

     "Good morning, Madame," said Sir Roger, his eyes flitting over Mary. "I trust you enjoyed a restful night." He was far too polite to exhibit any unseemly mirth, but there was a twinkle deep in his knowing eyes. "Have you come to enter Miss Bowdler for the games?"

     "An excellent night, thank you, but as Mary has had a tiring morning I will not race her today. I am sure she will be an interested spectator, though. Have you an amusing seat for her, and a comfortable one for me?"

     "For you, Madame, always the best."

     A buxom young slave appeared to offer a programme. She could not give one because her wrists were locked at the back of her collar, but she thrust forward her breasts for Madame to help herself. Her pierced nipples had been drawn together and fastened to a single small ring. A roll of programmes had been thrust into the narrowed cleavage. Madame deftly extracted the middle programme without disturbing the others, and rewarded the slave with a playful tug of the nipple ring.

     Sir Roger conducted them to a pair of places in the front row. One was a large and well upholstered armchair, for the mistress of course. Beside it was a three legged wooden stool with an obscenely lifelike model of a black penis protruding from the seat, ten inches long, proportionately broad, and dripping with lubricant. It was not mounted in an upright position, but pointing forward at quite an acute angle.

     Madame Colet seated herself demurely, and indicated that Mary should do likewise.

     "But Madame," stammered Mary, "how can I?"

     "Nonsense, girl. Ogden tells me you are unusually roomy. This will be lost in you."

     "But the angle, Madame!"

     "Don't be silly. The thing is flexible. Just bend it back. Now hide it quickly, you goose. It is making me feel quite faint."

     The prong did indeed bend quite readily, and Mary found that its greasy length slid into her easily enough. But as soon as she settled back on the stool the hard rubber tried to spring back to its former position. As it could lean forward very little it continued to press firmly against the front wall of Mary's sheath - her most sensitive spot. After a little exploratory squirming Mary found that by leaning far forward again she could relieve the pressure substantially. She was not allowed to do so for long.

     "You are disgracing me in public," hissed Madame. "Sit up straight like a good girl, and stop fidgeting!"

     Mary obeyed at once, and the big prong reasserted its steady pressure. It felt wonderful, but she knew that without some assistance from steady fidgeting, to say the least, it would raise her to a plateau of frustration, but never to the peak of satisfaction. Her hands were still cuffed behind her back, but perhaps if she raised her buttocks a little she could stretch a finger or two far enough forward to...

     "Elbows out, hands in the small of the back, sit absolutely still," hissed Madame.

     Mary adopted the required pose with a sigh of resignation. Madame raised a languid right hand from the arm of her chair and began to toy idly with her slave's left nipple. She varied feather-light tickling of the tip with scratches of her nails around the base and areola. When Mary began to press her breast more firmly against the pleasure-dealing hand Madame gave the nipple a sharp admonitory pinch.

     "Quite still, I have said. Are you all hot and bothered, cherie? Never mind. Perhaps the games will provide the cure. Even I have been known to come while watching them, and without the aid of any internal comforter. Or if sport does not excite you concentrate your thoughts on little Suki and her fist."

     Madame resumed her tickling and scratching while the rest of the spectator seats on the sports deck gradually filled with masters and a few slaves. When all the places were taken Sir Roger clapped his hands for silence, and ordered:

     "Let the games commence!"

     A hatch in the centre of the deck sprang open with theatrical suddenness, and a magnificent peacock feather emerged into the bright sunlight. As it rose higher it was seen to be attached to an elaborate headdress, in the Zeigfeld mode. Another step revealed the wearer to be the beautiful brunette showgirl last seen by Mary tap dancing while impaled on a dildo stand. The audience waited in great expectation to see what sumptuous costume could have been worthy to be topped off by such extravagant millinery. The bare shoulders which next appeared raised thoughts of an elegant evening gown, but little by little more flesh was exposed above the hatch, and it soon became obvious that the woman was naked except for a liberal sprinkling of body jewellery, and high heeled shoes. Just below her navel and on her right buttock the number '1' had been painted in a highly colourful and ornate style.

     "That is Grace Connolly, the American model," Madame told Mary, with a sharp pinch of the nipple to secure her full attention. "She has been trying to break into films for years, and now Sol Jungmann, one of our Hollywood members, has offered her a contract - on completion of a year's apprenticeship with the club. It is sad that censorship will prevent her from making direct use of the skills she is learning when she finally makes it to the silver screen."

     While Madame was talking a second slave had followed Miss Connolly onto the deck. She balanced an equally bizarre creation on her head, and had number '2' painted on her, front and back. While these two circled the deck like thoroughbreds being exhibited in the paddock, contestants three to twenty, similarly decorated, emerged from the hatch, which was immediately closed behind them. Soon all twenty women were displaying themselves to the spectators, and a fair number of bets were being laid on the various events listed in the programme. Mary tried to steal a look at Madame's, but 'Maiden Staking' was the only title she could pick out, and surely, she thought, that must be a misprint!

     Sir Roger clapped his hands again, and the twenty athletes withdrew to the back of the games deck, where they assisted one another in removing the ponderous headdresses. They then carried forward three most unusual seats and placed them in a row only a few yards in front of Madame Colet and Mary and the other more privileged spectators. The seats were armless and straight backed and otherwise conventional, except that the seats were extended forwards by a narrowing tongue of highly polished wood which curved up gently from the horizontal, so that anybody sitting on the tongue would tend to slide down towards the main part of the seat. The ends of these extensions had been carved into bizarre phallic shapes like figureheads from a virgin's nightmare. Mary noticed that one of them was pointed threateningly straight at her mouth.

     "Madame Colet and gentlemen," announced Sir Roger, in his most theatrical manner, "the first item on your programme is the Maiden Staking for eighteen to twenty-three year olds. Step forward Miss Susan Metcalfe, Mademoiselle Denise Monnier, and Miss Peggy Ponsonby."

     Three young slaves, with the numbers 6, 7, and 8 elaborately painted on their bellies and buttocks, immediately emerged from the group of contestants and took up their stations beside the chairs. They had clearly been well drilled, up to this point at least. The climax of their performance would have been ruined by rehearsal.

     "We do not have the traditional old woman present," continued Sir Roger, "so may I request the ever young and lovely Madame Colet - for the satisfaction of the punters - to certify the condition of these recently acquired fillies?"

     "It will be my pleasure," answered Madame, with unwonted sincerity.

     Peggy Ponsonby, a delicate Irish redhead, was the first to be presented for inspection. Madame ordered her to stand with the backs of her widely spread thighs pressing against the front of the armchair, in which the mistress had remained seated. Peggy was then made to bend over and place her palms flat on the deck to either side of Madame's feet. This position presented a most intimate close-up view of her cunt, on which the sparse coppery hair had been allowed to remain, and also framed her anxious aristocratic features (upside down) between her quivering thighs.

     The lesbian millionairess had never been accustomed to hurry the inspection of a virgin. She tugged at Miss Ponsonby's pubic hair until the girl closed her eyes in what might have been pleasure or pain. The closely attentive Mary, on her stool of frustration, found that reversed expressions were surprisingly hard to interpret. Madame teased apart the slave's fine and understated outer lips, and holding them agape with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand began to search for the clitoris. After she had delved and stroked for some moments nothing was visible to even so close a spectator as Mary, but Madame had felt a slight swelling beneath her finger tip and continued to caress it until the Irish beauty's breathing showed symptoms of considerable agitation.

     "Well, Madame?" enquired Sir Roger, who had noticed a certain restlessness among the more remote sections of his audience.

     The mistress abandoned the growing clit and searched instead for the narrow entrance to Peggy's sheath. She cautiously inserted her little finger and advanced it until she felt the maidenhead. Reluctant to abandon hold of this beauty so soon Madame returned her thumb to the clit and stroked it until she had the gratification of feeling the virgin sheath considerably relax the tightness of its grip upon her finger. Then, catching the eye of Sir Roger, she withdrew her hands and loudly announced:

     "Intact!"

     The other two contestants were similarly inspected, and pronounced sound. Denise Monnier, a saucy-eyed brunette, nearly came when her clit was gently stroked, and Madame whispered to Mary that it was a pity her status as a judge prevented her from betting.

     "My countrywoman is certainly a virgin so far as the male is concerned, but I can see in her eyes that she has had more than one female tongue inside her. I must enquire what school she is from. Now pay attention, Mary. So far most of the masters you have met have been of mature years, but for the purposes of this sport we need to call on the services of our younger and more virile members. There is never any shortage of volunteers."

     "Will the gentlemen jockeys be so good as to step forward?" said Sir Roger, and three young men in morning suits, more formal than the attire of most of the audience, appeared from behind the rows of seats. Mary instantly recognised one as Mark Gertler, the American playboy. Another's face was familiar from the illustrated magazines. The third man was a devastatingly handsome Pakistani - 'Tommy' Khan, Madame named him to Mary in an undertone. They acknowledged the enthusiastic applause of their fellow members, and settled themselves on the three unusual seats, each with one leg on either side of the extending tongues of polished wood.

     Sir Roger now called forward three more of the contestants to act as suckers, whose duty it was to prepare the jockeys for action. The most beautiful, a serene honey blonde, was assigned to the Pakistani. She immediately knelt beside him and began to unbutton his flies. The other two suckers set to work on their appointed masters, and soon three servile mouths were clamped around three meaty cocks.

     "May I ask, Madame," said the curious Mary, still unable to put a name to the face, "what is the name of the third master."

     "Lord Reginald Atterbridge. His father the marquess owns the London homes of several of our members, which gives him a good deal of influence. That is why this favourite son is a member, though I doubt whether his personal wealth qualifies him, strictly speaking. Do you find him handsome, cherie?"

     "All three of them are, especially Mr.Khan!"

     "They would certainly agree with you, but I suspect their present attractions owe more than anything else to that obscene object between your legs. Speaking of which, did I not tell you to sit still?"

     Mary had been unaware of it, but now realised that ever since the appearance of the three young masters, the only really attractive men she had seen since coming aboard, she had been almost imperceptibly swaying her hips to vary the pressure of the big black prong inside her. Madame, in spite of her absorption in the events passing on deck, had spotted the motion out of the corner of her eye, and now accompanied her words with a stinging smack to Mary's right buttock. The agitation this imparted to Mary's lower body, and thence to the prong, was all that was needed to release her long-pent emotions in a noisy and most entertaining orgasm.

     As the resounding smack had attracted a good deal of attention to Mary, the eyes and ears of both audience and performers were focused on her as she writhed and bounced her way to fulfilment on the greasy black cock. The only ones not fully aware of what was happening were the three suckers. They were too intent on their task to look round, but the one servicing Lord Reggie realised something was afoot when the languid aristocrat's stubbornly flaccid member suddenly jerked into urgent rigidity.

     "Two," said Madame coldly. "Now that you have got that out of your system perhaps you will consent to sit still and concentrate on the remainder of the games."