The Travelogue Of Katia Thornwood — Part 10

The phone rang before I had a chance to finish. The irony of having edged myself wasn’t lost on me. Irritated, I fumbled for my cell, Roger’s tone sounding hurried on the other end of the line.

“Katia, we’re parked outside…”

“Well, come on up, Roger. Britney’s waiting for you.”

I lay back on the bed in front of Ben, his puzzled eyes watching me curiously. I offered the glistening tip of the vibrator to his mouth to clean — he wrapped his lips around it and started sucking on it like a ravenous baby on a neon teat. We were both a little frustrated.

“Can you come down? The guys and I have a place we want to take her.”

“Take her? Where? Why?”

“Old plastic dryer factory by the canal. It’ll be a bit of a mind fuck, no real harm, but if she’s not ready, she might get freaked out. I think she’ll enjoy it though.”

I pondered this for a moment. I could at least go to the car with Ben, check these guys out. Personally I was feeling like I might have to call it off, drink some wine and tenderly fuck him raw with the strap on. I asked Roger for more details. He explained his plans to me in considerable detail — the use of a recently abandoned factory, with all of its old smells, cold chills and power still connected. There would be no real threat, but the perceived threat would be considerable. In the end, it would be down to my intuition and Ben’s willingness to go along with it. The more Roger talked though, the better I felt about it. He was, despite his thuggish sexuality, quite an eloquent deviant. For an American anyway.

I had to respect that.

“We’ll be down in five minutes. I want to meet the others in person before committing.”

I hung up and took Ben’s vaginal pacifier out of his mouth, turning it on and running it down his neck, back and down to just above his ass until he quivered.

“I’d like to play with you more, and myself, but it seems our guests have other plans. I’ll lend you a jacket. We’re heading out.”

“Where Mistress?”

I undid the knotted rope that held him on four quarters and he sank bank onto his stockinged legs, shaking out his wrists, his boner looking a little more unsure than it had a few moments ago. I guided him by the small of his corseted back to some high heels, then dipped in the wardrobe to fetch him a long Chinese dressing gown with an embroidered tiger on the back. Black silk and long enough to hide the fact he wasn’t wearing a skirt.

“Tuck it between your legs and walk with me.”
Ben ham-fistedly tried to push the stubborn erection between his legs, but it kept popping back like a phallic cookoo. Amusing little toys these boys have. Sighing, I raced to the cupboard to get one of my purses, thrusting it into his hands and telling him to cover up.

“If you stain it, there will be consequences, and you wont enjoy them. I’ll make sure.”

“Of course, Mistress!”

“Very good then. Shall we go down?

Ben nodded, walking down the hallway to the elevators with me, clutching my sequin purse to his groin with both hands.

*

The silver Mercedes SUV was outside, purring against the stone pillars of the skytrain. As we approached, Roger rolled down the window and wolf whistled. Ben clutched my arm, playing the part of the shy coquette very well. I shrugged him off and he staggered on his heels.

“The others, Roger. I want to see them.”

Roger reeled round in his driver’s seat and barked over his shoulder. The back tinted window rolled down and in the dim flicker of the old overhead light, I saw the silhouettes of three men. One was black — his name was Pierre — he had fine features, an almost feminine mouth, but his body was that of a quarterback.

Pierre fixed Ben intently with his dark eyes. “My my, what a pretty piece of ass. Are you gonna come party with us, sweet thing?”
Ben looked at me, his brow etched with concern.
The guy in the middle was younger than the others, perhaps late twenties like Ben. He looked like a frat boy.

“Brad.” He said, dully, offering his hand.

“And I’m David.” Came another voice.

Familiar — not American. English. He leaned forward and I realized I knew him. I had seen his sausage before. His Cumberland that was — finest Cumberland sausage in the quaint English village I was raised in — or so the sign said. My mother was a big fan. David Dickens, owner of Dickins Meats, now looking aged and awkward from when I’d seen him slinging his meat in the shop window so many years ago. I must have been flushing too. What awkward circumstances.

“David…?”
“Oh, my goodness. It’s you! Katia! Almost didn’t recognize you — but… what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, you old devil. So this is what you’re up to these days? What about the shop?”

“My new partner’s looking after it until I get back.”
“How do you know Roger?”

“He’s my cousin. Just coming out for some fun before heading back to the grind.”

My eyebrow raised at this incestuous little gathering, but who was I to judge? I wondered if they’d spent time together as children at all, and what those meetings would have been like. I never knew David had that side — but I suppose when you spend all day beating meat and handling sausages, you probably end up with some interesting quirks.

“So this your boyfriend? Girlfriend? Didn’t catch her name?”

“Project. Devoted slave. Pet. Britney — introduce yourself.”

Ben stepped forward on his heels to shake David’s hand, but dropped his bag as a gust of wind blew the base of the silk jacket apart, a second’s glimpse of his semi erection bared to the passengers before he wrapped it back around him coquettishly. Pierre and Roger looked hungrier now, Brad was just smirking. Idiot. Ben was a finer caliber of creature than that idiot, I almost felt protective. But not really.

“I see. And I don’t suppose your mother knows what you’re up to?”

My smile must have said it all. He laughed heartily.

Seeing David there made me feel better about the situation, given that he could vouch for Roger. I placed a reassuring hand on top of Ben’s ass, and turned to him.

“Britney… these gentlemen have an exciting evening planned for you, and I can vouch for David. I knew him growing up. Roger’s told me about your role in this evening’s events. If you’re afraid, or don’t want to go, you can tell me now. No pressure.”

“What are the… events… exactly, Mistress?”

Ben almost looked a little teary as he said this. In his eyes I saw the conflict of excitement and fear, lust and disgust. Just what were these men planning to do to him? Of course I knew, but the information was not his to demand. I wrapped myself around him, and hissed in his ear.

“You want to be used, don’t you? It just so happens the stars have aligned for you. I’ll be there, don’t worry, to hold your hand or pin you down. You wont be alone.”

“But… where are we going?”

“Your choice, my dear, is only to accept or refuse this information. No further information will be given. Of course, I know the plans, so if I’m willing to offer this opportunity to you, you must trust me that it is safe. Mostly. It could be frightening, it may scare you at points — it will also likely arouse you to states of pleasure such as you’ve never experienced before. The path less travelled, the path of knowledge and pleasure and pain — a way to my Covenant, a way to endear yourself to me as one of my most rare and favoured of slaves. It’s a rare privilege and I wont offer again. So — what is it to be?”

Ben looked at me, glossy eyed, hungry. I felt the warmth of his breath on my neck quickening as he shifted against me.

“I’ll go, Mistress.”

“Very good.”

I nodded to Roger. The side door of the SUV slid open and the passengers shifted to let down the seat that granted passage to the back row. Pierre touched the inside of Ben’s thigh through the silk as he clambered into the back, Ben gasping as the hand touched him between his legs.

I clambered in beside Ben. The side door slamming as we raced off into a dark Bangkok evening.

*

The factory was old. Some twenty minutes down the expressway and some side roads, it lay close to the silent railway tracks. Beside a waterway I didn’t recognize from my excursions in the city. Some distance away, riverside tenements and shops were closed for the evening. No one was about, but a stray dog ran in mad circles, barking at nothing, near the entrance of the large brick building in front of us. From the outside, it looked run down, broken windows and tall grasses growing out of the cracks that lined the base of the walls.

Roger punched a code into the keypad by the door as the others bought a box and a sound system from the car, eyeing Ben with lust in their eyes as he pulled his gown around himself, trembling. I placed an arm around his waist, using my other hand to rub his cock through the silk. He shuddered to my touch.

Inside the factory, Roger flicked a switch and the blink blink blink of ancient halogens flickered on in threes from the door to the far end of the factory. Roger passed me the blindfold, and I placed it over Ben’s eyes, pressing my lips to his and grinding against him, as he pressed himself to me.
“Mistress…”

“Go with it, Ben. I’ll be close by.”

I removed his silk coat and guided him up flight of oil stained and sagging wooden stairs, behind Roger, to the top floor of the building. The space had been a design room, with blueprints still on the drafting tables. David ran downstairs briefly, and after a few moments, music began to play. I recognized the tune as Holst: the Planets — Mars. There are probably few tunes so sinister. A percussive rhythm, and violent frenzy of a buildup of horns that soars into stops and starts befitting of the god of war.

When David came back upstairs, Roger moved one of the drafting tables forward to the centre of the floor, brushing off the blue prints. As Roger went to rip off Ben’s bodice, I smacked his hands away and carefully unlaced it. Animals.

Then Ben’s arms were gripped by David’s as he bent him over one of the drafting tables, lowering the side winch so Ben’s body was bent at an almost ninety degree angle, his pert little ass hanging above his stockings as Roger ran his hand over it, then slapped him on the cheek.

“She’s a fine piece of meat, eh, Roger?”

“Fine indeed.”

“You boys play nice.” I remarked, stroking the side of Ben’s face. “And you… you lucky thing. Try to enjoy the ride.”

Roger threw David a marker pen, as he pulled some lube from a box and poured it liberally over Ben’s ass, his legs quivering in the stockings below. I took Ben’s legs and spread them a little, then moved beside him to stand by his head. Front row seat. It was my birthday after all.
Ben shuddered at the sound of Roger unfastening his belt.
“I can hardly wait to get a taste.” Pierre rasped, unzipping his flies and squeezing Ben’s cheeks hard in his thick hands to get him to open his mouth to receive his erect cock.

Brad stepped forward, cock in hand, slowly jacking off as I held Ben by the hair and moved his head back and forth against Pierre’s sizeable cock. He frothed and gargled on the sizable intrusion, then gasped as Roger approached his rear and drove deep into Ben’s velvet. Pierre was more sensual in his violation, slowly moaning and whispering sweetly to his “princess” as he pulled his cock in and out of Ben’s mouth. Roger was more vicious, slamming himself against Ben’s cheeks, balls deep in his excitement, pain and terror.

Ben could only blindly follow the tide, occasionally exclaiming something between Pierre’s head fucking him.

“Oh god… oh gaaagghh…. Ghh… ghhh… ghhh…”

Roger let out a guttural roar of pleasure as he came, pushing deep into Ben and grasping the side of Ben’s mouth, lipstick smearing as the American used his lips for a bridle. Pierre protested, moving in closer to push his cock deeper into Ben’s mouth. As Roger withdrew, he pulled off his condom and threw it on Ben’s head, where it slid slickly down his cheek and onto the floor below. Brad stepped forward, more lube, then another gasp from Ben as something new entered him again, and Pierre exploded in his mouth. Sensations abounding, grunts, gagging, a cooler breeze coming through the chipped panes as the music changed from Holst to Toccata and Fugue and David stepped in to take Pierre’s place at Ben’s mouth. Roger watched his cousin, as David’s eyes narrowed in lustful pleasure, taking his fill of Ben.

By the time the men had taken their turns, Ben was a red and matted mess at both ends. I helped him up from the board, two angry lines indented at his shoulders and hips where the board edges had carved into his flesh, his ass gaping. Removing his blindfold and watching the men’s seed drip down the inside of his legs to the wooden floor in glistening strings.

Roger signalled us downstairs. We followed. Through the entryway was a great room of machines. Drills, metal saws and lathes. In the centre of the metal canopy was a worn, wooden chair, above which, a winch and hook stood. Roger signalled us to the room at the end — a chemical shower.

“Clean your girl up. We’re not done with her yet.”

The water in the shower was cold. It was for emergencies, so there was little care taken to make it more than functional. Beside it, a sink and a bar of soap. The hand towel was grimy and marked with oil, suggesting those that had preceded us had a tenuous grasp of basic hygiene. Ben limped in, taking my hand. I led him to the spluttering fount of frigid water and soaped him up as he flinched at the chill and the still tender ache of his recent use.

“You’re doing incredibly well, you dirty little boy. I never knew you had it in you. Now I’ve seen lots of things in you — I do believe you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Mistress… argh! It’s cold…”

“Did it excite you? Being taken like that? Helpless?”

“Y.. yes Mistress…”

“So it’s not too much? You don’t want me to whisk you out of here? You are ready for more?”

Ben shivered and shook his head under the cold stream of water, a baptism into yet deeper terror and filth.

I soaped his back and shoulders and kissed him on his cheek.

“Good little lamb.”

I stroked his hair, and he sighed at the touch. I envisioned at that moment a documentary I had seen once about how when animals are about to have their throats slit for ritual use, the one brandishing the knife speaks tenderly to them, stroking their hair, holding them close as to hear their own heartbeat — so they never know what’s coming.

Tonight would be a little like that. Tonight Ben was the sacrificial lamb to lust and darkness. Except, unlike the sheep, Ben would still be living at the end of it. In some fashion. Changed. Hopefully for the better, though it’s always possible with a mindfuck that things don’t always go back as they should once the exercise is complete.

Usually as Mistress, I am tormenter, seductress. But tonight, the reigns were not entirely in my hands — I was observer, ring side assistant, nurturer. If Ben was going to be at his best, I had to be there to support him. Pull him out of the other side of the vortex, because if he made it through this, he had proved himself more than a worthy slave. The best was yet to come, although, I suppose that might depend on ones perspective. I had a good feeling that Ben was still an optimist. I had to hope so anyway.

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