Slave To Suffer
Lady Reannon and Lady Tanya stood like twin predators, their eyes gleaming with a dark, almost gleeful intensity. The room, dimly lit with flickering candles, was a stage for their casual cruelty, and their power seemed to fill every corner of it. Shane lay beneath them, a trembling, writhing figure, pinned to the floor by the sharp heels digging into his skin. His every breath was labored, and his body shuddered with pain, but for the two women, his suffering was simply the backdrop to a leisurely conversation, punctuated with the occasional sound of his muffled groans.
“I’m contesting for a large piece of land next month,” Lady Reannon remarked coolly, as if discussing the weather.
Lady Tanya responded by forcing her heel deeper into the small of Shane’s back, causing him to grunt in pain. She savored the sensation of his body straining beneath her, the tension in his muscles a silent testament to her control. “Who against?” she asked, her voice detached but with a hint of curiosity.
“Lady Jenna,” Reannon replied, her tone clipped.
Tanya’s eyes lit up, and she chuckled darkly. “Lady Jenna!” she exclaimed, grinding her heel harder into Shane’s spine. His low groan was like music to her ears. “Surely she could simply outbid you with her wealth? She certainly doesn’t lack for it.”
“Yes,” sighed Lady Reannon. “But I think she just matched my best offer for the sole purpose of humiliating me with a servant battle.”
Tanya’s lips twisted into a smirk. “What is she up to? She’s arrogant, yes, but usually doesn’t bother with petty games. Have you crossed her recently?”
Reannon shook her head. “No, but I hear she’s training a new Mistress; Mistress Vanessa. Very ambitious, apparently. This contest is likely just a test for her.”
At the mention of Mistress Vanessa, Lady Tanya’s heel twisted deeper into Shane’s back, drawing a sharp cry from him. Lady Reannon responded by pressing her own heel into his legs, relishing the way his body jerked beneath her as she ground the point of her shoe into him. His moans of discomfort filled the air, an intoxicating reminder of their dominance. They exchanged satisfied glances, their pleasure subtly heightened by his suffering.
Lady Reannon’s eyes darkened as she continued. “The bitch doesn’t need that land; it’s remote from her estate. But it borders mine. It would double my hunting grounds.”
“Have they chosen the contest method?” asked Tanya, the tone of her voice dripping with mock innocence, though she already suspected the answer.
“Servant Stamina,” Reannon said, her lips curling into a wicked smile.
“Ah, of course. Just a lovely exercise for Mistress Vanessa,” Tanya replied with a smirk. “But don’t worry; the contest won’t be one-sided. I’ve heard rumors.” She leaned down, savoring the feel of Shane’s breath quickening beneath her heel. “Lady Jenna may have a talented whip hand, but her penchant for using her strongest servants for… other forms of entertainment has thinned her ranks. She likes to hunt them when they’re still strong and capable. They make better prey that way.”
Tanya’s smile widened as she moved her boot closer to Shane’s mouth. Instinctively, he began licking the heel, his fear and submission palpable in every frantic motion. But it wasn’t enough for her. Even his perfect obedience was met with a harsh strike of her crop across his back. She did it simply because she could; because it brought her a deep, sadistic pleasure to see him flinch, to hear the sharp intake of breath that signaled his pain.
Reannon was no less cruel. She dragged her heel down Shane’s back, watching with satisfaction as the skin reddened beneath the pressure. His gasps were sweet music to her ears, though when he dared to hesitate for a second in his task of licking Tanya’s boots, her expression darkened.
“Annoying, isn’t it?” she snapped, a venomous bite in her voice. “How Lady Jenna always gets away with it. All that bloody money and she does whatever she pleases. No need for permits, no fear of repercussions. She hunts prime specimens like they’re toys.” Her frustration only added weight to her step as she stood on Shane’s back, pressing her full weight into him, her heels digging into the tender flesh of his neck and back.
Tanya placed a comforting hand on Reannon’s shoulder, though the gesture was more to maintain her own balance as she leaned further into Shane. His body trembled beneath the crushing weight of both women. He could barely breathe, pinned under their heels, every intake of air a struggle as his chest strained against the pressure. The helplessness in his eyes, the sheer desperation, sent a thrill down Tanya’s spine. Power was an intoxicating drug, and she was thoroughly addicted.
Shane’s pitiful attempts to keep licking Tanya’s boots faltered, and she immediately noticed. Her voice turned sharp and cutting. “Who gave you permission to stop, you filthy wretch?”
She stepped forward and rested her heel on the back of his hand. Slowly, with a deliberate cruelty, she pressed down. Shane cried out, his face contorting in agony as the bones in his hand seemed to creak under the pressure. Tanya could feel the subtle vibrations beneath her heel, the suggestion of something on the verge of breaking. It sent a wave of satisfaction through her, a heady rush of dominance.
She lifted her heel slightly, just before real damage could be done. Turning to Reannon, she remarked, “We’d better not damage him too much. He may be pitiful, but he has stamina. It took a long time to break his pride, but like all men, he eventually gave in. You may use him, if you wish.”
Reannon stepped down from Shane’s back, her smile a mask of cruelty. “Thank you for the offer. I may take you up on that.”
Shane, sensing a shift, pleaded desperately. His voice was hoarse and filled with terror. “Please, my Lady, no…”
The two women burst into laughter, their cruel mirth echoing off the walls. His fear only heightened their sense of superiority.
“Insolence,” Lady Tanya hissed, her smile fading into a sneer. “I’ve offered your services to my friend, and you will endure whatever she or her Mistresses choose. For your insolence, you’ll now receive twelve lashes from Reannon’s whip, and twelve from my crop. Now, across the chair. Now!”
Shane’s body trembled as he crawled to the chair, positioning himself over it, knowing what was to come but powerless to stop it. The two Ladies took their positions, flexing their whips with almost loving anticipation. The moment of power stretched deliciously for them, the knowledge that he was completely at their mercy, that his pain would be a canvas upon which they could paint their cruelty.
“We can discuss my Mistresses for the contest as we make pretty patterns on his back,” Reannon said with a wicked grin.
“And I have good news,” Tanya replied, her voice dark with delight. “His brother is also mine. Should this one fail in the contest, his brother will suffer for it. Perhaps a little visit to Supreme Guard Aphrodite for a fabricated crime.” She laughed coldly.
“Please… no…” Shane’s voice was broken, desperate.
The first crack of the whip split the air, like thunder before the storm. It struck Shane’s back with the force of a branding iron, leaving a fiery trail of agony in its wake. His scream filled the room, but for the Ladies, it was a symphony of submission. They laughed, their eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.
“Then you’d better survive next month, hadn’t you?” Tanya taunted, as the next strike landed, and Shane’s body writhed under the force of their cruelty.