This is a sequel to "Branded By The Sun".
*****
Darreen and Shaylah were lying next to each other on their backs on a king-sized bed, with their heads on soft pillows surrounded by halos of long sandy-coloured hair. Their pale skins were slick with sweat. They were moaning, because they were receiving oral sex from their slaves.
The slaves were lying face down. Their wrists were fastened behind their backs with thick black cable-ties, the kind with double loops that make such good handcuffs. Their ankles were similarly bound together. They were naked except for chastity devices which covered their penises. The girls didn't enforce long-term chastity, but always kept a device handy for those occasions when they wanted to ensure their slaves could not 'accidentally' achieve unauthorised orgasm - such as when they were lying face down performing cunnilingus. The devices weren't locked, because the captives had no chance of reaching them.
Stephen had his head between Darreen's legs and was working away at her with his tongue. Matthew was servicing Shaylah the same way. In fact, Matthew was Darreen's slave, and Stephen belonged to Shaylah, but the girls liked to swap occasionally for variety.
Not that there was a lot of difference between them. Matthew's hair was mid-brown and curly, while Stephen's was a shade darker and straight, but otherwise they were similar. Both were slim, well toned without being heavily muscled, and had the same pale complexions as their owners. They had also been trained in pleasure-giving to a similar high standard.
After a while, Darreen reached out with her left hand towards her friend. Shaylah responded, offering her right hand. The two slave owners held hands as their moans became louder and orgasm became closer. The slaves knew the signs, and increased the speed of their tongues.
Soon the moans turned to screams.
When they were done, the girls lay gasping for breath. For long moment, neither of them spoke. Eventually Darreen broke the silence.
"You know, I definitely believe mine is better at P.O.V. sex but yours gives better oral."
"You think?" Shaylah responded. "I reckon it's the other way around."
They turned to each other, still holding hands, and smiled.
The males said nothing. They knew not to speak unless spoken to.
After a while, the girls disentangled themselves and climbed from the bed. They each fetched a plastic panel gag with a thick oval-shaped plug, which the slaves obediently opened their mouths to accept. With the captives silenced, the young mistresses walked out of the room, chatting idly as they went.
Matthew and Stephen could not tell what their owners were doing, but it was a fair guess that refreshing drinks were involved. Meanwhile, they, the slaves, could do nothing but wait. They glanced towards one another, then quickly looked away.
Not for the first time they wondered how two final year engineering students with such bright futures could have allowed themselves to be so completely subjugated by two first year girls from the Bachelor Of Communication school. For Heaven's sake, communication? Was that even a real degree? If only they had been scientists or fellow engineers the whole thing would have been a lot less humiliating.
They glanced towards each other again. Although they wouldn't admit it, they felt a strong man-to-man bond, born of shared ordeals. Like when the girls had used sunburn to brand their names onto their slaves' arses, the results of which had faded over the ensuing few weeks but were still visible against their fair complexions. Or when they were bound with cable-ties and shut in chastity devices while being forced to give oral service. Those were the kind of experiences which no man who had not been through them could ever understand.
The waiting became unbearable, but they had to bear it. Their manhoods ached, straining against the cages as the boys twisted and squirmed in their bonds, not knowing what would happen next, but wishing it would happen soon.
Eventually the girls returned, giggling among themselves, glasses of white wine in hand. They each put their glass on a bedside table and climbed back aboard.
Of the two mistresses, Shaylah was the more likely to be merciful to her slave. She showed this now by tipping Stephen - her own slave this time - on his side, removing his chastity device, and proceeding to tease him with her fingernails. All the time making sure he couldn't quite cum, of course.
Meanwhile, Darreen straddled Matthew's back and removed his gag. She issued terse instructions.
"Start begging, slave."
"Please, Mistress," he began pleading immediately. "I feel like I'm about to burst! Please, please let me cum!" He knew from experience that she didn't need to show him any mercy at all. She could get all the pleasure she required for herself by ordering him to use his tongue. This knowledge made his pleas extra desperate.
"Not good enough, slave. Try again. Try telling me how wonderful I am and how lucky you are to be mine."
"You...you're my goddess, my wonderful, beautiful goddess, and I'm the most fortunate man in the world to have the privilege of being your slave, Mistress!."
Darreen considered. She really enjoyed torturing her slave like this, making the poor helpless creature beg and beg and beg. She liked it even better than sex, sometimes. But a glance to her side told her Shaylah was feeling impatient, wanting to mount her own captive but waiting so they could have their sex at the same time."
"Okay slave," Darreen relented, "If I give you sex, do you promise not to cum before I do?"
