The Training Hall
Eta, the long-legged blonde I had seen earlier, was at a practice rod. Chained naked on her knees, her hands braceleted behind her back, she kissed, licked and sucked lasciviously at the polished wooden replica of an erect manhood, mounted at the correct height on a stand.
As I watched, she kissed fervently up the underside and at the top, with a flick of her blonde tresses, brought her mouth gently down over the first three inches of the shaft, then slowly, languorously sucked her way up to the top. Throwing her head back, she arched her body to bring her breasts forward, pushing them around the shaft, and gently undulating her whole body to rub herself up and down and up again it; then delicately tracing her left nipple up the line of the hard wooden phallus.
Standing so close behind, Joanne's breath felt warm in my ear as she whispered sexily to me, her educated English accent somehow making her teasing tone even more delicious.
"Of course, angled like that and with her hands behind her back it is hard for a girl to properly use her breasts and give a man what I'd called an acceptable tit-fuck. But Eta's not bad, and used properly she can be very pleasing."
It seemed the girl had heard her, for she flicked her hair back again and turned her head to the left as she brought her mouth forward once more, this time to kiss and lick along one side of the rod; as she did so her eyes glanced coyly up to meet mine. I felt my erection stiffening uncontrollably as, still looking into my eyes, the slave girl slowly ran her open mouth along the side of the rod, down to the base and oh, so gently back up, at the top her tongue curling out to delicately bathe that most sensitive spot, just gently caressing it with the soft, moist tip, before her full lips came together, first in a brief smile to me, then softly, lovingly in a series of soft, lingering kisses at the top of the underside of the unyielding shaft.
Joanne stepped in front of me with a knowing smile, and I refocused myself on her. She was unbelievably beautiful. Long blonde hair framed her perfect face, dazzling light blue eyes bewitched as they looked deep into mine, and her kissable mouth bore a mischievous smile. She stood simply, hands by her side, one knee slightly forward, her carriage very straight and somehow light, like a dancer. Still I had wit enough to recognise that I was on the receiving end of a targeted pose as she displayed herself to me. Infinitely desirable, her gorgeous body almost completely open to my gaze in her outfit of tight black cropped top, tiny black micro skirt and high heeled ankle boots. The top was really just a sports bra, tightly outlining every curve of her luscious breasts, nipples clearly visible, and the micro skirt was more like a decorative strip of fabric that covered barely half the rounded orbs of her perfect buttocks, the black thong panties below clearly visible. She was almost as tall as me, and from her painted toenails, through her shapely legs, toned abdomen and slim arms, to her magnificent, full breasts straining in their tight confinement, her body was a miracle of vitality and sexuality. She bore herself proudly, perfectly comfortable that my eyes roved hungrily over her frame, and the hint of challenge was lent further authority by the thin black crop dangling from her hand.
"Come" she said, smiling and taking my hand. "There is much more I want you to see."
Reluctantly, I walked away from Eta, still sensuously active at her task.
At the next alcove a second girl was also at a training rod. Auburn-haired and green-eyed, this slave knelt naked before a wooden stand in the shape of a man sitting legs apart, phallus erect. The girl was nestled closely in between the 'legs', and unlike Eta her hands were free, though her ankles were chained to the floor. Beside her was a small bowl of some clear oil.
"Now here's another thing a trained girl on her knees can do for a Master," Joanne said. "I often teach the girls how to do this myself." She paused to let me take that in, then smiled seductively at me.
"Begin" she commanded the girl.
As I watched, the slave gracefully dipped a slim hand into it then delicately rubbed the oil over the inner curves of her large, rounded breasts, massaging it slowly into the pliant flesh. Then, cupping a heavy breast in each hand she leant forward and enfolded the wooden manhood in the softness of her bosom. Her whole slender body moved then as she worked her ripe breasts up and down the shaft, her shoulders sometimes twisting as she applied a rotating movement to the stern rod.
At first, her head was down as she concentrated on her service, her breasts rubbing up the shaft now quickly, the flesh bouncing slightly and her long hair rising and falling about her, now with tormenting slowness, as she used her softness to rub with an excruciating gentle friction, twisting her body to caress her smooth skin against what would be every sensitive inch of a man's erection. The wooden rod glistened from the oil and from the sweat of the girl's exertions. And for all my experience it seemed to me that no woman had ever concentrated on my pleasure with the rapt devotion this slave girl lavished on mere wood.
