GOOD BREEDING (8 page)

It was the first time she had even thought the word an
d
as the whipping began again, she savoure
d the rough baseness of it
and how well it suited what she wanted this man to do to her. She didn’t want love; she wanted a good length of hard, thick, cock rammed inside her.

She didn’t get it however until he had whipped her breasts into scarlet mounds of pulsing agony and her stomach into a stinging expanse
of pain, her t
highs and crotch into a
lake of molten lust. She had nearly jerked upright, despite her bonds, when the lashes had first fallen there but they had almost instantly catapulted her beyond pain as such and into a strange region where pain, lust, excitement and submission to Adam’s will seemed to melt her.
At last, t
he man stood over her, eclipsing the sun and bent slightly as he fiddled with his buttons. Clara was nearly screaming with impatience by the time he shuffled forward an inch or two and she felt him at last lodge between her burn
ing, throbbing and fluttering
lips. He smiled down at her, a sneering unpleasant smile and thrust into her, effortlessly sending her cascading up into a mind shattering orgasm in the wake of her flogging. When she came down he was still pounding into her and all she could do was hang there and groan in answer to each thrust until she felt him pause at full penetration then make short, sharp jerks as he sent thick, sticky streams of spunk into her.

She collapsed when he released her and as he did himself up he curtly told her to go over to the ‘Pool’, then h
e left without looking back
. Clara struggled to her feet and examined her battered body with some pride before she set off for the area where any woman not being led on her leash
was required to wait until she was picked once again. Limping through the garden she watched in fascination as all around her women were subjected to every single sort of male inventive cruelty.

She saw a blonde girl lying on her back along a whipping trestle having diamond tipped needles pushed into her breasts as, with her flung back head, she fellated any man who wanted her and between her spread legs she played host to another eager queue. Her owner, or temporary one
,
was bending over her and jokin
g with friends as he plunged
more and more needles into the quivering, shaking hillocks until the girl glittered and shone in the bright sun. He stood back for a while and the assembled men laughed knowingly as their colleagues, buried to the balls in her, gripped her
breasts as they used her and pressed the needles farther in. The girl’s body bucked and twisted between them but her pelvis tipped and swung in feverish excitement. Clara watched quietly, entranced by the girl’s lascivious and impassioned display. Her torture was not over by a long way, once there was a pause in the queue of men wanting her, her owner or temporary master had her prop herself up on her elbows and watch as he slid the cloth on which the needles were laid, further down her body. Her legs were spread either side of the bench’s top at one end and a dark stain of her own juices and sperm from innumerable men had spread between them.

The man picked up one of the glittering needles and twirled it, making the head sparkle. The girl watched him with large eyes, her heaving breasts glittering like a jeweller’s display. Clara had seen that ex
pression before, it was curiosity, fear, anticipation and excitement. The girl
didn’t care what he intended, just so long as he did it to her.

He picked out a pinch of labial flesh and pierced her, taking his time about pushing the needle home
and then out the other side. Clara nearly fainted with excitement and horror and then almost laughed as she registered the fact that the point of the needle faced away from the entrance to her vagina. A second needle followed quickly and it became clear that she was to be made a veritable pincushion
of
but would still be available for a safe and comfortable fuck. A long sigh of resigned pleasure escaped the girl and she lay back down to resume giving service.

Clara tip toed
away, her crotch oozing cold sperm and hot juice in equal quantities. And then she saw the hostess, Celia Landon
being mounted by her husband on what he was calling ‘the tit trolley’.

Celia was a big woman
with a wealth of pale breast flesh swinging in front of her as she knelt up on the trolley, her nipples bright red against the white skin, brown areolas visibly swollen by lust. The trolley was almost identical to the ones the female slaves had been tied down to for mating. It was two wheeled, had metal struts to prop it up at rest and it had
long
handles
to push it by
. The crucial difference was that this trolley was equipped with two distinct wooden circles covered in thin metal spikes. Immediately C
l
ara realised that another piercing was to take place and she stopped again.

Celia looked far from happy as she looked down at what awaited her but her husband landed a stinging blow with a riding whip across the trembling expanse of buttock facing him.

“Get on with it, Celia, old gel! Or I’ll damn well flog you round the fields tomorrow!”

Groaning, Celia bent forwards and tucked her arms down between her thighs, pushing her breasts together and squeezing them up, ripe and ready for the spikes. With a rising cheer – from some of the female onlookers, Clara noticed – the crowd watched her bend down until her breasts cushioned out on either side of her chest. Clara could clearly see where some of the spikes were sticking up into the flesh.
She grimaced as she slowly pressed her weight down until her tits were fully impaled.

Hugh stepped forwards and tied her wrists to her ankles and then tied her thighs to the dowling poles, so that like the slaves, she couldn’t kneel back and take any of the weight of
f
her tortured teats.
Her groan became a steady keening as the spikes remorselessly drove into her.

Hugh stepped back and unfurled a long stock whip. The crowd edged back quickly as they took in its length. He swung it up above his head and swept it forwards bringing the heavy lash down across his wife’s back. She couldn’t help jerking up in shock at the impact and that in turn made settling back onto her bed of nails a
n entirely new torture. Ten
times Hugh whipped her broad back, ten times she jerked up and screamed as she sank back down. Clara watched in rapt attention, her hands occasionally stroking her own throbbing teats. After ten devastating lashes, Hugh relented and coiled up the stock whip but picked up a twenty tailed whip
instead
and stuck the handle in Celia’s capacious cunt.

“If I may suggest, gentlemen, you’ll find she sucks cock like the very devil in this position and if you use her arse cleft as a sights, you can flog her cunt while she does it.”

One man immediately stepped forwards and took up a place between the handles, then he grabbed them
, lifted
and began to push the trolley away. It jumped and thumped across the grass and Celia howled until he stopped, took out his coc
k and pushed it into her mouth before pushing her over to wherever he wanted to use her.
Her screams subsided into cock-muffled gurgles and Clara realised that there simply wasn’t any cruelty or humiliation an island woman wouldn’t welcome with all her heart as long as there was the prospect of getting plenty of male attention.

Back at the Pool, she
found a group of women tending to one another in a variety of ways. Cool water was available for splashing on welts and washing out overheated vaginas and most were taking full advantage. Some however were stretched out on the grass and were making the beast with two backs. Clara saw Isabelle’s familiar thighs wrapped round the shoulders of another woman she didn’t know and once she had doused her
own
sore breasts and crotch, she too lay on the grass and revelled in its cool touch. But not for long.

A man came and took up her leash. That time he wanted to flog her back and did so harder than Adam had done to date. But he came to watch and Clara was almost tipped into orgasm when
, as she spun and danced at the end of a rope,
she spotted
his dear face, alight with pleasure and humour as he talked to a friend. But what really fired her delight was the brunette kneeling in front of him, clearly engaged on delivering an eager fellation. He wasn’t even touching the girl, his hands were gesticulating as he talked, the girl a mere adjunct to the pleasure he was taking in a friend’s company and the sight of his wife, naked and in public, being flogged raw.
Clara was ecstatic at the thought that he was denying himself nothing
while she suffered
.

After that time there a brief dalliance with Phyllis back at the Pool. Then came a man who wanted to stretch her on a rack and then climb aboard to fuck her. Unfortunately he forgot to release her
when he had finished
and it was only Dorca passing by half an hour later who let her up.

Another man took her leash immediately and had her bend over one of the wrought iron tables the men sat around and used the drizzling outflow from her sorely tested cunt to lubricate her back passage before he took her there.
Clara couldn’t help groaning as what felt like a tree trunk was forced into her and she experienced the contrary urge to defecate even as a shaft was pushing upwards
. It took a few minutes before she had relaxed enough to give comfortable service but as she suffered and was buggered c
onversation never faltered for a second, being mainly about crops and the prices being obtained for sugar and cotton. Isabelle was straddling the lap of the man opposite Clara and levering herself up and down the dusky red shaft of his erection, carefully holding him just inside her before sliding her body slowly and sensuously down again.
With something of a shock, Clara realised that he was inside her back passage and they were both being sodomised. Immediately she shook off the feelings of discomfort she still got in her inexperienced rectum and tried to remember what Phyllis had taught her; clench when he’s withdrawing, relax on the inward stroke. Make him feel welcome. She tried and was delighted when, just for a second her sodomiser paused in his long inward push to comment that; “Bestwood’s done damn well
with
this’un. From what I he
ard she was as cold as a witch’s tit
, but she’s got a hell of
an
arse on her now!”

The others were unwilling to take his word for it and one after another they sampled her backside until Clara was numb and burning all at the same time. And she could feel a cold puddle of come under the fronts of her thighs.

Chapter Eight

It took nearly a week before she could walk without discomfort from her various hurts. Her only consolation was that neither Dorca, Isabelle nor Phyllis had fared any better.

They were confined to walking gingerly near the house and retiring to their own or each others’ rooms to lift
their
skirts and dab on cool water
, or shrug off blouses and stroke sponges over scored breasts
. To Clara it seemed that the men knew exactly how to control their females. After such a devastating outbreak
as the Torture Garden party
that satisfied every fantasy a girl could possibly have, it was as if a thunderstorm had cleared the air. She had thought that the
Jacaranda
estate was calm and tranquil
before the party
but in relation to the sense of deep calm and contentment that now seemed to pervade the place, it had been a madhouse. The women were quite content
to drift quietly about, worrying about their bodies, and
to spend hours discussing
only
how they had
been made use of, how well the men concerned
were endowed, how many lashes
each of them had taken
etc.etc..
For once gossip was off the menu.
And
every recollection of every torment was couched in
glowing terms of love and respect. Clara’s adoration of Adam for abandoning her and allowing her to lust after every man who had used her while he himself had demonstrated such complete mastery, knew no bounds and she ached for those nights when he would banish her to her room and take Phyllis to his bed, displaying the utter freedom with which he was able to treat her. She would lie awake in the warm darkness and masturbate at the thought of how completely she had prostrated herself at the feet of her master.
And with what utter ease he pressed his heel to her neck.

On one blissful night she was allowed to kneel at the bottom of his
bed and masturbate while he bugger
ed Phyllis in front of her, then he watched her lick his come out of her own maidservant
’s arse
.

Once all the weals from the garden party had faded, she spent an afternoon in Sir Archibald’s own Torture Garden
. Adam hung her up by her ankles
and flogged her between her legs for a long time before whipping her back till the blood flowed.

About three weeks
after the garden party
, Adam and Archie announced that they had to attend an auction on one of the other islands. They would be gone for some days as Adam was looking to buy the first of the
Jacaranda
pony slaves. In the meantime they wanted Isabelle and Clara to go up to stay with George and Anne Presteign at Greenlawns. It was common practice on the island for men to send their women to another man when they were away. An overseer could perfectly well run a plantation for a few days and it kept the girls out of mischief.

Adam kissed Clara farewell at the front of the house and told her that soon after his return they would be able to move into their new home.

After breakfast the next morning, Alex Sweeney brought horses round to the front of the house. Clara hadn’t ridden for a while and was looking forward to it, but Isabelle had been a bit quiet.
One look at the saddles and Alex’s grinning face, told her why.
Of cour
se both women were to ride side-saddle
but just behind the pommel that they would hook their knees around were dildos. And in Clara’s case it was a double one.

“Sorry, my dear,” Isabelle told her. “I was under threat of real punishment if I told you. Adam wants you to ride a double. Alex will have oiled them at least but I’m afraid we’re going to be a sore couple
of girls by the time we get to
Greenlawns….and that will just be the start of it!”

She should have known that the men would spare them nothing. Alex stood smiling happily on the opposite side of the horse as Clara swung herself up and suddenly realised that she would have to lift her skirts and feel about underneath herself in a most unladylike fashion with the overseer
’s gloating face
just a few inches away.

Sighing in mock resignation but
inwardly churning
hotly
at the thought that somewhere Adam was aboard ship and would possibly at some time of the day wonder how she coped with the humiliation he was heaping on her, or there again he might not even do that, she stood with one foot in the stirrup and began to fetch her skirts up. Isabelle made no move to help and Alex just stood, waiting for the peep show to begin. At last she got her petticoats up to her hip and was able to grope about underneath her. Alex proffered a hand and held her skirts up out of the way, feasting
his eyes
on the sight of her
long
thighs and the full lipped cunny nestling at their tops
. She eventually found the slick shafts which speared up from the saddle close together and carefully lowered herself. It took her a couple of goes and A
lex peering under her skirts ad
vising her to shift a little left or an inch to the right before she felt both shafts nosing at her entrances and she was able to hook her knee round the pommel before carefully lowering herself. It was her first double penetration and it felt as if someone was reaching
a fist
right up into her stomach.

“Slide up and down a few times,” Isabelle advised. “Once you’ve lubricated it’s a bit easier.”

She tried it and Alex peered back under her skirts to ensure that she was properly impaled before he let them fall and helped Isabelle onto her prong.

“Don’t trot until you’re well and truly wet!” Isabelle warned her and to Clara that seemed good advice indeed.

Slowly they walked their steeds down the long drive and Clara soon realised it was going to be a very long day. Every move the horse made wrenched and pulled the shafts from side to side, forwards and back. Clara thought she might be sick at first, but slowly her cunt adapted and sh
e found that if she relaxed her torso and went with the motions instead of fighting them, then the feeling of having both channels filled and the septum between them rubbed from both sides, was not unpleasant. Far from it. As they turned out of the gates and headed uphill, she even smiled across at Isabell
e who
sighed.

“It’s along way yet my girl,” she said.

They walked the horses for nearly an hour before Isabelle broke the companionable silence.

“Come on, let’s have a trot. We may as well get started.” And without explaining herself, she kicked her horse into a trot, rising gracefully into it off her saddle. Clara did the same and collapsed back into a walk after only few yards, hanging onto her reins and panting for breath. Isabelle wheeled around and came back.

“Sorry, m’dear. That’s what they want for you. Every time you try and trot, you’ll come. And if you canter, you’ll take the top of your head off, believe me.”

“Very well,” Clara panted. “We’ll walk the whole way.”

“Sorry again. George has been told when to expect us and there’ll be hell itself to pay if we’re late.”

Clara laughed softly. “Aren’t men the most wonderful beasts!” She gazed up breathlessly at Isabelle, a lock of hair falling over one eye.

Isabelle nodded thoughtfully to herself as Clara straightened up and took the reins again. Sh
e kicked her horse and grimaced as
she got into the rhythm of the trot and tried not to come too soon.

“That’s our girl!” Isabelle muttered and spurred after her friend.

Two miles later Clara fell off.

She collapsed again after a further mile and rolled on the grass clutching herself between her legs.

“Can’t do it!” she panted.
“
Can’t come any more!”

Isabelle hauled herself off her own prong and joined Clara.
“Let’s take our time.” She looked up at the sky,
“I’d say we’ve got about an hour or so yet and it’s only a half mile.”

The two women hiked their long
skirts up and let the cool
afternoon air circulate around their abused nether regions
.

“I have to warn you that George Presteign is one of the cruellest men on the islands and the reason we’re
being lent to him is to give Anne
a bit of a rest.
We all try to rally round and support her
. George is a real satyr, I’ve been on the receiving end of a rogering that went on for three hours non-stop. And Anne has to live with him!
But once you’ve survived a visit to dear old George, you’ll be an Island woman proper.”

“If that’s what Adam wants, then I’m game,” Clara said and hauled herself groaning back onto her saddle.
Gingerly she let herself down and they set off once more at a sedate walk, a rest had helped Clara get herself under control somewhat and they arrived at Greenlawns in reasonably good order, although Anne had to wait until Clara had finished one final orgasm before she could dismount and be introduced. Fortunately she had a bucket of cold well water and a thick cloth handy so both women could put one foot on the mounting block, reach up and under with the cloths and cool themselves down.

Anne Presteign was a slender woman with rather spare good looks but she was warm and kind, despite – as Clara was to find out – being almost constantly kept welted. As the women talked, Clara became aware
that every now and then a faint but piercing scream would come
from
somewhere
behind the magnificent house. She mentioned it to Anne.

“It’s coming from the branding shed; new stock just arrived, we’ll stroll
round and meet George shall we?
”

As they rounded the house she became aware of what she took to be the smell of supper cooking.

“Riding – let alone being forced to come nearly constantly! – does take it out of one, Anne and it smells as though your cook is preparing a wonderful meal.”

T
he
other two women exchanged meaningful
glances.

“I’m afraid that is not a meal that is cooking……”

Another shrill scream came from a
wooden shack standing a few score yards
beyond the stableyard. Smoke was coming from its chimney stack.

“That is the branding shed,” Anne went on once the scream had faded away. “George always insists on doing the females himself.
He says it doesn’t matter how dark skinned they are, it’s knowing the brand is there that’s important.
He’s very conscientious you know. Do you want to go and watch the last few being done?”

Clara suddenly made the connection between the smell of cooking and the mention of branding……and the screams. She swallowed and stopped in her tracks.

“
I think Adam would want you to,” Isabelle prompted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he and George arranged it.”

Merely at the mention of Adam’s name, Clara was aware of her thighs becoming slick once again and her stinging vulva seemed to take on an erotic charge that went beyond mere soreness. She squared her shoulders.

“Very well, I’m sure it will be most educational,” she said.

“Oh yes,” Anne said. “It will be that most certainly.”

In
side the shed it was as hot as H
ades and at first seemed just as hellish.

A man, stripped to the waist and gleaming with sweat was tending a brazier of white hot coals, before him was a black female body spread out in X suspension inside a rectangular frame. Clara immediately noted with envy the proud jut of the buttocks now facing the man. He didn’t look up as they entered, merely knocked the clinker off the branding iron he was heating in the brazier, turned and pressed it hard against the buttock. The slave shrieked and twisted in her bonds but the man calmly kept the iron to her. The shriek died away and a flickering stream of gold arched out from her loins as she fainted. Clara’s nose was filled with the reek of roasted flesh
and fresh urine
as she watched the man pull the iron away, replace it in the brazier, throw a jug of water over the branded buttock and yell; “Next!”
Between the ridges of blistered flesh, Clara could see that a letter ‘G’ irrevocably adorned the black girl’s bottom.

Then he turned towards them as two black men entered and took the inert slave down.

He had a pleasant face, nothing monstrous about it, Clara thought. In fact he looked quite kind, his chest was matted in dark hair and his muscles corded as he moved. Mentally Clara licked her lips
and remembered her thoughts at the Torture Garden; there was nothing an island woman wouldn’t do if there was cock in the offing.

George Presteign approached his wife and put out a hand to blatantly cup her breast as he kissed her.

“I’ll need our
guests tonight,” he whispered. “There have been some real beauties to brand today!”

“George! Really,” Anne scolded fondly. “Have some manners!”