Hot Pursuit (29 page)

‘It's common practice after a runaway has been recaptured,' Donald said tiredly. ‘Tomorrow morning, before first light, Lucy will be taken to the whipping post in the stables and she'll be thrashed every hour, on the hour. That punishment will
continue from dawn until dusk, when she'll be brought in here
for entertainment purposes'

He chuckled as he said the final three words and Lucy was touched by another thrill of dark arousal. She had only been half-listening to him but, when she replayed his words back inside her mind, the suffering he suggested was worse than she had feared. She didn't want to be excited by the prospect of what he was promising but, when Ginger stroked the tip of her finger against Lucy's labial piercings, squeezing the flesh against the chill metal chain, a shiver of undiluted arousal swept through Lucy's frame.

‘The weather reports say we're in for a good sixteen hours of sunshine tomorrow,' Donald told Anne. ‘So that means her thrashing could go on and on for an unbearably long time. Will you be attending?'

‘Is that an invitation?' Anne asked coyly.

Donald laughed, and briefly lowered his mouth to the tip of her breast. His tongue did little more than make fleeting contact with her nipple but it was enough to have them both blushing with fresh excitement. ‘If you won't treat it as an invitation, then perhaps I should make it a command. Thrashings can be particularly fun to watch. I could even arrange to let you have a turn at spanking this runaway's backside.'

Lucy clenched her teeth together to stop herself from protesting. She glared at the pair but neither was looking in her direction. By the time she had found the strength to speak, and decided what she needed to say, Ginger had begun to wring fresh torment through the chain. She slipped the weighted length up and down, skilfully handling the metal so that the links twisted and writhed against Lucy's BCRs. Within moments of the redhead resuming her torture Lucy realised that her nemesis had taken her back to the brink of ecstasy.

‘The official explanation is that a public reprimand sends a clear message to other potential delinquents,' Donald confided to Anne. ‘It's almost as though we're saying this is what any runaway can expect to suffer. But I think those American psychologists have a better understanding of the situation. I think it's simply an act of closure.'

Lucy was horrified to realise that the weight between her legs had, once again, disappeared. She didn't dare glance back, knowing what Ginger was planning, and she blurted the words she had been struggling to deliver. ‘I did it all for you, sire,' she told him. ‘I did it all for you.'

Donald dragged his gaze away from Anne and regarded Lucy with studied scepticism. ‘You keep saying that, and it still makes no sense. You did it all for me? What does that mean?'

She held her breath for an instant, worried that Ginger was going to suddenly drop the chain and petrified that she wouldn't get the chance to tell the master her side of the story. ‘You spoke with such fond recollection for the chase,' she reminded him. ‘I wanted to give that to you. It was a part of your life that you clearly regretted losing and I wanted to find some way of bringing it back for you.'

‘You're saying you ran away for my benefit?'

‘I'm saying'

She got no further.

Ginger released her hold on the weight and it dragged roughly downward through her labial piercings. Amid the rush of another torturous orgasm, Lucy screamed and briefly lost the ability to reply. She breathed in deepening grunts as wave after wave of pure joy buffeted from her throbbing sex lips.

‘She was lying, sire,' Ginger explained.

Her words sounded distant and Lucy realised her
pleasure had been so intense that for an instant she had briefly lost consciousness.

‘She was fucking lying,' Ginger declared.

Donald silenced her with a glare and, as her grasp of the situation returned, Lucy could see his expression also contained the promise of retribution. Spitting the words quickly, not wanting to lose the opportunity now that she finally had a chance to speak to the master, she gasped, ‘I followed you to the central baronial hall. That's where I left the note in your briefcase. From there I followed you here and I tried to make the chase everything you missed.' She was rushing each sentence melding the words into one another, and certain that her breathless tone was making her inarticulate but she had to make him understand. ‘That's why I drove past you on the motorway,' she told him. ‘I was letting you have the thrill of a high-speed pursuit. That's why I sent you on a wild-goose chase to the Welsh Dragon Motel. That's why I convinced my new friend to deceive you with the empty pony-cart. I did it all so you could enjoy the thrill of the chase again.'

Donald regarded her with an inscrutable expression.

Beside him Anne was grinning with obvious delight.

‘What a load of bollocks,' Ginger decided.

‘You've had your last caution for bad language,' Donald warned her. Turning back to Lucy, pacifying Anne with an apologetic smile and a comforting squeeze on her thigh, he asked, ‘What makes you think I'd believe this, Kitten? Are you under the impression that I've turned senile in my old age?'

With an effort, Lucy levered herself away from the table top. Her breasts ached from the torment of relief almost as much as they had hurt with the
punishment of being pressed against the wood. The chain between her legs swung in greater arcs and she groaned as fresh bands of pleasure were tugged from her febrile lips.

Pointing toward the side of Donald's chair, indicating the bulky black briefcase that was always by his side, she said, ‘Look in there. There's a note in there that explains everything.'

Donald regarded the briefcase warily and then reached for the handle.

‘She's fucking lying,' Ginger growled. ‘I packed that briefcase myself before we left the northern hall and I know she didn't put any letter in there.' Glaring at Donald with unconcealed exasperation, she snapped, ‘Will you stop bloody humouring her and start doling out the fucking punishment?'

He didn't bother touching the briefcase and sat in contemplative silence in the ornate throne. No longer devoting his interest to Anne, he kept one hand on her thigh, absently squeezing and massaging her leg while he pondered an obviously difficult decision. Closing his eyes, and speaking with the utmost reflection, he said, ‘You really have an affection for the f-word, don't you, Ginger?'

She started to reply but Donald raised a hand.

The gesture was enough to silence any outburst she might have made.

‘You know I don't approve of dirty words,' he continued. ‘And, if that was your only fault I could probably just discipline you and then overlook the transgression. But now you're giving me orders?'

Ginger shook her head and started to say something but Donald raised his hand higher. She glared at him, mute, and with obvious consternation.

‘My belief has always been that the punishment should fit the crime,' he continued loftily. ‘So we'll
start with your offensive little mouth. I think you need to have something between your lips to stop you from continually resorting to vulgarities. Come here and swallow me.'

Lucy could see the redhead's reluctance but she knew Ginger wouldn't refuse. Obedience was an ingrained trait in all of Donald's favourites and Ginger wasn't immune to doing the master's bidding. Slowly, glaring at the master and clearly struggling to find an argument that would prevent her from being disciplined in front of her inferiors, Ginger stepped between his legs. Her upper lip curled into an involuntary sneer of revulsion when she glanced at Anne but that was as close as she came to rebelling.

‘Hurry along, Ginger,' Donald sighed. ‘I shall be wanting to retire with a cup of cocoa before much longer. It's getting close to nine-thirty.'

The redhead cast a final disparaging glance in Anne's direction but Donald squeezed her leg and said she could remain where she was while Ginger paid her penance. Still holding the master's shaft, idly rolling his foreskin back and forth, Anne giggled for him and stayed on his knee. She allowed Ginger to move her hand before the redhead stroked Donald's length then chased her tongue along his pulsing length. Struggling to hide an expression of disgust, Ginger took him into her mouth and then began to suck.

Donald sighed. He settled back into his chair, looping one arm around Anne's waist while using his free hand to stroke Ginger's titian tresses. ‘This goes some way to paying penance for your behaviour this evening,' he said generously.

Her head bobbed up and down as she kept his erection fixed firmly between her lips. Taking direction from the way he tugged and pulled at her hair,
she occasionally paused to draw her tongue along his shaft, or tease the tip against his bulging purple dome. The length glistened with a polish of saliva and pre-come and shone like gold in the dining room's flickering candlelight.

‘But it wasn't just your foul mouth that upset me this evening,' Donald reflected. ‘There's still the matter of your disobedience that hasn't been properly addressed ...'

Ginger glanced up from her position on the floor, and tried to implore him with a silent plea. The shaft between her lips prevented her from speaking but Lucy didn't think the redhead could have managed to provide a convincing argument to stop Donald now he was in a mood to see her chastised.

‘You've tried to give me orders this evening, Ginger,' he frowned. ‘And a favourite should never give her master orders. That's definitely a no-no.'

The redhead's face flushed with embarrassment. Her cheeks dimpled as she sucked hard on the stiff length inside her mouth but her mortification remained predominant. ‘I'm sorry,' she gasped, briefly moving her mouth from his erection. She kissed the tip of his shaft, then moved her tongue down to the base. ‘I'm truly sorry, sire. I didn't mean to give you orders.'

Donald waited until her lips were once again encircling his girth before he spoke. ‘So how do I punish you for such conceit? Your pride has led you to believe that you are more important than your master. What might be appropriate chastisement in those circumstances?'

Gasping wetly around his length, Ginger said nothing.

‘I'm disappointed that it's come to this,' he said, combing his fingers through her hair. ‘You need to be
reminded that you're not above your master. You're not properly above any of my favourites. And, if I decided to make it so, I could even have you ranking lower than the lowliest pet.'

Ginger groaned.

Lucy felt a moment's sympathy for the redhead, then crushed the thought quickly. She knew her own punishment would likely have been far more severe if not for this interruption and, because she suspected Ginger would make sure her official reprimand was truly unbearable, it was easy to discard her compassion.

‘You need spanking to begin with,' Donald decided. ‘But I don't think you need to be spanked by your master. That would imply your punishment was important.' He gestured for Anne to climb from his leg and told her she could go to Lucy's side. Holding Ginger's head in place over his shaft, he reached for the briefcase and popped the twin catches. ‘If we were back in our own hall I might have encouraged one of the staff to stripe your bottom. I could even get your pet to inflict the discipline, although I'd be a touch worried she might go too easy on you, or you'd be barbaric enough to make her suffer repercussions afterwards.'

Lucy wasn't listening to him. Anne had left Donald's knee and come to her side and, in that moment, she decided her life was complete. The torment of the chain still racked delicious misery from her sex and the bindings around her breasts inspired a dull, blinding ache. But those nuisances were easily overlooked as her new friend eased an arm around her waist, and greeted her with a chaste kiss on the lips. Her full, firm breasts grazed Lucy's arm and, when she pressed herself closer, the scrub of Anne's pubic curls scratched against her thigh.

Quietly correcting herself, Lucy realised that this development didn't make her life complete: it made her life perfect.

From the open briefcase Donald removed the envelope that Lucy had secreted when she visited the central baronial hall. His features showed no surprise at discovering the plain white envelope and he casually tore it open while continuing to address Ginger. ‘I think there's only one way to make sure you're suitably punished,' he decided as he scanned through the letter. ‘And that's to have your discipline meted out by someone whom you consider unconscionably low. Lower than a mere master. Lower than staff or pets. Lower even than the lowest of norms.' His voice had fallen to an ominous boom that resounded sullenly from the dining room walls. Lifting his head, smiling brightly at Lucy, he asked, ‘Would you do the honours, Kitten?'

Ginger raised her head, eyes livid with fury, but Donald absently pushed her back to his shaft. ‘They don't come much lower than a runaway slave, do they, Ginger?' he asked softly. Turning his attention back to the letter, he read some more of its short text, then snapped his fingers for Ginger's pet blonde.

She had been dutifully standing in the shadows since Ginger had forced Lucy into the room but she rushed to the master's side as soon as she was summoned.

‘Find Kitten my crop,' he demanded.

Ginger silently beseeched him but Donald wasn't looking.

The pet blonde needed no further instruction and instantly passed Lucy the master's stiff riding switch. The length of leather was light and perfectly balanced in her hand, and the tip quivered as she raised it to slice a practice swing. When the crop hissed through
the air, Ginger stiffened as though she had been struck.

Holding up Lucy's letter Donald asked, ‘May I read this aloud?'

Concentrating on the target of Ginger's backside, quietly relishing the prospect of paying back some of the torment that the redhead had made her suffer, Lucy shrugged indifferently. She didn't want to leave Anne's side now that she and her friend were back together, Lucy didn't want them to be parted ever again but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to return some of the misery that Ginger had inflicted. ‘The letter was for you, sire,' she said absently. ‘Read it aloud if you want. I'm not embarrassed by the contents.' Wielding the crop, she slowly staggered along the side of the table, savouring the taste of retaliation.