Their Master's Pleasure (22 page)

I had invited Michael here for a very specific reason. At the last Festival of Flogging and Fornication, back in the spring, Belinda had said that he liked to play painful games. Ropes, clips, candles and needles had been mentioned, intriguing me considerably. The idea of restraint and torment had always fascinated me, though I had never explored further, and in truth knew precious little about it.

Belinda's casual remark had fanned the spark into a flame, encouraging me to delve deeper - and who better to ask than Michael, a fellow member of Spankers Seven? I therefore wrote to him offering him the hospitality of Bleekston Hall and suggesting he might want to bring a few of his ‘toys' along. The arrangements had been made and I understood he would be arriving late in the evening.

‘Just how did you get here so quickly, Michael?' I asked. ‘You must have journeyed overnight, surely?'

‘Nothing so uncivilised,' he said. ‘When he learned I was heading this way, Humphrey suggested I spend a few days at Beckton Measby. We've been there since Tuesday. I hope we're not causing you a problem, rolling up early like this?'

‘No problem at all,' I assured him. ‘I'm delighted to see you, as always. I was a little taken aback to see you so soon, that's all.'

The coach turned off the road and clattered through the arched gateway into the drive. A few minutes later we pulled up in front of the house and disembarked. As I helped Faith down I saw her wince as though in pain and she limped as we made our way up the broad steps to the front door. Michael seemed unconcerned, however, so I assumed her injury or affliction must be of little consequence.

Once inside, Alice took Michael's cloak and my own wet things. Faith declined to remove her cloak, though she did push back the hood to reveal dark brown hair pinned up in a prim, rather severe style. I told Alice to send Willy to me without delay and she bobbed and scuttled off.

‘She's an anxious little thing, isn't she?' Michael observed as he watched the maid's retreating figure. ‘You must be thrashing the wench too much, James; or riding her too little.'

‘Probably both,' I confessed. ‘You'll be wanting adjacent rooms, I take it?'

‘One will be fine, thanks,' he said. ‘Faith always shares a room with me. Not for the reason you think - or should I say not
just
for that. I need to keep an eye on her, to make sure she doesn't bolt.'

That told me a good deal about his companion, in fact. Either she was a slave in the early stages of training, or Michael had taken her in hand for corrective purposes, as my grandfather did with Hetty and Peggy Bailey. Whichever it turned out to be, I would have to ensure someone kept a watchful eye on her at all times. If she did bolt - if she managed to escape whilst under my roof - I would never hear the last of it. Jasper lost a slave once and was baited mercilessly for years over the incident. His was a fate I was determined not to share.

When Willy appeared I told him to help the coachman unload the baggage and take everything up to the main guest bedroom.

‘There's a particular trunk we should probably leave down here,' Michael said, ‘and a bicycle, too.'

‘A bicycle?' I said, bemused.

‘Quite so. My man Rawlings knows what needs to be where.'

I told Willy to take his instructions from the coachman and invited my guests through to the library. ‘I don't know about you two,' I said, ‘but I could do with a nice warming brandy.'

We sat in front of the fire, Michael and I, nursing our glasses. Faith, who had refused a drink, sat on the rug at our feet staring into the flames. Her cloak had ridden a little way up her legs and I was most surprised to see that her feet were bare. And that was not all - around her ankles were iron rings, slender enough to be worn continuously without chafing, yet strong enough, I judged, to be unbreakable without the use of tools.

‘It's a while since I've seen any of those,' I said, with a nod at the items in question.

‘I find them most useful, in fact,' Michael said. ‘I chain her to the bed at night if there's no lock on the door. Sometimes when we're out and about I hobble her to prevent her bolting. She's a slippery little thing, this one.'

‘She's tried to run before?'

‘Twice. The second time she almost made it, too. You certainly came to regret
that
little escapade, didn't you, my dear?'

Faith said nothing.

‘Perhaps she's learned her lesson,' I said. ‘She made no attempt to escape just now, did she?'

‘No, but there's a good reason for that,' Michael said. ‘Show Mr Montague your discouragers, Faith.'

Slowly and with obvious reluctance, the young woman drew up the hem of her cloak to expose slender, naked legs and shapely hips. Her unwillingness to remove her cloak was now explained, for she wore nothing beneath it apart from a wrapping around her hips somewhat resembling a loincloth.

Michael set down his glass and squatted beside her. From his pocket he took a light chain a little over two feet long. He threaded this through each of her ankle rings in turn and fastened the two ends with a small padlock. He then proceeded to remove her loincloth. This proved to be no more than a long, narrow strip of white linen, wrapped about her waist and down between her legs. As the final turns fell away the first thing I saw was her naked slit, for her groin had been shaved. I then observed that there was something inside her. Michael pushed her knees apart to afford me a better view and I realised there were, in fact, two objects, one in her vagina and one in her anus.

‘Discouragers,' Michael said by way of explanation. ‘Otherwise known as chafer plugs.'

He took hold of the one in her vagina and drew it slowly from her. Faith stiffened and uttered a shrill cry, her pretty face twisted in sudden pain. Michael handed the object to me and I examined it with interest.

A sausage covered in short stiff bristles, was my first impression. Though overtly phallic it was not especially large - no more than an inch in diameter and four inches long. The base widened out into a flat disc perhaps two inches across, presumably intended to prevent the thing disappearing inside the wearer's body. It was made of wood covered with a thin brown skin of some coarse, bristly material I could not readily identify. The bristles themselves were rough to the touch and I thought Michael's alternative name for the thing - ‘chafer plug' - described it perfectly.

‘Yes,' I said thoughtfully, as I handed it back to him. ‘Now I see why she didn't run.'

Michael smirked. ‘Painful enough walking with these inside you, I'm told, let alone running.'

He proceeded to rid Faith of the second plug, which was identical to its partner. He removed it slowly, twisting it round and around as he drew it from her, savouring the agonised expression on her face and her tormented gasps. ‘There now,' he said, once it was out, ‘that's a relief, isn't it? We'll keep them handy, though. I don't doubt you'll be wearing them again before too long.'

He carefully rolled up the chafer plugs in the linen strip. While he was so engaged Faith gave him a look of such hostility and resentment I was quite taken aback. I shook my head in wonder and she immediately became aware of my scrutiny and hurriedly dropped her gaze. That one look had spoken volumes, however, for I knew her spirit was far from broken and that a considerable amount of time and effort would yet be needed to bring her to heel. I also realised that Michael's decision to restrain her at all times was most wise, and resolved to be extra vigilant myself in the matter of her security.

Michael put the linen roll in his jacket pocket and returned to his seat. ‘Perhaps we should have a chat, old man,' he said. ‘Do you have a cellar, by any chance? Somewhere we could lock up this wayward young miss?'

‘There are cellars, certainly, but I'm not sure I'd know where to lay my hands on the keys. Why not put her in your room? That has a lock, so she'll be quite secure.'

He seemed happy with the suggestion, especially when I explained that all the windows in Bleekston Hall were barred - one of the previous occupants had a morbid fear of intruders, apparently.

The three of us trooped upstairs. It was very slow going, as Faith's ankle chain severely restricted her movements. The best she could manage on the flat was a sort of stiff-legged shuffle and each stair became a major obstacle in its own right. But we got there eventually and Michael locked her in and pocketed the key, whereupon the two of us returned to the library.

‘I must say, your invitation was most welcome,' Michael said, once we'd recharged our glasses and settled ourselves. ‘Interesting, too - especially the part where you asked me to bring my toys. Since I'm damned sure we've never discussed that particular interest of mine, perhaps you'd care to explain how you found out about it?'

I shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Oh, someone mentioned it in passing. Can't remember who, exactly. Why, is it supposed to be a secret?'

‘I wouldn't say that. I just don't go out of my way to advertise it, that's all, so I'm naturally curious as to who it was who blabbed. Since you seem reluctant to tell me, my guess would be Belinda.'

It was a timely reminder that Michael was no fool, and now I had to proceed with monumental caution. Our slaves were warned constantly of the dire consequences of telling tales out of school, and if Percy and the others believed Belinda had gossiped about Michael's predilections they would subject her to a beating of unimaginable cruelty.

‘Belinda?' I said innocently. ‘I did see her just a few weeks ago, as a matter of fact; but no, it was someone else who told me. It might have been Percy... or was it Jasper? Damned if I can remember.'

‘All right,' he said with a knowing smile, ‘I'll let it pass. So, you're into bondage and discipline are you, James?'

‘I wouldn't put it quite like that,' I said. ‘I've always been interested, but I've never pursued it till now. I was hoping you could give me some practical tips, to tell you the truth.'

‘My pleasure. Do you have someone in mind, or is poor little Faith to be our victim?'

‘Oh no, I have someone - more than one, in fact. Actually, I have nine.'

‘Nine?' he said. ‘Good God, James, you have no idea how happy you've just made me. Nine, indeed! Servants, I take it?'

‘Some, but not all. One governess, one cook, four maids and my three wards, to be precise.'

‘Your wards?' he said, rather doubtfully. ‘Are you sure? This game can be a little... robust, shall we say. By that I mean painful and thoroughly degrading.'

‘Ah,' I said with a smile, ‘now
you're
making
me
happy!'

 

 

 

No generals ever planned a campaign more thoroughly or with more relish than Michael and I planned our assault upon our unsuspecting victims. All ten of them - for Michael insisted Faith should not be spared - were to receive individual treatment, in addition to some group activities that my ‘tutor' thought would be amusing, for us if not for them. Michael also suggested we keep the purpose of his visit secret for the time being, since he wanted to ‘get the feel of the place', as he put it, before making them aware of what was in store.

‘Just till tomorrow afternoon, if you're happy to do that,' he said. ‘We can tell them then - and watch their faces when we do! I'd like to meet them today, however, so I know who's who. Then we can start to decide exactly what we intend doing to them.'

Without further ado I rang for Alice and told her to ask all the females in the house - my wards and Mrs Hammond included - to attend me in the hall. A faint but insistent murmur some ten minutes later told us the party was assembled and we went out to meet them.

They stood in a long line, Irene Hammond on our left, then Victoria, Elizabeth, Cathy, Winifred Smith, Alice, Rose, Molly and Mary at the end - and not one of them was smiling. I realised rumours must already be circulating about my guest and the strange equipment being unloaded from his carriage, for as they stood before us they regarded Michael with mistrust and in some cases fear. The one exception was Elizabeth, whose expression was one of barely concealed hostility.

Blithely ignoring whatever suspicions they were entertaining, I explained that Sir Michael was to be our guest for a few weeks. I then introduced him to each of them in turn, starting with the governess since she happened to be on the end of the line.

‘So this is the famous Mrs Hammond,' he said, with a faint smile. ‘Such a pleasure to meet you at last, madam.'

‘Famous, sir?' she said cautiously.

‘Most certainly. The Duke of Alberthorpe has been singing your praises to anyone who will listen. Your victory in the FFF competition is being discussed by floggers the length and breadth of the country. Imagine how mortified I was to have missed it.'

‘Sir,' the governess murmured uneasily, ‘I don't...'

‘Do not be troubled, Mrs Hammond,' I said soothingly. ‘Sir Michael is teasing, I am sure.'

I wasn't convinced he was, in fact. Irene Hammond had made a strong impression on Percy, certainly, and he undoubtedly had recounted the tale of the competition to fellow floggers.

We continued down the line. The rest all curtseyed in turn and murmured respectful greetings, though a general lack of enthusiasm was evident. Elizabeth's manner was positively chilly, though I could hardly take offence at her ‘Welcome to Bleekston Hall, Sir Michael,' no matter how glacial the tone.

With the introductions over I sent the lot of them packing, then my guest and I retired to the library once more to continue our scheming. The more Michael divulged the more intrigued and delighted at the prospect I became. Inviting him here had definitely been one of my better ideas, no doubt about it. There were nine women not so far away who would soon be disagreeing violently with that notion, but that merely proved I was right.

 

I called them together again the following day straight after luncheon. They stood in a line as before, in the hall, and Michael began to address them. He lectured them sternly for fully twenty minutes on the need for modesty and circumspection in females and the dangers associated with frivolity and merriment.

‘Why,' he said, by way of illustration, ‘yesterday evening I heard a maid actually singing as she went about her duties.
Singing
, I tell you! In truth, I trembled to hear it, so fearful was I for her soul.'

His tone suggested singing was amongst the very vilest of iniquities, ranking somewhere just slightly below murder, perhaps. One or two of his audience glanced at Molly and Mary, for there was little doubt the likely culprit was one of them.

‘Bad enough behaviour in a servant,' Michael went on, in full flow now, ‘who can perhaps plead feeble-mindedness and lack of wit in her defence. How much worse then, in those with no such excuse - those expected to set an example to others? I was most shocked to hear laughter emanating from the classroom this morning; laughter shared by all those present, unless my ears deceived me. Need I remind you that a classroom is a sacred place, devoted to the shaping of impressionable, vulnerable young minds? Such ebullience is utterly out of place there.'

I watched the faces of his audience as Michael preached this arrant nonsense and noted a whole range of emotions. Irene Hammond looked somewhat apprehensive, Elizabeth was openly scornful, whilst Victoria and Cathy appeared puzzled, as though uncertain what all this had to do with them. The servants, interestingly enough, were reacting in a more appropriate fashion, as if they alone perceived the magnitude of the peril bearing down on them. Rose appeared more nervous than I'd ever seen her, Alice and Mrs Smith appeared petrified, whilst Molly and Mary simply looked glum, as though they had already resigned themselves to their fate - whatever it turned out to be.

‘I sense the devil at work here,' Michael went on, in what I fervently hoped was his concluding address, as I was keen to get started on the practical aspects of the game. ‘Fortunately for you all, Mr Montague and I see where our duty lies. We will save your souls, no matter how great the toil. Through suffering you shall all be cleansed, you have my word on it. Through pain and tribulation you shall find salvation. Do you, frailest and weakest of all God's creatures, now willingly accept this purification we offer? Speak up - do you welcome it?'

No one said a word. The only answer of any kind was a soft snort of derision from Elizabeth, who was making little attempt to hide her disgust. For myself, I wondered at all the Biblical references, for Michael was not, to the best of my knowledge, a religious man. As he addressed the females assembled before us one might take him for a fire-and-brimstone preacher at the very least, if not an evangelical bishop.

‘It is as I feared, Mr Montague,' Michael said solemnly, turning to me. ‘They are already pinned beneath Lucifer's cloven hoof and are unable to free themselves. Only we can save them now, sir. What say you - are you ready to begin the fight?'

‘I am, Sir Michael,' I replied with equal gravity.

He nodded in a sober fashion. Now it was my turn to address our nine victims - and I was determined to be considerably less garrulous than my guest. ‘Go,' I said. ‘Return in fifteen minutes wearing just your spanking outfits.' Those ten words should suffice, I thought. But no one moved and I was obliged to expend an additional word, to my chagrin. ‘Depart!'

They went. And so did Michael, up to his room, to prepare Faith and collect his horsewhip. I went along to the study and selected a similar implement from my collection. Then it was simply a matter of waiting in the hall for the others. The fun was about to begin.

Michael had suggested a run for the opening ‘group' event. A barefoot race, in fact, along the gravel drive to the gates and back, somewhat less than two miles in total. He had initially proposed they do this in their underwear, but I told him I had a better idea. I described the spanking costumes and he agreed they sounded ideal.

Faith, of course, did not possess such an outfit and as he brought her down the stairs I saw she was wearing just a short vest that barely reached to her navel and her loincloth. From her pained approach I guessed the chafer plugs were once more inside her and Michael soon confirmed this. ‘She has gone without shoes for so long a barefoot run is no trial for her,' he explained. ‘The discouragers will put her on a par with the others.'

Her nine fellow victims appeared shortly thereafter, but then there was a further delay, for Michael expressed a wish to inspect them. Since he was my guest I was obliged to humour him, so I had them line up as before. Once again, he started with the governess.

‘Most impressive,' he said, stroking the skin-tight fabric and murmuring in approval at the way it squeezed limbs and torso alike. ‘I assume this is your own design, Mr Montague?'

‘The concept alone,' I said. ‘Mrs Hammond deserves all the credit for turning it into reality.'

He nodded. ‘Exposed buttocks, I see. Very practical.' He slapped her bottom as if to prove his point. Mrs Hammond flinched, for it had been a hearty slap and unexpected into the bargain. Michael then pointed to her breast flaps. ‘I see you've incorporated inspection panels. May I?'

‘By all means, Sir Michael,' I said.

He undid the buttons and folded down each flap in turn. The governess flushed red, holding herself rigidly while he stared at her breasts. Michael nodded. ‘Lord Alberthorpe wasn't exaggerating, I see. He mentioned that you possessed spectacular tits, madam, and I'm delighted to say he was right. What other treasures lie within reach, I wonder? Ah, here's another inspection panel - and one most conveniently placed.' He unbuttoned the governess's crotch flap and fastened it up in the raised position. I thought he might touch her there, but he refrained. Instead he stared at her a while longer, then moved on to Victoria, next in the line.

He repeated this for each of them in turn - the breast and crotch inspection, that is, although the rest were spared the slap on the buttocks. I expected a protest from Elizabeth but she took it in silence, staring straight ahead, her thoughts on the proceedings plain to see in her face.

Michael said barely a word to the others, with the exception of Winifred Smith. He took one look at the oversized breast flaps on the cook's costume and murmured in disbelief. He did more than murmur when he unbuttoned them and her huge teats came into view. ‘Dear Lord!' he exclaimed. ‘Some say you can't have too much of a good thing, but I do have to wonder.' He shot me a significant look before turning his attention to her groin and I guessed he would be dreaming up some rather special treatment for Mrs Smith's bosom.

At last the inspection was completed and our victims were allowed to do up their breast and crotch flaps. Michael then proceeded to describe the race, telling them they must run the full length of the drive and back. Laggards, he said, could expect a taste of our horsewhips to encourage their efforts.

‘My man Rawlings is waiting there at the gates to see no one cheats,' he added. ‘You must touch the gatepost before turning back.'

On that note of warning the party trooped outside, where Faith led them off. The others were gasping from the very first step as the sharp flints cut into tender soles. Although described as a ‘run', no one was truly running, as the need for speed was tempered by the need to place one's feet down with care. The best they could manage was a fast, ungainly stalk, rather like a heron in a hurry.

The field began to string out somewhat, with Faith well in the lead despite the chafer plugs. Victoria and Cathy were at the back and so were the first to feel the sting of our whips. Using a horsewhip takes a great deal of skill, for in the wrong hands they can shred flesh to ribbons. My wards were very fortunate in that both Michael and I possessed that skill, for we merely flicked them with the tips, delivering stinging nips to their buttocks. When they instinctively covered their bottoms with their hands we switched to their thighs and calves, so they did not escape the torment.

I didn't think my two youngest wards were necessarily feebler than the rest, but certainly they were less used to physical discomfort than the maids, say, which put them at a clear disadvantage. Try as they might, they couldn't seem to catch up and I foresaw a long painful ‘run' ahead of them. It was not to be, however, for Elizabeth dropped back to help her sisters. Ignoring the flurry of stings her own rump promptly attracted, she took hold of their arms and virtually dragged them forward. In half a minute or so the trio had overtaken a struggling Winifred Smith and even went on to pass Alice, ten paces further on.

It was the cook who now became the whips' target and soon she was wailing pitifully as Michael and I competed to see who could strike her white backside the most times. She was particularly unfortunate in that her buttocks were so large she could not ‘cover up' in any effective manner. She did manage to put on a spurt, however, and pulled level with Alice, who drew our fire to some degree at least. These two stayed virtually level all the way to the gate and indeed all the way back again. Rawlings returned with us, so that there were now three whips in constant use. By the time they reached the house Alice and Mrs Smith were positively howling.

The runners all lined up on the steps for our inspection. Every single one was white-faced and panting from her exertions and clearly in considerable pain. Faith looked to be suffering exceedingly, which made her performance as leader of the pack all the more astonishing. Michael congratulated them on completing the exercise and promised them more of the same on the long, painful road to salvation.

‘You will come to thank us in time,' he told them. ‘Believe me, this is for your own good.'

His assurances were met with fidgeting and unhappy looks all round. Only one of them was brave enough - or foolhardy enough - to challenge him openly, however. ‘You claim we are frail and weak creatures, sir,' Elizabeth said angrily, ‘but we are certainly not weak in the head. We can recognise when someone has our best interests at heart and when his motives are entirely selfish and base.'