by Sean O'Kane
“Number Fifteen needs to go to the big house at nine!” she called across to one of the grooms who went to an electronic pad on the wall beside the stall door that bore the number ‘15’ on it and keyed in some numbers.
“Thirteen is due back in the stadium for punishment at eight thirty! And Number Nine! Take them both Anthea please!” she called again and another girl acknowledged her. “Ten and Five are wanted in the surgery in half an hour! See to it please Jane!”
Brian had walked over to the woman who had looked up with a brilliant smile as she saw him. “Martha, this is Raika, our head groom,” he said.
The two women had shaken hands and Martha had instinctively felt that she could be friends with her, perhaps more.
“Could you have Seven brought over in an hour, Raika? I want her for whipping and probably some more besides, she’s not needed for a week or two so it won’t matter if she’s knocked about.”
“Yes, Mister Brian,” the woman said, giving him another brilliant smile and even bobbing a slight curtsey before turning back to her work. “Anne! You were told to scrub out the showers! Get onto it now!”
“Raika’s been with us for a few years. She’s a lovely obedient girl between the sheets but a real tyrant with the grooms,” Brian told her as he led her across a courtyard and into his quarters. He had had a supper sent across from the big house and Martha had seldom eaten as well and the wine had slipped down perfectly too. As they ate, Brian explained something of how the stable worked and its hierarchy. From what he told her, she seemed to be up against pretty well every other female in the place. He could have any of them at any time. Either she had scored big time, or he was just angling after Sophie and shagging her was a part of that. With a couple of glasses of wine inside her she felt able to speak her mind and Brian roared with laughter.
“I’m sorry!” he said at last. “I’d never thought of it like that. It’s been my work for so many years it’s just part of everyday life here. Yes, I can and do fuck pretty well whoever I like, pretty well every day, but the slaves are just fuck meat and whipping flesh, being fucked regularly is part of their training. If you started seeing them as people you wouldn’t get far in this game. And, yes, I’m desperate to find Sophie and I hope you’ll agree after a couple of days that she belongs here. But I’m not going to screw you over, Martha. I like you and really hope we can work together.”
This was far more than Martha had dared to hope for, but just then the slave had been led in by a groom and Brian had taken charge.
Now he climbed onto the bed beside her and they admired the spreadeagled slave at the foot of the bed. The dense network of stripes that the whip had traced on her skin suited her so well, Martha thought and it was the thought of being surrounded by so much submissive and well-trained girlflesh that pushed her into a free fall of multiple orgasms as Brian’s weight crushed her and his cock spread her wide as he rammed himself into her, each powerful thrust seeming to Martha to set her apart from the slaves he was surrounded by and his fierce kiss as he finally pumped himself into her seemed to confirm it.
Afterwards he freed the slave and had Martha lie with her legs wide apart while the slave crawled up the bed and lay between her legs to lick his spend from her thighs. She propped herself up to watch the girl at work and to increase the pleasure her tongue was giving her.
“Can I watch you whip her?” she asked.
Brian hung her back up and gave Martha a masterclass in the prolonged use of the single tail, driving the girl to three more orgasms under the lash before she had to be taken down. He had worked naked and Martha had divided her time between kneeling beside his muscular thighs and stroking his cock as he flogged and then kissing the welts on the slave’s breasts and then parting her thighs and getting her tongue into the flooding vagina.
The next day she got a tour of the big house and saw the Housegirls in their spectacular corsets and sweeping skirts, and rubbed shoulders with the members, practically every one of whom she had seen in the papers or on the news. Despite being a female she was treated with an exaggerated courtesy that she found intoxicating. Never had she had her hand kissed so often. She met Patti Campbell who trained and looked after the Housegirls and Dr. Sands who was the stable’s vet and the house’s doctor.
“There’s a bit of history between those two,” Brian told her later. “They fell out over who owned Raika. The doc won. They’re about the only two women in the place who are off the menu for you. But if Patti chooses to come on to you, go for it. She’s a superb lay. And if the doc wants you the same applies, although I can only go by what Patti and Raika tell me. I’ve never had her.”
Martha began to think she’d died and gone to heaven.
That evening they had another slave and kept this one all night. Martha buggered her with a strap-on while she gave Brian a blow job. Then she had a long and deliciously slow sixty-nine with the girl. At one point the slave’s bottom had been right over her face as Martha lay on her back and Brian had stood beside the bed and used a cane on it. She had been able to see the ripple effect of the shock waves in the flesh and then the girl had settled her cunt back over Martha’s lips until Brian had ordered her up again for more caning.
On the second day he took them for a drive in the parkland in a two-in-hand, pulled by two of the Housegirls. The sight of Brian wielding the driving whip across their backs and delicious bottoms had so enflamed her that she had to stop and fuck them both with a strap-on as they bent forwards over the bar their wrists were tethered to. Eventually Brian reined in at a remote spot and unpacked a blanket for them to lie on. He hobbled the ponies to a tree some yards away and then stripped Martha naked before fucking her again.
“If I tell you what I know, will you send me away?” she whispered again the question that still tormented her as she lay, panting and wasted once more at his side.
“No,” Brian said simply. “I like enjoying the slaves with you. And you’re different to the other girls I’ve had here. I’d like you to stay.”
Martha roused herself enough to roll over and lie on top of him so that she could look him in the eye.
“Do you want to whip me?” she asked.
“No. It wouldn’t suit you. But I love whipping the slaves with you and watching you enjoy them. You’re more domme than anything…” Brian frowned suddenly. “You know, it might be an idea to spend some time with Patti, she’s a bit like you.”
Martha liked that idea; Patti was still a beautiful woman, despite the dusting of grey in her copper coloured hair. The curves of her luscious figure were still smooth and her eyes had a fine web of laughter lines around them. More time in her company would not only be pleasant it would give her more time to consider how she could best play the one and only card she held.
In the meantime, she could feel a hardness beginning to press against her thigh, which lay between Brian’s. That needed attending to. Slowly she slithered down his body until her face was over his hard, erect cock. Gently she furled back the foreskin and felt the shaft swell and harden in her hand even more as the gleaming purple helm thrust eagerly up towards her. She moistened her lips and opening her mouth wide, dipped her head until she felt the smooth, polished dome slide into her. Instantly her mouth was full of him, the bulk of his shaft pushing her tongue down, the taste of him – redolent of his sperm and her secretions – filled her senses and urged her on to make him ejaculate again. She eased herself further and further down, fighting to relax her gag reflex and to relax her throat. She heard him gasp with pleasure as he felt her swallow him and her throat caressed him. Then his hand was in her hair and she could feel him swell as he moaned again, bracing herself she felt the pumps begin and listened for his cries as he was able to spend freely in her throat, but she made sure she lifted her head off him just before he finished ejaculating and was able to savour the final splashes of sperm before she swallowed them down.
A woman had to fight with all the weapons she had and Martha was becoming m
ore and more determined that The Lodge was where she wanted to be. She rested her head on Brian’s muscular stomach as he recovered and looked over to the trees where the two ponies were hobbled. They looked stunning in their full bridles and harnesses, one of them was blonde and Martha smiled slowly as she imagined Sophie, tall and graceful and waiting to be whipped up to a gallop.
By late afternoon Brian had had to be back at the stable and Martha was free to go up to the big house and find Patti. The girl on reception, a brunette with creamy breasts that were barely constrained by her bodice, rang ahead for her and confirmed that Patti could see her.
“Can you remember the way?” the girl asked and Martha had to admit that she hadn’t the faintest idea how to find her way to Patti’s suite through the labyrinthine corridors. It was no problem however as a passing girl was detailed off to guide her. The girl introduced herself as Faith and chatted volubly as they made their way upstairs.
“I’ve been booked by one of my Master’s best friends,” she told Martha. “He often leaves me here when he’s away on business; says it keeps me out of mischief!” she added with a girlish giggle.
Martha looked at her. Her torso was held in the tight embrace of a superbly embroidered corset with half cups that held her breasts offered up very enticingly. Her shoulders and upper back were entirely bare. At her waist her full skirt rustled and swept gracefully as she moved, but as Brian had demonstrated earlier, the skirt was only fastened by two clips that could be undone in a trice to bare her below the waist. However, should that be too much bother, there were splits front and back so that a hand, or anything else, could be inserted quite easily. The girls were walking invitations to all the sorts of mischief that men could possibly imagine and Martha herself wanted nothing more than a handful of whatever was under Faith’s skirt and said as much. She wasn’t sure she was allowed to, but greatly daring managed to frame it as an order.
“Faith, stop here. I want to feel you.” They were in a long, wide corridor with doors to bedrooms leading off it and Martha had no idea what would happen if a member came out and found her fiddling with a Housegirl. But something gave her confidence and Faith herself helped by calmly accepting her right to order her. She stopped immediately and turned to face Martha, hands behind her back and feet apart. Dizzy with the excitement of having this beauty open up for her, she reached out and fumbled her way through the complex pleats of the skirt until her fingers found the warmth of Faith’s smoothly shaven delta. She slid her hand forwards and found her way between the girl’s lips, feeling the hard nub of the clitoris as she went and making Faith groan. Then she was into the moist slit and her curled fingers slid up into the hot little sheath of the vagina. Faith let out a breathless cry as she was penetrated and Martha thought she looked even more lovely with her head thrown back and her breasts heaving. She hoped her Master’s friend appreciated her.
“What will your Master’s friend do with you?” she asked, working her fingers inside the girl and making her rock her hips in time to the thrusts.
“He said he’s going to cane me…hard.” Faith’s voice caught as her excitement mounted.
“And you’re looking forward to that?” Submissiveness was a whole new landscape that Martha was exploring in a state of amazed bliss.
“Oh, yes! It hurts wonderfully…awfully…oh!” Martha kept on working her fingers as the girl’s hips began to thrust against her fingers more urgently.
“And will he fuck you?”
“”If I’m good, he’ll let me suck him…oh! Oh!”
Martha took her fingers out suddenly and grinned at the devastated look on Faith’s face. She was enjoying this!
Faith took her to Patti’s room and the two women kissed briefly before the Housegirl trotted off to suffer appallingly and willingly for her absent, but plainly much loved, Master.
Patti asked her to come straight through to the bathroom as she was preparing a girl for one of the members to use later that evening. Filled with excited curiosity, Martha followed Patti through a drawing room furnished in luxurious but rather nineteenth century style and into the bathroom. A beautiful black girl was kneeling on all fours in the huge, sunken bath with a clear plastic tube coming out of her anus.
“This is Melissa, Martha. Mel’s been booked by Lord…”Patti caught herself in time, after all Martha wasn’t yet a fully accepted part of the establishment, “by one of the members who always uses a girl’s back passage, so I’m just cleaning her out.”
Martha watched fascinated as Patti connected the tube to a bag filled with warm water, hanging from a steel stand placed by the side of the bath. She turned a tap and allowed the water to flow into the girl’s rectum. She turned her head and smiled at Patti as the water entered her and gave a sensual chuckle before wriggling her deliciously proportioned bottom.
“Mel’s one of the girls owned by The Lodge itself,” Patti explained. “I bought her at auction in Africa a couple of years ago. She’s actually got a doctorate in Economics but she fucks like a rabid hyena and can take the whip all night. The perfect Lodge girl in fact. And a perfect slut too, eh Mel?”
“Yes, Mistress,” the girl breathed as Patti bent down and felt her stomach.
“Ok, that’ll do you. Sort yourself out and take care of the smelly stuff, then join us,” Patti told her briskly but then stopped the girl from rising and instead took hold of her dark, thick outer labia and parted them, displaying the pink inner sex flesh, startlingly bright against the smooth chocolate brown buttocks and thighs.
“If you come down to Dungeon One after dinner, the guy who’s booked her is going to work on her in public, isn’t that right, Mel?”
“Yes, Mistress. He said it’s going to be needles.”
“Did he say how many?” Patti asked, glancing archly at Martha who was staring in fascination at the exposed sex in the hollow at the tops of the perfect, smooth thighs.
“He did twenty last time and he’s going for more this time – breasts as well.”
Martha looked at the girl, who had been released by Patti, she had climbed to her feet and was looking at them with barely suppressed excitement.
“He’ll whip you first and you’ll come before he even starts on the needles, you slut,” Patti said fondly.
“Yes, Mistress,” the girl agreed calmly.
Martha felt herself melt and burn with excitement as Patti took her arm and guided her back into the drawing room where she sat her down on a chaise longue and sat close beside her. Martha could see the pale upper swells of Patti’s large breasts heaving a little above the low neckline of her simple sheath dress. A dress, Martha noted that only a woman in complete control of her figure could get away with. She licked her lips as her mouth suddenly dried; Patti Campbell was still an intensely attractive woman – and she had just put her hand on Martha’s thigh. Brian’s words came back to her and she couldn’t wait to find out how true they were.
“Now,” Patti said, “I know you’re a friend of Brian’s but is there a particular reason he asked you here?”
Martha couldn’t help but confide in her and Patti was silent for a moment when she had finished. “He’s right you know. We do need Sophie here. But you’re scared that if you tell him what you know he’ll chuck you over?”
Martha nodded.
“I think you can trust Brian. He’s a good man with a whip – he’s taken me to the blood on many occasions and I’ve never been frightened – hurt, yes. Frightened, no. Are you a sub?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve got no desire to be whipped or…or have all that other stuff done to me but I love watching it being done and I love having sex with slaves afterwards. And I think I could learn to do a lot of the things people do to slaves.”
“Good,” Patti said. “He’s got subs coming out of his ears. Be yourself, be different - and tell him.” She smiled broadly and lasciviously as she went on. “And in case it goes pear shaped with him, you can stay with me as Plan B.”
Martha smiled
back in gratitude and clasped her hand over Patti’s but just then Mel entered, naked, from the bathroom. Patti had her come and bend over in front of them while she inspected her arse and declared it clean enough for use.
“Now, the great thing about girls with Mel’s skin colour is that they don’t show the whip as much as white girls, so I suggest I continue your education for an hour or two and Mel will still look as fresh as a daisy for her session later.”
Through another door leading off from the drawing room was a corridor with views over the parklands and a lake, on the wall opposite the windows were more doors and through one of these was a playroom. Patti let Martha look around as she had Mel put on suspension boots and explained that a lot of the training the girls went through, went on here.
“Now I’m going to haul her up in such a way that we can both enjoy her,” she said when Mel lay on her back on a leather topped bench with her feet encased in soft leather boots which were attached to widely spaced eyebolts in a spreader bar. Her hands were chained down by wrist cuffs to the sides of the bench beside her head. Patti went to the wall by Mel’s head and pushed a button on a yellow metal control unit. There was a soft hum and Mel’s legs, held wide apart, were drawn up into the air. Patti kept the button pushed until Mel’s shoulders and neck were all that were touching the bench.
Martha was stunned by the view, the shapely legs and buttocks were perfectly displayed and the plump vulva, scheduled for such suffering later that evening was utterly vulnerable. Meanwhile Patti had taken a flogger equipped with thin leather tails down from a rack and suddenly struck the girl on the inside of each thigh in quick succession. The girl’s position was such that each tiniest quiver of the slack flesh of the buttocks and the backs of the thighs was perfectly visible and as Patti struck and struck again, Martha fell in love with every ripple and shake of the beautiful body before her. And even better was the frantic wriggling. Somehow the girl contrived to twist her left leg so that she could get one knee close to the other and the spreader bar was twisted until it was nearly parallel with the bench below it.