by Sean O'Kane
Over the previous months they had come to enjoy a fairly close relationship. Together, but always unquestioningly under Carlo’s authority, they disciplined and dominated the other grooms and ponies, making them the instruments of both their pleasures. With the arena slaves they shared a professional pride in the care, training and presentation of their charges - again they often enjoyed them at the same time, Patti being licked out by a tongue at one end while Brian was plundering the cunt at the other.
But when they were alone, Patti submitted utterly to him and Brian had become adept at piercing, pegging and flogging to the blood using her body to train on. These skills he then used on Amelia, when she wasn’t required by the guests, so they both had reasons to be grateful to the experienced Patti.
Taking his hand she led him back into the yard and then through the arch at the back and out into the parkland beyond. Even under the trees the moon was bright enough to see by and somewhere over on their right a nightingale burst into its bubbling torrents of song. As the path began a long slope down to the ornamental lake, a large beech stood beside it, throwing a massive branch across the narrow strip of tarmac. From the branch a human form dangled upside down. It was Blondie, ankle suspended and with her legs spread wide apart. From between the long thighs a candle fluttered and winked its light in the faintly stirring air. Below and slightly to one side of the hanging slave a table and chairs had been set out on the path. Brian laughed in pure delight and as they neared the slave he saw that Patti had laid out an array of his favourite implements. There was a crop, the short martinet for tits and cunts, the long leather strap, wide at the handle and narrowing as it went, a suede flogger, a driving whip; everything he could have wished for plus two delectable slaves to apply them to and a bottle of champagne.
Patti almost skipped the final yards and then shrugged off her blouse and stepped out of her skirt, retaining only her high-heeled thigh boots to emphasise her long legs. Then, turning back to face Brian she proudly displayed the full ripeness of her body, moonlight shining on the curves, night shadows forming inviting areas of mystery. She poured two more glasses of champagne and handed one to him as he examined the blonde more closely.
The candle inserted into her vagina had been in long enough to have formed a thick cone of cooled wax between her spread legs but despite the length of time she had been suspended and the number of searing globules that had dribbled down the candle and puddled on her labia, she still wore her habitual look of distant impassivity.
“Good girl,” Brian whispered. “You need a bit of whip about now, eh?”
He reached out and stroked her cheek. For a moment she nuzzled his hand and closed her eyes in pleasure. Chuckling softly, Brian stood up, extinguished the candle and worked it out of her body, making sure that it left the mound of wax behind.
“Pass me the suede flogger, Patti,” he said, then drained his glass and set to work. He employed none of the teasing flicks and strokes he would have with a Housegirl to get started. With any arena slave - and with Blondie especially - the only way to get a reaction was to flog at full strength from the outset. He lifted his arm and swung the leathers down, again and again, until the wax had split, flaked and finally fallen away to reveal the engorged, softly open lips of the sex. The blonde’s arms were tied wrist to elbow behind her but Brian knew that that was just a formality, she would have made no move to lessen the impact of the flogging even had she been able. As it was she had done no more than twist and sway a little during the final lashes when the whip had been landing full on her flesh.
Slightly breathless Brian stood back and admired the pale form, hanging like an exotic fruit from the branch. Patti handed him another drink and took the whip, suggesting he sat down and relaxed for a minute.
That sounded fine to him. Sipping champagne and watching by the light of the candles on the table, Brian saw Patti walk behind the suspended slave and free her hands, then she began to wield the whip once more between the legs. This time she got more of a reaction from Blondie. The blades of the whip were now impacting initially on the rear of the cunt and the full bite of the tips was falling on the clitoris.
At first the slave let her hands hang down and seemed content to luxuriate in the pain, emitting low, throaty groans as the pleasure mounted. But after a few minutes she lifted her hands to her crotch and pulled her clitoral hood back, the better to experience the beating. When her orgasm overwhelmed her, her hands plunged into her vagina and urgently thrust into her, careless of the lashes still slamming home.
Patti was quite certain the blonde could hang for a little longer without risk of harm and Brian set about taking full advantage of his celebratory treat. He had Patti stand up against the blonde and ordered the two women to begin a vertical sixty-nine. Blondie’s long tresses hung down between Patti’s spread legs as, for her part, the redhead buried her face in the whip-swollen and moistened sex. He had them grip each other by their calves so their arms were clear of each other’s bodies. Then he set about whipping the two-backed beast he had created, using the driving whip.
He took his time, circling the pair and firing in flicks with the wicked cord that left - even in the moonlight - clear, dark laces across the pale skins. Moans and cries of pleasure began to mount and become more shrill, fingers began to replace tongues and as a result the sounds of cunts squelching greedily filled the moonlit scene while the whip hissed with deceptive gentleness. The women orgasmed almost simultaneously, Patti nearly up to her wrist in Blondie, Blondie chewing and sucking on Patti’s clit mercilessly.
As the two sighed in the wake of their climaxes, reluctantly Brian lowered the slave and let her lie for a moment before taking her back to the stables. He would have liked to have spent longer plying the whip but Blondie would have to take her regular ration during training the next day and in any case she had hung for as long as was good for her.
Arm in arm, he and Patti walked back to the yard. Behind them, on a rein from her tongue ring came the tall blonde. Once back in her stall though, Brian granted himself release from the pressure that had been growing since soon after his blowjob in the Common Room. Whispering commands so as not to wake the other slaves, he had the blonde get down only onto hands and knees and then he knelt behind her. In the dark his fingers traced the smooth curves of the buttocks, finding the valley between them and tracing the ridges of her anus before encountering the moist warmth of the eager sex, its full lips still sensitised by the whip and the subsequent cunnilingus, so much so that his first touch provoked a soft groan of delight.
“I’ll wait upstairs,” Patti whispered fondly.
“Wrist restraints on,” Brian whispered back as he felt the slave’s strong vagina caress his slowly invading cock. “Put out the crop. I’ll be buggering you once I’ve thrashed you.”
Patti’s bedhead thumped softly against the wall as Brian thrust brutally into her backside, then withdrew slowly until just his helm was stretching the sphincters to their maximum. He paused and enjoyed the sight of Patti’s lush body beneath him. Her back was striped from the whipping in the woods, her hands were pulled out in front of her and fastened to the ends of the bedhead, exposing her welts to have his fingers dug into them as he plundered her innards. Nestling snugly against him her wide buttocks bore freshly inscribed tramlines from the crop. Sighing in pleasure Brian rammed himself back home, the bed thumped again and Patti grunted as he impaled her. He pulled back and prepared for another charge but was suddenly aware of footsteps on the stairs to Patti’s room. A fragrant cloud of cigar smoke announced Carlo’s approach.
Brian rammed Patti again as the Spaniard reached the top of the stairs and smiled at the scene.
“Aah!” Patti gave a half groan, half gasp as Brian slammed to the hilt once more.
“Has she been good this evening?” Carlo asked.
“Yes, why?”
“Oooh!” There was a wavering cry of despair from Patti as Brian nearly withdrew altogether. “Huhmm!” A stifled g
runt followed as she was treated to the full length of his cock ramming her once again.
“I’ve not been impressed by the way the slaves have been turned out recently. One or two of the members have commented on tack looking shabby and hair looking untidy.” Carlo paused and watched for a moment as Brian, realising that his attention was required, began to slam into Patti in earnest, hastening his climax. He gasped in delight after only four or five thrusts as he felt himself expand and then pump several satisfyingly large wads of sperm into the tight confines of Patti’s back passage. Beneath him she moaned appreciatively as she received his benison then winced as he pulled clear abruptly.
“You know,” Carlo went on as Brian hastily tidied himself up. “I think our head groom is getting a bit slack. Tomorrow morning I want the full stable complement lined up to witness punishment at the post.”
There was a whimper from the bed. Patti looked up, pale and tight lipped. The post was the ultimate in punishment.
“I want you to give her twenty-five with the knotted scourge. Mounted however you like.”
“Yes, Carlo. Thank you,” Brian managed to say, his thoughts whirling.
Carlo took Brian’s vacated place behind Patti and began to unzip his flies with one hand and with the other delved between her thighs. He chuckled as he found her cunt oozing with her own juices even as her anus was dripping with Brian’s.
Brian made his way downstairs and across the corner of the yard to ascend his own steps to his room. Carlo had paid him the highest compliment he could; he was trusting him to deliver a proper punishment to one of the most valuable slaves in the whole place. The knotted scourge was feared by all the slaves but, he grinned in the dark as he recalled one or two previous occasions he had witnessed its use, it did make for a terrific show.
He undressed in the dark and was about to head for the shower when there was a rustling from the bed.
“Does the master need cleaning?” Amelia’s whispered enquiry came from the darkness.
Brian laughed in delight. The perfect end to a perfect day. His very own slave had somehow managed to pull time off from her work.
“Yes,” he said. “The master has been up to his balls in Patti’s arse. He needs cleaning.”
There was further rustling and then the shadowy form of Amelia approached him and knelt. He breathed out in a sigh of bliss as he felt her soft lips caress him and encompass him. Then he was hardening once more and filling the clever little cavern of his slave’s mouth. He grasped her hair and felt her tongue begin its usual impassioned licking as he began the slow climb towards yet more pleasure.
The punishment took place at nine a.m. exactly. The ponies and arena slaves were lined up facing the sinister black pillar of the whipping post. Behind them were ranged the grooms and behind them were curious onlookers from amongst the Lodge members and Housegirls. Breathless and sweating, Patti stood naked beside the post. It had taken her nearly ten minutes of hard struggling to haul the tall, thick shaft of wood from out of the tack room, across the cobbles and to finally drop it into the hole in the centre of the yard. Brian had flicked back the metal plate that normally covered it; the only concession made to a slave sentenced to the post.
“Strip and prepare yourself!” He barked the order and noticed Carlo nodding imperceptibly from over by the doors into the kitchens. Amelia stood beside him and he was sure that the Spaniard would be taking full advantage of the way she would be moistening as the cruel spectacle unfolded. There was some scattered applause as Patti’s voluptuous nudity was revealed and cheers as she spread her legs, reached between them and began to frig herself. While the men in the audience enjoyed the show the slaves and Housegirls looked on nervously. None of them was in any doubt that it could be their turn next to face what was in store for Patti.
About four feet off the ground a wooden phallus curved proudly up and away from the post. It was of a girth that any woman would find testing, especially if the prospect of a flogging with the knotted scourge made her dry.
Patti worked at herself industriously until a ripple of amusement ran through the male onlookers as they heard the soft squelching of a well-lubricated cunt.
“Ready, Sir,” Patti said, looking up from her task, blushing and flustered.
Brian caught her round the waist and lifted her easily, positioning her with her back to the post and just above the prong. She reached down again and as Brian lowered her she held herself open and wriggled her way down onto it. He held her steady as Carlo made his way forward and knelt to bind her ankles together behind the post. Then he pulled her arms back and bound them at elbows and wrists, also behind the post. A ball gag was the final touch before Patti was ready for her punishment. As she had been prepared, Brian had held her and been able to look into her eyes as she prepared herself mentally for a punishment both of them knew was entirely unjustified. She was being sacrificed purely to prove to the assembled personnel that he had properly arrived as Carlo’s deputy. Though she had winced occasionally as Carlo had worked on her, Brian had seen some fear and some excitement but also respect. She knew he was a capable and strong whipmaster. She would be spared nothing but would not be harmed permanently and that gave rise to the mingled fear and excitement.
Brian stood back and held out his hand. A trembling groom handed him the feared implement and he ran it through his fingers as he surveyed his target. Patti’s entire weight was taken on her pubic mound where it rested on the phallus and the full sweep of her stomach and breasts were beautifully proffered to the whip. The tight bondage meant her shoulders were pulled back and likewise her thighs were bent back. Only her head fell forward, her thick hair cascading down onto her chest. He tutted irritably and instructed one of the grooms to tie it back. When it was done he stepped forward and shook out the whip. It consisted of five thick, square cut thongs, each of them four feet long and knotted several times along their length. After the final knot on each thong the leather had been cut into thin strips about six inches long.
Patti raised her head, her eyes large and fearful, her ribcage heaved as she panted, the soft hills of her breasts trembling, the nipples fear and cold-hardened.
He pulled his arm back and swung in the first lash. It was aimed low and smacked across her pelvis, in particular it landed across her parted labia, snapping at her clitoris.
“One!” Carlo called as the slave’s body jerked and heaved, the head stretching back and a muffled scream coming from behind the gag. Brian swung in the second across her breasts and suddenly felt himself relax as the familiar delight he took in flagellation flooded through him. Patti looked breathtakingly desirable as despite the bondage she arched backwards, her breasts rippling and swinging in the aftermath, a series of deep red tracks carved instantly in the pale skin. From behind the gag came a long groan, the sinews in her neck standing out like thin ropes.
Brian swung in the third lash quickly.
“Three!” Carlo intoned quietly.
Patti’s head snapped forwards as the whip snapped across her stomach. Her breath caught as every muscle contracted. She had no breath to scream with.
Brian swept another lash across her vulva and watched calmly as the torso twisted and the head tossed.
“Four!”
The next three lashes he aimed at the smooth expanse of the thighs, moving steadily down from the crotch towards the knees. From various parts of the audience men’s voices called out in appreciation of a particularly good strike or cheered if the flogged slave was driven to lifting herself off, and then sinking back onto the phallus, as she writhed. A well-spaced ladder of dusky pink welts now marked Patti from knees to neck.
Brian took a second’s break and shook the lashes to ensure that there were no tangles. He could see where the knots had left livid indents at intervals along the welts and at their ends he could see how the spiteful thin strips had fanned out and bitten with their own brand of venom. He knew that those grooms who had been on the receiving end of the scourge were admi
red and looked up to by the others. Once he had overheard one of them describing a flogging at Patti’s hands with it. She had whispered a description to her enthralled and horrified audience telling them how the main sting of the lashes in the aftermath of each strike was immediately eclipsed by the thudding impact of the knots delivering a deeper hurt and finally there was the hot stinging of the frayed ends. So each lash, the groom had said, was like getting three from ordinary implements.
The eighth, ninth and tenth lashes he spaced across her clenching stomach, then with Carlo’s dispassionate voice keeping score he put two more across her breasts. Patti’s head flew back as these last two, in quick succession took her to a region beyond pain or pleasure where it seemed to the onlookers as though every muscle locked against every other one. Quivering with tension the flogged body managed to move itself on the phallus and ironic cheers arose from the men.
Brian took another break and noticed the grooms and Housegirls were fidgeting, clenching their thighs together and wriggling as they juiced helplessly at the sight of the punishment. Carlo came to stand by his shoulder and joined him in contemplation of the panting, striped body before them.
“I reckon a steady repeat of the first dose. Maybe a bit harder, and she’ll know she’s been flogged,” Brian murmured.
Carlo nodded his agreement. “She’ll fuck like a madwoman when we take her down!”
Patti’s head had lolled forwards once more, rivulets of sweat began to course down her and in the gathering warmth of the morning Brian too felt the strain of his task and called for a drink of water. While they waited, the crowd, swollen now as word had got around chattered amongst themselves.
“C’mon, Brian!” someone called. “We’ve got eighteen holes to play before lunch.”