by Kane, Lacey
When next Jocelyn woke, it was to the sensation of several pairs of hands releasing her ankles and wrists from the headboard.
Her eyes shot open, but it was not her Master who was releasing her, but the servants who’d bathed and dressed her upon her arrival at Blackthorne Manor yesterday. Haines and Palmer were kneeling on the bed beside her, working the leather restraints free, and Clarisse stood off to the side of the bed in her gauzy, pink gown that hid nothing. Smyth and her Master stood next to the same tub she’d been humiliated in, with Smyth helping Master to put on his coat. His hair was glistening, so he must have already bathed.
“Like yesterday,” Master said before she’d fully taken it all in, “you will do exactly as they tell you to do. They’ll bathe you and dress you, and then bring you in to break your fast with me. Do not let me hear of your disobedience.”
“No, Master,” Jocelyn mumbled even as Palmer and Haines massaged their hands over her very sore, aching arms and legs. As the blood rushed back to where it belonged, the pain turned to sharp pinpricks all over.
As soon as he quit the room, the servants settled her over a chamber pot and watched as she eliminated before they began their routine of washing, drying, and oiling her body. As they had before, they made certain to arouse as much as possible despite the fact that she was already aroused more than was tolerable.
While the men worked her cunny and breasts, Clarisse changed the bedding, emptied the chamber pot, and put everything back in its proper place.
When they finished this time, and she was little more than a shuddering, aching ball of need, they didn’t tie her down to the settee as they had yesterday, though.
Palmer lay down on his back upon the settee, and Clarisse eagerly climbed atop him. But before Haines began to bugger her, he lifted Jocelyn and had her straddle Palmer’s abdomen. Then he pushed her forward and took up his place behind Clarisse. Smyth pulled Clarisse’s head down so her mouth fell greedily on his manhood, and all of them were grunting and rutting and slapping and moaning.
Their hands were all over Jocelyn, though no one was inside her in any way. Fingers rubbed hard against her button and twisted her breasts, and the friction created by their mating had her filled with heat.
And then the men were shouting their releases, and the familiar scent of their musk filled her nostrils.
Palmer gripped Jocelyn’s head hard between his hands. “Put your hand behind you, pet. Rub Clarisse’s twat until she spends.”
She bristled at the idea of touching another woman, but she didn’t really have much choice in the matter. These three men could surely deliver her a punishment she wouldn’t soon forget, and then when her Master found out…
Timidly, she resituated her hand behind her back and searched for the maid’s button. Clarisse was slick with their combined wetness, and so Jocelyn started to rub gently on her secret place. Three pairs of hands were still stroking her own body to madness while Palmer held her head in place.
But then the fingers on Jocelyn’s button pinched so tight she nearly screamed.
“Rub it like you mean it, pet,” Clarisse shouted.
That was all it took for the other hands on Jocelyn’s body to switch from teasing and coaxing to coarse and punishing.
She rubbed harder, and kept rubbing until the gasps from Clarisse turned to sharp squeals.
“Don’t you dare stop now, pet,” Haines growled at her. The hands biting into her breasts dug in harder, and Palmer slapped the tops of her thighs repeatedly, and so Jocelyn kept rubbing frantically like her very life depended upon it.
Clarisse’s release went on for long minutes, and Jocelyn’s painful torment continued until well after it had stopped.
Finally, Haines released Jocelyn’s breasts and removed his manhood from Clarisse’s backside. “You can stop rubbing now, pet.”
She snapped her hand away so fast that she struck Palmer’s arm accidentally. He cuffed once more on the thigh. But then Clarisse backed away, and Smyth did as well, and they lifted Jocelyn off of Palmer’s torso.
She thought that they’d dress her now, but instead Haines set her down on her knees beside the settee where Palmer remained stretched out on his back. Her head was pressed down, right into the mess of wetness left from all of the rutting.
“Clean him,” Haines ordered, never removing his hand from the back of Jocelyn’s head.
So she licked, fighting back her tears as she performed the same degrading duty her Master had forced her to perform each time he’d bedded her last night.
When all of the slickness had been cleaned from Palmer’s torso and loins, Jocelyn was then turned to repeat the process on Smyth. His cleaning did not take long, as most of his seed had already been swallowed and cleaned from him by Clarisse.
Then Haines turned her to his own phallus, and she was unable to stop her tears from flowing because she couldn’t stop thinking about where it had been.
Her hesitation was met with a sharp slap to the buttocks, so Jocelyn forced down the bile that was threatening to rise and took his staff into her mouth. He pressed her more fully to his groin, holding her head in place and guiding it as Master had done.
But the strikes to her backside did not stop with her cooperation. With each bob of her head over Haines’s member, she received another blow. Eventually, Jocelyn had him clean, but still they did not release her.
“Suck,” Haines commanded.
She sucked despite her tears, and he grew within her mouth, thickening and elongating even as his scrotum swelled.
He held her head still, fisting his fingers in her hair and putting pressure over her ears, and thrust his hips into her as he’d driven them into Clarisse’s bum only a short while ago, hard and fast and crushing.
The strikes to her backside increased, grew sharper, faster, spread down to cover the backs of her thighs and up to the small of her back.
By the time Haines had swelled to the point that he was now striking against the back of her throat and threatening to drive his way down it, they stopped spanking her. But then there were fingers inside her sex and her anus, thrusting in time with the spear attacking her mouth.
Jocelyn screamed out, which only further incited Haines’s powerful assault.
“Yes, scream again, pet.”
She couldn’t breathe, and she needed release so badly she would do almost anything for it. So she screamed again, and Haines spilled deep down her throat…and the hands working down below came to an instantaneous stop.
They pulled away, slapping against her thighs and buttocks again as Haines spurted stream after stream of sticky, salty semen into her mouth.
When she’d finished cleaning him again, Palmer took another cloth and scrubbed it harshly over her private parts which no longer appeared to be private, drying away the evidence of her arousal. Clarisse tugged another flimsy, diaphanous scrap of material over Jocelyn’s head, and then Smyth took her to the vanity and thrust a glass into her hands. “Rinse with this and spit it in the bowl.”
Increasingly wary, she took a sniff and almost recoiled from the vinegar scent. But vinegar wouldn’t hurt her even if it tasted awful, so she did as instructed. Then he handed her another glass filled with water and commanded her to drink it. As parched as she’d become after the night she’d just experienced, she did so without delay. And then, before she knew what was happening, Haines ushered her from Master’s chamber through the corridors of the manor, with the other three servants following close behind.
She’d thought they would take her to the dining room, since she hadn’t yet broken her fast and Master had said that was what they would do next. But instead of turning down that hall, Haines guided her into a different part of the estate, one which she hadn’t seen yet.
Granted, she hadn’t seen much of the estate to this point.
When he opened a door at the end of the hall, Jocelyn nearly tripped over her own feet in her astonishment at the view before her.
Rebecca was strapp
ed to a table that seemed to be stood up on end, her four limbs spread out as far as they could go. Not a single stitch of clothing covered her body. Her cunny was coated in more semen than Jocelyn thought she’d ever seen in her life, and Bexley stood next to her with a rattan cane in his hands.
In the middle of the room, a long beam stretched from one end to the other, with tethers and ropes and other odd implements attached, and a series of legs supporting it all along.
Behind that, Master was watching Jocelyn. A line of servants, the men all large and muscled and intimidating, the women all wearing the same sheer pink uniforms, were spread out along the wall behind him.
Before him lay a series of pillows, what looked to be wooden stocks, though half of it seemed to be missing, and a plate with breakfast upon it.
Haines only granted her a moment to gape at the scene before pushing her forward. As soon as she stood before him, Master pushed her to her knees upon one of the pillows, and then bent her forward so that her head was likewise on the pillow, leaving her backside high up in the air, in perfect view of the rest of the servants. Haines held her hands in place beside her head, and then something came down over her neck and wrists, and she understood.
Master attached each end of the half-stocks to some sort of bolt in the floor, and she was unable to move her head or arms whatsoever. His hands gripped each of her ankles in turn, spreading them out wide behind her and tethering them to something she must not have seen. Then he pushed the plate of food before her. “You’ll want to eat your breakfast while we watch Rebecca’s punishment, pet. It seems Rebecca refused to clean Deringer’s cock after he fucked her, despite her orders.”
The only way Jocelyn could eat it was if she ate like an animal, using only her lips and teeth and tongue to coax the food into her mouth. But she doubted going hungry was a good plan, since she’d been kept exceedingly active since her arrival. She attempted to eat, but she jumped when she felt Master’s hands lifting the back of her gown up over her backside and pushing it forward. It fell with a swish against the wood holding her in place, baring her completely to the view of anyone who happened to be behind her.
“Begin, Bexley,” Master said. Even as he issued the command, he dipped his fingers into Jocelyn’s exposed sex.
She tried again to eat and ignore the frenetic in and out, in and out friction created by Master’s hand, but the growing ache within her sex kept stealing her focus.
Then the rod swooshed through the air and struck Rebecca’s breast, and she screamed. Jocelyn’s head jerked up to see what had happened, and Master used his other hand to tease her button even as he increased his tempo.
The strikes to Rebecca’s body took on a steady pace, accompanied by a continual chorus of her screams.
Two of the menservants brought one of the women forward. They attached her to the wooden beam in the center of the room so that her backside and cunny were high up in the air, and her wrists and ankles were spread wide and stretched to the floor. One dropped the flap of his breeches and began sodomizing her while the other took up a flogger and used it on her back.
“Are you watching, pet?” Master’s fingers left her private place and moved back further, to press inside her anus. “That’s Mariah in the center. She’s being rewarded for her good behavior.” He had one finger in to the second joint and twisted it around several times, coating her with her own wetness, before adding a second finger.
Minutes later, he had three fingers thrusting in and out of her sore, burning nether hole in time with the sodomizing that Mariah was receiving.
She couldn’t imagine how sodomy could possibly be considered a reward, let alone one delivered with a whipping. But sure enough, Mariah started crying out her pleasure, the raspy strains combining with Rebecca’s screams of pain in a ghastly chorus.
Jocelyn managed to get a bite of baked egg into her mouth and was starting to chew it when Master’s hand pulled free from her bum. She only had a moment to wonder about it before she felt his cock at her fanny, pressing insistently inside.
He began to rut her hard and fast, pulling her backside back against his hipbones with undeniable urgency.
And still, Mariah’s release went on. Despite the fact that she had already achieved it, the two menservants did not stop their assault, driving into her from behind as wildly as Master was impaling Jocelyn, sending blow after blow onto her back with the flogger.
Jocelyn again tried to eat, not knowing how long she would have before the food would be taken away from her, not knowing how long it would be before her next meal. Each forceful blow from Master’s manhood made it near impossible for her to swallow her bites, but she somehow managed to down about half the plate.
But then Rebecca’s screams intensified. Jocelyn looked up, wondering what new torture had befallen the girl, but then wished she hadn’t.
The cane had left dozens of red streaks over Rebecca’s skin…and a few of the strikes had apparently broken the skin. The other female servants had come forward and were now taking turns rubbing something all over Rebecca’s skin.
“Salt,” Master said in her ear, pumping into her harder with each new scream Rebecca let out.
When each of the female servants, save Mariah who was still being sodomized and flogged, had taken a turn rubbing salt literally into Rebecca’s wounds, the table was turned over again. Four men released her wrists and ankles and lifted her free from the table. They flipped her over and placed her upon it again, face first, reattaching each of her restraints.
Bexley mounted her, driving into her bum and pulling back on her hair so that her screams rang out in the hall.
When her sounds altered to those of pleasure and joined Mariah’s seemingly never-ending release, Master’s thrusts again increased. Jocelyn tried to arch her back, to reach for her own release so that she could have one before Master ceased his attentions, but it was no use. A hot, wet stream shot against the walls of her womb and he stilled inside her, grunting.
Once his cock stopped its spasms within her, he removed it and then removed her stocks. He pulled her by the hair to her knees and thrust it inside her mouth with no preamble. By now, Jocelyn knew to lick it clean without protest. She did not want to be caned or sodomized, or to have salt rubbed into open wounds.
After a few minutes, she had Master’s manhood clean, so he released her ankles. She’d hoped he would allow her to finish her breakfast, but that did not appear to be his plan. He picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and kicked the plate away.
Then he carried her to the beam where Mariah was bound, and Jocelyn tried to fight down the panic that was building within her chest.
Gabriel carried Jocelyn to the beam and lowered her, so that each leg came down on opposite sides of the wood and she was facing Mariah. As her legs stretched down to support her, he saw in the panic in her eyes the moment that realization struck her—she was not tall enough for her feet to touch the ground.
For the first time in their brief marriage, his pet held onto him for dear life, trying to keep her wicket from being spread and punished by a strip of wood less than two inches wide.
He winked at her, though he doubted that would give her any reassurance. It wasn’t meant as such. After lifting her gown up and over her head, then tossing it to the floor, he turned to find Haines and the rope he’d been ordered to bring in from the stables.
The manservant handed it over without hesitation, and Gabriel could feel the pulse hammering through his pet’s veins. The soft sounds of her pants were almost inaudible over the sounds of Rebecca and Mariah’s repeated orgasms and the grunts of the men fucking them.
Gabriel looped one end of it around Jocelyn’s right wrist a few times and then knotted it securely. Then he tossed the length of it up and over the support beam in the ceiling. When it came down, he repeated the procedure with her left wrist, adjusting the length just so.
When he was done, she could use the rope and her arms to keep herself aloft, saving her puss
y from torture for as long as her arms would support her. It didn’t take his pet longer than a moment to discover this. She gripped the rope in both hands and tugged, lifting her gash off the narrow wooden beam by about an inch.
Palmer and Smyth then brought over the foot weights he’d requested. Gabriel knelt to the floor and strapped the leaden blocks to the bottoms of Jocelyn’s feet, tying them securely into place.
For a final touch, he took the string Clarisse had brought him. Gabriel suckled and bit into Jocelyn’s right tit, making certain it was as swollen and distended as he could make it, before tying the string tautly around it. Her breath hissed out between her teeth, but her efforts were too focused upon keeping her arms locked overhead to do more than that.
He drew the string down below the beam and then back up to meet her left teat, repeating the previous process and making certain that the string pulled down on her bosoms enough that she would find some relief in them—if she were to choose to let her twat take the beam’s torture instead.
Jocelyn’s whimper and the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks confirmed that she understood her predicament.
He pulled her head forward to meet his, kissing her with as much passion as he dared allow himself. Then he let his gaze rove over his pet. “I have other matters to see to now. You’ll stay precisely like this until I return for you, which will not be until my men have tired of buggering Rebecca and Mariah. Bexley will fetch me when that happens. In the meanwhile, he and Haines have been instructed that you’re to receive ten lashes with the flogger for every sound you make that is louder than a whimper. Understood?”
She bit down on her lip, but she nodded in assent.
After another suckle on each of her teats for good measure, which had her loosening her grip on the ropes already, Gabriel moved over to the servants at the back of the Great Hall. “Deringer, have there been any other situations I ought to be aware of?”
The stout groom frowned. “I’m afraid so, Your Grace. Erroll caught Jessie with her hand on her fanny. Jessie swears she wasn’t touching herself, but if her hand didn’t smell like letchwater, I’m the King of England.”