Duchess, Bound

by Kane, Lacey

  Gabriel turned to his newest chambermaid then, her bright red hair spilling forward and almost covering her very nice, very pert tits. He brushed her hair back over her shoulders and tilted her chin up so that she was forced to look into his eyes. “Were you touching yourself, Jessie? Remember, if you lie to me, your punishment will be worse than if you tell the truth.”

  Her chin trembled, and she darted a glance over to where Rebecca was now being bumped in the posteriors by the third man since her caning. Not that he’d give her the same punishment he’d ordered for Rebecca. They were each customized, chosen specifically for the maid at fault and her crime. But it was good that Jessie was thinking about what a worse punishment might entail.

  “I—I was touching meself, Master,” she finally said.

  “And you know that touching yourself when you haven’t been granted permission to do so is a punishable offense, correct?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  She’d learned well in the two months since she’d joined his staff. Only a few weeks ago, she would have still been fighting him tooth and nail, trying to exert her “right” to do as she wished with her own body. Now she knew better. Now she knew her body belonged to him, and it was to be touched when he wanted it to be touched.

  “Very well. Come with me. Deringer, I’ll need your assistance as well.” Before he left, he turned to the rest of the servants still lined up against the wall. “Maids, back to your posts. You must still complete all of your daily responsibilities. Men, once you’ve finished with Rebecca, I’ll expect you to resume your regular duties as well.”

  Of course, those duties consisted primarily of supervising the maids—or interrupting the maids’ work to goad them into earning a punishment.

  The maids slipped out of the Great Hall then, scurrying away to resume their various tasks. Gabriel followed them with Deringer and Jessie right behind him.

  He made for the stables, since Jessie hated to ride. Today, she’d ride in a way she’d never ridden before.

  When they got there, he passed by each of the stalls at the front of the stables, heading toward the lesser used stalls—the lesser ridden horses. “Deringer, I’ll need you to fetch the new saddle I just commissioned.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Gabriel kept walking until he got to the very last stall and the snorting mare inside. “Jessie,” he said, turning to the terrified chambermaid, “I’d like you to get to know Hell’s Bitch today. You’ll help Deringer exercise her for the next two hours.”

  The groom came in then with the saddle, equipped with dual protrusions rising up out of the seat, straps to keep the legs firmly in place, and more to keep the hands attached to the horn. The two men strapped it to Hell’s Bitch.

  When Gabriel turned back to Jessie, she was already crying, her tears a constant flow down her cheeks. He brushed the tears away and tipped her head up to look in her eyes. “After your two hours, Deringer will have the option of giving you release in whatever way he sees fit, should you have performed the entire time without complaint. Otherwise, he’ll bring you to me for my next orders, and I’ll devise a more fitting, less friendly punishment. Don’t make me do that, Jessie.”

  “No, Master,” she sniffled.

  Then he lifted her into the air, and Deringer assisted him in settling her kitty and porthole over the protrusions. She let out a groan when the pressed her down, seating her fully so that they went in as far as they could go. Then they fastened each of the buckles over her legs and wrists.

  Gabriel smacked her buttocks, driving her forward onto her new internal companions, and she let out a tiny shout.

  “No more of that, now. Deringer, I’ll leave you to it.”

  But instead of going back into the manor, Gabriel followed Deringer out to the paddock. As expected, once Hell’s Bitch was out in the open, she took off at a trot—and reared back every now and then. She’d never liked being put to saddle, and wasn’t about to be cooperative for Jessie.

  He watched their exercise for about twenty minutes, long enough to be certain two hours would be an ample enough punishment, and to be certain Jessie would cooperate. In that time, despite her terror, and despite her certain pain and discomfort—and sexual need—she’d not voiced even a moment’s complaint.

  Then Gabriel went back to the main house and let himself into the kitchens. They were short-staffed today, with Rebecca still otherwise occupied, so he thought to see if any of the other scullery maids might have earned a reward.

  When he walked through the doors, Gwen looked up and jumped at his appearance, dropping the spoon she’d been stirring a pot of soup with. It splattered, sending hot broth out to land on the sheer fabric of her uniform—which clearly was not enough to protect her skin from the burns sure to land over her breasts.

  He crossed to her in an instant and ripped the material free from her body. Before she had time to cry out in pain, his lips and tongue were soothing the boiling liquid from her abundant bosom. She squirmed under his attentions, but a footman came over to brace her arms behind her back and keep her still. Long after there was any need for him to continue laving at her breasts, still he nipped and sucked, earning a drawn-out moan.

  Gabriel shoved a hand between her thighs and found the expected wetness. “Cook,” he called out over his shoulder, noting that the rest of the kitchen staff had continued to work as though nothing out of the ordinary was occurring in their midst. “Has Gwen performed well of late?”

  “That she has, Your Grace.”

  Cook was the only female in all of Blackthorne Manor who was not subjected to the same treatment as the others. She was older and a bit rounder about the middle, and was therefore allowed to wear a fairly normal uniform. Indeed, she often took part in delivering punishments and rewards as her own sort of reward. Cook wielded a crop as well as any of his men, and forcing the maids to lick Cook’s twat was its own special form of punishment.

  “How do you think we ought to reward her for her behavior?” He kept fingering Gwen, watching her brown eyes turn near black from the simple contact.

  “She’s always spent herself well when being buggered while someone licks her twat.”

  An excellent suggestion. For the first time, Gabriel looked up to see that the footman restraining Gwen was Keane. “Would you care to do the honors?” he asked.

  In response, Keane’s trousers hit the floor around his ankles.

  Gabriel lifted one of Gwen’s ankles, hooking her knee over Keane’s arm. The footman completed his grip with that arm by gripping a teat hard in his hand and pulling her back against his chest, trapping both of her arms between their two bodies.

  Then Gabriel bent to his knees and put her other leg over his shoulder, supporting the rest of her weight in that manner. He’d hardly sucked her clitoris into his mouth before Keane had his meat buried in her rump.

  He worked her with his fingers and tongue and teeth while Keane pumped her from behind, and it only took a few minutes before she was spilling her jelly all over Gabriel’s face and calling out incoherently.

  As he was feeling generous, though, they kept working at her until she’d experienced two more orgasms. He would have continued longer than that, because the act was causing Gabriel’s overworked staff to rise again, meaning he could shove it into Jocelyn again sooner, but Bexley cleared his throat in the doorway.

  “Rebecca’s punishment is complete, Your Grace.”

  Gabriel sighed, but he stood with an apologetic smile for Gwen as he lifted her other leg up for Keane to hold in addition to her first. “Keane will let you spend twice more before you must return to your duties. Clean my face.”

  She licked him all over, thorough and attentive to every detail despite the sound thumping Keane was giving her from behind.

  When Gabriel backed away, Keane carried her to a low counter covered in unbaked pastry dough. “Clear it,” he commanded the nearest maid, who rushed to do his bidding. Then he put Gwen down on it on her chest, str
etching her legs out until they were hanging over each side, and climbed on behind her to continue his rutting.

  Certain she was in good hands, Gabriel left with Bexley to release Rebecca from her punishment…and to take the next step with his pet. She would be more than ready by now to move ahead.

  Back in the Great Hall, Mariah had been released to return to her stitchery at some point, leaving only Rebecca and Jocelyn with Bexley and Haines to watch over them.

  He went to Jocelyn first, taking in her tearful eyes, the reddened, swollen nipples, the crack spread wide and pressed down hard against the wooden beam, and the series of dark pink marks covering her breasts, stomach, back, buttocks, and thighs. She must have cried out a great deal. He kissed her, delving his tongue deep inside her mouth to mate with hers, allowing her a taste of Gwen’s sweet pussy.

  “You’re wearing more marks than I’d hoped you would be. You must learn obedience, my pet.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said, but her words were hardly more than a raspy whisper—evidence of just how much she must have screamed and shouted while he was gone. He fetched a glass of water for her and helped her drink it, noting her grimace with each swallow. She was quite the screamer, his sweet Jocelyn.

  For a minute or two each, he toyed with her breasts, fondling them, squeezing them, molding them to fit his hands, and finally suckling the teat into his mouth and dragging his teeth against them repeatedly. As he did this, he pulled hard on the strings and pressed down on her hips, grinding her nubbin down onto the beam and stretching her arms.

  He kept going, putting more pressure on her clit and tugging harder on the string and biting her nipples until she was screaming in a husky, raspy tone.

  Gabriel released her then, but the scream didn’t stop for long minutes. He backed away and turned to Haines and Bexley. “Flog her. Twenty strokes each.” Then he crossed over to Rebecca and her semen-covered arse and cunt.

  A flogger whistled through the air and thudded against Jocelyn’s body, and her screams started anew—which only made his cock harder than before.

  God, she was perfect.

  Jocelyn’s eyes followed Master across the room even as Bexley and Haines rained their floggers over her far-too-stimulated body.

  He moved with purpose to where Rebecca still lay restrained upon the table. The marks from her caning were not visible, but only because they were all on her front side, pressed against the hard table surface.

  Jocelyn could only imagine the sight of Rebecca’s bottom. She’d seen how man after man had spent himself there before moving to her head and having her clean the mess from his member. She’d watched how, while Rebecca used her tongue to clean some of the men, those same cocks that had just been emptied within Rebecca’s bowels grew hard once more, only to have those same men take another turn sodomizing her.

  And the whole time Jocelyn had watched, any time she’d become too engrossed in what she was seeing she would lose her focus on her own predicament. Those were the moments when she cried out, because her arms had given out and she’d fallen down hard upon her extremely sore, swollen private area, or because she’d tried to lessen the ache upon her cunny by pulling up too hard with her arms, forgetting about the string tied around her nipples.

  She’d lost count of how many such instances there had been, let alone the lashes with the floggers Master had ordered on account of her screams. The new count of lashings, while she would be much better off without them, would pale in comparison to how many she’d already received today.

  But now, while they came down upon her, Haines whipping her from behind and Bexley taking great glee in whipping her breasts, Jocelyn could only think of what Master was doing with Rebecca.

  He stood naked before her, having removed every stitch of his clothing. Was he, too, going to sodomize the girl? But no. He gripped her head by the hair and thrust his large phallus between her lips, pressing back until she had the entire length of him within her mouth and throat.

  While he held her head immobilized, he looked back over his shoulder and moved his hips in time with the flogging Jocelyn was receiving. His eyes locked onto hers, and she refused to look away despite the tears that had not stopped flowing for some time, despite the screams that continued to tear from her raw throat, despite the fact that she was jealous of Rebecca at this moment.

  That realization stung. Jealous, of the maid who’d been brutally caned and sodomized repeatedly, and who was now being forced to service Master with her mouth and throat? How depraved had she become in such a short amount of time that she wished his manhood was being thrust into her mouth instead?

  Finally, the floggers stopped swinging, and she was left hanging from her wrists over the beam between her thighs. When that happened, Master removed his member from Rebecca’s mouth, still fully erect, and moved back across the room to Jocelyn.

  “Bexley, take Rebecca to the stables and see that she’s thoroughly cleaned.” His eyes on hers, Master stroked his hands over the curve of her breasts, leaving trails of shivers where the flesh had been far too heated. “After her bath, she should be granted a nap before returning to her regular duties in the kitchens. And Haines, see that the rack is cleaned before you do anything else.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The two men efficiently removed the restraints holding Rebecca down. Bexley carried Rebecca out, and Haines followed him with the torture table, and then they were alone.

  For long moments, he took his time drawing his hands over her flesh, gently here, roughly there, torturously yet somewhere else. “Tell me, pet,” he said finally, drawing one hand down to her cunny and rubbing vigorously over her abraded button. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

  Every nerve in her body seemed to end there right at that moment, just where he was touching her, and it sent a new pool of wetness to meet his efforts. Denying that she wanted it would serve no purpose. If he wanted to bed her, he would bed her. And he could tell the effect he had upon her anyway.

  “Yes, Master,” she said when she could breathe again.

  He smiled, but it was a fiendish, perverse sort of smile—a harbinger of things to come, she was beginning to learn.

  “Which hole should I fuck you in, pet?”

  The manner in which he was touching her was actually lifting her up higher, despite the fact that her arms could no longer support her, which put a new ache upon her nipples.

  “My cunny,” she rasped. “Fuck me in my cunny.”

  He pulled his hand away so abruptly that she fell back down upon the beam, and she screamed again. Then he took the string within his hand and pulled hard, so hard that it jerked her forward several inches, bowing her back unnaturally and stretching her arms beyond what she thought she could withstand. “Whose cunny?”

  “Fuck your cunny, Master!” Jocelyn doubted that he could understand her words through her sobs, because she certainly couldn’t, but she hoped he could at least understand her intention.

  “I do believe I will.”

  But he didn’t release the strings. He pulled them harder, bringing her closer to him, and then crushed his mouth down upon hers. His tongue swept into her mouth, ravishing her with it as he had with his penis.

  Just as suddenly, he released her and she fell back upon the beam. Jocelyn tried to catch her breath, tried to calm her mind, but her thoughts were racing just as fast as her pulse was flowing through her veins.

  Master reached up above her head and released her arms. They fell down to her side but were only allowed to remain thus momentarily. He moved back several steps and jerked on the rope, causing her to fall forward over the beam. Then, stretching her arms as far as he could, he used the rope to secure them in place as they were.

  This new position shifted the pressure in her sex to be directed almost entirely upon her button. Jocelyn moaned, but dared not voice any more complaint than that.

  Kneeling below her, Master untied the strings from her nipples. The pain of her blood returning to its proper position wa
s more than she thought she could bear. Jocelyn screamed and wished she could ease the ache by putting pressure upon it with her hands, but that was impossible. Before she had adjusted to the first nipple being free, he’d released the string from the second.

  She writhed around from the pain, but that only served to wedge the beam more fully against her button, causing intense pain in her three most sensitive areas.

  And then he was behind her, also straddling the beam…but his legs were long enough to reach fully to the floor. He pressed into her, stretching her and filling her, and somehow still pressing further. Even once he was fully seated he still put more pressure against her, driving her both forward and down, which forced her button to scrape against the beam beneath it.

  He retreated and returned, inching her forward with each thrust. With his long, muscular arms, he reached forward and grasped her by the breasts. His fingers dug into them and pulled back against her, forcing her to take every bit of him and then some.

  Her tears had not stopped, and the pain only increased by the moment. But as the wet, slapping sounds of his mating increased, so did the odd sense of pleasure that had been building in her since the orgasm he’d granted her on the dining room table last night.

  Jocelyn didn’t understand how she could possibly find pleasure in this, the beastly manner in which he’d treated her, the perverse ways he allowed others to use her, the obscene and repulsive acts he required of her. Yet, when she felt him lengthening even more and knew he was ready to spill within her, something glorious exploded in her core and she collapsed against the beam. Wave after wave of his seed pumped into her womb, and his great weight pressed her down hard on the beam, and she didn’t care in the slightest.

  A bit later, he removed himself from her sex and pressed into her mouth, and she eagerly licked him clean. Then he left her as she was until it was time for luncheon.

  At that point, Bexley removed the weights from her feet, untied her hands, and lifted her free of the beam. He picked up her gown that Master had tossed aside earlier and dragged it over her face, drying away the tear stains—and those which might remain of Master’s seed. Then he rubbed it harshly between her legs, removing the evidence there as well. He lowered it over her head again, with the sticky, white stuff covering it and causing it to cling to her skin.