That a man in a mask will press over yer mouth.
An’ where do the bonnie girls get carried awa’,
Sure, it’s a secret that no one else knows.
In dark cellars weeping, with no light o’ day,
To pleasure a man’s penis in Blackthorne Hoose.”
My personal key scraped in the lock and I swung open the three-inch thick oak door. Even at this distance, and even with another closed door between us, I could faintly hear the new girls shrieking. Locking the door behind me, I loped down the curving stone stairway in the near-darkness.
I paused at the bottom, pressing my ear to the door. There was the sound of feminine voices, of course. I recognized the voices of Chalmers, Broc, and Shawe in the bark of commands and shouts of displeasure. When the sounds ceased for a moment, I unlocked the door and entered. The voices echoed from the narrow passageway straight ahead.
My sash had loosened during my dash down the stairs, and now my robe fell open, exposing my nakedness. As I began to tie it closed, I hesitated, realizing where I was. “What the hell,” I said with nonchalance. I stripped off the robe and tossed it aside. “Sir Richard is embracing the spirit of Blackthorne.” I whispered with a grin. I strode down the dim passage in naked glory.
The new girls who were not being trained yet crouched in the dark far corner of their cells, turning their heads away as I passed. I peered through the bars of each cell’s door, looking for the pretty girl I fucked last night. She was huddling in the last cell on the right, her forehead pressed against her lifted knees. Her hands were clamped over her ears, trying to shut out the horror of the sounds. Each time a whip cracked, she would jerk, sobbing in terror.
Her cell door was locked, of course, so I continued on and turned the corner into the training chamber. Three girls had their wrists manacled to the chains hanging from the ceiling. Their ankles were chained and forced wide apart, their feet more than a foot above the floor. Bright red bruises criss-crossed their ass and bellies. The men had laid down the whips for a different kind of fun. I grinned with relief when saw they were naked like me.
The cute, chubby girl with short blonde hair looked like she had been an American tourist until she had been lured away from her group just a few days ago. She was biting her lip while tears cascaded down her dimpled cheeks. Broc was rubbing one hand over the naked girl’s breasts and stroking her pussy with the other. “That’s better, my pretty little maiden,” he rasped in her ear. “You mustn’t struggle and cry out when your master handles your breasts and pussy.”
Gregor was amusing himself with a thin girl still wearing glasses. She had the look of a student on holiday from her books. Her long, shining hair was the color of dusky rubies, its curled tips caressing her bare ass. His mouth was chewing at her rose-nippled breast, and she squirmed and gasped as his teeth dug into her shallow pink cone. Her other breast was already imprinted with the stinging red marks of his fierce bites. Chalmers was standing in front of the third, a tawny-skinned Egyptian girl whose beauty would command admiration even in the crowded harem of some powerful Arabian potentate. She had liquid brown eyes like ripe olives in pools of dusky nectar. One of Chalmer’s arms circled her waist, forcing her naked belly tight against his, the other gripping a handful of her raven hair, crushing her lips against his.
“Let the games continue,” I said. “I am just here to watch.”
Broc laughed and motioned me closer. “Join in, Sir Richard. There’s more than enough for us all.”
“I’d rather play with that girl in the nearest cell, the red-haired girl I fucked last night.”
“I’ll bring her out,” Chalmers said. “Would you like her chained up like this,” he pointed to the three girls, “or stretched on the rack. I can force her to run on the treadmill. It will make her heavy breasts bounce wonderfully.”
“I’d really rather be put in her cell with her. The thought of such a pretty young girl being trapped in a small cell with both of us naked excites me.”
“Right away, Sir Richard.” He grinned at his girl and she squeaked as he pinched her ass hard. “Don’t go away, my lovely. I haven’t finished showing you how much I love you.”
He grabbed a ring of keys hanging on a peg and led me back to the cells.
The sound of the key in her door’s lock started the girl. She squirmed tighter back into the far corner and stared at us with terrified eyes. I stepped into her cell and Chalmers locked the door behind me. I stood for a moment, gazing down at her as her small hands fluttered over her body, uselessly trying to hide her nakedness. I could see the whip marks on her belly and curling around her shoulders.
“It’s easier if you don’t think about escape or rescue,” I said. “There’s nothing you can do to help yourself, and your previous life is gone forever.” I crouched down on the floor, my back resting against the wall.
She curled up her trembling body, still staring at me silently.
“You may talk,” I said. “You won’t be punished for that.”
“They hurt me,” she said in a croaking whisper. “You are going to hurt me, too.”
“I’m not going to hurt you right now,” I replied. “I give you my word.” I gestured at the shelf bolted to the wall. “Please sit up there. It will be more comfortable, and we can see each other better.
“You’re naked,” she said.
“And so are you,” I replied.
“It’s immoral,” She continued. “What you are doing to me is wrong. You shouldn’t take off my clothes and lock me in this horrible cell. You shouldn’t be in here without any clothes on yourself.
“This isn’t a social event, and what your mother taught you doesn’t matter here.” I replied, “But the facts are; you’re naked, I’m naked, and we’re locked in this tiny room together. I can do whatever I want with your body, and you can’t protect yourself. Now, are you going to sit on that wooden platform, or shall I call out for Chalmers to bring me a whip?”
Slowly, keeping her back pressed to the wall, she slid up to the platform, keeping one arm over her breasts, and her other hand over her pussy. She pulled her crossed legs up under the shelf.
“That’s better. What’s your name?’
Her lip trembled, but she didn’t answer.
“I think you need a reminder of what you are in this place.” I stood up and faced the bars. “Chalmers, bring me a whip!”
She watched with fear-widened eyes as Chalmers passed a short whip to me between the bars.
“Janna. My name is Janna. It means, ‘paradise’. Please don’t whip me.” She pronounced her name, ‘Yanna’.
“You’re a Dutch girl!”
She pulled up her legs and dipped her forehead against her knees. “Ya.”
“How did you get caught?”
She sobbed softly, not raising her head. I lifted her chin with the butt of my whip.
“I was on a holiday, traveling alone by train,” she said, not opening her eyes. “I got off at a small station in the country to change trains, and I lost my ticket. It was late at night, extremely dark. There was a young man in the station, very friendly. I told him I was alone and had no money to get another ticket. He spoke kindly to me, said he would buy me a ticket if I would go out to his carriage and tell his father what the money was for. I followed him out behind the station. When the carriage door opened, the young man and his father grabbed me and held a cloth over my nose and mouth. I smelled chloroform and fainted. The men brought me here on their boat.”
She stopped, and there was a silence before I spoke. “And now you belong to me,” I said. I got up and sat down next to her. “Sit on my lap.”
She opened her eyes and trembled. “Please, sir, I can’t...
I gripped her head between my hands, the whip grinding against her cheek.
“I’ll have you on my lap, or out in the training room with those three men whipping you.”
Her body shuddered with sobs as she let me lift her petite torso onto my thighs.
“Put your arms behind you,” I said in a strict voice.
With embarrassed reluctance, she obeyed. I cupped her strawberry-nippled breasts in my hands. They were warm and soft, nesting like trembling doves in my fingers.
“I came here,” I whispered, “to hold you on my lap, to caress your beautiful young body,” My hands fondled her trembling breasts, “and to give you a warning.”
She choked with a shuddering response to my sensual touch.
“Learn quickly. Obey swiftly. Do everything we order you to do. This cellar can be a place of pain and fear for stubborn girls. When my men say you are trained, I will bring you up into the sunlight and air of my manor house. You will serve and obey my family and my staff. There will be good food and pleasure in a soft bed for you; always a man’s bed.”
I continued my lecherous exploration of her body until my fingers were squirming inside her pussy. She moaned, closing her eyes and laying her head back against my bare chest. Finally, I sat her down off my lap and stood up. “Accept your fate, don’t fight it. Learn what pleases a man and do it with devotion. You’ll spare yourself a lot of pain.”
I stepped to the barred door. “Chalmers, open the door, I’m ready to leave.” As he let me out, I nodded my head toward Janna. “Train this girl’s pussy how to pleasure my cock. I want to find her waiting chained in my bed soon.”
During the two weeks that followed I spent my days in the cellar. Broc taught me the fine points of whipping; the proper grip, the various swings of the arm, how to aim, and where to strike to inflict maximum punishment when the girl refused to yield to pleasure. Most important is how much force to put behind each blow. Too much, and delicate feminine flesh is scarred, reducing her beauty, and thus, the price we can get for a trained sex slave. Too little force, and she develops a tolerance for pain, increasing the time it takes to train her.
Gregor came down from his forest tower and taught me how to fuck. I was flush with the pride and conviction that all a man needed was a cock and balls, and nature would make me an expert at fucking. “Well, I cum every time I fuck, don’t I?” was my ridiculous argument.
Gregor was an artist, and connoisseur of pussies. He hung the twelve new girls upside-down, chained by their ankles with legs spread wide, their wrists chained to the floor. He would take me down the line, spreading apart pussy lips and pointing out subtle differences in their love chambers. “This one’s clitoris is more exposed, more sensitive to stimulation.” He bent forward and blew gently on her love-bud. She jerked and grunted, splaying out her fingers and toes. “You can make this girl cum even if she tries not to.”
He laughed, “I like to strap a girl like this over a padded leather beam and fuck her while she goes wild again and again with shrieking orgasms. Then I lay down under her and stir my fingertip in the cum trickling down inside her thighs. I show her my finger smeared with her love-juice and laugh at the shame smoldering in her eyes.”
He showed me how to force my cock into a tight pussy, the best speed and depth to move my cock to get the most pleasure, and how to slow my pace to enjoy the longest possible orgasm.
Then he introduced me to the mysteries of oral sex. He clamped a girl’s mouth open with a dentist’s tool, and let me feel the intense pleasure a trained girl’s tongue could give a cock. Cumming in her mouth was a breathtaking fuck.
I had a bit of trouble with the idea of shoving my unsoiled cock into a girl’s asshole, no matter how pretty and shapely her butt was.
“You can’t ask me to stick my cock in that hole when you know what comes out of it,” I said.
Gregor showed me the enema bottle and tubing, and explained that such holes are flushed out and cleansed just before fucking.
“Try it, Sir Richard. The feel of a girl’s asshole is different. Many men prefer it to a pussy. Perhaps you will, too.”
So I did. He was right, of course. The powerful muscle around the opening squeezes a man’s cock where it does the most good. The grip pulls back the foreskin so the head of a cock gets maximum exposure to the stimulation. I grinned as I felt my cum spurt in the hole where she hated it the most.
The diabolical Miss Ballard demonstrated the effectiveness of cruel metal devices that some psychotic brain invented. Spiked prods, clusters of pinching jaws, perforated cylinders, all to be inserted into vaginas and rectums, then pumped full of stinging liquids. She was especially enthusiastic about her oversized, sharp-ridged probes, and electrified rods, all designed to be shoved deep inside helpless girls. Her victim’s heart-rending cries were more than I could endure. I forbid her to ever use them again.
“Pain creates fear,” she argued with me. “And fear creates obedience. Without the whips and beatings, and these useful tools, we would have no love-slaves. Remember that every time you fuck one of our beautiful girls.”
The staff spent three weeks abusing and training the girls. It seemed like three centuries to me. Then Chalmers came into my library and announced, “Sir Richard, Janna has finished her obedience training. She wants to pleasure you in your bed.”
My grin nearly split my face in two. “Send her to my bedroom after dinner tonight.”
I never dreamed that something incredible was about to happen to me, and delay my love feast in petite little Janna’s lovely vagina.
Chapter Seven
The Secret Comes To Life
“What’s this, Selby?” I turned the envelope over in my hand.
“Oh, Sir Richard, Mistress Treise placed that on your pillow after tea, just before she left. She said not to tell you, as it was to be a surprise.”
I lifted the envelope to my nose and inhaled the scent of her naked skin.
“Thank you, Selby.” My eyes flicked to the door of my bedroom.
“Very good, Sir Richard.” He left.
I slit the envelope with my pocket-knife and pulled out the folded pink notepaper.
“Dearest cousin:
The circle of stones in the north wood clearing.
Find me there when the full moon rises.
‘Do what you will with me, Master’. It’s your turn now.
In capricious fancy,
Your poor, defenseless slave, Treise
P.S. Please come alone. Tell no one.”
I could not deny the smile that infused my lips. “Ah, Treise,” I said with a resigned sigh, “If your father had never married my aunt, and we had met, what a fine couple we would make as man and wife over all Blackthorne.” But even as a step-cousin, perhaps the church would forbid the sacrament of consummate union. I folded the note and began to slip into my waistcoat pocket, then stopped. With a smile I loosened my waistband and tucked it inside my underwear. Its textured surface pillowed my cock.
I came down the stairs and glimpsed Shawe, the gamekeeper, through the open door of the pantry. The maid, Cody, was standing in front of him, arms above her head, with her blouse unlaced and pulled open. Shawe was fondling her breasts.
“Shawe,” I said, “Would you mind. Please go to the stables and tell Farley, the groom, that I shall require a horse this evening, after dusk.”
“Of course, Sir Richard.” His eyes returned to Cody’s breasts before he turned to leave. I could see his disappointment.
“And, Shawe,” I continued...I smiled and gestured to Cody’s open blouse, “Take the girl with you. Tell Farley I said to let you use the far stall.
“Yes, Sir Richard.” The smile returned to his face. He gripped Cody’s arm and propelled her past me.
“Oh, just one thing more, Shawe. What time is moonrise this evening?”
“She rises over the eastern hills at 9:35, just when the dusk darkens to night over the bay.
I glanced out the window. The sun had set, and Venus was already visible in the west. I pulled out my pocket watch. 8:55 p.m., just time for a quick bite of supper before my adventure. I headed for the kitchen.
“Good evening, Miss Lara,” I said to our cook.
“G’ evening, sair Richar
d,” she replied, wiping her hands on her enormous apron. Her sandy-brown hair struggled to escape in disorder from under her lace-trimmed cap.
“Would I be able to trouble you for a bite to eat here in the kitchen? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Sit at me table, m’ laird,” She went to the cupboard and returned with plate, cup, and servant’s tableware. “It’s not for what gentlefolk are used to, Sair, but if it’s haste’n ye are, then this is my best.” She laid out bread, butter, marmalade and jelly. There was a slice of cold meat with cheese on the side, and a pot of hot tea. “An would ye be wanting an egg or two, or anything more? The vegetables an such are just startin’ in the garden, so’s none for havin’.”
“This is fine, Miss Lara. It pleases me for your kindness.”
Her face widened into a face-splitting gap-toothed grin. She stuttered a few words, ending with, “Pleasure, Sair.”
By the time I finished eating and galloped up to my bedroom to change into riding clothes, the dusk was already deepening. As an afterthought, I shoved my pistol into my belt. Gregor had rumbled on with vague hints of strange shadows prowling the borders at night. I hurried out the back, passing through the kitchen with a finger over my lips and a wink at Lara.
Farley met me at the stable doors with my saddled bay. “Sir Richard, it’s a bit risky to go galloping about the moor after dark. Would you like me along for guidance?”
“No, Farley, I can manage. I will be meeting someone, so I won’t be alone. Besides,” I patted the butt of my pistol, “I have this.”
“Oh, then, I shall wish you a pleasant ride, will you be returning soon, or you can just wake me if it’s late.”
From inside the stable I heard Cody’s shrieks and struggles, and the snorting grunts of Shawe’s lust.
‘Thank you, Farley.” I swung into the saddle and turned my horse north.
“Where are you going, Sir Richard?”
“It’s a secret,” I called out over my shoulder as I galloped away.
It was an uneasy ride over the rolling meadow. I kept well away from the Blackthorn hedge at the edge of the drop to the sea. Fireflies flitted like incandescent daggers from the clumps of heather as I galloped past. The stars had already pierced the velvet purple of an immense sky overhead. The salt-sea air prickled in the core of my nostrils, and the panting surf moaned like a maid in the throes of passion. Crimson blood coursed hot through my veins.
Bound For Pleasure at Blackthorne Page 9