“Just be careful. Some men don’t like it when a saucy little girl torments their manhood. They can be very vindictive if they trap you in a place where we can’t help you.”
“I can handle any man.” She giggled, “I love handling men, especially the place where they are the most vulnerable.”
“You’re still just eighteen years old, and you’ve got a lot to learn about men.”
Addy grinned wolfishly and fluttered her bright blue eyes. “I’ve already learned a lot. I know how to make a cock tremble with fear, and I can make them cum whenever I please.”
“Well, let’s go find our cook, Lara, and have her make you some breakfast. After such a busy night, you must be starved.” The two women left through the arch, still talking as they disappeared down the hallway.
The parlor was silent. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, their steel bars designed to prevent trespassing, or escape. Family portraits hung over the fireplace, and covered the walls on each side. Staring down from the largest frame, gilded and set in honor above the mantelpiece, was Richard’s grandfather, Sir Robert Cailean.
Next to him in the painting stood his pretty young wife, Claudette. Now in her nineties, she was a shadowy presence in the mansion, appearing at dinner, then retiring to her room again afterward. A rich horde of memories flow through her mind, still sharp and clear in her last years.
Sir Robert was the founder of the family business; buying and selling pretty young girls, and enjoying their bodies between transactions. He was born in this very house on June 20, 1837, the same day that King William IV died. Robert’s life began as Victoria became Queen and ruled over her glittering empire. When he was five years old, his father was killed in Afghanistan, serving as an officer in Lord Auckland’s army.
On the right is the portrait of his son, Richard’s father, Sir Drake Cailean. Sir Drake took his first breath in 1871, the year P.T. Barnum created his famous circus. He was attracted to the excitement and spectacle of Barnum’s show, and decided to transform the family’s white slavery business into a circus of the flesh.
He made a contract with the satyrs, half-dwarf men—half animals. He discovered them living in caves under the estate vineyard growing north of the forest. They provided a magical aphrodisiac wine, in exchange for protection and the occasional loan of a pretty girl. Chained naked to the stone platform in the middle of a circle of standing stones hidden deep in the forest, she was their sexual toy for one evening.
Then fate removed him as he sailed for America to purchase more unwary young girls lured into warehouses, or abducted from the streets and boarding houses of New York. On April 15, 1912, Sir Drake disappeared as the Titanic slipped below the freezing surface of the Atlantic. Thus twenty-one year old Richard became Sir Richard Cailean, Laird of Blackthorne House.
“You’re a pretty little thing.” Garrett put his hand under the sobbing girl’s chin and lifted it to look at her face.
The newly captured girl whimpered. “Please, sir, don’t do this to me. Please, let me go home.” The brunette’s brown eyes glimmered with tears, her arms stretched upward, framing her heart-shaped face.
“But you are home, my lovely little dove. This cage is your new home, and we are going to teach you how to make men very happy.”
She twisted her wrists in their cuffs, her toes stretching downward, trying to find the floor inches below them. “No-o-o-o, please, let me go!” Her petite, cone-shaped breasts jiggled with her panicked breathing.
“Such dainty little nipples you have,” Gerritt said, pinching one. “Like baby strawberries. I’ll enjoy nibbling them.”
The girl broke into uncontrolled sobbing, her naked body shuddering as he stroked his hands down her belly. “I’m a good girl.”
“I’m counting on that,” he replied. “If you are good for all of us men, we won’t have to whip you so often.” He gripped her shoulders and spun her around. “Looks like you are a slow learner.” He dragged his fingers over the crimson whip marks laced across her back and ass.
“She’s a stubborn one,” Gregor said with a rumbling laugh. His huge, naked black body gleamed with oil and perspiration. “But I enjoy my work, and the whip will teach her respect and enthusiasm.”
“Well, she’s already making my cock hard. Keep working on her. I think this one will share my bed tonight.”
Richard and Gerritt strode over to the next girl as Gregor drew back his whip hand. The hapless girl shrieked as it painted one more stripe on her buttocks.
The red-haired girl was tied to a horizontal pole, her arms pulled straight back over it and wrapped down around its thick circumference. Her ankles were spread wide apart and tied to ringbolts in the floor.
“Your turn,” Gerritt said to Richard.
Richard cupped one of her whipped breasts in his hand. “What have they done to you?”
She lifted her head, fire smoldering in her emerald eyes. “Brute!” she said and spat in his face.
CRACK! Crom’s whip bit into her defenseless buttocks.
“Ah-h-h—uh—unh!” She clamped her eyes shut and gritted her teeth.
Crom coiled his whip around his hand and stepped forward. “Here’s a real spitfire,” he said. “Thinks she’s the queen and nobody should touch her. Won’t mind her manners.” He grinned and gripped his manhood. “Doesn’t respect this, won’t confess it’s her master.”
“She’s beautiful,” Richard said. “I’d really like her to be ready for the Autumn ball. Might choose her for my first fuck that night.”
“Never!” she spat out the word.
Crom gripped a handful of her flame-colored hair and jerked her face around to his. “Never is a long time, girl. And I have a long time to change your mind.” He let go and her head dropped forward. “Don’t you be concerned, Sir Richard. I’ve trained girls like her before. She hasn’t slept for a night and a day. Another two days and nights of punishment without sleep, and she will see the folly of her stubbornness. She will surrender, they always do.”
“There’s another pretty toy,” Gerritt said. He pointed at a heavy wooden bench on the far side of the room. A plump little blonde was stretched taut on it, her wrists and ankles bound in tight leather cuffs. Thin silver chains attached to her wrist cuffs were wrapped around a cylinder mounted across the end of the bench. A large hand wheel mounted on one end of the cylinder adjusted the pulling force on the chains, while a ratchet mechanism locked it in position.
The girl stared, wide eyed at the two men, tears trickling down her chubby cheeks. “Please, Sir, turn the wheel back a little. It hurts me.”
“Well, you must have been a very naughty girl to be punished on this terrible contraption. Looks like you lost all your clothes. Don’t you think it’s wicked to stretch out your naked body and let strange men look at you and touch you?”
“I didn’t want them to do it, Sir. They took us here and cut off all our clothes. They tie us up or chain us to these horrible machines. They hurt us!” She shut her eyes and sobbed. “They shoved their nasty things inside us! I felt their things squirting something inside me. Please don’t let them hurt us any more!”
Gerritt sat down on the edge of the bench and stroked her pudgy belly. “Such a soft cushion. I enjoy this extra little love-pillow when I am fucking. I think we will have you paraded naked through the house after your training.” He pinched her wet cheek. “Then I’ll keep you harnessed to my sulky carriage for a few days. I will love watching that cute little round ass of yours winking at me as your short, chubby legs pump as hard as they can to outrun my whip.”
“No-o-o-o,” Her head rocked from side to side.
“Perhaps I’ll keep you chained to my bed for a few nights so I don’t have to share you. We don’t get many little sugar-dumplings like you.” He swatted her belly and stood up. “What a tempting target, Richard. There’s a whip, want to add a few red stripes to her defenseless belly?”
The girl trembled, sobbing and whimpering, “N-no, not that. Don
’t let that happen to me.”
Richard shook his head. “I’m a lover, not a whipper.”
“Too bad her legs aren’t spread apart. But, I can wait. Let’s check the rest of the girls in their cells.” They walked away from the weeping girl.
They left the stone-walled chamber through a dark, narrow archway like a demon’s mouth. Feeling their way along, they came to a row of steel-barred doors, six on each side. Inside the dimly lighted cells naked girls cowered into the far corners, or lay on the wooden shelf, unconscious from exhaustion and terror.
Barth, the young herdsman, was inside the last cell, thrusting his erection into a captive girl’s paradise hole. The girl was bent over an iron pipe stretching between the walls, her wrists and ankles chained to the floor. Barth’s mouth was open, grunting and gasping with his exertions, with an occasional, “Feel-good ass” and “Tickle-my-cock!” chant. He didn’t even look around when Richard and Gerritt stopped at the door, watching.
His thrusting sped up until his hips and ass shuddered with the convulsion of his orgasm. “Yeah! Yeah!--YEAH! UNH! UNH! UNH!” He gasped and grunted until the last spurt of cum scooted joyfully into her rectum. When he pulled out and stepped back, the two men realized why the girl hadn’t struggled or cried out. She was unconscious.
Barth turned and noticed them, his softening cock still dripping. He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “She fainted. Girls get so apprehensive when I fuck them from behind.”
Treise boosted herself up and swung her leg over the saddle. Turning the chestnut mare’s head, she pressed her heels against the horse’s flanks and guided her out the stable door. “Come on, Cameo, let’s show the world how you can run.” The new stable-boy stared at her, blushing but unable to tear his eyes away. Even Ives looked up from his pruning to watch Treise gallop away across the meadow, the wind caressing her naked body.
Cameo wafted Treise north across the acres of grass, almost floating as her legs cycled tirelessly. To the left, the high hedge of Blackthorne bushes marked the western boundary of the estate. Their forbidding tangle perched on the edge of the shallow cliff dropping into the waters of the loch.
Ahead, and approaching swiftly, were the eaves of the hundred-acre oak forest, with its fiendish secret hidden from the world. Even the new aero planes, when they strayed overhead, would not discover it. The pilot, struggling to keep his sputtering engine alive, would not notice the strange scene in a circular clearing protected by the mighty oaks. Every footpath and trail, no matter how twisted and winding, led eventually to that clearing.
Whispers echoed in the farmer’s cottages of strange sights in that clearing; creatures that no one ever saw, but everyone claimed to know about. And on moonless nights, when cottage doors were locked and bolted; sounds, and voices were heard. Perhaps they were only imagined, but nonetheless believed to be real.
Farmers and their wives kept awake those nights, staring into the darkness, too terrified to look at the windows when a twig snapped. The Cailean family were in league with unearthly powers, some said. The family was respected, but not loved. Their lands were feared, and avoided.
One night, a foolhardy farm lad had crept through the forest in the darkness of the new moon. He had sat behind a bush and waited for the truth. They found him the next morning, cowering against a farmer’s well, wild-eyed, naked, shaking and speechless. He never spoke another word until the day he died.
The Cailean’s treasured their privacy. They knew how precious it is. They could trust their macabre allies to keep away the curious and the troublemakers.
Treise clucked to Cameo and led her into the forest, choosing one of the paths leading to the distant gray-stoned tower with its ruddy, conical roof projecting above the leafy canopy. After fifteen minutes of walking, they arrived.
“Hello!”
No one answered her.
“Hello! Gregor, are you home?”
Birds chirped, and a crow cawed, rising into the air from his lofty perch, but no human voice responded.
“Wait here, Cameo.” Treise slid off her horse and climbed the few stone steps to the door. With a gentle shove it swung inward, and she stepped into the realm that would be center stage in any young woman’s nightmares.
The first floor was arranged as Gregor’s living quarters. Without even a glance Treise strode through and mounted the stone stairway curving up against the wall. Overhead were thick wooden beams, supporting the thick-planked floor above. She pushed up the trap door and stepped through into Gregor’s chamber of horrors.
The tiny barred windows were shuttered, letting in only slivers of light. Her eyes adjusted to the murk, revealing a sex maniac’s carnival of frameworks, bizarre fixtures, and a high narrow bench. All were festooned with thick, black leather straps, designed and arranged to imprison a naked, defenseless body in their grip. Whips, straps, and slender, flexible canes hung from a rack on the wall. A cabinet door opened to reveal a jumbled collection of demonic gadgets and stinging salves designed to torment intimate morsels of anatomy.
“Perfect!” she whispered.
Treise almost floated down the stairs and out the door. Mounting Cameo, she turned her head back to the path. A sudden whim changed her mind. She whirled her horse around and galloped down the trail to the clearing.
Slowing to a canter near its edge, she stopped Cameo. “Wait here, girl. Keep watch. Whinny if you see or hear anything.” She slid off and walked with sublime peace into the circle of standing stones.
In the exact center was an elevated stone platform with a huge stone pillar next to it, rising up nine feet high. She strolled to it, head thrown back, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy. She stood beside it, her naked body stretched up on her toes, her arms stretched up toward the sky with her fingers splayed. She closed her eyes and her lips moved soundlessly. She finished, and lay down on the platform on her back, arms and legs spread. A bright sun beamed down on her naked body. The breeze rustled on the surrounding trees. To the west the waves of the loch surged and pressed their liquid heart against the shallow cliff.
Treise slept.
She dreamed. An unlit moon crept up in a black sky above her. Dark forms of small, bent creatures moved among the circle of tree trunks. They crept out into the circle of stones. Their bodies weaved and swayed, approaching on furry animal legs with cloven hooves. Their almost-human heads sprouted horns, and nodded on human torsos. Gleaming yellow eyes fixed on Treise’s nakedness, and grinning mouths dribbled. Red tongues waggled with soundless words.
Treise stirred in her sleep. Her mouth moved and one word escaped to enslave her.
“Yes.”
Chapter Two
Cinderella’s Conquest
“Welcome to Blackthorne House, General.” Richard said. The 1912 automobile sputtered in motionless impatience as the chauffeur opened the door for the gentleman and his wife. The sunset gleamed on the medals stretched across his olive-drab uniform, and ignited iridescent flashes in his wife’s green velvet gown. Her generous breasts almost spilled into view as she ducked to clear the door.
“Thank you, Sir Richard,” The general replied. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since the unfortunate loss of your father. Dashed unpleasant business-—The sinking of the Titanic.”
“Thank you, General. I still can’t believe he is really gone.”
Next in line was a carriage drawn by a pair of snow-white mares. A footman jumped down and jerked the door open.
Richard greeted the plump, buxom woman with his practiced smile. “Welcome, Lady...uh...forgive me, they didn’t tell me your name.”
She lifted the gold-rimmed lorgnette to her left eye and extended her hand. “Of course, Sir Richard. No respectable Lady allows her name to be mentioned at your delightful entertainments. We do have husbands, don’t you know?”
Richard took her soft young hand and kissed it. “He’s not with you, then?”
“Gracious, no, that would never do. Can’t allow him watching me. It would shock
the poor man, make him feel inadequate. I’m ever so grateful to the Admiralty office for arranging his sea duty at this time every year.” A quick smile flickered across her lips. “Of course, I have to make my request every year in Admiral ...,” the name halted on her lips, “in an Admiral’s bedroom, you see.”
Another carriage followed at a discreet distance. Its gleaming black woodwork and black window curtains concealed the occupant. It stopped in front of the mansion and the footman, dressed in black also, jumped down and looked carefully back down the lane to be sure no one was in sight. When he was satisfied there were no spies, he opened the door and bowed his head in a humble gesture. An elegant gentleman in late middle years stepped out, glancing nervously at the trees and bushes beside the lane to see if there were curious eyes concealed behind them.
Aunt Caroline and Treise had come out of the house to join Richard in greeting the guests. Treise gasped in amazement “Why that’s his reverence, the...”
“Hush,” Aunt Caroline said. “Remember the rules. No names or titles mentioned outside the house!”
“But he’s the...I never would have guessed he would be interested in our parties.”
“He’s a man,” Aunt Caroline said, “and that means there’s a man’s temptation dangling between his legs and a fire in his groin. Our parties are the only place he feels safe to ignore strict canon and enjoy his fleshly appetites without jeopardizing his accession to power.”
The next guest arrived in Tartan kilt. His books of rousing ballads and his fiery mustache and beard were recognized everywhere in the Scottish Highlands and Midlands. No one would be surprised to see him at Blackthorne House.
“Aye, Sir-r-r Richard,” he said, shaking Richard’s hand, “it’s a bonny good Par-r-ty yer father hosted each year. And I’m hoping ye are of the same likings as he.”
“That I am,” Richard replied in hearty tones. “I am, in truth, my father’s son.”
Bound For Pleasure at Blackthorne Page 16