Bound For Pleasure at Blackthorne

by Roger Hastings

  “If then ye will excuse me, I must hurry inside and see what delights of beauty ye provided fer me this year-r-r.” He scampered toward the house.

  Guests kept arriving for the next hour until all sixty-five on the invitation list were welcomed and escorted into the great public ballroom in the rambling mansion. The front door was shut and locked with Selby standing guard. Broc and Chalmers roamed the grounds with the stable boys and herdsmen, searching for trespassers.

  Music flowed from behind the curtain preventing the musicians from seeing and identifying the guests. Strauss’ Blue Danube was followed by a Chopin minuet. Then the swirling, lascivious notes of the Bacchanal from Samson and Delilah perfumed the air with wanton passion.

  On this cue, Miss Ballard, Mistress of Discipline, appeared with her ever-present villainous riding crop in hand. She paraded two dozen frightened young girls out onto the dance floor for the inspection of the male guests. Their brief privilege of wearing pretty gowns did not disguise their purpose. The cuffs on their wrists, and the short silvery chain shackled to their ankles proclaimed their status and sexual availability.

  For the few minutes of their sham freedom, the girls were introduced to the men while being inspected with lewd curiosity. Many dabbed their eyes with lace handkerchiefs, weeping silently as Miss Ballard herded them back through the guarded door to the private ballroom in the cellar.

  Richard, Uncle Gerritt, Aunt Caroline, Aunt Willa and cousin Lamont were speaking to their guests and pointing out their ancestors imprisoned in gilt picture frames on the walls. Richard endured a stream of suggestive hints from a clutch of frustrated ladies waggling barely concealed breasts at him. He perforated their verbal snares with his most patient smile as he shook his head and moved to the next guest.

  At last the music began again, and Richard could relax. He took an offered vial of champagne from a tray held by a lovely young maid wearing only a disgracefully scanty white, cum-colored silk skirt. Richard smiled at her elfin face as he fondled her breast with his other hand. He downed the amber liquid in one tilt and released a long sigh.

  Treise chose a glass of port wine and hurried over to him. “I thought you were saving this dance for me.” She tugged at Richard’s sleeve. “You promised I’d be your partner tonight, but you’ve been eyeing that guest, the young girl in the pale blue dress, all evening.”

  “She arrived just half an hour ago,” Richard replied. “That hardly qualifies as ‘all evening’.” He smiled and lifted her chin with his finger. “Come on, don’t sulk. When you’re not dancing with me, you can go to the private ballroom and play with our new young man Uncle Gerritt bought to pleasure our women guests.”

  Treise slipped her warm fingers under his shirt and tickled his chest. “You’re not wearing any underwear!”

  “Neither are you, I bet. Nothing under your gown but a silky tuft surrounding a moist tunnel of love.”

  A wicked smile decorated her crimson lips. “You’re right. It’s so perfect, Richard—I want to play with you. Take me to the private ballroom, will you—please? Gawd, I’m horny. We haven’t fucked together for three days and nights.”

  “In any case, as Laird of Blackthorne House I have to pay attention to our guests.”

  “Why can’t your uncle Gerritt do that?” Treise turned away, clenching her fists and glaring at the girl in the blue dress. She stalked over to the banquet sideboard, her high heels clattering on the polished oak floor.

  “May I get you a drink?” The tall, blonde-haired young man smiled down at her.

  “No,” she answered. Then her face softened into a slight smile, “I’m sorry--yes, please do. Scotch on ice.”

  “My name is Allan Herne. I am Lord Corwin’s son. I noticed you scowling at that pretty young girl in the blue dress. Has she insulted you?”

  “What business is that of yours?”

  “She is my sister, Lissa.”

  “Oh! I guess I’m being a bad hostess this evening. My name is Treise Mallory. I’m Sir Richard’s second cousin and his lover. I didn’t mean to...” She measured the muscular build of his body, penetrating his clothing with her experienced imagination.

  If he has a cock in his crotch to match the animal beauty of his body and handsome face, he just might please me enough to forget Richard’s snub for a few hours.

  “No apology necessary,” he replied. “I understand. It seems all the young men lust after my virgin sister, and all the young women hate her for it. They feel they can’t compete.”

  “She’s really a virgin?”

  “Oh, yes. She and I are quite close. She confides in me, and I’d know for certain if she...”

  “This is a very risky place to bring a virgin girl. Did your father tell you what kind of entertainment we provide at our annual ball?”

  “Oh, yes—I know all about the lustful fun in the private ballroom.” Allan stared at Treise’s barely concealed breasts and the suggestive rhythm of her hips. “Perhaps you and I could...”

  “It’s doubtful she will leave here as a virgin. All the drinks are laced with a potent dose of an aphrodisiac! You should warn her.” Treise glanced at Richard, who was still gazing at Lissa sipping her champagne. “Get her away from here. Don’t ever let her come back.”

  “She knows about all that,” Allan replied, still watching the rise and fall of Treise’s twin beauties with each breath she took. “She begged me to convince Father to bring her with us. She is determined to test her wiles on a young man.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, she’s just barely eighteen years old, still a naive child. She won’t succeed.”

  “I hope your right,” Treise said. “Uh, for her sake. She’s so petite and short. She looks too young for...”

  “For a man’s cock?” He smiled again. “Yes, but you aren’t”

  Treise was still looking at Lissa. “You think she won’t get a man to fuck her, then?”

  “No. She’s too silly and childlike. Don’t worry about her. She will try to seduce every man here, and they will just laugh behind her back.” Allan motioned to the guarded door leading to the private ballroom. “Please?”

  “Okay. I’ll look at your cock. If it’s big enough, and talented enough, you can shove it in me and fuck until you cum. But then I will come back here to make sure your sister doesn’t...”

  “Fuck your lover?” Allan laughed and wrapped his arm around Treise’s slim waist. “Every man in this room would fuck you all night long, if you would let them. That’s what you should be doing, not watching who’s cock some other girl is enjoying.”

  The guards opened the door and they entered the dim, torch-lit corridor. At the far end was an iron-barred door with another guard. He unlocked it for them, and they began the descent down the darkened stone stairs of the curving stairway.

  Treise reached into her purse. “It’s more fun for me if you put these on me right now, before we get there.” She handed Allan a pair of shiny handcuffs. She pointed at the tiny serrated teeth around the inside circumference of the cuffs. “I designed them especially for my wrists—they make it too painful to try escaping.”

  She stopped and put her arms behind her. Allan pressed the cuffs around her wrists, his cock ratcheting upward with each click of the locking mechanism.

  “Tighter,” Treise said, “they don’t hurt yet.” When she was satisfied with her bondage, she shrugged skillfully until her gown slipped off her shoulders. It fell down around her waist, exposing her jiggling breasts. “Now I’m ready,” she said with a wanton smile.

  Allan wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders and guided her down the curving steps into the darkness below. Treise was already breathing faster.

  Lord Corwin approached Richard, the beautiful young girl in the blue dress walking beside him. She was holding the man’s arm, her face radiant with happiness. “Sir Richard,” he said, “I’d like to introduce my daughter, Lissa.”

  “How do you do, Sir Richard?” Her voice was a whisper of honey, a soft melody of girlhood
. “Daddy likes to call me ‘Cinderella’. He never takes me seriously.” Her ruby lips squeezed into a faux pout.

  “The pleasure is mine,” Richard replied. He was stunned the by beauty of her childlike face, the lively curves of her upwelling breasts. Her tiny waist swelled out into voluptuous hips, intoxicating in their loveliness.

  “I know what you are thinking, Sir Richard,” she said with a blush, “but I am not a child. I’m eighteen.”

  “Today, Sir Richard,” Her father said. “It’s her birthday, so I took the liberty of bringing her with me.”

  “I’m grateful you did, Lord Corwin. You have a lovely daughter.” Richard smiled at her. “Lissa is an ornament of perfection.”

  Her face reddened more, and she lowered her gaze. Richard hoped she would notice the trembling surge beginning in his trousers’ crotch.

  “I’ll leave you two young people to get acquainted. There are some ladies in the private ballroom I want to meet.” He winked and strode away toward the guarded door.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  “Oh, yes, please!” Her face lifted to look at Richard with pale blue eyes that sparkled like gems.

  The musicians were playing a waltz and Richard whirled her petite body out onto the marble floor. Her pink gown billowed like a cloud as they spun about, her slim arms extended, one diminutive hand in Richard’s, the other reaching up to his shoulder.

  “You dance beautifully,” he said.

  Her smile spread, showing a perfect set of pearl-white teeth. “Thank you, Sir Richard. I’ve been practicing for your ball for months.” A fairy tale dream swam into her imagination; Lying naked on my back in Sir Richard’s huge bed, the muscled weight of his handsome body pressing me down, trapping me helpless under him while his belly and chest rock zestfully on top of me...his...his man-thing...rubbing inside my...(blush)...That must be what the dance of love feels like!

  Richard’s hand grew warm on her enchanting waist, savoring every sensation and rhythm of her delectable body. The silk of her gown was such a thin, frail barrier between his hand and the velvety warmth of her flesh.

  “Today’s your birthday then?”

  “Yes, thank goodness. All the boys ignore me, they think I am still just a child. I want to be a woman. Don’t you think eighteen is old enough to become a woman in a man’s arms?”

  “I’d like to help put you in that position,” he replied.

  “Oh, would you really? You are so kind.”

  Richard smiled to himself, and drew her perfumed body against his. The movements of her hips against his were more than a healthy, red-blooded man should have to endure with his clothes on.

  She lay her head against him and he felt her breath growing hot against his chest. Richard wondered how much her mother had told her about men taking girls to bed. Richard’s cock swelled with anticipation.

  She must be able to feel it caressing her belly. Does she really understand what she is doing to me? Doesn’t she know what men proudly sport between their legs—that I am dreaming of chaining her to my bed and forcing it into her?

  Lissa pressed her hips against Richard, savoring her first opportunity to feel the sensual touch of a...what do they call their man-thing?...against her quivering belly. She savored the sensation of its pulsing rhythm.

  Richard whirled her in graceful circles while dream-like music surrounded them. Lissa’s long-lashed eyes were closed, her body welcoming the delight of being controlled in the grip of a handsome man.

  “I’m so glad Daddy let me come,” she said with a sigh. “I will remember our dance as long as I live.”

  Richard nuzzled his face in the silky cloud of her scented hair. “There’s more to enjoy at Blackthorne House than just dancing,” he whispered into her petite ear.

  “Show me,” she whispered.

  Allan and Treise reached the bottom of the steps. Allan knocked on the heavy oaken door and a small porthole opened. Miss Ballard’s face was framed in its small square opening. There was no sound of music coming from the private ballroom, just the lusting grunts and laughter of men, accompanied by the voices of young girls; whimpers, sobs, and shrieks when whistling leather struck naked flesh.

  “Please let us in.” Treise said.

  Miss Ballard scowled at them. “Can’t—you’re wearing clothes. Got to take them off, first.”

  Allan shucked off his shirt, trousers and shoes and dropped them in a corner of the small foyer. Treise kicked off her high heels.

  Treise giggled. “O-o-o, wonderful. You’re not wearing underwear.” She stared at his already lengthening cock. “You certainly have what it takes to drive a girl wild with orgasms.”

  Miss Ballard grunted and swung the door open. “Pay no mind to our girl’s noise, sir,” she said to Allan. “They’re new, and haven’t learned proper manners yet.”

  Treise looked up at the arching ceiling with its dim, smoky lamps and dangling chains. “Let’s find a darkened corner with something beastly you can strap me down on.”

  Allan glanced around the large room. Benches, frameworks, whipping horses and bare, wooden-bottom beds were ranged around the four walls. The floor around them was littered with shredded scraps of ripped-off gowns. Straps or chains bound the naked bodies of pretty girls to them, writhing under the fucking rhythm of male bodies.

  “Look!” Treise whispered. “There’s the old clergyman that arrived in the black carriage.” She pointed at the heavy oak rack.

  The old gentleman was stretched out on it, arms and legs chained and pulled taut. His naked body was enduring blow after blow of small leather thongs in the hands of four Blackthorne maids. He gasped and yelped as each impact painted another crimson stripe on his flesh. A fifth maid was caressing his cock, cradling his balls in her other hand. His manhood glistened with the slippery oil as her skilled fingers stroked up and down.

  Every time his torso stiffened to signal his imminent orgasm, she would release his cock and smack it with a leather-covered paddle. He bellowed in pain as his proud cock went limp and collapsed without cumming. His gaunt body lay quivering as he moaned, his head turning from side to side.

  The maid grinned wickedly and began coaxing a new erection from his bruised cock.

  Allan shook his head and looked at Miss Ballard, “Does he really want them to do that to him?”

  “Everyone to their own likes and pleasures, Sir. Makes him easy in his mind when he feels he’s already punished for the sins he will commit tonight. He will be able to concentrate on feeling his pleasure instead of guilt.”

  Allan walked slowly around the room, studying the sinister furnishings with dangling leather straps waiting to bind the limbs and torso of some pretty victim. “They all fascinate me,” he said. “You choose. What’s your favorite affliction?”

  Treise pointed. “That one.”

  Allan shook his head and sucked in a long breath. “Are you sure you want to be lashed down on that thing and have me use these instruments on your body?” He picked up one of the gleaming metal implements. He worked the tiny crank that forced the four columns of outward-pointing jaws to bite together along the length of the narrow tube. “This one must hurt terribly!”

  “This isn’t my first time on the ‘arch of agony’,” she replied. Her eyes half-closed in a dreamy fantasy. “I want to lie on my bowed back with my ass strapped down tight on that small, downward curving shelf on top of the pillar. I want to feel my arms and legs spread wide, pulled down, stretched tight and chained to the floor...” she stood on her toes and kissed his lips. “My defenseless pussy will be your plaything, in perfect position for your cock to fuck when you’re through tormenting it.”

  “You’re a strange girl.”

  “I’m a fun girl. I enjoy it.” She brushed her bare hip against his stiffening cock. “Don’t you?”

  Treise moved over to the pillar and pressed her buttocks against the small square shelf. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back and moistened her lips with her pink tongue. �
��Hurry, Allan. Make me your helpless captive. My body is crying out for a man’s brutality!”

  Chapter Three

  Jealousy’s Vengeance

  “Is your estate always this dark at night?” Lissa turned her head from side to side as she and Richard strolled across the grass behind the mansion.

  “Only on nights like this, when the moon rises late.” Her arm was linked through his, and he could feel her slight tremble, “Afraid?”

  “Not as long as you are with me.” She smiled up at him, the perfection of her white teeth visible even in this darkness.

  Richard brandished a stealthy grin at her wide-eyed trust. “Not even a little bit?” He raised a teasing eyebrow. “We Blackthorne people believe being afraid—really afraid—can be fun, sometimes. Especially if you are being frightened by the right person.”

  Lissa lowered her gaze to her hands, shyly twisting her fingers together. “Do you want to frighten me?” She glanced up, her fluttering eyelashes betraying a glimmer of hope.

  “You trust me that much?”

  Her gaze returned to her hands, twisting and knotting her handkerchief, subconsciously tying one corner in a knot around her finger. “My brother Allan says...I sometimes listen at his door when the family thinks I’m asleep...he says, ‘They keep pretty young girls at Blackthorne House. The men undress the girls and tie them up or keep them chained in their beds and...do something...I don't know what the word he used means...to them all night.” She took a deep breath and lifted her face, looking directly into Richard’s eyes, “Do you hurt them?”

  Richard gazed down into her innocent face, trying to separate his fantasies from his obligation to honor her father’s trust. “The only way for you to understand what happens to beautiful young girls when they are brought to Blackthorne House is to become one of them for awhile, and share their experience.”

  Lissa’s lower lip quivered, and a tear crept down her peach-hued cheek. “Oh, Richard...,” She crushed her body against his, “I’m so terribly bewildered by this gnawing hunger in my body. There is a beast raging inside me, demanding I yield up my freedom and sacrifice my...my...” Lissa’s eyes were half-closed, streaming tears, “what Mommie says is my virginity.” She thrust the loose end of the handkerchief tied to her finger into his hand, pressing his fingers tight around it. “Please, do it to me! Do whatever men do to girls in Blackthorne House. Don’t be polite, don’t be gentle, and please—don’t ask for my permission. That would spoil my dreams.”