Honeymoon In Bondage

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  She gulped. “I don’t know what I think. You have me a little nervous, sir. In fact, I don’t even know how to address you properly.”

  “Sir never fails when a submissive female is speaking to the master of the house,” Lawrence responded. “That will do for now.”

  She suddenly shuddered visibly.

  “Have I rattled you so much already?” he asked, jokingly.

  “I’m not really rattled that easily,” she replied. “But I am intrigued and maybe a little excited.” With the delicate movement of her hand, she self-consciously pushed a lock of stray hair away from her face. She’d bit her lip, still smiling, and bowed her head in a sweet submissive way.

  “She is captivating, Alain. How fun to have a genuinely submissive female in our midst. So often we find ourselves fighting with women who haven’t a clue what real submission means.”

  “Did I mention she can be an ornery brat, too?” Alain interjected, his gaze returning to his wife.

  “Oh, but brats can be punished,” Lawrence said. “We’ll have some fun tonight. How about Priscilla show you to your room? Then after dinner, we’ll see what kind of mischief we can scare up in this old place.”

  He tugged on the bell pull by his chair and within a minute the woman came scurrying into the room. Again, curtsying. “Yes, sir?”

  “Show our guests to their room, Priss. Then go see that Nelle has started dinner. I’m famished.”

  “Yes, sir,” she bowed and graciously motioned Alain and Meri to the door.

  “He’s amazing,” Meri giggled, once they were in their room.

  “I thought you’d like him.”

  “Although I’m kind of glad you’re not like him.”

  “Oh, Lawrence knows he’s playacting, but he makes the lifestyle, all those rules and protocol fun. Sometimes he’s a bit much.”

  “But I’ll be fine here, Alain. I know I will.”

  “That’s what I want to hear from you.” They stood in the center of the large bedroom, two lovers kissing tenderly. A fierce fire was growing in her belly, her arousal clamoring for expression.

  “You don’t suppose we could let off some steam right now, I’m so hot.” Her hands were all over him, her lips unable to stop kissing.

  “Waiting’s good for you.”

  “Oh, Alain, I’ve waited so much in these last few weeks,” she whined. “You’re just being mean now.”

  “You have no idea how mean I can get,” he smirked. She hadn’t seen him quite this playful in some time, and it was a little scary now, in this new environment, with strange people and who knows what kind of nasty kink available. And yet, isn’t this what titillated her the most?

  Time to spread her wings, perhaps.

  Dinner was a trip. Nothing like she’d ever experienced.

  Lawrence’s two slaves were appropriately dressed in tight corsets, stockings and high heels, their breasts totally bare above the corsets’ tight cinctures. While Priscilla was free to move and speak, Nelle wore a tight-fitting ball gag in her mouth and was hobbled at the ankles, so that serving dinner became an arduous and almost laughable task – for her audience, if not for Nelle.

  “Hurry up, girl!” Lawrence bellowed commands frequently, while wielding a crop to emphasize his point. His hits were not good-natured slaps but strikes against the thighs and buttocks of his miscreant. With every cut, the girl jerked in surprise, several times almost losing her balance and toppling to the floor.

  “She’s being trained,” he announced to his guests while she was standing next to him. “But I’m not sure the little tramp – and trust me, she is a tramp – I’m not sure she’ll survive. I do demand a lot.” He smiled broadly and looked directly at Meri, whose eyes widened in a moment of panic. “Sassy and reluctant bitches don’t cut it with me,” he continued on, “not unless they can demonstrate flawless obedience, and can prove their usefulness as a worthy sex toy. Plus, they’d better have a randy spirit while they suffer a good beating. I don’t like wimpy subs. This one here has got a long ways to go.”

  He’d continued to peer at Meri so intently that she figured she should say something, but all that she managed was a wilting, “I see.”

  He chuckled. “You don’t need to worry, Meredith. I’d never have cause to use these measures with you. After all, you’re Alain’s property, not mine.”

  “I think I’m glad about that,” she replied. Although she looked toward her husband hoping that he agreed. His noncommittal amusement told her nothing.

  In addition to being served dinner by the two corseted females, they were treated to a brief punishment demonstration. While they were eating their main course, Lawrence put Nelle’s head and wrists into a dangling yoke where, still hobbled, she remained until the three were finished with their meal. Just before the dessert arrived, Lawrence rose from his seat and using a paddle and then a cane, he gave the gagged female a sound punishment. Every strike of the paddle, every cut of the cane made Meri wince. Poor Nelle struggled through the entire ordeal, tears streaming down her cheeks. Though she moaned mournfully behind the ballgag, she made no other sound. Meri could easily imagine herself in that position and she was sure that she would not have liked it. This was not fun and it certainly wasn’t a joke. Nelle’s punishment was meant to hurt, to make a point and deter whatever bad behavior had earned this frightful rebuke.

  “You can take her place,” Lawrence suddenly stopped, his eyes immediately zeroing in on his female guest.

  She quickly looked at Alain and then back at Lawrence. “I-I don’t think so, sir.”

  He suddenly broke into laughter. “Got you there, did I? Don’t mind me. I certainly wouldn’t take liberties with another man’s female unless I was authorized.”

  Meri didn’t even want to look at her husband after that comment. Her intuition told her that Alain just might suggest some kind of arrangement with the man that would be as painful and demeaning as what this poor woman had just been through. Considering that, she submissively shrank back in her chair and smiled.

  ***

  After dinner there was another round of drinks in the library. This time Meri was served a glass of wine. On top of the two she’d had at dinner, she was feeling a little tipsy by the time the conversation between the two friends died and they turned their attention to other matters.

  “So, I think it’s time for the tour,” again, Lawrence abruptly changed the conversation.

  Both men stood up, and so did Meri, once she got her bearings. In fact, Alain had to steady her once she was on her feet.

  “I think I’m a little woozy,” she admitted giggling.

  “You’ll be fine, just hold on to me,” Alain said.

  To Meri’s surprise they started by going upstairs, not down. She’d had more than a few clues that there were extensive dungeons in the bowels of the house, and she was curious, if not a little afraid to see them. She had strong suspicions that before the night was out, there would be some sort of hard play between she and her husband – and maybe Lawrence Underhill. Erotically speaking, she was aroused and very much anxious.

  But to suddenly find herself journeying upstairs, not down, had Meri especially intrigued. She had no idea what horrors might be lurking in the rooms above the first floor. The room in which she and Alain were staying was one of several guestrooms along a hallway at the top of the main staircase. But there were other hallways branching out from that one, and short flights of stairs, and places that seemed to take positively evil turns in the strange house. At the end of the guest wing, Lawrence took a sharp left and they were soon climbing a winding staircase to the third floor, then taking another short flight to a landing and a door that looked like something from a hobbit’s shire. Bulging. Rounded at the top. It was quaint, yes, but a little threatening. In the upper center of the door was a square peekhole, and across the peekhole were thick iron bars. Meri didn’t know whether to laugh or be afraid.

  “This was actually here when I purchased the house,” Lawrence
looked back at them. He had to bend his head to go through the doorway without getting bumped, which made it all the more a curiosity. Instead of some magic land beyond, however, they found themselves in the tall stone turret, the highest one in the house. There were windows all around, a stone floor and walls and thick iron eyebolts everywhere, plus a dangling apparatus hanging from the ceiling. It was obvious what Lawrence used this room for.

  Meri stared around, seeing a small bed on the far side, next to it a chamber pot. The perfect place for a captive maiden to while away the hours of her imprisonment until she was miraculously rescued by prince charming. She looked back at Lawrence in awe.

  “You get sassy with me, you’ll end up here,” the man’s eyes narrowed in on her threateningly, only to morph seconds later into a mischievous twinkle before he broke the mood with laughter. Meri was unsure when the man was actually serious. So much turned into a joke. She’d never met a dominant man quite like him.

  “He’s quite a character, isn’t he?” she whispered to her husband while Lawrence was off adjusting something in the overhead suspension gear.

  “Indeed, he is,” Alain answered.

  “I hang them upside down here,” Lawrence announced while gazing admiringly at his equipment, “the really bad ones. Then I beat their asses to a pulp. Upside down and spread gives me great access to those randy little twats that can’t behave themselves. Every one of my subs wears a chastity belt because I want them hot, I mean raging hot by the time I get to fuck them. Sometimes, just removing the chastity device, they start to come. But I make sure that doesn’t happen. A few hard swats to their pussies and it knocks the arousal back just a step. Though by the time I get them suspended here, they’re coming just from being beaten.” Lawrence smiled broadly, pleased with himself. “So, what do you think, Alain?”

  “I think you’re more demented every time I see you.”

  “I am, aren’t I? But what’s a horny old man like me going to do with the rest of his life? If you can’t enjoy yourself doing the things you love right up to the end, what’s the point?” He sighed, a little sadly, Meri thought. But then he started toward the door. “So, it’s down the stairs, but let’s take the back way. It’s much more fun. There are secret staircases all over this house.”

  Part court jester, part dirty old man, part bad-ass sadist, he was quite a man. Meri still liked him, in spite of the fact that she had every reason to fear him.

  ***

  The dungeon was as Alain remembered it from the last time he was in the Underhill house; the haunting sounds of whipped women and groveling slaves could still be heard, if not with his ears, with his inner self that had played inside these underground rooms on many occasions in the past. Certain things come back quickly, as if one found themselves walking back in time, the steps become familiar, the attitude well-remembered. A memory as possessed by ghosts and painful feelings as it was wonderfully chilling, when thrills of the sadistic kind were still new and exhilarating.

  He watched his Meri as her eyes took in not one but the many dungeons that Lawrence had created beneath the house. Her eyes lit on the strangest of things. When she saw the manacles hanging from bolts in the wall, she moved there directly, and put the iron collar around her throat, spreading her hands wide against the wall, her eyes closed, as if she were recalling a dream of her own. Alain recalled how he’d whipped her brutally in his own cellar; maybe she was remembering that scene just before he proposed to her.

  “Is that what you want? To be bound to the wall and beaten?”

  She suddenly opened her eyes. “It gets inside my bones.” The entirety of her beautiful body seemed to shake. She was dressed in a pretty floral dress she just purchased, and looked wholesome and out of place in this dank and dreary dungeon.

  “Looks lovely around her throat, doesn’t it?” Lawrence commented.

  Alain moved forward letting her remain voluntarily pinned to the wall, while he carefully teased her with his fingertips.

  “I’m already wet, Alain,” she purred. “This place is really doing nasty things to me, and then you only add to my torment.”

  “You think this is torment, girl? You’ll know torment before I’m through with you.”

  Already he could see that coming here was a good thing for them both. Not only would she be safe, she could safely revel in her fantasies, which would, oddly enough, keep her out of trouble. The more she fit herself into Lawrence’s routine, the more she’d keep from dwelling on his absence.

  He placed his hand on her crotch and carefully inched the hem of her dress up until he could finger his way beneath it to that warm wet valley between her thighs. Placing his finger against her clitoris, she stiffened.

  “Oh, please, yes,” she uttered, breathlessly begging.

  “You’re going to let the slut have her way so easily, are you?” Lawrence asked.

  “Not on your life,” Alain immediately withdrew his hand and turned to his friend. He spoke to his wife without looking at her, saying: “There’s more for you to see, Meri. When and if you get to come will be up to me.”

  As he walked on, Meri removed the collar and scampered along behind him while they continued into the torture chamber, the largest of the dungeons with some of the more unique and diabolical of Lawrence’s sex toys. Alain and his host watched as Meri circled the rack several times, like an innocent child bending and peering inquisitively at the odd structure, trying to understand how it worked.

  “I could give you a demonstration, Mrs. Danvers,” Lawrence proposed.

  “Oh no! I don’t think so!” she jumped back reflexively.

  “No? I thought you were an adventurous sex slave, willing to do anything.”

  “I do what pleases my husband, sir,” she looked directly at the man and announced.

  “My, you do have her well-trained, Alain.”

  He was privately pleased, and amused.

  “If while you’re here, Meri, Mr. Underhill wishes to bind and torture you on this rack, you will let him. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” He could see her lower lip quiver. “It’s just, sir…awfully frightening.”

  “And isn’t that what you love?”

  “Yes, sir,” she was forced to agree.

  “Then enjoy what you feel.”

  “Yes, sir.” He could see the accompanying shiver and that sexual response affected him as it usually did. His cock stirred with renewed vigor.

  Meri moved to the outer circle of strange devices that were placed along the perimeter of the dungeon. A spanking bench, a St. Andrew’s cross and several other pieces of familiar BDSM furniture were blessed with the tentative touch of her hand. Alain imagined her running the possible scenarios through her mind. But when she came to the punishment chair, the thing startled her. Her hand went to her mouth and she instantly took a step back.

  “Oh, my God!”

  “Funny, you should focus on that one,” Lawrence moved in closer to explain what she was seeing.

  The piece was hardly a chair in the usual sense. The seat was simple, made of two wooden slats positioned at a ninety degree angle, though they were not joined together. They would support a subject’s thighs, while the ass end hung off the back. The slats were supported from below by a triangular base and legs that held them roughly twenty inches from the ground. Surrounding the simple seat was a frame, two posts positioned on either side connected by two beams; one at the top of the posts, the other about half way down. Connected to the center of these beams was a 6” wide slat that served as the back of the chair, against which the submissive’s torso could be bound. Attached with chains to the higher beam was a standard looking yoke that could be lowered to fit around the neck of the unlucky victim and restrain their wrists. With the feet tied to the bottom legs of the punishment chair, the back strapped to the upright slat and the head and wrists locked in the yoke, the subject would be at the mercy of whomever demanded such physical surrender. With the legs spread and the pubic area wide o
pen, the genital flesh, all the way back to the ass, would be vulnerable to punishment. So would the breasts, which would be thrust upwards by the tight constraints.

  It was obvious that Meri saw all this because she noticeably quaked, much as she did while inspecting the rack, though Alain could feel an even deeper attraction – and aversion – to this means of torture.

  “This is terrifying!” she announced, looking from one man to the next.

  “Lawrence calls it his punishment chair. I guess you’d better be careful crossing him.”

  “I wouldn’t dare!”

  “Unless,” Lawrence interjected, “you find your masochistic inclinations to be sufficiently titillated into desiring a few moments in this sort of captivity?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure my fantasies would ever go that far!” Meri blurted out in her defense.

  “Don’t be so sure, wife,” Alain said.

  “You’re scaring me now.”

  “Well, it’s too bad that I can’t stay here with you. If I could, I would be binding you to everyone of Mr. Underhill’s playthings so you could enjoy its thrill. Tonight, the pillory should do just fine.”

  “The pillory?” she looked around, not seeing anything that looked like the kind of pillory she’d seen in other dungeons.

  “It’s through here,” Lawrence guided them to a small stone anteroom that held just this one device.

  Away from the other bondage furniture it seemed rather innocuous all alone.

  As she approached the alcove, Meri looked over her shoulder for some specific sign from Alain.

  He nodded her forward. “You know what to do, Meri,” he said. “You may look innocent, but we both know you’re not.”

  She smiled rather sheepishly and, moving into position, placed her neck and wrists in the openings provided in the standing pillory. After Lawrence Underhill pulled the upper piece down and locked it in place, he pocketed the key that opened the two firmly shut padlocks. This left Meri bent forward just enough to show off the graceful lines of her backside. Though she was still fully clothed in her pretty spring dress, her submissive confinement was enough to have both men’s lust – as well as Meri’s – bounding off the cold stone walls.