***
The submissive Nelle was being trained by Lawrence, though it had not been specifically stated for whom or for what purpose. It was clear, however, that the master of the house had been given free reign with the young woman, unconditional permission to inflict the worst and most painful punishments on the girl.
“She’s being trained to orgasm from the pain of her beatings,” Priscilla had quickly explained to Meri in a hushed whisper. They were in the kitchen alone after dinner was over that night, washing dishes. Nelle had already been ordered to the dungeon.
“And does she? Does she come?”
“Some. But apparently not enough. Her master is a true sadist. I don’t know if any woman could be so masochistic as to find arousal in the punishments he metes out. You should hear her scream.”
“Does she love the man?” Meri wondered.
“She serves him, slavishly. I’ve only seen them together once, but I think she fears him more than loves him.”
“Priscilla! Meri!” the sound of Lawrence Underhill’s booming voice rose up through the cellar stairwell.
“Yes, sir!” Priscilla went to the doorway to answer his call. “We will be right there.” She quickly finished wiping up the counter, then she and Meri scooted down the stairs.
Although this was only Meri’s second time in the bowels of the old house, it felt familiar, and strangely welcoming. She peered into rooms where she’d been before, the trunk room, the pillory alcove, the vast stone torture chamber with all the nasty equipment. Then she moved into a room just beyond the others, one she’d not seen before. Its bare walls and bare floor – including a telling drain hole in the center – simply gave her chills. She and Priscilla pulled up short at the entrance waiting for further instructions as they looked on the scene with Nelle and Lawrence Underhill in the center of the forbidding room.
What Meri had failed to note was that Priscilla had removed her dress before she actually got that far and was now standing at attention in the doorway, wearing nothing but her creamy satin corset. She held her head high looking so very elegant with her hair swept up in a bun, and her hands clasped behind her at her waist. The position thrust her chest out so that her large breasts defied the eye to ignore them. If that were not enough to raise a stir in any room, Priscilla’s nipples looked like two red bullets jutting from her round tits. As provocative as the sight was, Lawrence gave her a quick look then turned his attention to Meri.
“Meredith, what’s with your dress?”
“My dress, sir?” Meri gazed down befuddled at the blue knit dress with the scooped neckline. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“Only that you should have removed it before you arrived.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know.”
“Then I suggest that you take the time to know what I expect of you? Remove it now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Meri struggled out of the dress in a frantic move that seemed to only tangle the garment before her body finally let it go. She backed away from the entrance to the room, let the dress fall in a pile outside and then moved in close, side by side with Priscilla, adopting the same posture as the man’s own submissive. Not once did Lawrence take his eyes from her, a fact that made every nerve in her body come alive with the humiliating excitement.
“Very good,” Lawrence finally said, after taking a long drink of Meredith’s almost crushing beauty. “And are you faring better with the chastity belt removed?”
“I hadn’t thought about it, sir.”
“Well, think about it now.”
“Yes, sir, I suppose it’s very pleasing being free of it right now.”
“Well, then enjoy. But if you so much as put your hand to that place, you’ll be taking Nelle’s place on the chair once I’m done with her tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” Seeing the poor submissive Nelle bound to the dreadful punishment chair was enough to make her heart bleed and obey the master’s order.
After making his threat, his charming smile returned. “I thought you two might want to witness this since it’s so rare that this chair is used. And it’s quite an awesome sight.” He sounded more like the host of a fancy garden party than a sadistic bastard about to deliver some hard punishment to a helpless female.
Nelle was, in fact, quite an awesome sight. She was seated on the chair, her thighs securely strapped to the horizontal slats, her legs spread wide, her knees bent and her ankles tied to the chair’s legs. Her back had been pushed upright against the vertical slat that was connected to the surrounding frame. Straps at her waist, then above and below her breasts held her firmly in place. The yoke had been lowered, and her neck fit snuggly between the beams. Her wrists were likewise fitted into the appropriate holes on either side of her head. Seeing such fearsome bondage gave both women a rude start. Meri’s blood rushed through her body, simultaneously hot and cold, while from between her legs she could feel a terrible throbbing in her sex.
Lawrence used short whips with many braided falls to punish Nelle’s crotch. He stood at her side and repeatedly aimed for the area between her open thighs, making the leather snap against her pussy and curl up to bite the tender flesh of her pussy.
Her body jerked and the chains of the yoke jangled as the girl thrashed back and forth in response to the vicious pain. She had, surprisingly, not been gagged, so that every moan and whimper that escaped her lips only added to the clamoring flood of sound. It was apparent that she was attempting to hold back her distress, but Lawrence did not scold her if a nasty blow caused her to wail in protest. The chair creaked with the strain of her body jerking from the beating. That, too, added to the savage vibrations in the steamy air.
Meri could not look at the woman without wanting to be in her place – if only for a moment of fantasy. The sub’s wild vibrations made Meri’s body crawl with erotic fervor – but there was nowhere to take that fervor. Permission had not been granted for her to play with herself. She felt a similar agitation coming from Priscilla next to her. She sensed the woman’s pulsing crotch, the slight movement of her hips, and saw for herself how Priss’s full lips were parted and her breathing was becoming labored as she watched the arousing scene.
In time, it became all too clear that Nelle was reaching the angry crisis of her sexual arousal. Her chest heaved with each vile blow, her body strained against the leather straps. She tugged so hard that the rope used to tie off her thighs and ankles made rough indentations in her flesh that would likely last for hours after. Then there was the anguished cry of coming. While Lawrence was still beating her, the endorphins in her body engaged and she moved fitfully as the torment overcame her.
Finally, Lawrence stopped the thrashing, dangling the falls of his whip between Nelle’s open thighs as he watched her coming body spasm until she could spasm no more. She seemed to pass out.
Leaving Nelle to recover on her own, Lawrence moved on to the two females still standing nearby.
“Ah, how wet you are, Mrs. Danvers!” he exclaimed on pressing his hand to Meri’s crotch. She nearly came spontaneously, but his fingers fled the scene too quickly. “Too bad you can’t come. It’s back into your chastity belt come bedtime.” His eyes sparked evilly, a playful smirk across his lips.
“Oh, please, sir, tell me you’re just kidding?”
“Oh, dear,” his face was the picture of distress, “I wish I were kidding. But I have my orders. Alain was quite specific when he called me earlier.”
“Oh my, no!”
“Sorry, love. If you behave yourself now, you might just get your fondest wish – but, sadly, not tonight.”
It wasn’t until then that Meri realized how much Alain was still pulling the strings in this little drama. She had to suffer without the release she craved while Lawrence moved on to his own submissive Priscilla and gave her the fondling attention that brought her toward an erotic edge. With Priscilla’s hands still obediently clenched behind her back, Lawrence’s fingers adroitly moved to her sex, ru
bbing aggressively until Priss finally collapsed against his arm and convulsed with the treasured release.
“We’ll have more of this in bed, love. I’m damn horny,” he whispered loudly enough for the envious Meri to hear.
***
The following afternoon Meri spoke to Alain when he called.
“I got your message, sir.”
“Message? What message was that?”
“I won’t complain again – about the chastity belt. In fact, I think I’ve finally found some peace in this place. I worked very hard on it all day – after a miserable night. I hardly slept and I was up at seven. But I’ve kept to the gardens and the painting and managed to lose myself in them so what happens in my crotch is just the fuel for my inspiration. I hope that makes you happy.”
He small speech sounded a little too rehearsed, but Alain ignored that.
“I’m happy for you. I’m happy you’re settling in.” He paused, sighing. “I am missing you terribly.”
Hearing this, she set her own concerns aside. “The investigation not going well, Alain?”
“Just frustrating. Nothing I can talk about now. Paint something for me. Something I can put on my office wall to remind me of you.”
“But I paint everything for you, Alain. You can have any of the paintings for your office wall.”
He laughed. “But I want a new one, something I haven’t seen. You’ll do that for me?”
“Of course. I’ll do anything for you.” This didn’t sound like the Alain she knew. “Are you sure you’re sleeping well enough? Eating right? I could come home and take care of you…?”
“Sleep and food don’t matter to me as much as your safety. You stay there and don’t worry about me. I’m back to my old bachelor habits.”
“I hope not all your bachelor habits.”
He laughed again, sounding more normal now. “You needn’t worry. I mean I eat on the run and sleep when and where I get the chance. I haven’t the time to run around on you even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”
She didn’t need the reassurance, but it warmed her hearing him say this. “I’ll be here when you need me, Alain.”
“I’m sure you will. And, Meri—”
“Yes?”
“If you don’t hear from me every day, don’t worry, please.”
“Okay…is there something I should be worried about?”
“No. Just in case I get tied up here.” She heard the strain in his voice again.
“I love you, Alain,” was all she could think to say.”
“I love you, too. I’ll see you soon.”
She wished this were true, that he’d see her soon. But she understood that he was only stating his wishes. Reality was a completely different thing.
That night, the three submissives in Underhill House were in the dungeons with Lawrence again. This time there was a grueling scene with Nelle on the rack, her body tied to its four corners completely splayed. Priscilla, meanwhile, was tied to the cross and roughly caned for some offence, which remained undisclosed. Then as Lawrence went back and forth between the two women, delivering blows that made each of them scream, Meri looked on from the sidelines once again, apparently doomed to be nothing but a voyeur. The chastity belt had been removed, and again her body took in everything she saw in an erotic way. She would have crawled on her knees and offered herself to the man if she thought that would influence his plans for her that night.
When he finally exhausted himself, leaving the two females with the remnants of a pain-induced orgasm, he finally turned to Meri.
“Come here, girl,” he said, opening his arm for her. She moved swiftly into his embrace, while his hand fell to her crotch and began to fondle her there. The mere touch of his fingers along her clit, a gentle rubbing between her sex lips and a bit of toying with her vagina was enough to have her turning toward him, burying her climaxing cry into his chest. Again and again, the spasms jerked her every which way, until she was finally so overcome that she slumped to the floor.
“Oh, thank you, sir!” she gasped breathlessly, clutching worshipfully at his legs.
“Thank, Alain,” he said. He’d bent down and fondled her mess of dark curls, then grabbing them, he pulled her to her feet. “You go undo Nelle’s and Priscilla’s bondage, have Priss join me upstairs and send Nelle to her room. Then it’s off to bed with you. You can lock the chastity belt on yourself.”
As he had three nights before, Lawrence seemed unusually tired, giving scant notice to whether Meri carried out his orders. He didn’t have to worry; she obeyed every one – including the one that locked the hated chastity cage around her crotch. She didn’t dare to disobey that order, having the eerie feeling that somehow Alain would know.
Once Priscilla and Nelle were on their way upstairs, Meri tidied up. After putting all the ropes and whips and sex toys away, she hustled to the cellar door to turn out the lights and go upstairs herself. By then, a creepy feeling was making its way slowly up her back. The empty rooms seemed to spring with ghosts…or perhaps it was the image of Alain trailing right behind her, watching her every move. She couldn’t get out of the dungeon fast enough, but when she reached the top of the stairs and moved into the kitchen, she pulled up short.
She was still wearing the corset, although she carried her clothes in her hands. As soon as she saw the strange man standing by the sink, she tried to cover her exposed body with her discarded dress.
“Sorry,” he said. He looked at her straight-on, unruffled by her appearance.
“Who are you!” she blurted out.
“Dawson. Mick Dawson. The caretaker.”
“Oh my!”
She inspected the man quickly. Middle-aged, about her husband’s height and weight, and like Alain, there seemed to be a powerful man beneath his clothes. He was quite scruffy though, a rough beard and tousled hair. His hands were a bit grubby too, reminding Meri of once when Alain had been working on the Packard and he came inside with grease everywhere, including under his fingernails. It was obvious that this Mick Dawson was not as meticulous as her husband was with his grooming.
“No one said there was anyone else on the property,” she declared, still unnerved by his sudden revelation.
“Been here all along. You just ask Priss or Larry. I keep to myself, but I make sure this place doesn’t fall down. You wouldn’t expect the old man to do it on his own now, would you?”
“No, I suppose not. But I didn’t expect you and I’m I… I need to be going upstairs,” she nervously fidgeted with her scanty attire.
“Whatever you need to do, miss. I just came to see if there were any leftovers from dinner.”
“Yes, well, there’s a bowl of stew in the fridge.”
“Sounds good. You make it?”
“Oh no! You wouldn’t want my stew. Priss made it.”
She watched a minute, unable to move as he opened the refrigerator door and peered inside until he found what he wanted. He turned to her as he moved to the table with the leftovers. “You need anything, miss…uh … ’fraid I don’t know your name—”
“Meredith Danvers. Mrs. Alain Danvers.”
He nodded as if something suddenly made sense. “Well, you need anything Miss Meredith, you let me know. My house is right out back. Can’t miss it.” He grinned, then turned away, rummaging through a drawer for a spoon.
Meri took the opportunity to head for the back stairs, hoping that Mr. Mick Dawson didn’t notice her white, naked ass as she retreated from the kitchen.
Chapter Fifteen
Something Wicked
Another few days went by much as Meri’s previous days of confinement in Underhill House. And then the wind whipped up.
The trees blew until they were nearly sideways, then came springing back upright, only to be driven down again by another fierce gust. One day after another was much the same for several days. Eerie sounds whistled through the trees and even the timbers of the old house, making it more frightening than it already was. For hou
rs that whistling wind worked its way into shivering bones and caused chills to race up the spine as if something evil was about to descend on the scene, or maybe just come stalking them from the depths of the dungeons…
…which was why when the big front door banged open just as it was beginning to rain on Meredith Danvers’ seventh day in the house, everyone at the dining room table – a small tableau of Meri, Priscilla and Lawrence – suddenly jerked up in shock.
“Hey there, Uncle!” a loud voice boomed from the front vestibule, followed by the sound of footsteps striding across the stone and the noise of giggling females. “What a night out there! If we’d been a minute later, we would have all been drowned.” A dashing male dressed in a dripping Macintosh, jeans and a cashmere sport coat burst into the room with a big but weary smile. He tossed his coat on a chair and strode forward.
“Eric!” Lawrence’s face recorded his shock. “What are you doing here?”
The newcomer had a strong, manly but well-heeled attitude, like a wealthy adventurer or a ship’s captain. His rugged face suggested that he was nearing forty. He had a distinctive flare that appealed to women, and especially, at the moment, a dark-haired female, who after shucking her wet coat, followed Eric into the dining room and snuggled into his side. The two moved toward the table, Eric taking all the time in the world before answering his uncle’s question. He sat down at the far end of the table, pulled out a second chair and propped his feet on the seat. “Well, Uncle, we were in the neighborhood,” he finally said. Leaning back in his seat, he peered up, sighing heavily. “Do you suppose we could have some brandy? It’s fucking cold out there,” he said with a jovial grin.
The dark-haired woman had taken a seat beside him. But there were others in their party: a man and woman who straggled in less boisterously and were content to observe the scene from the doorway, obviously waiting for some clue from Eric before daring to go a step further.
At Eric’s plea for brandy, Priscilla immediately tried to jump from her seat, but Lawrence pushed her back with his hand.
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