It had taken less than thirty seconds. Sharon’s protest, one long screech of outrage, ended when she ran out of breath, and she pulled ineffectually against her bondage. The loops of leather were strong, and her efforts pulled them tighter around her wrists.
“You’re some package, model,” Jack choked out. He was still laughing. “Y’don’t know ’ow. You’re allergic to animals.” He mimicked her whining cadence. “You’re too much of a precious bleedin’ little mama’s girl that y’can’t get your pretty little ’ands dirty, that’s what y’are!” He tilted his head back and roared. “You’re too bleedin’ much!”
“What... what are you doing? What are you going to do? Let me go, this hurts!” Sharon, not having learned her lesson from the first time, pulled at her bonds again.
“It ’urts!” Jack gasped out. “You silly git, it’s supposed to! Now, take your medicine like a good girl!”
Trying to control his hilarity, he took a sweat scraper out of his back pocket and palmed it. It was a fourteen inch long piece of aluminum, curved and shaped to be pulled along a horse’s body, pushing rivers of sweat or bathwater before it. It was bent somewhat like a shepherd’s crook, to be able to get into narrow spaces as well as along the broad flanks and back of the animal. He took hold of the straight end, and tapped the back of the tool experimentally against Sharon’s butt. Faint marks denoting previous beatings were still discernible on her skin.
He grinned.
With one easy, powerful backswing, he brought the length of the scraper smacking across Sharon’s ass. She screamed as it impacted. The lightweight metal cut through the air faster than Chris’s heavy strap, and the narrow hitting surface intensified the pain of the blow.
“Be a brave girl, now!” Jack laughed as he swung again. This time, he aimed slightly higher, and the spot he managed to get made Sharon gasp for breath. Her hands were already pounding. She wailed as he drew his arm back and began a slow, orderly, excruciatingly thorough beating of her rear end. He moved the aim of the scraper up and down, careful to cover every inch, and then began to strike at the backs of her thighs.
Her screams went up in scale, and she began to choke on them. There wasn’t enough time between blows to adequately catch her breath. Desperate to get away from the steady, burning bites of the tool, she began to twist and squirm in her bonds.
“Damn you!” she gasped out, throwing her hip to one side. “Stop! Please! Ow! Stop it!!”
Jack pushed one arm against her back and thrust her against the stall to hold her still.
“Not until you say you’re sorry, lass!” The blows continued.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she screamed back.
“Aye? For what?” Jack laughed again and picked up the tempo. Sharon’s answer (if any) was taken over by her breathless cries of anguish, that lasted several seconds after Jack stopped beating her. She gasped for breath, and sobbed, and then wailed.
“We’re not finished with you yet, my pretty model,” Jack announced, pulling his hand from her back. “We’re just finished with this side!” He turned her around without bothering to adjust her bonds, and she stumbled against him. Her hands seemed to be two balls of pins and needles. Before she could even begin to form words, Jack kicked her thighs apart and pushed her back against the wall.
He reached out with one hand and took hold of her right nipple. Catching it between his fingers, he put light pressure on it and then began to smack heavily at the insides of her thighs with the scraper.
The first time she tried to pull her legs together, he gave her nipple a vicious twist. “You should know to be a good girl by now, model,” he said, giving her an extra hard smack. “You ’old yourself still and open for Jack, an’ I won’t ’ave to get nasty with you, understand?”
She sniffed and winced, and yelped when he smacked her again, this one directly over her shaven pussy lips. “I b’lieve I asked you a question, model. An’ I sure as ’ell didn’t get an answer!”
“Wha?” Sharon opened her eyes in confusion. Her arms, her ass, her thighs, everything was a blur of pain. “Yes! Whatever! Yes!”
“Oh, you are a treasure, model, that you are!” Jack resumed his beating, covering the delta between her legs with dozens of stinging swats. And despite his grip on her nipple, she twisted and contorted her body to escape the blows. Her cries changed both tempo and timbre as genuine pain replaced shame, shock and discomfort. Finally, she slumped against the reins, unable to stand against his steady assault.
Instantly, Jack slipped the scraper back into his pocket and boosted her back onto her feet. He pushed her against the wall and reached over to untie the rein. She fell down, her knees buckling, and slid to the floor of the stall, nestled among the bedding. Flies buzzed, and she cried, unable even to shoo them away.
“I don’t believe you’re doing this!” she wailed.
“Y’got off easy this mornin’,” Jack said, standing over her. “Now listen to me proper. You’re ’ere to learn the proper care and feedin’ of the denizens o’ this stable. You’ll do as I say, when I say, and ’ow I say, or you’ll get that, an’ worse. You don’t impress me, model. I’ve ’ad prettier ones, and nicer ones than you.” He casually opened the top button of his sturdy jeans and beckoned to her. “Now get over ’ere and thank me right.”
Sharon flexed her fingers back and forth to get some life into them and openly gaped at the stableman. Standing there, cool as could be, his blond hair damp with sweat and his hands tucked into the sides of his leather suspenders, he looked like he was showing off a prize calf at a state fair. She glanced at his waist and registered the open trouser button, and then looked back up at him. Surely, he couldn’t mean...?
“Do as you’re told, girl!”
She sniffed and crawled forward to him, the straw and sawdust sticking to her sweaty body. She sneezed heavily and sobbed at the indignity of it all. When she got to him and pulled herself up, she eyed the bulge in his pants with nothing but despair. She shook her head and sank back on her heels.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she whimpered. “I just can’t... not here, not like this... I have to pull myself together, OK?”
Jack stared down at her in sheer confusion for a moment, and then unhooked his fingers from his suspenders. With a well practiced move, he tore open the buttons on his fly and pulled his cock out. It was thick, uncut, and hard. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he jerked her up between his legs and shoved it violently into her mouth.
She gasped as the fleshy intrusion passed her lips and slammed against the back of her throat. A sound like a strangled, muffled scream came from her, and tears sprang from her eyes as she choked and gagged. Jack pulled her head back, away from his cock.
“Y’don’t use that word with me, model. There isn’t a damn bloody thing you can’t do! You do as you’re told, an’ you do it good!” She gasped for breath as he aimed and thrust forward again. His sweat was sweetly salty, the smell of him was of old leather and horses. He filled her mouth and drew back, dragging her spit out, making her drool down her chin.
Sharon’s inarticulate cries continued as Jack began to methodically rape her mouth. She wanted it, oh, she wanted it so bad! But not like this! His relentlessly calm motions dragged her back and forth, making her choke on him over and over again, until he pulled her head back in disgust.
“You ’aven’t got the sucking talent God gave a mosquito,” he said. “Do it right, will you? Get in there, before I lose it.”
Sharon stared up at him and her mouth gaped open in disbelief. “No!” she shrieked, pulling back. “Leave me alone! I don’t want to!”
Jack leaned forward and laughed at her. “Still with th’ mouth?” With a smile still on his face, he calmly drew his hand back and cuffed her across her full lips. Then, as she fell over and tried to get away from him by crawling through the straw, he followed her. Her panicked movements and her lack of direction got her into the far corner in moments, and Jack stood in front of her. As he reached
down for her, she screamed.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Jack turned toward Grendel and stood up straight. He ducked his head in a brief nod before speaking.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Elliot. New fluff’s actin’ up a bit, but she’ll come along.”
Grendel looked down at Sharon. She was a pitiful sight. Sweaty, dusty, and covered with small scratches and smudgy marks, she crouched in the corner of the stall, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. She was out of breath, gulping air in between sobs.
“What’s the problem?” Grendel asked, leaning one elbow against the partition.
“She’s got a bit o’ spunk in ’er, that’s all,” Jack grinned. He casually tucked his cock back into his heavy jeans. “Or not enough, maybe.” He laughed at his own joke.
“Spunk, Sharon, hardly becomes a pleasure slave,” Grendel sighed. “Don’t put that away yet, Jack, keep it busy. Sharon wants to take care of you. Don’t you Sharon?”
As Jack took hold of his cock and began to work it back into a full erection, the young woman raised her head to look at the master of the house and sneezed. “I can’t,” she whimpered. “I... it’s too dirty. Can’t we go somewhere else?”
“Get on your knees in front of Jack right now.” His voice was low, but the note of command was unmistakable.
Sharon shivered in disgust, but quickly picked her way through the straw to the spot Grendel had indicated. Jack’s hand was still stroking his cock, pulling the foreskin back with every stroke and cupping his rough fingers around the head.
“Now, lean forward and let him feel your breath on his cock. No, don’t grab him! I didn‘t tell you to do anything with your hands. Keep them down! Just listen and do exactly what I tell you.” Grendel remained standing by the stall gate, his body casually leaning against it. But his voice was clear and hard.
Sharon followed his orders, Jack’s cock bobbing directly in front of her mouth.
“How does it feel?”
“Oh, not too bad, Mr. Elliot, not too bad. She’s not got the talent I bet the boy does, though.” The stableman’s hand never stopped. A drop of glistening fluid appeared at the tip of his cock and he quickly wiped it across Sharon’s cheek.
“You’re probably right,” Grendel admitted. “I’ll let you have some time with him and you can give me a report. Sharon, now move forward and gently lick around the head. Just the ridge, and just your tongue.”
Sharon moved forward with an open mouth, but Jack caught her and tapped the sensuously shaped ridge defining the head of his cock. “Just around ’ere, girl.”
She flicked her tongue out and began licking.
“You’re like magic for the girl, Mr. Elliot, that’s f’sure!”
“That’s because she knows she’s always ten minutes away from a train station, Jack. In the future, if she ever gives you a really hard time, just send her to Chris and he’ll pack her up.”
Sharon moaned, even as she licked. She heard a familiar crackling, tearing sound.
“Here, Jack. Catch.”
Jack reached up and easily caught the foil package Grendel had pulled out of his pocket. “What’s your pleasure then, Mr. Elliot? Y’want her to finish me off like this, then?”
“No. She claims she’s a great fuck, so why don’t you investigate? But first, let’s see if that mouth has any practical use at all.”
“Take this, model,” Jack said, passing the condom down. “Get it on my ol’ cock like a good backstreet whore does. Slip it right on with them pretty lips, an’ make it nice an’ slow.”
Sharon tore the little package open with trembling hands. Was it possible that only an hour ago, her hands had been soft and clean, her nails glistening and shining? She produced the safe and placed it on the head of Jack’s cock. He immediately cuffed her again, and she yelped.
“With your mouth, girl! Do you not hear me?”
Frantically, she pushed the condom between her lips and then spent a hellishly long minute struggling to get it over his pulled-back foreskin and then down the length of the shaft. By the time she was finished, her lips felt bruised and swollen. And still, there was more.
She was pushed onto her hands and knees, her face pressed close to the stall floor, while Jack casually knelt behind her. While Grendel watched, a vaguely bored look on his face, Jack entered the kneeling woman in one strong thrust, his powerful hands wrapped around her upper thighs.
Sharon reared up at his entry! Her back arched, and she yowled like a cat in heat. She was open and wet with excitement, despite her horrible circumstances, and Jack chuckled as he slipped all the way in.
“Oh, she’s a ripe ’un, Mr. Elliot,” he grunted, pulling out to thrust back in again. “For all ’er words and tears, she’s randy as a bitch.”
“But is she good?”
Jack pressed himself deep into the woman and shifted his hips comfortably. “Not bad, not bad.”
“Good. Let me know if she improves by Thursday. I may want to take Skipper out later. You’ll see he’s ready, won’t you?”
“Oh, yessir, Mr. Elliot. See you later, then!”
While the men exchanged words, Sharon cradled her head in her arms and emitted a steady, breathless stream of moans. Jack never missed a stroke as he casually chatted with Grendel. But as soon as the master left, Jack pressed in hard and fast, and gripped Sharon tightly against him.
With no sounds but the rustling of the straw beneath them and Sharon’s punctuating gasps and whimpers, he continued to use her, his pace quickening. Sharon began to whine, and then to pound her fists against the floor, raising small clouds of dust and getting strands of straw tangled in her hair. She bucked back at him, taking him all, wanting more.
“Don’t even think o’ coming,” Jack growled, slapping her red ass cheek. “You take my spunk like a good girl and then you’ll be gettin’ your tail to work, bitch-model. You hear me?”
“Y-yes! Yes!” She squirmed and thrust back just the same, and Jack forced her still.
“You know you’re mine now, don’t you, model? Mr. Elliot just gave you to me, every day ’til Thursday next, didja know that?”
Sharon moaned.
“So,” Jack panted, pushing harder and harder against her, “you might just get yourself accustomed to this, model. When you work the stables in this ’ouse, you get to work with old Jack.” With a final series of steady, fast-grinding pumps, Jack let himself go, spurting his semen while enveloped by her hot pussy. He sighed and growled alternately, and then abruptly pulled out of her. She whimpered and wailed out her frustration.
“Aah, that was not bad, Sharon girl. Not bad. But you’ll be a bit more cooperative tomorrow, or we’ll be doin’ this in a stall a bit more, eh, funky, than this ’un.” He stripped the condom off and tossed it next to her. “When you clean this up, don’t forget that, right?”
Sharon made distinct sobbing noises, which Jack cheerfully ignored.
“Oh, and ’ere’s your coverall... ah, look, someone’s gone and stepped on it! Well, too bad.” He buttoned his fly and picked the stained coverall up and examined it. “Aye, too bad. I don’t ’ave another one, you’ll ’ave to make do today.” He tossed it into the stall.
“The boots are in the back,” he said, stepping away from her. “I’ll be back, after I ’ave a smoke, to show you the fine art o’ muckin’. Be dressed proper, or you’ll do it in your skin.”
After his footsteps faded away, Sharon drew the stained and slightly grubby coverall to her body and pulled it over her trembling limbs.
Chapter Nine
Alexandra patiently waited for Claudia to dry her eyes and pull herself together. Chris wordlessly took the handkerchief back from the naked slave girl and then stepped away from her.
She took it better than I thought she would, Alex reflected. I thought she was going to break down in hysterics, or faint, or something suitably proper for a frail little femme to do when told that her Mistress doesn’t want her.
&
nbsp; It was a difficult decision to make, and Madeleine had been resistant. But Claudia’s training couldn’t go a step forward unless she really understood what was at stake. And unfortunately for her, Madeleine was very, very disappointed in the initial report that Alexandra had tendered.
“Well,” the elegant mistress had asked, “what do you think she would fetch at a good auction?”
“Are you absolutely sure?” Alexandra pressed. “She is a treasure, Madeleine. I’ve never seen someone more devoted to a role before. Why don’t you just add someone new to the household and keep her as a fancy?”
“Alex honey, I’m not that rich. No, if I’m going to have another maid, she better be interesting and fun in bed. Besides, Carl is complaining that we don’t have any regular boys around the house, so that’s one major purchase for next year already, unless I find a novice and train them myself again.”
Alex nodded, mentally noting the possibility of a referral. What a pity Robert wasn’t a better maid, she thought wickedly. That would solve that problem neatly. Then she returned to the problem at hand. “Well, then I suppose we can shape her up a little and look for a good offering if she’s agreeable. Do you have preferences for her?”
Madeleine paused. It was obviously hard for her to consider. “Just... just make sure she goes someplace nice,” she said finally. “I’ll write up a reference.”
And then it fell to Alexandra to explain this to the shivering young woman who stood before her in the warm solarium.
“Is there any chance?” Claudia asked, after she got some of her bearing back. “Could... could I learn to be what Mistress wants? Can’t you teach me? I’ll try! I’ll do anything you say!”
“Claudia darling, your greatest problem is that you can’t seem to do anything we say.” Alexandra spoke firmly, but with compassion. “Chris reports that when given a task you find displeasurable, your attention wanders, you waste time crying or staring at it, or you do it so badly it becomes necessary to give you another assignment. You resist all attempts to bring out your sexual side, at least anywhere beyond giving you a nice spanking and fingering you until you come. You’re afraid of Grendel, to the point you become incoherent when he asks you questions, you fall apart at the slightest chastisement, and the less reality matches your concept of what must be, the more unhappy you get. And the more unhappy you are, the more easily you fall into bad behavior. So frankly, you seem dedicated to your role as a French maid, and your mistress has given us permission to market you as such.”
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