“Let’s be sure we punish this one soundly,” a stately gray-haired gentleman retorted.
Punished? Punished why? she wondered silently.
Gillian looked toward the voice, seeing her new friend Judge Ronald Dent had just made that decree. The shock of his unexpected presence created an ominous sensation slowly crawling up her arms—barely perceptible as a spider’s dainty walk. “She wants admittance to my club, she’d better understand obedience and the letter of the law.” There was not one trace of the kindness he’d showed her at the cocktail party.
One by one she watched the masters leave the room, all but one, which she couldn’t see because he was at her side. The tall post beside her blocked her view. She knew this one remained because she could feel his energy and even catch a trace of his fragrance. With the door at the far end of the room shutting with a defining click, she jumped inside her bonds frightened, waiting.
“You’d think some things are obvious, obviously stated, obviously understood …” he paused. The voice made her shudder like a March wind. “And still, there are those who don’t get the message.”
The more he spoke, the more her heart raced. Something was desperately wrong and her bones rattled with the foreknowledge of the fact. Gillian strained to see his face, but he remained out of sight, waltzing around her backside, pacing, not nervously, but purposely and with intent. Each second ticking by was an eternity to live just a hairsbreadth from complete disclosure. By the time the man wandered around the rack that constrained her, her eyes were closed, as though she could close out the truth that was barreling down on her like a runaway locomotive.
When her eyes fluttered open realizing that the master now stood before her, they began to tear.
He shook his head almost sadly, Mike Bellamy taking a bitter look at her from eyes, to lips, to hips, to toes, then returning to her eyes. Only in the background of his detached expression could she see the charming scoundrel that urged her to breach the vows she made to the club. Confusion, anger, embarrassment and fear held a side by side by side conference in the war-room of her mind.
Chapter Sixteen
Kate’s days with Vitorio were reveries, one following the next in a succession of days she could hardly tell apart. Everything was slightly foggy—Vitorio’s stock of fine wine poured freely. She bathed in it, had it rubbed into flogged skin, found it burning gently inside her ass when he pumped a glass into her back door and let the alcohol flood her system making her giggling and unstrained.
There were nights she slept at the foot of Vitorio’s bed—more nights than she slept in the tiny bedroom. But regardless of where she lay her head for the night, she was always collared and leashed. She was his pet. When he called for her, she came padding to him, sometimes on hands and knees. And when she wasn’t quick enough to suit him—which was often, she was punished for being tardy.
At his command, she’d bow front and center at his feet, and pray that he’d be kind to her. He never was. Though her punishments were never long in duration, they were frequent; swift and firmly laid on, with paddles, canes, birches and lashes whipped heartily against her rear to make his point. Every day her feverish and clouded mind struggled to know how better to please him, and still she came up painfully short—painful for the flesh of her ass. She swore to herself that his demands and punishments were arbitrary, but each time he named her errs, they made sense, like she should have remembered this tiny rule or injunction without having to be told. She never fought him, perhaps a function of the wine that kept her in a gentle euphoria. Bowing front and center, taking the lashings she’d earned became second nature, to the point that her body missed the flagellation when it had been many hours since her last.
One day, Vitorio was away on business and she remained tethered in her room. She drifted half unconscious most of the time, poured through a few books she was allowed to read—mostly trashy erotica. These only made her more horny. There were a few dated news magazines written in a language she found difficult to decipher so she didn’t even bother with them. When her master finally returned from his long absence, he was agitated and furious. Not with her, but that didn’t matter. She was ordered to his sitting room, made to bow before him and wait for his ruling in a brooding silence.
When Kate expected him to lay some horrifying punishment on her, Vitorio amazed her, reaching down to stroke her hair with an affection she never felt from him. She rose up at his touch, with his hand combing through her hair. Moments later, he drew her to her knees between his thighs, running hungry fingers about her face and down her neck. He tore away her summer dress as he pulled Kate into his lap and began to devour her breasts with tiny kisses. As though he were consuming her, the passion of his unrestrained exploration became more wild with each caress. She responded as eagerly, pouring out affection on the unaffectionate man like a zealous lover deprived for months of touch and taste and smell. Their senses bloomed impregnated by their unspoken desires suddenly screaming for something savage and uncontrolled that only lovemaking could release.
She orgasmed in his lap from both tenderness and furious fondling, and Vitorio followed when, without being ordered, she dropped between his legs and brought his erection to her lips, her head bobbing up and down, her mouth sucking; ravenous with need, finding the smooth pulsing stalk was raising her desire again.
He took her into his bed with him, the two sprawled together in heated combat, moving end to end over his silk sheets. They discovered pleasure in places that tentative fingers could never find.
Kate hummed with giggles and “ahs” as he showered the back of her arms and the sensitive hallows underneath with dozens of kisses. She shrieked to have his nail crawl slowly down her back until he tickled the place at the base of her spine that seemed to connect every nerve in her body.
Vitorio found his pet turning his insides out as her tongue performed feats of arousal no woman had ever performed for him before. At the back of his ear and the crook of his neck, his underarms and down his sides until she moved on his balls, floating them within her warm mouth. Straddling his hips when his erection flared again, they rode it together to a spirited end, left spent, like two children in a fight suddenly too exhausted to continue. She settled into his arms to sleep, feeling a heart beating in his chest that was no longer cold.
Chapter Seventeen
Mike Bellamy left Gillian to the chaos boiling inside her, and to the gentle hands of a woman that loosened her bonds. It was odd to feel a woman’s presence, when she expected one of the masters to be attending her. This silent redhead had a winsome face, looking as though she’d like to speak but didn’t dare.
“What happens to me now?” Gillian asked.
“Shush,” she answered her.
Led by her tether to a small room off the cabin’s great room, she was motioned to a wooden bench where she could sit. The redhead was about to close the door after her, leaving her in darkness, but then she turned back.
“The masters only bring us to the hideaway when we deserve a reprimand,” she whispered. She gave her a half-smile and the room went dark a second later as she closed the door.
Gillian woke with her body cramped, her muscles aching, the skin of her backside stiff and sore from being lashed. It was not a painful rush of energy, but one mellow and even comforting, something that might have aroused her, but there was a glare in her eyes. The door was opening and the light shining in blinded her vision. She was led from the room by the same gentle woman that had pulled her off the rack. Moving outside into the brisk night air—her naked body felt like ice before they reached their destination—some sort of tack house or woodshed. It was difficult to see in the dark. She measured the altitude by the stars, thinking she was somewhere in the mountains with the sky so clear on a summer night, and a brilliant array of stars twinkling above. Inside the rough shack, there was a single gleaming light from an oil lamp and several masters in jeans or leather pants and rough shirts, looking quite unlike the same men t
hat wore their corporate suits so well by day. Mike Bellamy was there, appearing to brood by himself in the corner. Thaddeus Chamberlain was there as well, and he addressed her first.
“Drop to your knees, Brahms,” he said.
Gillian immediately obeyed, though following the order, her knees felt as though she’d fallen on rocks, the dirt floor was so immovably hard. “Kiss the ground, your hands clasped behind you.” She signed relieved for just that moment not to have to face their condemning eyes.
“You are now front and center, a pose that you’ll come to know well, considering the way you’ve managed to so flagrantly violate the rules and trust of this society.” The tone of his voice was chilling. Was this really the man Kate McPherson loved? “Normally such rituals are unnecessary to train our members, but you, Brahms, have mapped out new territory in your association with us—finding it no problem to screw a ‘non-member’ while engaging in your initiation. That would make us think that any edicts we pronounce, and laws we establish are totally inconsequential to you. You’ve failed your initiation miserably and should be expelled.” If she could have seen Thad’s face, she would have seen a twisted smile. “But then, your failure is what we all expected. No one believed you’d make a good member, no one had faith in you—least of all the master that pleaded your cause with the rest of us.”
The master that pleaded her cause? Did he mean the deceitful bastard, Mike Bellamy? Gillian bit hard into her lip, as she felt the anger in her breeding with an unwanted feeling of shame. It was so like her to disregard the rules of any game, skirt around any law if she so chose. She did it in her law practice, and the rest of her life. But she’d been caught this time, by someone more sly than she. Anger. Humiliation—yes. And a trace of admiration. It was as nasty combination working her mind.
“We can see your anger, Brahms, “you must feel betrayed. Yet, I choose to think of your dalliance with our friend Bellamy rather inspired on his part, don’t you? It served a useful purpose. Got to the heart of the matter with you right off the bat—the cruel fact that you have been, since the moment you walked into my office and announced your intentions, completely unsuitable club material.” While he paused his lecture, she heard his boots creaking in the remaining silence, and the sound of the others shifting their weight. She waited anxiously, her head pounding, her stomach grabbing hard, her exposed pussy clenching as though she was aroused. Could she be? she wondered. Did this embarrassing rebuke really turn her on?
“Fortunately for you, however, there are methods to redeem you available to us, if we think they might have some effect. First, your offenses will require punishment, and then, you’ll be schooled in the laws of this club, having them drilled into your brain and body, so you won’t even think, or act, or speak the way you do now. If there is a submissive streak in these rebellious, rule breaking bones, it will surface. You’ll either hate us, or love us. But I assure you, and Mr. Bellamy assures you, the truth about Gillian Brahms will rise from your wounds.
“I would ask you now, if you agree to this, but then you’ve already agreed to give yourself to us on many occasions. Just in the spirit of good faith, I’ll accept that your desire for membership remains as previously stated and we’ll simply proceed with your punishment.
“And, Brahms, as you’ve undoubtedly heard before, obey the instructions we give you to the letter. If you’re ever in doubt, err in the direction of the extreme. I’m sure no one will fault you for going overboard in your enthusiasm for obedience.”
Gillian stirred in the uncomfortable pose. Her eyes could only glance around at the feet of these men. Their boots made her tremble. The strap she could see dangling from Thad’s hand made her quake, and the paddle that she glanced at hanging on the far wall seemed able to make her pussy juice just seeing the austere look of it.
“We punish the unfaithful in our club the old-fashioned way, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. A good strapping, a heavy wood paddle, maybe even a cane—all that is up to the masters in this room to choose for themselves. It’s too bad there aren’t more here, but I imagine the five of us will make your sorry ass smart. If this becomes a sexual rush for you, because you like the pain, all the better, I suppose. But understand, it’s not meant for sex in any way, and no master will be with you afterwards to take off the steamy edge that might arise. This is a reprimand, the severest we mete out. Take it that way. Take it to heart. Understand the spirit of it, and perhaps you will cement your relationship with our club. I truly don’t think you’d like the outcome if you’re determined to be incorrigible, Brahms. I assume you’ve understood from the outset that our tentacles reach far and wide in the venue in which you play, and we wouldn’t hesitate to stretch our influence should you have a sudden change of heart. We’ve done it before. A rare thing, yes, but we do have the power to shake the foundations of your world with a vigorous hand.”
Thad paused again, while Gillian trembled at the darkness of these men’s hearts. Would Thad realize that his stunning threats were music to a soul at one time lost? She should rebel against their power over her—for the way Mike betrayed her—for the cunning way she’d been drawn to them. But now, she only wanted to give in to a feeling she longed for, but never truly experienced until this moment. Her anger was moving swiftly on its way, pure desire remaining in its place, tinged with fear.
“Get up,” Thad ordered her sharply.
Rising, Gillian felt the frozen blood in her veins begin to move again, the warmth welcoming, though she had little time to enjoy it. Two masters came to her from behind and grabbed her arms, forcing her toward the sawhorse where Thad had been sitting. He was now behind her, his strap swishing through the air, deliberately to arouse her fear. Drawn over the crude bar, the two men pulled her feet wide and secured them with rope so she couldn’t move. One directed her to grasp a low bar on the other side of the sawhorse—to keep her balance.
Thaddeus Chamberlain wasted no time delivering his biting message with an old-fashioned strapping of her behind. He laid in to her hard with the leather nipping the surface of her skin at times, and other times striking full on, all three inches wide smacking her reddening behind.
“Oh, please, gaaaawd, nooooo,” she gasped, frightfully pained.
He struck again, letting her round rear feel the full measure of his righteous indignation. The air was crisp and agonized from her vile cries. When he backed off she drew into herself silently and clenched all the more. “Please, no more!” she managed one useless plea. Looking once from the corner of her eye, she caught Mike’s impassive gaze. The strength of his authoritative verve had never been so apparent. It stunned her, remembering well that the man had been such a delightful and spirited scamp. Now, he looked on her as judgmentally as Thaddeus. She closed her eyes, to close him out, unsure how she could deal with the conflicting emotions that his presence raised in her.
With Thad finished, she watched long enough to see him hand the strap to another master and leave the shack with Mike at his side. A curious fear jumped in with all the others moving through her restless body—had Bellamy’s affections for her been just an act, and now he was throwing her to these wolves with no plan to enjoy her as his own?
Her ass was suddenly struck again, this time with the wooden paddle now missing from the shack’s far wall. The master was brief with his punishment of her, though his was a harrowing sixty seconds of mind numbing pain she would hope never to repeat in her life.
“You disobey, Brahms, your ass is going to be aching for the rest of your life. You got that?” The unseen man struck her burning cheeks with tremendous force. “You got that!”
“Yes!” she replied.
He shot off a blistering attack. “What did you say!”
“Yes, sir!” she corrected her err. “Yes, sir.”
“Better, much better.” He smacked the paddle on her another five times and strode to the wall where he hung the blasted thing on its nail.
Another master approached her as the last
one left, this man the kind, grey-haired Judge Dent. Lingering for a while before proceeding, he let the ferocity of the last spanking fade a bit from both her ass and mind. While he waited, he rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbow. Gillian viewing the awesome moment, found a shooting spasm of arousal make her belly clench. Formal and frighteningly cold, the Judge reminded her of a reprimanding father or a reform school head-master. Reaching back to one of the remaining masters he was handed a flexible stick. The thin tool, perhaps a half inch in width, seemed perfectly suitable to this severe discipline. Hearing it cut through the air so she could hear the swish, Gillian winced. Then when the master took his position behind her, she closed her eyes and clenched up tight in anticipation of the first strike.
“It is a sorrowful day when we’re forced to punish a woman as lovely as you,” he spoke. “I hope this will clarify the life you’ve chosen. I would hate to see you need this cure on a daily basis, but I would welcome it if it would correct your blatant disregard for rules. How amazing to see such a willful disregard for authority in such a fine attorney as you. Though perhaps that will change after tonight.”
Finished speaking, Judge Dent drew his arm back, planning a very severe strike to her already red ass cheeks. And as the first cut landed, Gillian’s cry could be heard far outside the woodshed.
The painful wail from the censured young attorney reached the two masters as they strode together up the hill on their way back to the hideaway.
“So, you think I scared the shit out of her?” Thad asked his friend. There was still the grim and righteous look of a reproving master on his face. He took his task seriously.
“You did well,” Mike answered him.
“She’s going to be hard for you to love and punish at the same time,” he advised him.
“Perhaps. But at least, I don’t take the coward’s way out,” Mike said, Thad laughing in response. “I can’t understand why you want to give your dirty work up to Vitorio.”
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