by Josie Litton
At the first glimpse of her bared clit, he swallowed a groan. The tiny bundle of nerves was as ripe and swollen as her nipples. So engorged that it protruded past the edges of her labia, it glistened wetly. When he flicked the tip of his finger over it, she cried out, her back bowing. Her response to such a slight touch was stirring. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel when he let her come at last on his cock, spasms convulsing the powerful inner muscles of her cunt, drawing him in even deeper and tighter, milking him--
The ache in his balls was becoming intolerable but he remained resolute in his determination to ignore it. Slowly, watching her intently, he continued playing with her clit as she arched helplessly, her entire body shaking with the force of her arousal.
“Poor thing,” he crooned at last when the spasms had become an endless cascade, one leading straight into the other with agonizing effect. “Would you like me to let you come?”
She jerked her head, staring at him in mingled hope and disbelief.
“Would you?” he prodded, slipping his finger down and thrusting it slowly into her vagina, taking due care to avoid her hymen. “You may speak. Tell me.” As he probed, he continued rubbing her clit with his thumb.
She was gasping, hardly able to breathe but she managed to cry out, “Yes, oh, yes, please!”
“That’s very good,” he said, withdrawing his finger and giving her clit a final stroke before moving to stand beside the bed.
Looking down at the painfully aroused plaything before him, he said, “‘Yes’ and ‘please’ should cover most situations between us. Apart from that, you will address me as master. If I ever hear the word ‘no’ from your lips, I will punish you severely. Do you understand?”
Still fighting for breath, she kept her wide blue eyes locked on him and nodded.
“Good. Now let’s get you settled.”
Briskly, he undid the restraints and pulled her from the bed, guiding her past the crate.
When she looked relieved, he said, “Surely, you didn’t think I intended to keep you in there! It’s hardly necessary given that I assume you’re already housebroken.”
At her flush, his good humor intensified. She had barely arrived and already he felt energized, his ennui banished at least for the moment.
Drawing her along, he stepped quickly through the French doors and into the walled garden that ran the length of his residence. It was in the Japanese style, designed around elegant vistas of pools, flowering shrubs, raked gardens, and waterfalls. At its center stood a gilded wrought iron cage with a raised pagoda roof that brushed the tops of the surrounding trees. Glass panels between the bars provided an almost unfettered view inside as well as helping to maintain the temperature controlled environment.
At the center of the gilded cage hung a large, round bed, suspended by chains from the roof high above. A pretty table and chair where meals could be taken were nearby. Off to the side discreetly out of sight was a small but serviceable bath. With the sole exception of that bath, his pet would be on display at all times.
“In you go,” his lordship said.
When she was properly settled, he stepped back outside, secured the door, and studied her through the glass. Crouched in the center of the round bed, she looked around with a mix of curiosity and apprehension that he found quite satisfying.
The temptation to remain with her was surprisingly strong. Rather than yield to it, his lordship departed. But his pleasure in his new pet was evident both in his smile and the erection still tenting his trousers. Already he was planning how he would proceed with her training.
Chapter Two
The following day, Lord Adrian accepted an invitation to an impromptu shooting party at a nearby estate. The invitation came from his friend and neighbor, Lord Anthony Monkton whom he looked forward to seeing after the latter’s year-long sojourn in India. At the same time, he also saw an advantage to being out of the house for a few hours. He had lingered rather too long in the garden that morning, observing his pet at breakfast. The poor thing was having trouble sitting down; she squirmed so delightfully. The thought of her reddened bottom and her swollen cunt almost caused him to have her fetched immediately for his pleasure.
Instead, he stomped out of the house gun in hand, intent on murdering as much of the local quail population as possible.
The shooting party was enjoyable despite the ribbing he came in for from Tony and some of the other gentlemen. Their expressions of mock concern that his pet would exhaust him were absurd enough to brush off without a thought. Rather more annoying was the caution that Bunny would not be pleased by his new acquisition, as though that could matter in the least.
After showering and putting in several hours of work on Ministry business--there truly was no rest for the wicked--Lord Adrian enjoyed a light supper before deciding that he had neglected his pet long enough. He summoned the butler and instructed that she be brought to him in the library.
A fire had been lit there, the warmth and light lending the room a sense of intimacy that it otherwise did not possess. His lordship was sitting in a wingchair, shorn of his jacket and tie, his long legs stretched out in front of him, when his pet arrived.
She stood, naked, her head down, arms at her sides, as he surveyed her. Once again, he was struck by the perfection of her form--tits, waist, hips, legs, cunt. She really was quite lovely.
The evening being cool, the brief trip from her cage had left her shivering. He raised a hand, beckoning her closer to the fire.
“Have you behaved yourself today?”
Softly, she murmured, “Yes, master.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it. Still, I don’t want you acquiring any bad habits. I value discipline highly and I intend to make good use of it with you.”
Small white teeth worried her lower lip. She darted a glance to the side, noticed the chair positioned nearby, and stiffened. It was a marvelous object, hand crafted of the finest leather and tooled bronze, tufted in hunter green velvet, and gracefully curved so that a sitter was forced to recline with legs and ass elevated. Leather straps at the top secured the wrists. Bronze and leather stirrups hung to either side to hold the legs apart. A matching padded bench was attached for ease of access in the manner of far more utilitarian chairs found in the offices of physicians attending to female gynecological matters.
“Sit down there,” he ordered pleasantly, “and put your feet in the stirrups.”
She paled but obeyed. He moved swiftly, excitement thrumming in his chest. Having secured her arms above her head, he fastened the additional leather straps around her thighs and waist, completely immobilizing her.
As the full extent of her helplessness sank in, she began to struggle.
“None of that,” he admonished, stroking her hair. “You’ll be spending quite a lot of time in this chair so I suggest you get used to it.”
Straddling the small padded bench at eye level with her exposed cunt, he pulled the stirrups all the way apart, extending her legs until they were almost at right angles from the chair. The position undoubtedly strained her inner thigh muscles but she would have to become accustomed to that. He intended to keep her pussy spread wide on a regular basis.
A small cabinet of teak and inlaid ivory with brass fittings stood beside the chair. Lord Adrian opened one of the drawers and withdrew a handful of black steel clover clamps. He could have chosen a gentler device for his purposes but he wanted her to have the full experience.
Smiling, his lordship squeezed open the first of the clamps, took hold of her left cunt lip between his thumb and index fingers, and positioned the succulent flesh before slowly allowing the clamp to close on it. As the sharp metal sides dug in, his little pet cried out.
“There, there,” he said. “You’ll have to be brave. We’ve only just begun.”
Over the next few minutes, he methodically attached half-a-dozen of the powerful clamps around the periphery of her cunt all along her labia. After initially crying out with each new inflic
tion of pain, by the end she just moaned softly. He knew that as the clamps cut off circulation, she was becoming numb. A slight smile flickered across his handsome face. She could be glad of that while she might; it wouldn’t last.
Enjoying himself tremendously, he took a few more moments to play with her distended clit before completing the job. Again, one by one, methodically, he pulled the clamps out to their full lengths and secured them to the leather straps around her spread thighs.
When he was done, her pussy lips were stretched taut and wide apart, their pale pink undersides fully exposed. Between them the delicate fronds of her inner lips and her swollen clit glistened darkly. As he watched, pearly fluid oozed from her cunt and slipped down the curve toward her ass. He caught a few drops on his finger and licked it clean.
“Very nice,” he said, meaning both her taste and the delightful picture she made.
He thought of how easily he could fuck her just then. She was perfectly positioned at exactly the right height for him to stand, his feet planted to either side of the small bench, pull out his throbbing cock and thrust right into her. The vicious little clamps would yank on her stretched pussy with his every thrust, further increasing her beautiful agony. Of course he wouldn’t let her come. Only he would, his release promising an intensity he had rarely experienced.
But he reminded himself yet again, he was a man of resolve and this was about discipline, his more so even than hers.
Brushing back an errant lock of ebony hair, he stepped away from the chair and went over to a cabinet along one wall of the library. Opening the double doors revealed a variety of crops, floggers, canes and whips neatly hung in size order. Having selected a particularly sturdy crop, he returned to the chair.
Her eyes widened at the realization of what he intended. She opened her mouth, no doubt to plead for mercy, but the look on his face must have told her how futile that would be. With a moan, she turned her head away.
He began with her nipples, striking each in turn a dozen times while she writhed but kept stubbornly silent. By the time he was done, her breasts were delightfully red and streaked. Feeling sufficiently warmed up, he turned his attention to her stretched pussy.
At the first strike of the crop against her taut, exposed flesh, her body jerked in the leather restraints. At the second, she tried to draw her legs together but, of course, she could not. At the third blow, her silence shattered and she cried out. By the fourth and fifth, she was gasping for breath. By the eighth, her pussy was bright red and her moans filled the elegant library.
He continued through four more strokes, each one distributed as the others had been on over her clit, the shadowed opening of her vagina and the smooth perineum directly below. He hadn’t meant to go quite as far as he did but the sight of her in such distress filled him with dark pleasure. By the time he stopped, she was keening helplessly.
Standing over her, he lightly stroked her red, swollen cunt. The sight of it fascinated him. He wondered how long it would be before she could close her legs without wincing. She had turned her head back and was watching him. Holding her gaze, he took the crop, coated the tip of the handle with her copious juices, and rubbed it along the length of her cunt, letting her feel the hard, ridged leather on her tender flesh.
When he was certain that he had her full attention, he tossed the crop aside and said, “Take a breath and hold it.”
He gave her a moment, then yanked the clamps free, restoring the flow of blood to her labia. As sensation rushed back, she screamed.
To his surprise, found himself fighting the urge to soothe her. Instead, startled by his own wavering control and satisfied that she was sufficiently disciplined for the moment, he strode from the room.
At the double doors, he paused and glanced over his shoulder at his pet. The sight of her still spread wide and bound, her exposed pussy rawly red and dripping with her arousal, almost drew him back.
Only a lifetime of discipline stopped him. Coldly, he said, “Someone will come to return you to your pretty cage. I’ve been called to London for a few days. When I return, we’ll continue your training.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing her quiver before he walked swiftly away.
Chapter Three
Several days passed. Lord Adrian stayed busy in London, not returning to Burleigh Abbey until the middle of the following week. Even then, he was another day trapped at his desk in the library, within sight of the chair that evoked such tempting memories.
Despite the Parliamentary recess, there were always matters to be dealt with--the Russians, the Turks, the Japanese, various errant British lords, disgruntled unionists, the list really was endless. He was young for his position, a fact for which he made no apology. He nurtured no doubts as to his suitability to sit so close to the very apex of power. He was focused, decisive, and certain. What more could king and country require?
King and Empire, he reminded himself, thanks to the avoidance of several singularly stupid wars over the past several centuries. The world, or the larger part of it at least, lived under the Union Jack and was all the better for it. His only humility existed in the knowledge that he was simply one more aristocrat sworn to hold the line against the chaos of change. But he wanted more. If humanly possible, he would advance that line and leave the world a better place for having done so.
Surely, for all that, a man deserved the occasional reward?
He could, for example, enjoy the simple pleasure of taking his new pet for a walk.
“Stand still,” he said when she fidgeted as he attached her leash. He couldn’t blame her, at least not entirely. The heavy gold metal collar he had fastened around her neck contained two rings to which he attached chains just long enough to hook to the rings piercing her nipples. With her head up--he insisted on excellent posture--the chains were tightened to their limit, tugging constantly on her sensitive buds. Two additional chains were attached to the same nipple rings. Pulled taut as she stood erect, they ran down the length of her body to the ring piercing her clit hood, tugging on it in turn. To the latter, he also attached a leash. He would, quite literally, be leading her around by her cunt.
Every move she made, or that he compelled her to make, would be felt in her nipples and her clit. It was really quite an ingenious solution to the problem of teaching a good pet to heel.
With a light grip on the leash, he led her out of the gilded pavilion, down a garden path to a gate that led in turn out onto the wide fields and home woods of the estate. Farm hands were at work tending the burgeoning crops. She balked a little when she saw them. He solved that with a quick, sharp tug that made her cry out.
“Behave,” he said. “It’s a lovely day. We’re going for a walk. You’ll benefit from the exercise.”
He wondered if she might be a little chilled. The day was warm enough but there was a breeze from the west. When he noticed goosebumps rising along her arms, he led her into the sunshine along a broad meadow.
“Watch where you go,” he advised. “I don’t want you stepping in anything.”
As she looked down anxiously, he chuckled. She was really quite lovely--perfect height, perfect figure, her hair drawn back in a tight bun so that it could not conceal any of her womanly secrets. And that perfect swollen cunt…wet and glistening in the sunlight, attached to the chain he held. Seemingly recovered from his lesson of the previous week. God, how he wanted that cunt.
“We’ll go as far as the river,” he said. It was an easy walk; normally he would have gone much farther. But his incessant hard-on made the thought of even a longish stroll unpleasant. He’d had her for a week and he’d barely touched her, aside from teasing and then whipping her cunt, which to his way of thinking hardly counted at all.
That was long enough to assure himself that he was fully in control. It was time for his little pet to begin earning her keep.
When they had reached the river bank where willows hung low and small silvered fish darted, he let out a little more of the leash and g
estured to the mossy ground.
“Kneel.”
As she obeyed, he unfastened his trousers and took his cock out. He was unusually well endowed, ten inches in length and so wide in girth that it was no easy thing for a woman to take him fully into her mouth. But his pet would, he would insist on it.
“Suck me,” he said, “and do a damn good job of it or I’ll have you swallowing whole bananas until you improve.”
He’d been assured that she had virtually no gag reflex and in the next few moments, he realized that was true. Her tongue swirled around his tip, teasing him unbearably before abruptly, with no warning, she sucked him in. Her cheeks hollowed as her tongue continued its devilish work, even probing into the opening at his tip where pre cum oozed.
“Fuck,” he murmured, looking up at the sky. His hand tangled in her hair, gripping her head, holding her in place.
“Don’t stop.”
She didn’t but she did release him suddenly and turn her attention to his balls. He was about to reprimand her when the impulse dissolved. Just as vigorously, she licked and sucked his testicles, first one than the other, surrounding them with the hot, wet pressure of her mouth
He was going to come like a boy with no control, damn her, hell if he would.
“Back to the cock,” he ordered harshly. “Swallow it, all of it. Now.”
Distantly, he was aware of the farm hands pausing in their work to watch them but that was no concern of his. What they saw, what they thought, even who they were was of no consequence to him. They were like the trees along the fringe of the meadows, the neatly turned rows newly sown with seed, the clouds that promised late rain. Merely a part of his world that could be safely taken for granted and dismissed.