Bend To My Will: Fraternity of Pain

Chapter One An upstart servant usurps his Master The tall, lean man in top hat and full evening dress paid the cab driver and approached the bordello, experiencing the thrill of anticipation to which he’d become accustomed on his visits to this busy area of London. In the capital city, motor vehicles were becoming more common and pedestrians needed to be vigilant as they went about their business. The Madam, Abigail Marriott, who was expecting him, hoped he’d take a fancy to the new girl she’d found and the little diversions she’d prepared because the last thing she wanted was to be deprived of revenue that flowed from his Lordship’s wallet. It was her challenge to keep him amused and to ensure his palate did not become jaded. He paid more than any other client but he was very demanding; also the cruellest man ever to cross the threshold of her whorehouse. The red-haired girl Nancy was young and voluptuous and best of all no alcohol or opium habit had damaged her looks. So many of the girls who catered for flagellants appeared to be in a permanent state of semi consciousness because of the amount of gin and opium they consumed. Abigail fought an endless battle to keep them sober enough to be of interest to her clients. If she couldn’t regulate their habits sufficiently they were like rag dolls when they went under the lash. Clients like Lord Pelton wanted some life in his victims, wanted to see them writhe about and scream…unless he decided to use a gag. She bargained on Nancy being a very successful c**k raiser. Of course Abigail understood why the girls who accepted chastisement and humiliation in their professional work needed something to deaden the pain visited upon them by her clients. At best they might be birched severely and at worst they could be subjected to extreme torture. Whatever the human mind (the male mind in particular) could dream up could be acted out within the walls of her house in Covent Garden. A man like Lord Pelton paid enough to be given free rein to indulge his basest urges. A good bordello was a place where dreams came true – for those who could afford the prices. Nancy’s other great advantage was that her body was not yet calloused and damaged because she’d not been in the profession for long enough. She had the very pale skin that usually goes with auburn hair which Abigail thought Lord Pelton would appreciate: a blank white canvas on which to paint. The girl had been suddenly orphaned and a series of misadventures had led her to beg on the streets. Maurice, Abigail’s servant, always on the lookout for pretty girls in need of shelter, spied her and offered a warm bed and something to eat. It was perfectly safe, he told her, because only women resided in the house and she could be sure of a warm welcome from the sisterhood. Nancy wasn’t a common working class girl and her speech was quite refined, although Lord Pelton wouldn’t require her to talk a great deal. However he would appreciate her delicate looks and sound teeth, hair in good condition, her generally healthy appearance and her bright green eyes. He’d also appreciate her body, or so Abigail surmised. Added to her soft skin, Nancy had other assets that would commend her to the male s*x; she was big breasted, her thighs were firm and round, her bottom dimpled. Unless they were men who liked girls to look like boys (and they were not as uncommon as people might imagine) they would enjoy Nancy’s very female figure. Abigail had a mind to train Nancy to give and take in flagellation since the majority of her customers preferred to be receivers. Her training in wielding the rod consisted chiefly in flogging a bolster and cushions with Abigail exhorting her to strike ever harder and harder. It soon became clear Nancy was not cut out to be a dominatrix. She would be better offering her body to be whipped. On the day Lord Pelton was scheduled to arrive, Abigail plied her with gin in the morning and gave her an injection in her thigh, omitting to explain what exactly was going to happen to her. ‘You will feel a certain numbness and sleepiness,’ she explained to the wide-eyed girl. Mrs. Marriott had spent a considerable amount of money designing a machine not unlike the horse invented by her predecessor Theresa Berkley in the nineteenth century and used in premises a short pigeon flight away. The refinement was that Abigail’s machine could bring not one but two victims to any angle required as the planks on which the bodies lay rotated on a large wheel turned by one of her assistants. The task of turning the handle that cranked the wheel usually fell to One-eyed Sarah renowned for her enormous bubbies. She was an amiable giantess with biceps as bulging as any strongman’s, a girl of limited intelligence, but endless stamina. She worked wearing only her drawers so that clients had full view of the famous breasts that hung below her waist. Lord Pelton took off all his clothes when he flogged a girl and seemed to have no objection to Abigail being present. She liked to watch the way his slim body worked up a sweat, the muscles ripple in his back, and, when it stiffened, his manhood swing back and forth along with his heavy, pendulous balls. He was well endowed as befits a man of rank and importance. Abigail felt she’d have been greatly disappointed if his member had been a tiny apology for a c**k. It was an honour for her to see a peer of the realm without a stitch of clothing and even more of a privilege to take hold of his lordly p***s as he’d allowed on previous occasions. Prior to his Lordship’s entry to the cell, Abigail and Maurice had strapped a naked Nancy face down on one of the platforms and had placed Susan (also nude) on the other plank lying on her back. This meant Lord Pelton had all female parts to aim at with whatever instruments he chose to employ. Of all her girls, Susan was favourite with the floggers or she had been up to this point; it was possible Nancy would eclipse her in popularity. Susan seemed inured to pain and would cry out, ‘harder, please, Sir!’ during a flogging and, ‘Whip my arse, Master, I so deserve it,’ and similar remarks which spurred on most men. On the other hand, there were clients who didn’t want a murmur from the girls, those who liked to hear them sobbing quietly and others who liked to hear the w***e give vent to full-throated screams. Lord Pelton stepped out of the shadows and put his hand on Nancy’s ample posterior, stroking her rounded cheeks and pushing his fingers between them in search of her orifices. Abigail was used to seeing his Lordship go through these preliminaries and knew he’d be savouring the smoothness of Nancy’s skin and the juiciness of her ripe behind, pleased to have a fresh bottom to fondle and flog. Abigail watched his c**k slowly stir in its nest of wiry dark hairs then rise gradually in a series of little twitches till it was fully up-standing. He moved to run his hands over Susan’s breasts and pluck at her n*****s. Abigail knew he was anticipating the stripes he would place there, enjoying the thought of spoiling those lily-white orbs with cruel crimson stripes, creating ridges where there was soft, smooth skin. Lord Pelton usually liked to birch his victims first and Abigail had the wands well soaked in buckets and vases filled with water. She bound six or seven branches together with twine to make a short handle and handed the bundle to her client. One-eyed Sarah was waiting for the signal and when his Lordship gave it she began to turn the handle to set the wheel in motion. With c**k jutting out, Pelton positioned himself carefully and struck his first target, Nancy’s quivering buttocks, quickly followed by birching Susan’s breasts as they passed before him invitingly. Pieces of bark flew in the air and a few imbedded themselves in the flesh of the two girls. As Sarah worked up speed to make the wheel spin, Lord Pelton adapted his pace and rhythm so he didn’t miss an opportunity to thrash both girls the optimum number of times. Abigail was emboldened to grasp her distinguished client’s erection and frig him a number of times as he attacked the defenceless girl. She searched his face but wasn’t certain whether it registered pleasure or disapproval. There was pleasure for her in squeezing his long thick shaft and she hoped he wouldn’t push her aside. She knew men liked their c***s to be manipulated with some force so she gripped him as hard as she could and pulled him vigorously, exposing the swollen purple head. The effect of her attentions was to make him stiffer still and make him lay on the birch with ever greater lustiness. She could smell his sweat and his male muskiness and she thought she could smell semen though he hadn’t ejaculated. She thought it better to take her hand away so that he didn’t come before he was ready. He would want to do other things to the girls before he came. There was plenty of time… *** Mr. Edward Mundey, the Head Butler at Colesworth Hall, knew he was irritating Mrs. Wallace by taking over interviewing the women for the position of nursemaid. As Housekeeper, Mrs. Wallace would expect to interview all female staff but there was good reason why he needed to take charge of this appointment. He needed to find a mature, reliable person he could really trust. The woman appointed would also need to be physically strong and on that score each of the girls he’d seen so far had fallen well short of what was desired. Edward had been so tempted by the prettiness of one of the young girls, Olivia Collins, particularly the way her bosom filled her blouse that he appointed her on the spot believing he could find a use for her. He knew Mrs. Wallace would object strongly but what was the point of having his new found powers if he didn’t exercise them; he could make decisions on a whim or a fancy. He felt like an Eastern potentate choosing girls for his harem and looked forward to discovering whether Olivia lived up to her mouth watering promise. The woman who stood before him now in the book lined study was a very different proposition. Agatha Giggs was tall and mannish in appearance with dark hair closely cropped. There were no curves for Edward to admire, indeed nothing attractive about her; her face carried a stern expression and she looked as though she might find a smile physically impossible. On the other hand Agatha looked strong and capable, probably something of a martinet, with large hands and powerful looking forearms which, for the moment, rested in her lap as she answered Edward’s questions. ‘Your duties would be to care for Lord Pelton himself. Do you have any nursing experience?’ ‘I have nursed an elderly person, Sir. You will see from my references…’ ‘This is not a physical illness, I’m afraid, and the symptoms are particularly distressing.’ ‘I see, Sir.’ Edward watched her face carefully. She looked undaunted and ready to hear more. ‘The illness is of the mind. The patient is delusional and sometimes demented, given to sudden fits and rapid changes of mood. He imagines himself to be me, Head Butler, and nothing will move him from this conviction. May I speak frankly, Miss Giggs?’ ‘Please do, Sir.’ ‘I do not wish to be indelicate, but his doctors think his personality change may be due to his contracting syphilis. I’m afraid he has lived a rather dissolute life, particularly when he left these shores to visit other parts of the world.’ ‘This must be distressing for all the family, Sir,’ said Agatha in a sympathetic tone that contradicted the lack of expression on her face. ‘Indeed it is, Miss Giggs. Are you able to keep confidentiality?’ ‘You would not find me wanting in that respect Sir. I think you will see personal integrity is mentioned in more than one of my references.’ ‘No-one, apart from Her Ladyship, knows all the facts of the case. The servants think he has a deteriorating physical condition, a wasting disease, and have no notion that the balance of his mind is disturbed. Her Ladyship wishes to keep them in ignorance as to his mental state. You would need to be the soul of discretion.’ ‘I understand perfectly, Sir.’ ‘You would have another maid to assist you, but I need someone like you to be in overall charge. Your accommodation in the attic of the house is self contained and separate from the female servants’ quarters. Her Ladyship has had a small kitchen and a bathroom built so you will have all you need. Your remuneration will be in excess of that paid to other servants to reflect the important responsibilities you will carry should you be appointed.’ ‘I am very interested, Sir.’ ‘Would you like to meet His Lordship? Are you interested enough for that? I could show you the accommodation to which I alluded.’ ‘I would be grateful, Sir.’ Mr. Edward led the woman out of the study to the servants’ back stairs and as they began to climb them, Agatha questioned him further about Lord Pelton’s condition, whether his appetite was intact, was he able to take exercise, the nature of his medication, if any, and so on. From this slightly peremptory but polite interrogation, Edward formed the impression that the woman was keen to take on the role of nurse and guard; he fancied he’d seen her eyes brighten at the mention of extra salary, though he had not mentioned a particular amount. He looked at Agatha’s face as they entered the patient’s bedroom to see if she was shocked by the fact that Lord Pelton was sitting in a chair wearing only his knee-length drawers and a straightjacket. There was currently no need for the restraint because he was deeply asleep (Edward had ordered a sedative to be given prior to Agatha’s interview) but it was more convenient to keep him in the jacket, the female servants finding it difficult to put it on when his Lordship was in a fractious mood. His erstwhile master had not been shaved for some days and effect of grey stubble and a skin drained of all colour made him look very ill. Edward showed Agatha the others rooms he’d already mentioned and pointed to a door in the corridor that led to the bedrooms the other female servants occupied explaining that only Mrs. Wallace and himself had keys. It was better that the other servants didn’t have contact with Lord Pelton in his present state, Edward opined, but he would allocate the newly appointed Olivia as a helpmate for Agatha’s exclusive use. ‘Was that the attractive young girl I saw waiting in the hallway?’ asked Agatha. ‘Indeed.’ ‘She looked to be an intelligent young woman,’ said Agatha. ‘I think she could be molded into a useful assistant.’ Edward noticed the corners of Agatha’s thin mouth twitch as though she might be about to smile but she soon controlled her features. ‘You apply the metaphor of a potter or sculptor using a mold, Miss Giggs. Do you believe in strict discipline? ‘Where young servant girls are concerned, I believe they need firm guidance from someone older and experienced.’ ‘And your patient?’ ‘I’m not exactly sure of your meaning, Sir.’ ‘If you were appointed, I would expect you to be firm with Lord Pelton. He has reached a point where his behaviour is quite childlike, when he, for instance, displays sudden temper tantrums, fits of sulking, and on occasions outright disobedience. He seems more like a child than an adult and I feel it may be necessary for you to appear to be cruel to be kind.’ ‘I understand, Sir.’ ‘You will naturally feel sorry for him and may need to harden your heart. Do you feel you are capable of handling him, Miss Giggs?’ ‘I attended to a fourteen year old boy and his sixteen year old sister in the past when my master gave me permission to beat them. The governess was a woman of delicate sensibilities and I took on the task of punishing the children at her request.’ ‘How did you carry out their punishments?’ ‘I caned their bare bottoms, Sir.’ ‘Well, you may find Lord Pelton, poor creature that he is, to be exactly like the fourteen year old boy you chastised. His behaviour can be very vexing.’ ‘I think I understand your meaning, Sir.’ ‘I will provide you with any equipment you may need to see that both your patient and your assistant show obedience and satisfy your demands. Now come and meet Lady Pelton.’ Lady Alexandra – her name was usually shortened to Alex – was taking tea on the veranda and shading her face with a parasol for the sunlight was strong. She had been reading a novel which she placed on a chair next to her with the pages face down so that she kept her place. Edward never saw his Mistress without admiring her. Such beautiful features under her mass of wavy chestnut coloured hair, some of it gathered and pinned, skin as white as the china cups on the little table, brown eyes, full bosom revealed by her low neckline, narrow waist; a study in mature womanhood. But his thoughts were far from pure. Being Head Butler meant you discovered secrets and he had knowledge of Lady Alex that suggested she was not a paragon of all moral virtues. Agatha Giggs curtsied and Lady Alex took her hand for just a moment before indicating with a wave of the same hand that they could draw up seats to join her. Edward informed his Mistress of the two appointments he’d made. ‘Oh, I’m so pleased that my dear husband will receive proper attention. Promise me Agatha that you will take the utmost care. He is very precious to me, though not the man I married.’ ‘I promise, your Ladyship,’ said Agatha with every appearance of sincerity. ‘I will always do what is best for him.’ ‘No doubt I may see little Olivia in due course.’ ‘Indeed, my Lady,’ said Edward. ‘She will start her duties tomorrow.’ ‘Are you in a position to start immediately, Agatha?’ asked Lady Alex. ‘I am, my Lady. I brought some luggage with me, just a few items.’ ‘Well, no doubt Edward will see you have a uniform and all that you need. Thank you, Edward. Come back in an hour when Agatha is settled in so that I may have a few words with you.’