Bound For Pleasure at Blackthorne ebook

Chapter Five-1

Chapter Five

The Ultimate Game

Miss Ballard had ordered Mandissa to bathe me and dress me for dinner. In spite of her lovely body in the oversized tub with me, I was understandably tired and sucked dry. I was content just to sit in the hot water and admire the naked beauty of her youthful coffee and cream-brown skin while she soaped and scrubbed my aching body.

“How may I pleasure you, Sir?”

“You’re doing it, Mandissa. I just want to rest while this heat soothes my sore muscles.”

I drank in the vision of her ponderous breasts swaying and jiggling as she worked. I reached out and touched one. Immediately her arms went up over her head.

“No, Mandissa. It’s all right. Just keep washing me.

“Thank you, Sir.”

The flesh of her breasts was soft and warm, but firm enough to carry their shape. I teased her raspberry n****e between finger and thumb. “Sweeter than honey, I bet.”

She turned her torso, positioning her breast an inch from my mouth. I kissed the n****e lightly, sucking it in and stimulating her with gentle nips.

Her voice trembled, “Do what you will with me, Sir.”

“Not now, Mandissa. But when I retire, I want you in my bed waiting for me.”

“I will obey, Sir.”

The family was already gathered in the parlor, waiting for the summons to dinner, when I walked in.

“Richard,” Aunt Caroline called out. “Welcome, you are now a full-fledged member of our family. Chalmers gave a good report; that you were neither angry or resentful of your treatment last night.”

“Yes, it was a severe test,” I replied, “but it had its rewards, at the end.” I looked around the room, and didn’t see Treise.

One of the night maids, Suzanne, a French girl with long shiny black hair and incredibly red lips, came up to me with a tray of drinks. I took one and she curtsied. Someone had pulled the ribbon loose in her blouse, and it gaped open with a charming view.

“Now, Richard,” my aunt continued, “there’s someone with us tonight I want you to meet.” She steered me across the room to where Uncle Garrick was sitting next to an animated gentleman with bushy white hair and a generous growth of mustache. He looked no older than my uncle. They were smoking cigars and deep in conversation, so they didn’t see us approach.

“Doctor Pierce Woolsey, I would like to present my nephew, Sir Richard Cailean, Master of Blackthorne.”

The doctor looked up, then sprang to his feet with amiable grace. “Sir Richard, I’m glad to meet you at last. Your father, and Garrick, here, have told me so many good things about you.” He was of slight build, shorter than me by a few inches, but as boisterous and energetic as yearling colt.

“Dr. Woolsey,” I replied. “I’m sure the pleasure is mine.” I turned to Uncle Garrick, “Is he family, too?”

“Oh, no,” my uncle said. “But Pierce has been a close friend, and our family doctor for, oh, way back when your father became Master of Blackthorne.”

My cousin Lamont approached us and confided with a wink, “He also examines our lovestock, and treats them, when necessary.”

“The cattle?”

“No, my boy,” Dr. Woolsey said with a quick laugh, “the girls!”

“You know, then,” I asked, trying hard not to sound stupid or naive.

He put a pale finger to his lips. “All’s well, lad. We doctors know how to keep a confidence.”

“You’ll appreciate that,” Uncle Garrick said, “When he examines you.”

“Me? But I...”

“Oh, don’t let your imagination run away with your sensible mind,” Dr. Woolsey said. “I am the family doctor, and I examine everyone in the family. Just to be sure there’s no disease, and prescribe potions to keep you all healthy and perpetually horny.” He sighed, with a smile. “I examine the ladies, too, and they can take much more time, if they’ve been neglected.”

“Hardly likely,” my uncle said with a grin. “But a convenient excuse.”

Dr. Woolsey turned to me with a shrug. “I’m used to it. I have a practice in the village of Lympwick. The fine ladies of wealthy gentlemen come from as far as ‘Auld Reekie’ to be treated in my examination room. It’s very private; they can relax and enjoy the ‘procedure’.”

“Aren’t there doctors in their own city to satisfy their physical needs?”

“Too many wagging tongues.” He smiled at my puzzled face. “Laddie, these lassies are neglected while their husbands are off chasing wealth and power. And too many times, when their husbands come home, an’ always late at night, they cannot satisfy their beautiful wives. And why? Because most of these merchant princes have lovely secretaries attending to their every whim. Most of them ‘give’ regularly at the office. So-o-o-o, these frustrated young lassies seek out,” he paused, smiling with his memories, “Dr. Woolsey’s miracle elixir. Injected painlessly by my erect John Thomas,” he winked, “an’ it produces instant relief.”

“There’s a special reason Dr. Woolsey is here tonight,” Aunt Caroline said. “We are receiving a shipment of new lovestock, and he will examine them to be sure we are getting healthy girls.”

“Yes,” my uncle added, “sometime after midnight. You will see how we ‘process’ them, and then we begin training them tomorrow.”

“Training them?”

“Surely you don’t think,” Dr. Woolsey pointed at Suzanne with his cigar, “That lovely young girl would willingly let men open her blouse and leave her lovely breasts so exposed? And that ribbon in her blouse; you know the lassies are not allowed to tie it. She would be whipped if she tried to close the front of her blouse. Or, do you think she walks into her closet and says to herself, ‘I think I’ll choose this terribly short skirt and wear nothing underneath’? An’ when some strange man calls her over an’ orders her to strip naked an’ f**k, do you think that’s her mother’s teaching? No!” he shook his head vigorously. “It takes weeks of pain, anxiety and exhaustion to break a girl, and change her from a rebellious, spitting wildcat into this meek, obedient love-slave.”

“And all that time and effort is worth it.” Uncle Garrick said. He put down his cigar and called Suzanne over to us. Lifting the front of her skirt, he fingered her p***y hairs with his other hand. “Here is paradise, Richard. All the wealth and power our family has amounts to nothing without the pleasure of owning such girls.”

“We even teach them classical history,” Aunt Caroline said. She turned to the maid. “Suzanne, tell Sir Richard what happened in Ancient Rome when a slave tried to maim or kill one of their owner’s family??”

Her face paled, and the champagne glasses rattled on her tray. “S-s-sir, if any slave tried to hurt a Roman, every slave in that house would be killed...usually by torture.”

“And so, what does a good little slave girl say to Sir Richard?”

Suzanne’s head lowered and a crystal tear dropped from her cheek. Her lower lip was trembling as she answered. “H-Hail Caesar.”

Uncle Garrick dismissed her with a chuckle and a pat on her ass. “If any of these girls tried to rebel or attack us, the rest of the girls would swarm on her like angry bees, just to save their own beautiful skins.”

The double doors swung open. Katy, the strawberry blonde, stood in the doorway. There was a murmur of delight from us men. Tonight, for our visual pleasure, the serving maids appeared without their skirts. The beauty of their naked flesh was exposed from the bottom of their blouses to their high-heeled shoes.

“Masters and Mistresses, dinner is served.” Katy announced. She came in the room and pushed grandmother Claudette’s wheelchair through.

I was placed at the head of the table, with Grandmother Claudette at the opposite end, as usual. Uncle Garrick sat on my left, and Aunt Caroline on my right. Dr. Woolsey sat next to her, so I learned a great deal about the family ‘business’ as they talked. My mind was dumfounded with shock and anticipation as they discussed the regimen of training. There was much contemplation about how much beating and whipping a maiden’s skin could endure without a permanent blemish, or how much humiliation and despair her mind could sustain before she submitted to the pleasures of public s*x.

I shivered as they chatted nonchalantly of whips, clamps, willow canes, electric shocks, and male fists. All to be used on these helpless girls while they hang suspended, strapped to the rack, or bent over other devices. And for their exercise, the endless race to escape the whip on a treadmill. Our new girls would be forced to endure such abuse in the morning.

Treise came rushing in just as the main course was being served by the maids under the stern eye of Miss Ballard. She slid into her chair next to grandmother and whispered an apology. My grandmother smiled and patted her hand. Treise went right to work on her soup without a glance toward me.

Miss Ballard ordered the maids to remove their blouses before the meal was finished. When tea was poured, they all disappeared under the table where we felt them creep up between our spread thighs. The walls heard many a man’s grunt or murmur, and a woman’s sigh or sweet moan, between our sips.

Uncle Garrick was leading us down the spiral stair, into the heart of the cellar. He produced a ring of keys and unlocked the iron-strapped oak door. I marveled at its three-inch thickness as we filed through.

“Soundproof,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Our unwilling guests we keep down here shriek and moan day and night while they are being trained.”

“Is their pain we cause them that intense?” I asked.

“Well, at first it is the pain of our whips. But once they abandon their pride and modesty and accept the feel of our fingers and c***s inside their pretty p*****s, they surrender to the pleasure. Then they cry out from their unending orgasm after orgasm.

We passed through a small antechamber, then through another heavy oak door. There were three narrow passages leading away into darkness. From the left, I heard the voices of frightened girls. To the right, the large cells where I spent last night. Uncle Garrick led us straight ahead through a passage lined with iron-barred doors of tiny cells. Inside each cell a narrow shelf bolted to the wall served as a bed, and a small wooden bucket for a toilet. Chains hung against the wall or dangled down from the darkness above. There were manacles for wrists, ankles, and neck collars. Here the naked girls would lie on the shelf, trembling—waiting in dread of punishment, or hope of s****l pleasure, for the sound of an iron key grating in their door’s lock.

At the end of the passage, off to the right, I could see through the bars of a door into a room with long, heavy benches, odd-shaped frameworks with leather straps and cuffs, and pairs of hanging chains with metal restraints. Along the walls hung whips, and wicked-looking straps. Set out in readiness on cabinet shelves was a glittering collection of devices designed by a mind with a genius for inflicting punishment or pleasure on defenseless, naked bodies.

In a darkened corner, flush with the floor, was the wooden treadmill. It was a large-diameter rotating disk. Standing on the treadmill, a girl’s wrists would be pulled up and manacled to the chains swaying from the arched ceiling. Here, the singing whip would caress her defenseless torso for hours, urging her to run faster—and still faster, her breasts bouncing and jerking, until her pounding heart cannot endure another second and she faints.

“Crude, but efficient,” my uncle said. “Now we turn to the left of the passage and pass through another door, into the receiving room.”

It was roughly circular, with a lower ceiling. Next to the door was a small fireplace, with a fire already kindled. Spread around the room, ends against the walls, were high wooden benches with cuffs for a captive girl’s wrists and ankles at the corners. There was a belt in the center for strapping down her belly.

Uncle Garrick pointed to them with a wicked grin. “We strap the girls down on the benches, their arms above their heads and legs spread wide, then we have an undressing party. First we remove all our clothes, then theirs. When we’re all naked, we give them the liquid gift of love. They make a terrible noise, but it’s fun.” He pointed to another oaken door standing open, and the cave beyond. “That’s where we bring the girls in. That cave leads to the bay, where a boat will unload our cargo tonight.”

“But how do you get the girls to walk through the cave and into this room?”

“They don’t. They arrive tied in canvas sacks, and we carry them in. Broc and Gregor are waiting with Chalmers at the edge of the bay to help us. They’ll signal the captain as soon as they see his boat. We are very cautious when receiving our merchandise. And Dr. Woolsey will examine the girls before we pay for them.”