Bound For Pleasure at Blackthorne Read online

  I shook my head violently.

  She rolled off me and sat on the edge of the platform. “Oh, of course you do, silly.” She gestured around the cell. “That’s what this place is all about. Terrifying games, the thrill of being totally defenseless,” her voice became a hoarse whisper, “and delirious pleasure!”

  Treise glanced up at Bridget. “Oh, my, how thirsty our Bridget’s pussy is for a man’s cum fountain. And look at your cock, dear cousin. He is straining to spew his love cream. Isn’t it so-o-o-o sad that naughty ol’ me won’t let you two rescue each other from your agony.”

  She stroked my belly, grinning at me. “Now, my helpless prisoner, let’s see how much sexual frustration you can endure before you weep. I’m going to pleasure your cock until you are about to cum, then stop. I’ll keep bringing you to the brink, again and again, but never letting you spurt your elixir of love.” She bent over on my chest, her fragrant breasts tantalizingly close to my face. “Isn’t that going to be jolly?”

  She raised up and clambered on top of me, straddling my hips. “You wanted to fuck a pussy, so here it comes.” She lowered her silky muff and her steaming pussy swallowed my cock.

  She was so deliciously soft and warm. With agonizing slowness her chamber of Venus began rising and descending, massaging my cock. It shuddered with joy.

  “I felt that, cousin,” She whispered. “I must be careful not to let you trick me with you enjoying a surprise orgasm.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “M-m-m-m, just think, sweet Richard, I will cum as many times as I want too, but you will never ejaculate one tiny drop of cum... unless I change my mind...” She opened her eyes and grinned wickedly down at me, “....and I won’t.”

  My mind wanted to shut out the pleasure of her pussy, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. Treise was my master, and my body would feel everything she wanted it to, suffer whatever torment amused her, and teach me just how pointless and absurd morals and decency are when we become the defenseless playthings of a sexual connoisseur.

  I moaned when she lifted off me.

  “You were getting close, cousin. But I’ve had hundreds of cocks in my pussy, and I know the feel of Mr. Cock-a-doodle on the verge of crowing.”

  She stood up and grasped her whip. “This will calm you down.” She raised it high over my belly...

  WHACK!

  “YUFF!” I shuddered as a burning stripe of red bloomed just above my cock.

  Her brown eyes widened with a savage glitter as her arm came down again.

  WHACK!

  “YUN-N-FF!” This one felt even worse.

  A half dozen of her lusty strokes, and my skin wore a throbbing pattern of welts.

  Treise was panting through her open mouth, her eyes glazed, strands of her long black hair dangling in her face as she moaned in orgasm. Her sinister fascination as she gazed at my welts was more frightening than all that had gone before. Had she ever lost control and maimed someone? Or worse? No, I had to trust my family’s judgment in choosing Treise to be my tormentor.

  The whip dropped from her hand as she crouched over my torso. Her eyes focused on my sagging cock, and she grabbed it with both hands. With a noisy rush of inhaled breath, she pounced on it with her open mouth.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, concentrating on nothing but the panicked pounding of my heart. It was a foolish and useless struggle. Deep in the dark velvet pit of my consciousness her skilled tongue worked its wicked magic. My cock stood exposed and unprotected in my imagination, a defenseless prisoner with a bevy of pink tongues tormenting it.

  Treise mumbled around her mouthful of cock, “I wish I could read your mind, Richard. This must be hell for you.”

  I gave up all my pride and decency and surrendered myself to groans of despair and frustration. She was doing it again, coaxing my cock up to erection, teasing me to the brink of cumming.

  A shower of warm tears spattered my face. Bridget sobbed with pity as she looked down at my agony of sexual frustration.

  Treise lifted her head and giggled as I nearly wept myself.

  Treise crawled up to my head. “When I was being initiated, the men kept coming in here and peeing on my face. I will never forget how helpless and ashamed they made me feel.” A dark smile flickered across her lips. “Now I’m getting my revenge.”

  She stood up and looked at Bridget’s pussy. “You need another spanking. You’re much too wanton for such a young lady.” She got the leather strap and swatted Bridget’s buttocks a dozen times as the helpless girl shrieked and struggled against her chains. Then it was my belly’s turn.

  Treise kept her promise. I could not count the number of times her hands, her mouth, and her pussy stroked my cock up the golden stairway. Then, at the very portal of paradise, she dragged me back, laughing as I tumbled down into the cold and dark pit of denied release. Each time she stopped, the ache in my belly was worse, the pressure in my scrotum more agonizing. Then out came the whip, the cane, or the leather strap, and she used her toys on my body. There was even a small silk whip for punishing my brave erections.

  Then she returned to the devilish teasing of my cock again, forcing it into another erection that would end in yet another denial. And all the time, my frantic craving to fuck Bridget’s delicate little pussy floating over my face.

  I was never clever at guessing time. It seemed like a century of wretched pain, humiliation, and cruel teasing before the torches burned the last of their fuel. I was in a state of hysteria, moaning wordless sounds behind my gag, seeing a parade of pussies floating in the cell, hearing Treise’s fiendish giggle and laugh each time I wept at her withdrawal. Everything spun around me, faster and faster, until the cell and everything in it shrank to a dot and disappeared. I was unconscious.

  “Breakfast.”

  I opened my eyes. The smelly torches were dark and cold. Dozens of clean, white candles brightened my private hell. Treise hovered over me, smiling.

  “Good morning, dearest cousin.”

  I waggled my jaw. The gag was gone. The middle of the platform had been lowered until it was flat and level. I was still a spread-eagled prisoner, but my chains had been loosened a bit, and I felt the comfort of a soft mattress under my buttocks and back. A snowy white pillow propped up my head. The girls, including poor Bridget, were gone.

  “We bathed you while you were sleeping,” she said. “Poor, dear cousin, you suffered so. Her face brightened with a smile. “But that part of your initiation is over. Outside, the noonday sun is shining on the flowers, birds are singing, and life is blissful.”

  My voice was hoarse. “And what horrors have you planned for today.”

  “Oh, my sweet, helpless toy, I’m going to force bacon and eggs on you, Coffee, and jam on toast. Then, when your stomach is satisfied, I’m going to fuck your defenseless cock and make you cum and cum and cum, until I collapse on top of you, and we sleep in each other’s arms. Chalmers will unlock the cell door when it’s time to bathe and dress for dinner tonight.”

  “You don’t have a key?”

  “Oh, no, dear Richard. That’s the joy of initiation. We both are prisoners in this cell. There’s nothing at all in here for us to do to pass the time but fuck, and fuck, and... She fell on top of me and began kissing my lips like a long-separated lover.

  Her corset was gone, and she lay on top of me, stroking my body with hers, savoring the sensual joy of nakedness against nakedness. Once more she called my cock to duty, and sat on my hips, moving slowly, tenderly, rocking us both to indescribable rapture. Her hips pumped faster and faster as we both strained for that indescribable moment when all creation stops and holds its breath.

  Our voices sang out together in the wordless lyrics which have proclaimed lovers cumming since the dawn of men and women.

  “AUGH-H-H! UNGH! AH-H-H-H!” I geysered into her pussy, straining my hips upward. We moaned, and gasped, and trailed into a cooing sighs. When our breathing slowed, she bathed my face with a multitude of passionate kisses.

&nb
sp; We lay together, my arms and legs still spread and chained, her body on mine She clamped her arms around my chest, her legs moving slowly, savoring the touch.

  “It’s time for me to feed you again, poor starving Richard. I must keep up your strength for this final ordeal of non-stop fucking.”

  It was strange, but pleasant to watch her put morsels in my mouth, or holding the coffee to my lips as I sipped. Often she would play a game of holding the food in her mouth, then kissing me while passing it into my mouth.

  There was plenty for both of us, but it took all of it to satisfy our hunger. Then Treise swiveled around, and used her lips and tongue to feed my other hunger. Her throat worked as I came in her mouth, swallowing greedily. As she propped herself up on her elbow, she smiled at me, the last dollop of my cum hanging like a tear-shaped pearl from the corner of her mouth.

  “Dessert,” she said. She used her finger to smear it over her lips. “Now kiss me.”

  When we were totally exhausted from fucking, she stretched out on top of me, and snuggled her naked body against mine. We slept with her arms around me.

  The sound of the cell door grinding open woke us. It was Chalmers. Treise stretched and yawned, scratching my chest like a mischievous cat.

  “Time to wash for dinner,” Chalmers said. He unlocked my manacles.

  I sat up, groggy and stiff from pain and pleasure.

  “Congratulations, Sir Richard.” He shook my numbed hand.

  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 nipple between finger and thumb. “Sweeter than honey, I bet.”

  She turned her torso, positioning her breast an inch from my mouth. I kissed the nipple 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’ fuck, 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 pussy 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 sex.

  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.