Discretion is the Better Part... Ch. 02

"Sir, are you alright?"

"Oh, I've sinned.....I've sinned. I've hurt you and I've sinned."

"No, Monsignor, you didn't...."

"You must punish me!" the man exclaimed frantically, scrabbling on the floor for his cincture cord and thrusting it into Curtis' hands when he found it.

NO, Monsignor, I can't...." Curtis protested, appalled.

"You MUST punish me! I have sinned and YOU must punish ME!" the older man begged tearfully.

Stepping away from the priest he watched in disbelief as the other man crawled across the floor toward him, bending to kiss and lick his shoes and feet.

"Please, I have sinned....I MUST be punished."

It was with enormous relief that he heard Mama's voice from the doorway.

"Are you insane? What have you done to MY sweet boy?"

Hurrying to Curtis side she asked, "Are you alright child? You're bleeding, did you know?"

Curtis felt his head swim then, realizing that it was not just the priest's hot cum he felt continuing to slide down his thighs. That in fact his first impression of feeling split in two was likely more accurate than he had thought. Mama wrapped an arm around him tightly, using her considerable strength to hold him up while moving him to the Executive Chair to sit.

"Still feeling faint? No? Good...if you should start to again put your head down between your knees."

Going to the door she summoned a passing 'butler'. "Go to the Medical Room - see if Fleur and Dr. Morrisette are still there and bring them both here immediately."

Coming back into the room she opened a drawer of the desk, groping in the back for the bottle of bourbon and glasses stashed there. "Tea might be better for you in the long run Curtis, but this may be more restorative." She poured a healthy two fingers in both glasses handing one to him and draining the other. The old priest continued to grovel on the floor but she had ignored him since her first expostulation.

"I'm sorry, Mistress. I had no idea this would happen, that he would react this way, it all happened so fast...."

"Curtis, sweetheart, you have no need to apologize. YOU have done nothing to be ashamed of and you have certainly never abused MY trust or the rules of this house!"

Fleur and the 'doctor' entered at this point. Curtis wasn't sure of the doctor's actual credentials, any more than he was of the Monsignor's, but Mama had referred to him as 'Doctor' so he would give him the benefit of the doubt. Fleur had dropped to her knees at Mama's feet on entering the room, but her Mistress had simply petted her briefly and sent her to sit by Curtis. She was now nestled between Curtis knees, watching the proceedings with her green eyes wide with curiosity. Mama murmured briefly to the Doctor who had promptly come to Curtis side, checking his pulse and color. Having him stand and lean over the desk briefly he announced -

"A small fissure only. The bleeding has nearly stopped now and there should be no permanent damage."

Then speaking more directly to Curtis, "I'd advise a soft diet, high in fiber for the next few days to allow the tear to heal completely. No heavy lifting. I'll prescribe some stool softeners and whatever you do don't strain with movements or you'll break it open again."

"Thank you Glenn" Mama said. "I trust you'll keep this..."

"Under my hat, Madam, as always!" Nodding toward the sniveling cleric he asked, "Do you want something to help calm him?"

"Only temporarily, Glenn. He wants punishment...he should be fully conscious during it."

"I'll send someone back with something for him then." Pausing briefly to stroke Fleur's hair back and away from her face he bent and kissed her lightly on the forehead, "Thank you for your assistance with my research, child. It's always such a joy to see you and work with you..."

Picking the cincture cord up from where it lay on the floor Mama doubled it thoughtfully in her hands, walking around the desk to an upholstered wing chair in the corner, carefully avoiding the grasping hands of the priest, still weeping and muttering prayers. She was dressed all in burgundy red today a lace up the front corset with built in shelf bra that supported and exposed her coffee brown nipples, burgundy lace, finger-less gloves and dark red lace-topped stockings made to stay up without garters with burgundy mules completed her ensemble. Unlike so many of her staff she had a neatly trimmed and groomed thatch of pubic hair. Her nail and lip color matched the rich burgundy red of her corset today and the cane she carried was topped with a large, dragon head carved of red soapstone.

Settling back in the wing chair she snapped her fingers once -

"Fleur, another bourbon please."

Curtis reflected that she was always unfailingly polite, saying please and thank you - as though, he thought, any of them would dare to deny her a demand. Wondering momentarily what might happen to anyone foolish enough to do so, remembering with a thrill his first meeting and interview when she had spanked and fucked him so thoroughly and thinking perhaps he needed to risk saying no again at some point. No, he decided - no point risking what he'd found, and it wasn't, he thought, as though he hadn't had plenty of rewarding spankings and fuckings since moving in. No, he'd grown to love this job and the people - Mama and Fleur were his family now, in ways his own father never had been.

Fleur had moved from between his feet to the desk, accurately pouring another two fingers into Mama's glass and taking it to her. Mama, meanwhile had draped one leg over the arm of the chair and was absently fingering herself, staring thoughtfully at the Monsignor's grovelling form. Fleur slid between her Mistress' silk and lace clad thighs, her face pressed to the older woman's crotch. In the quiet of the room, Curtis could hear the wet sounds of her lapping at Mama's cunt, even over the sound of the priest's continued tears and prayers.

Watching her curiously, Curtis was surprised to note that his Mistress, still thoughtfully staring into space, seemed as indifferent to Fleur's attentions as she was to the sniveling priest, crouched abjectly in the middle of the floor. A quiet knock on the door announced a butler carrying a tray, and a rather stern looking woman dressed in a two sizes too small, old fashioned nurses' uniform with white, button down shirt, skirt and white nursing cap. Her breasts seemed ready to explode from the tightly buttoned top and the skirt barely covered the garter tabs holding her white stockings in place. She seemed, however, to know the basic mechanics, lifting the back of the Monsignor's cassock and summarily yanking his trousers down. She swabbed his ass with something before sticking him with the needle and depressing the plunger end. That done she handed the syringe back to the butler who left without a word, while she stopped by Curtis side to check his pulse again. Apparently satisfied she patted his shoulder warmly, paused to whisper something in Mama's ear and left. Fleur never stopped tonguing her Mistress' pussy.

As the priests' broken sobbing and prayers dropped to occasional snuffling hiccups and murmurs, Mama patted Fleur on the head -

"Thank you child, that will do for now."

Looking at Curtis she inquired, "How are you feeling now, son? Better?"

In some distress, feeling that perhaps he had failed in expected courtesy to a guest in some way, Curtis went to the side of Mama's chair, his eyes filled with tears. Putting her hand under his chin Mama forced his head up so that she could look him in the eye -

"What's wrong Curtis, my dear?"

Waving in the general direction of the priest, now curled in fetal position on the floor, Curtis said, "I'm so sorry, Mistress. I never meant for THAT to happen. I thought...."

"Yes child, what did you think?"

"I don't know," he exhaled gustily, dropping his head against the arm of the chair. "I guess I thought it was a role play, like all the others I've seen today. I just....feel responsible somehow."

Cupping his chin and forcing his head up again, Mama shook her head firmly, the silver lock of hair at her brow catching the light and flashing around her head. "You are NOT to blame for any of this Curtis. For some, RP...role play, is more serious than others - more a part of the framework of their lives. If anyone is to blame, then I am to blame for misunderstanding how deeply the Monsignor's 'quirks' lie within his psyche."

At that both he and Fleur shook their heads vehemently, their Mistress finally smiling at their disagreement.

Tsk-ing at them both she said, "No arguments now, or Mama will have to spank."

Seeing the glimmer in Curtis' eye she stroked his cheek, "Not tonight sweet boy. My sweet sissy has to heal a little before Mama can 'punish' him for arguing. But let's see if we can't find some other way of enjoying ourselves, shall we? First though, Mama has to take care of that." She waved expressively toward the priest - usually so coolly immaculate and stern - now tousled and torn, his blood and cum smeared dick still hanging from the front of his robes and his red face liberally smeared with tears and snot.

Rising from the chair she took the cincture cord she still held, loosely knotting it around the Monsignor's thin wrists. Nudging him with the toe of her shoe she commanded -

"Get up!"

He tried to obey, stumbling once or twice on the hem of his cassock before finally attaining his feet. As he stood there swaying, his fumbling hands reached to stuff himself back into his pants and Mama slapped him so hard it rocked him on his feet, the imprint of her hand bright on the pale skin of his cheek.

"Did I TELL you to cover yourself?"

"N-n-n-no!" he stammered.

She hit him again, back-handing him across the other cheek.

"Did I give you permission to SPEAK?"

He shook his head dumbly this time, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth where he'd apparently bitten his cheek or tongue when she hit him.

Glancing at Curtis and Fleur where they stood together holding hands, Mama gave the rope in her hands a sharp tug, "All right then, children, come along..."

She marched out the door, the disheveled cleric stumbling behind her with his dick flopping at every step, Curtis and Fleur bringing up the rear. Curtis was quite self-conscious of his appearance. Pantiless with cum and apparently blood smeared around his backside and possibly down his thighs he felt as though everyone must be pointing and whispering about him. He was unsurprised at one point to look back and discover a small crowd trailing them as they descended the winding staircase into the basement areas of the house. Fleur, naked as always, tossed her hair back over her shoulders and took his hand again. In that moment, her courage covering him like a blanket, Curtis fell quite helplessly in love with the petite red-head. Submissive or not, Curtis realized, in her own way she was as strong, spirited and courageous as Mama and he wondered again if they were really mother and daughter, or like he and his Mistress, no blood relation at all.

Arriving at last in the "grandstand" area of the main cellar, Mama let the cord fall from her hands, a one word command whipping through the air, as people silently filled the bleacher-type seats -

"Strip!"

Curtis felt confused for a moment, but Fleur gave him a miniscule shake of her head, following the older woman to the deep sink area, where she already had water running. Following the two women Curtis realized they were preparing an enema bag. Warm water with a heavy concentration of castile soap filled the sink and Mama filled the heavy bag, clamping off the hose end before hoisting it from the sink. Curtis moved to take it from her but she said quietly -

"Not this time, sweet boy. No heavy lifting remember?"

He shook his head and flushed, chagrined, but Mama ran a finger lightly over his lips, then down to his groin to cup and fondle his balls briefly. She muscled the heavy bag onto the wheeled stand and Fleur took it to where the priest was still standing, hands cupped over his genitals. Looking at the priest in some disgust she shook her head.

"Are you deaf now too? I said STRIP! I won't tell you again..."

He lifted his hands to his mouth to work the knots loose and the braided rope fell at his feet. He began unbuttoning his robe with shaking hands. Mama meanwhile turned her back on him to prepare other aspects of his forthcoming punishment. Opening the cabinet holding the various whips, paddles and crops authorized for use in the house, she fingered several items lightly before finally settling on a light, wicked looking riding crop. She'd used the wider crop on him once and he had to admit it was quite effective - the metal core giving it quite a bit of spring. But while it had stung and reddened his ass, this little thing looked like it could cut and hurt and he wondered if that was her true intent.

Another cabinet held various dildos, vibrators, harnesses, as well as an assortment of cock-cages. Those members of the audience who knew the contents of the various cabinets and dressers in the room sighed in appreciation of the implements she took. The cock-cage was built to hold both cock and balls, tightly compressed, with no allowance for erection, and in fact had some painful spines built into the interior of the cage which would make an erection quite excruciating. Additionally, his Mistress held a harness, built to hold various interchangeable dildos - although he would guess it had never been intended to hold the thing that Mama handed him.

The artificial horse-cock in every way resembled the stallions it was patterned after, as long and big around as his forearm it was made of firm, black silicon. Curtis noticed several women, and a few men watching who were so aroused by the sight that they were playing with themselves or each other. He wasn't sure what Mama had in mind, but he was glad he wasn't the one being punished. He knew for a fact the damn thing would have torn his ass apart under the present circumstances.

Spinning the older man around and shoving him toward the wall, Mama gestured to Curtis to handcuff him with the manacles hanging above his head. Fleur appeared, as if by magic, with a spreader bar and the two of them shackled the priest's ankles into it. Mama, stepped up to face him -

"So priest," her voice dripped with contempt, "you think you have the right to come into my house and abuse my staff?"

He shook his head, tears starting to fall again.

"Speak. You think you have the right to abuse MY people?"

"N-n-noo!" he wailed.

Gripping his balls and cock in one hand she twisted hard. The priest screamed. A high-pitched scream as much from terror as from pain at this point but his knees went weak and he hung limply from the wrist manacles.

"No WHAT?" Her voice cracked through the room.

"N-n-noo M-m-mistress!"

She nodded thoughtfully, "But you have the right to beat, verbally abuse and RAPE my sweet son?"

The priest's only answer was to piss himself from fear. Mama nodded sharply to two of the heavily muscled, hooded "butlers" standing by the doorway, and although Curtis didn't understand how they knew what she wanted from them the two went to a back room, bringing out a well padded pommel horse - just like those seen in any gymnasium in the world. They muscled the heavy piece over the brick and tile rim Curtis had built up around the drain areas. At another nod from his Mistress they loosened the Monsignor's hands from the manacles, bending him over the end of the 'horse' and cuffing his hands round the pommel. The old priest's lean white ass clenched and flexed with shame and fear but Curtis noticed with some fascination that his cock was starting to grow again. A murmured command from Mama sent Fleur scurrying to lock the cock and ball cage on and the cleric seemed to flinch away, as much from Fleur's feminine touch, as from the pain of the cage itself.

The snap of latex gloves being pulled on drew Curtis attention back to where Mama stood next to the pole holding the heavy enema bag. Her heels clicking sharply on the cement floor, and the squeak of the wheels as she moved the pole closer to the old man were the only sounds in the room. The horse had been positioned in such a way that the 'audience' of party-goers all had a clear view of the proceedings, as Mama bent and pried his ass cheeks apart with one hand. A collective sigh seemed to be exhaled from the on-lookers when his puckered brown anus came into view. Snapping the fingers of her free hand resulted in Fleur placing the nozzle and a generous loop of hose in her hand, the clamp within reach of her fingers.

As casually as if she did it every day Mama slid the nozzle into the older man's rectum, thumb compressing the clamp to release the flow of warm, soapy liquid into his bowels. Fleur stood by, ready to compress the bag with her hands, forcing the fluid out faster if desired. Mama strolled back to the cabinet, pulling out a large sized anal plug, bulb shaped with a large flange and loop. Walking back to the priest she stuck it in his face commanding -

"Suck this!"

The old man was pale faced and sweating profusely now from the cramping pain of his bowels. He sucked the butt plug like an over large pacifier, but when Mama pulled it from his mouth she sneered disdainfully -

"One way or another, this IS going in your ass - you might want to put a little more saliva on it."

Curtis wondered if she knew how hard it was to manufacture saliva when you were scared - how true the old saying about being "scared spit-less" was - then realized she most likely did and her torture of the old priest was likely to be as intensely psychological as it was physical. He still thought she was over-reacting though and didn't understand why. He wasn't that badly hurt. He'd be fine in a few days, the doctor had said so. He'd even enjoyed it at the last - that old man knew how to fuck, priest or not.

While he stood pondering, Mama had removed the nozzle, still flowing, from the priest's ass. Soapy water squirted from the tip over his ass and down his legs but nothing leaked from the tight pucker of his anus. Pulling the plug from between his lips again Mama leisurely, but steadily and with some force pushed it into his anus. It was a large plug, bigger than those Curtis normally took and he was somewhat surprised when the tissues parted and the bulb disappeared, leaving only the flange and loop in evidence. The Monsignor was making faces and noises like a fish out of water now, alternately gulping, swallowing and panting heavily, and his skin looked greasy under the overhead lights.

"Now then," Mama's strident tones echoed through the cement halls of the old house's cellars, the tap of the riding crop against her leg, punctuating her sentences.

"We're going to have a 'little chat'." She announced, and the Monsignor groaned, the muscles of his ass working against his discomfort. "Those of you in this room who know me well understand why the rules of this house - MY HOUSE," and she lashed out with the crop against the back of the Monsignor's thighs, raising a tight red welt in the tender skin.

"Why these rules are the way the are - why they have been so as long as there has been a 'Mama's House', and why they WILL be enforced!"

Again she lashed out, fast as a striking snake, and a thin bloody line appeared along the crease of the old man's buttocks. If not for the spreader bar he'd have danced in pain, but he howled loud and long until Mama slapped the riding crop on the leather of the 'horse' mere inches from his nose. He went nearly cross-eyed at that but shut his mouth with a sharp click of his teeth. His skin was shuddering now - like a horse in fly-time Curtis thought absently - and you could smell the fear-stink on him.