Consorts for Ladies Ch. 02

(Contains depictions of crossdressing, male chastity, bondage, cunnilingus, analingus, tongue piercing, and otk spanking. This story takes place in a universe where reverse-traditional gender roles are the norm, so be aware that it will not show feminization as a process. For the reading pleasure of interested adults only.)

***

Sir Elizabeth woke with her arm draped across the width of the luxuriously oversized bed she had been assigned at Heartgarden castle.

Registering the empty space beside her, she pushed herself upright, hoping to catch Gabriel, her new trial consort, in the act of performing his morning routine like an earthly human being.

As always, she was too late, and he responded to the sound of her movement by stepping out of the attached bathing room as if he were stepping out of a painting.

"Good morning, my lady," he smiled warmly. "I hope you slept well."

His corset was cinched tight, his lace stockings protected from the stone floor by high-heeled slippers, his lips and cheeks brightened with a tasteful hint of rouge. The only visible "imperfections" were the intentional ones he maintained at all hours, the slightly overgrown eyebrows and daringly loose curtain of hair under a thin crown of simple braids.

The man was either clairvoyant or barely slept. In the week since Elizabeth had claimed him, she had woken as late as nine and as early as six with the same results.

She wasn't certain if his morning precision was simply a habit borne of his strict Heartgarden training -- even the most rebellious of their certified aspirants were still among the most refined potential consorts in the world -- or if he was making an extra effort to convince her to keep him.

If it was all for her benefit, perhaps she should suggest that he linger in bed with her a while, and then let her help him with his corset strings before he needed to be presentable to anyone else.

Then again, she supposed the extra lounging time might not be as pleasant for him as it would be for her, with his chastity belt holding his cock safely down and out of the way of anything that might tarnish his value to a discerning lady.

Elizabeth adjusted the silver chain around her neck, working out the tangles it had acquired during the night, and closed her hand around the key that hung from it.

The thrill of its presence had not faded for her, and by the way Gabriel's eyes followed her fingers, full of both mischievous longing and embarrassed glee, the same seemed to be true for him.

"I..." he looked away with a soft giggle. "I believe breakfast will be served in the lavender room shortly. Though I can of course fetch something if you'd prefer to stay here."

"No," said Elizabeth, pushing the blankets aside. "I'll get dressed."

As tempting as it was to spend the whole day alone with Gabriel, talking, reading to each other, enjoying his extraordinary massages, she had already given in to that temptation twice this week. Assuming she selected him as her permanent consort at the end of the season -- a decision she was finding increasingly difficult to pretend she hadn't already made -- there would be plenty of days to spend that way.

Wintering at the Heartgarden, on the other hand, was something she would likely do just once in her life. She did not mean to miss the experience, nor seem an ungrateful guest.

#

"...And at eight, an ensemble of aspirants will be presenting a performance of 'Taming Patrick,'" Headmistress Jane was in the middle of reciting the day's itinerary, when Elizabeth entered the lavender drawing room, with Gabriel on her arm.

Most of the other ladies were lounging on sofas, enjoying plates from the breakfast buffet that presently took up two walls of the room.

A few of them shot glances at Elizabeth when she selected a scone for herself and motioned for Gabriel to help himself as he pleased.

Elizabeth was still the only guest to have claimed a trial consort. She had the right to invite Gabriel to share her company in the guest activities if it pleased her, but at present it made him the only aspirant eating among the ladies.

Gabriel plated himself a few boiled eggs and picked at them self-consciously.

"We also have twelve infractions currently in need of correction," Jane continued, "if any of you ladies would be willing to contribute your services."

She unfurled a scroll and set it hanging on a wrought iron stand for the ladies' perusal.

All ladies invited to the Heartgarden were required to step in and handle disciplinary issues that arose suddenly among the aspirants while there were no trainers present. They were also expected to assist with the trainers' overall workload, administering routine corrections.

The trainers were more than capable, of course, but the idea was for the aspirants to grow accustomed to receiving discipline from new hands, and for the ladies to have the opportunity to practice before taking a consort home, with experts nearby to answer their questions.

Elizabeth had not yet participated, and she skimmed the scroll now with more obligation than interest, finding most of the usual nonsense.

Marcus -- Uncleanliness, moderate, occasional. Day-old stubble found on legs, underarms, and neck.

Charles -- Presumption, mild, unusual. Sitting without permission, extenuating circumstances present.

Tristan -- Pride, moderate, unusual. Boasting of superior crochet skills.

Then her eyes lit upon a meatier line.

Christopher -- Tactlessness, severe, recurrent. Speaking ill of fellow aspirant, Daisy.

"What did he say?" Elizabeth asked, pointing.

Jane checked her notes. "Something to the effect that he pitied her, being too feeble to make an adequate woman, but that he felt it gave her no right to intrude on the domain of gentlemen with her..." Jane adjusted her glasses and squinted, "...grotesque mimicry."

"I'll do it," Elizabeth volunteered.

Gabriel turned his head sharply toward her, beginning to raise one of his unfashionably strong eyebrows, but quickly returned his attention to his plate, before Jane could notice his reaction.

Elizabeth couldn't guess the reason for his sudden distress, and didn't dare ask him here. She put a hand on his shoulder and gently stroked the back on his neck in the way that usually seemed to calm him.

Like Gabriel, Elizabeth found herself at odds with the Heartgarden's code as often as not. Opportunities to fit in were rarely as appealing as this one.

She had no interest in whipping some poor aspirant for failing to notice a hole in his stockings, but Daisy was a darling, and Elizabeth rather admired the boldness of the choice she'd made, claiming the role she wanted, without regard for who else might consider it odd or beneath them.

Daisy was currently the only fully qualified female aspirant in the whole Heartgarden, and Elizabeth couldn't imagine her ever doing anything to anyone that would justify Christopher's rudeness.

"Very well," Jane agreed, disconnecting one of the largest keys from the vast collection that always hung from her hip, and handing it to Elizabeth. "Have Christopher ready in the east courtyard in, let's say, an hour. Given the nature of the transgression and mandatory penalty, all other ladies are, of course, invited to attend at their leisure."

#

When Elizabeth started down the narrow spiral stone staircase into Castle Heartgarden's dungeons, Gabriel walked behind her in silence.

This was normal behavior for aspirants in general, but not for Gabriel when the two of them were alone. Elizabeth had given him more blanket permissions than she was really allowed to, and she'd grown attached to him taking liberties with her, trusting her to keep them private.

The sudden return to complete formality was rather lonely.

"You still have permission to speak your mind in my presence," Elizabeth reminded him.

"Thank you, my lady," Gabriel acknowledged, but said no more.

"Are you feeling protective of Christopher?"

"No," Gabriel answered with an emphatic laugh. "Christopher is the only person in the whole castle who lives up to his idea of what this place is supposed to be. For every tactless thing he's caught saying about the other aspirants, he gets away with ten more. It's past time he incurred more serious correction."

"Then why are you bothered that I volunteered to help?"

Gabriel's shoulders were high and tense. "I am not bothered, my lady."

"I did not give you special permission to lie to me," Elizabeth reminded him.

Gabriel sighed and drooped, running his hand along the stone wall as they descended. "It seems painfully obvious to me," he said haltingly. "So much that it's difficult to say aloud."

"Well, it's not obvious to me," said Elizabeth.

"You've repeatedly refused my offer to assist with certain of your needs," said Gabriel. "As is your right, of course. But to refuse me and then agree to this... it feels like a deliberate snub."

"Wait." Elizabeth stopped on the stairs. "What does the one thing have to do with the other?"

Gabriel gaped at her for several seconds. Then, a smile of understanding crept through his annoyance, thinning but not dissipating it.

"You have no idea what the penalty is for recurrent tactlessness, do you?" he asked.

Elizabeth put a hand to the ever-present satchel on her hip and smiled back sheepishly, caught once again for the outsider she was. "I was going to check the rulebook before we got there. Until your sour mood distracted me."

Gabriel shook his head, tossing a lock of hair behind him. "Come on, turn left at the bottom of the stairs. I'll help you prepare your kit for him. What would you do without me?"

#

The dungeon tack room was larger than any of the parlors or drawing rooms above, and filled with a maze of wooden shelves lined with all manner of restraints and tools of torture.

Elizabeth could make neither heads nor tails of most of it, and there were a few pieces, like the basket of branding irons near the door, that she shuddered to imagine in use on a human being.

Still, there were others that intrigued her. She would have denied it, even to herself, had she been brought down here on her first day at the castle. Such thoughts were easier to think now that she had confessed her enjoyment of having Gabriel under lock and key, and learned that he found perverse enjoyment in it too.

"What rule would you have to break to earn an encounter with this fascinating contraption?" she asked playfully, running her fingers along the armrest of an oversized chair covered all over with differently sized marble pegs, just the right shape to slide into a misbehaving aspirant's anal passage. "And how much encouragement would you require to break it for me?"

A harness and pulley system hanging above the seat looked designed for a trainer or lady to raise and lower the subject onto different parts of the chair with pinpoint precision.

The wicked image of Gabriel, held in literal and figurative suspense, cock straining for unattainable freedom, while Elizabeth decided how far to stretch his bare ass on his next securely controlled drop, melted away when the real Gabriel glanced back at her.

Elizabeth watched him closely, hoping to learn whether the idea excited him, frightened him, or both. He staunchly refused her any hints, keeping his face impassive except for his restrained annoyance. After only a second, he returned to filling a large sack with the items she would need for the task she had agreed to.

"Read your book, my lady," he suggested, pushing the kit sack into her hands. "May I be excused? I would not place more demands on your attention while it will be so intensely needed elsewhere."

A falling feeling painted itself around Elizabeth's heart.

"You are welcome to observe," she said. "You did say you were anticipating Christopher's comeuppance."

"Forgive me, my lady. I feel unwell."

He made a token fanning motion toward his neck, though he looked neither flushed nor pallid, in no obvious danger of fainting.

"Of course," said Elizabeth.

#

When Elizabeth dropped the heavy sack of materials on the stones in front of Christopher's holding cell, he sprang up from the cot inside and hurried to re-fasten the front clasps of his open corset.

Once his proper shape was restored, he reached to toss his silk gown back on over his underclothes.

"You won't need that today," Elizabeth reminded him.

Christopher paused a moment, overcoming some manner of resistance inside himself, and draped the dress neatly back over the end of the cot. "Yes, my lady."

His wavy, light brown hair was still in yesterday's braid, the color faded from his lips and cheeks.

Still, he did the best he could under the circumstances to look the part of a polished consort, curtseying in his plain linen chemise and settling into his tall, graceful dancer's stance, hands folded on one hip. The illusion of a refined gentleman was so strong that it was hard to imagine that those horrible words about Daisy had come out of that sweet face.

"Do you understand why you're scheduled to be punished today?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, my lady. My apologies. I was surly from my weekly extraction yesterday, and spoke out of turn."

"Your extraction?" Elizabeth repeated. This was not among the excuses she'd been expecting. "You mean to tell me your judgement was compromised because your little jewels were too empty, rather than too full? Contrary to all known theory on masculine humors?"

"The emptying process..." Christopher paused. "The method used to keep us chaste is painful, my lady."

"Ah." That helped explain the timing of his outburst, and his choice of target. "You were jealous of Daisy's lack of seed buildup? Would you prefer the pain of a monthly hemorrhaging gut wound?"

"No, my lady," Christopher shook his head. "I meant no disrespect to the fortitude of women, and all they endure to provide us with soft, gentlemanly lives. Quite the opposite. To tell truth, I had drunk too much while keeping Lady Mary company--"

"I take it you are not guilty of dishonesty in addition to tactlessness," Elizabeth let her disappointment show in her voice. "Drunks are notorious for sharing their most sincerely held horrible notions."

"I... I expressed myself very poorly, my lady," said Christopher.

"What was it you were trying to express?"

"Only that... only that a woman should be strong."

"Why?"

Christopher looked confused. "...My lady?"

"Why should a woman be strong?" Elizabeth pushed him. "Because you prefer us that way? Do you believe your fellow consorts, like Daisy, are here to serve you?"

"No, my lady!"

"Do you believe the entire world should revolve around what makes you swoon?"

"No, my lady."

"Yet your tactlessness seems to stem from placing excessive value on your own preferences. I have half a mind to find you guilty of selfishness."

"It was not only my preferences I was expressing," Christopher protested. "I believe... I believe disgust is a common reaction to behavior like Daisy's!"

Angry bile rose in Elizabeth's throat. A fat lot this posturing ninny knew about causes for disgust.

"Not as common as you'd like," she pointed out. "If everyone felt the same way about Daisy, you would have no reason to find her as threatening as you do."

Christopher looked to the floor.

"My lady, would you... may I ask, will you--"

"Are you trying to express another preference without expressing it?" Elizabeth asked.

"I suppose so, my lady," Christopher admitted.

"Get it over with, then," said Elizabeth. "You have permission to tell me what it is."

"I would like to proceed with the correction, as soon as is acceptable to you."

"In other words, you'd like me to take your mouth away from you before it can get you in even more trouble."

"Yes, my lady."

"Well," she smiled, with disgust lingering at the back of her throat. "At least it's an intelligent request."

Elizabeth opened the kit sack and pulled out the heavy, iron manacles for Christopher's ankles, wrists, and neck.

"Put them on and turn around," she instructed, passing them through to him.

Christopher obeyed and stood with his back to the bars, hands behind him, manacles loosely closed in all the right places.

Elizabeth fitted the fastenings together, and threaded a heavy chain through them to trap them shut.

With Christopher certain not to run, she took the large key Jane had given her from her pocket and unlocked the door to his cell. Taking hold of the loose lengths of chain hanging from his neck and ankles, she led him up the dungeon stairs and out into the east courtyard.

Christopher shuffled his shackled feet along in sensible silence, though Elizabeth did not fail to note the sulky tone of his posture.

#

The east courtyard, presently deserted in spite of the lovely angle of the morning light, had for its centerpiece an ancient oak tree. This tree was the reason it was favored for the particular brand of discipline Christopher's infraction required.

Elizabeth led him out to the tree and looped the ends of his chain around one of the lower boughs for temporary safekeeping. She pulled the pair of scissors Gabriel had packed out of the bag, took hold of the skirt of Christopher's chemise, and cut it off in rough sections, just below his corset, to display his chastity belt, with his delicate testicles and the very tip of his confined penis poking out in the open air.

Picking up the chain again, she wrapped it around the trunk of the tree and latched the ends together, far out of his reach

The tree's width took up almost all of the slack on the chain, forcing the three sets of manacles closer together.

Half-naked in his corset and lace stockings, Christopher knelt in the dirt in front of the tree, with his hands pinned to his ankles behind him, and his neck pulled back toward them, so that his back arched and his chin turned toward the sky.

"What is your mouth for?" Elizabeth read out of the book.

"For bringing delight to others, and to my true lady above all," Christopher recited with obvious practice.

"What additional privileges have you been permitted to use it for?"

"For eating, and for speaking words of my own selection."

"And what is it most certainly not for?"

Christopher sighed. "Causing discord or distress."

"Do you understand that you have the right to forfeit your position as an eligible aspiring consort at this time, leave the Heartgarden without further correction, and return to where you came from?"

"Yes, my lady."

"And do you understand that if you choose to stay, your mouth will be put to work and stripped of its privileges for twelve hours, and then permanently modified to better serve its primary function?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Open it, if you wish to remain an aspirant in good standing."

Christopher spread his jaws wide. Elizabeth pulled the correction gag from her kit sack, and eased it into place.

Much like the chastity belts the aspirants wore, the gag was made up of a sturdy plate of metal with a hole in the middle. The edges of the hole curled up sharply, like the neck of a bottle, and it was this hollow protrusion that fit between Christopher's teeth.

Once Elizabeth had pulled the chains on the sides of the gag tight at the nape of his neck, and fastened them there with a padlock, there was no way he could close his mouth, or push the intruding metal out of it.

The key, she threaded onto her necklace, letting it hang next to the one for Gabriel's chastity belt.