Rumpus Room

"Oh, it's just a room," said Lady Cynthia airily to the visiting party of schoolgirls, "something the old Duke dreamt up."

She breezed on down the corridor anxious to show the old-fashioned bathroom she was sure would interest and amuse the girls a lot more - a lot more appropriately to her mind. Well, possibly. The enormous bath on its claw feet, the big taps, the black and white chequered tiling and, of course, the rather magnificent 'throne' with its high cistern and chain.

Natalie hung back. A stocky lass with solid thighs and breasts to match. The old Duke would have described her as 'black as the Ace of Spades' - not a phrase much heard these days. He would also have been very appreciative. He liked strong thighs. He liked girls to put up a bit of a fight. Even so, what with old Alfred the butler and Lady Cynthia to subdue the girl, there would not have been too much contest.

Lady Cynthia was rather protective about the old boy, the old Duke and his memory. Her marriage to his eldest son, Lord Molebury, had been a success, not least in the marriage being fruitful as the present young duke was clear evidence; but Lady Cynthia's fondness for the old Duke, her father-in-law had taken an unusual turn. Lord Molebury had not been interested in leather, whips and ropes. Lady Cynthia, on the other hand, was more than interested and it was not long before, dressed in soft black leather and with her hands securely tied, she had felt the firm flesh of the old Duke in many places. Indeed, had been roundly spanked by it -- and several other penises besides in that 'Rumpus Room.'

She had soon discovered it was not just pleasurable to be on the receiving end, have the leather pulled aside and a man or men's penises pushed within whilst she lay panting and helpless, but it was pleasurable to tie men and especially women tightly and undertake very sexual acts often involving strap-on appendages and gags with penis shapes without and within.

Her sex life with her husband was by contrast so normal. A fantasy of chiffon, rose and petticoats. Lord Molebury had revelled in feminine frippery, delighting in his wife wearing the most feminine of underwear, or rather partially wearing it upon the big bed in their room.

How often had she arisen as Lord Molebury fell asleep beside her, him tired after sexual intercourse and slipped out of their door and along the long corridors to the 'Rumpus Room' to exchange her silken nightdress, which Lord Molebury had so revelled in, drawing it up her body, to be replaced by very different garments or leather strapwork. How often had the old duke achieved what her husband seemed to fail to give her -- orgasm. How often had she dripped the warm seed Lord Molebury had placed within her onto the open lips of some servant girl the old boy had found or borrowed from a friend? How often might she have taken a similar draught, perhaps the old duke's or maybe one or several of his many friends directly or via the medium of such a servant girl? Yes, licked from the servant girl's sex where it had been deposited not long before. How often might she have pummelled a girl with a dildo strapped to her pelvis and forced her into orgasm where the old duke or one of his older or even young friends had failed by releasing his semen too early.

Well she remembered pushing open that door, that door to the Duke's special room and been greeted by more than one naked and tumescent man. She, fresh from her husband's bed, to be the helpless plaything of several, perhaps even as many as five aroused and capable men. All those lovely and so hard pintles. She could cope back then. Bound, gagged and roughly used before going late back to her marital bed, dripping with semen and thoroughly satiated, back in the frippery of her silken nightdress.

How she had enjoyed comforting a sweet young thing one afternoon whilst Lord Molebury had been away, telling her all would be fine as she gradually undressed her, putting kisses to her lips and then elsewhere before binding the girl helpless in the way the old Duke so enjoyed. His cock had been so hard, so very firm, at the sight as the sweet young thing was presented to him.

Sometimes she might even be the cause, sort of, of their undoing. She inserting the old Duke's or maybe another man's penis into the girl, perhaps stoppering her cries with another man's cock. Gagging the girl with a cock. What a thing! The old Duke would so have enjoyed that lovely black girl. Stoppering her.

Her memories flowed. That time she had been trussed and spanked by that handsome young man and his sister. That had been most unusual. And then it had been her turn the night after. Two upturned pink bottoms to redden... and more.

Of all this Lord Molebury had not the slightest intimation. Had no idea of his darling wife walking along the corridor from their room on so many nights, her naked feet on the carpets, her nightdress flowing and to knock and enter her father in law's bedchamber and find him with his cock so hard; and for Lord Molebury's so dear wife then to fall to her knees and suck, even as Lord Molebury's spunk ran down her thighs. Or a walk to the Rumpus Room unsure what, or rather who she would find. Just the old Duke or rather more? Maybe a double brace of penises with their men attached.

Natalie watched her friends disappear down the corridor, the sound of the old woman's voice -- Lady Cynthia was it -- fading. She had been fairly bored by the whole outing. Uninterested in old houses and talk of family ancestors and so on. All that nonsense about the family coat of arms and its shield. Heraldry! Why would that old bird have thought anyone was interested in that? What was it she had said -- 'the shield is charged with a argent stag rampant guardant on an azure field with two balls or.' Sounded very like a big prick with golden balls to Natalie. Balls indeed - to her mind! But 'Rumpus Room' -- what was that? It intrigued her and she intended to find out. A mistake of course, but how was she to know that? Her hand clasped the brass knob of the door and turned. It was not locked, a quick push at the door and she slipped between the gap between door and jamb -- she was inside. She heard a chuckle and then she passed out.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Natalie opened her eyes, and found, looking down at her, an aged gentleman and a young woman; the woman looking, perhaps, no definitely and remarkably, like a younger version of that old woman who had been showing her friends and Natalie around the old house, Lady Cynthia wasn't it?

"What lovely skin, don't you agree, so dark and exotic. I shall enjoy..."

Natalie felt it was time to speak but, before she could, she found herself being gagged by the woman, a cloth gag pulled tightly between her lips and being tied around her head. Natalie struggled to her feet, her hand reaching the edge of a table for support but, disorientated and before she could locate the door, her hands were firmly grasped and tied behind her back. The door, the substantial wooden door with the brass knob she had come in by swam into view. It afforded no escape; with hands now secured behind her, there was no way she could turn the knob, no way she could open the door. Nobody stopped her trying to get to it but with gagged mouth and hands unavailable she could do little more than bang herself uselessly against the wood. The door was clearly thick and very solid. Escape was there if only she could turn the knob.

"Let the dear girl see what awaits her."

Natalie slowly turned and watched in disbelief as the young woman's hands went to the fly of the old boy's trousers. Surely not...

But yes, the woman's hands were sure. They had clearly unbuttoned tweed trousers before. Unbuttoned and opened. And what she extracted Natalie had not seen the like before. Well used to the cocks of black boys, long like salami, swinging this way and that, she was unprepared for her first sight of such a cock. It stood, which was just not how the cocks she was used to presented themselves, not an overheavy baton that needed supporting, but a cock that stood upright all by itself. Rigidly upright. The old boy's penis curved upwards at forty-five degrees, rather than hanging weighty and swinging, reaching up to a pale pink bulb with a remarkably purple band at the edge of the 'helmet.' Neither as thick nor as long as the boys she was used to but exuding authority and self-assuredness. Rigid and military in its stiff formality and rigidity. Natalie was captivated.

The young woman's hands were at Natalie's uniform blazer, the detested uniform, even at eighteen, she still had to wear, drawing it from her, off her shoulders and down her arms further encumbering her. It could not be removed with her hands tied. It was wrapped around her arms. The woman reached for the crisp whiteness of her uniform blouse, white buttons down its front beneath her school uniform tie. Was she to be undressed? Or at least partly? What was happening to her? Was she being prepared for the old boy's pleasure? It could not be. It just could not be. She was on a school trip. It was difficult to think. Though, the preparation was anything but... Her protests, her cries rendered silent by the gag. A hint of sound escaping -- the sound 'Mmpph!'

The tie loosened, one, two, three buttons of her blouse undone and then beneath the hanging tie, the woman inserted her slender hand, fingers slipping within the cup of her brassiere, sliding over the skin of her breast and moulding it within the cup, holding it. No woman had done that before, Natalie felt her nipple harden within the woman's palm.

"You have very firm legs, a lot of muscle there." The woman was feeling her beneath her skirt, her hand grasping her thigh through the pleats of her skirt. "I expect you can run fast. We couldn't catch you if you could run; not, with your hands tied and your blazer trailing, would be anything like an easy matter."

Natalie felt her knees giving way, she slumping downwards onto them, the woman's hands coming from her skirt to steady her. She felt funny. She heard the woman say, "we would have to send young men after you, keen, virile young men, to bring you back for -- this!"

Roughly the young woman turned Natalie's head and there right before her, close to her face, filling her vision, the old boy's pink and purple knob, swollen and ready for business, a drop of wetness showing at its dimpled peak. It came forward, becoming blurry as she felt its tip touch her gag. Would it make it wet? Would it make the gag wet? Her head swam and Natalie again lost consciousness.

Natalie was found on the floor of the room. Had she fainted? It seemed so: there she was sprawled on the carpet, legs under her, arms outstretched. Skirt rather rucked up. No furniture close by, no ugly mark or bruise to suggest she had hit her head when falling. Slowly Natalie came to; the teacher trying to encourage away the sea of faces, her classmates floating above her. There too the old woman, Lady Cynthia, a much older version of the young woman who had so recently... yet, now it was nothing like that; Natalie found herself, fully clothed upon on the carpet of the 'Rumpus Room' with even her blazer upon her. Lady Cynthia reached and loosened her top button and tie. Fingers she was sure she had felt before undoing buttons. Those buttons.

In her mind still the sight of the old Duke's cock rampant, its potency palpable. The old Duke? Was that who it had been?

"A touch of the vapours," said Lady Cynthia, "happens to girls I do know. Hormones and heat. They should be careful."

Debbie Collins, the supervising teacher, had a frown on her face. She did not at all like Lady Cynthia's old-fashioned ideas about 'vapours' and girls being prone to fainting and needing to be careful. She expected girls to be as strong and as good as -- no, better than boys -- at everything. 'Vapours' indeed!

Natalie was certainly quiet, unusually quiet for the rest of the day. It was not that she was embarrassed at fainting almost in front of her classmates. The experience, or rather the memory of what she had (... dreamt was it?) kept coming back to her. Not at all good to be gagged and tied; not at all her experience of having a young woman feeling her breasts and thighs, but, but... she had been very 'wet' when she had come to. The experience had been very sexual -- for her -- she had liked the feeling very much. And she could not get the thought of the old Duke's cock out of her mind -- rampant, and so close.

The thoughts preyed on her mind such that she came to the idea and decision she needed to return to the mansion and take another look at that 'Rumpus Room.' What had actually happened? She did not just faint - surely. Once her mind was made up there was not much stopping Natalie. The mansion not that far for a girl with strong athletic thighs and a bicycle.

The road was dark, wet after a short shower of rain, the moon reflecting back at her from the tarmac; through the gates of the hall and up to the dark house. Natalie knew the window she wanted. She found it easily and did not need to find another way in, did not need to try other windows. The sash lifted easily, and she climbed through. Surprising perhaps, or was it intentional? Natalie simply thought it her good luck.

Upon the table, the brightly polished mahogany table she had seen earlier, cleared of everything, was a young man -- a pale skinned boy, perhaps as old as her, possibly a little older -- stark naked and gorgeously erect. The hard and long penis, the nestling balls. Natalie's eyes were wide. She had seen nothing of this from outside, but now inside the room there he was and so, so very much, was his cock. A cock encircled by three bands of gold, one to its base, one halfway up the long shaft and one tightly encircling between knob and shaft. Natalie licked her lips. This was kinky. She liked kinky. The lad was tied, his wrists and ankles well secured at the four corners of the table, spread out, exposed and vulnerable. Even more kinky. Natalie could mount him or squeeze his balls and he could do nothing about it. 'Kinky' didn't have the half of it. What had she found here?

Before she could touch, and she was most certainly minded to reach out and touch, her arms were pinned and her wrists quickly tied. It was as before. She turned her head. It was that woman, only a younger version -- Cynthia was it?

Natalie turned again and there, once more, was the old boy in tweed suiting, just as she had seen, or thought she had seen, that very afternoon, the old boy with the impressively upright cock. It curved upwards, as before, at forty-five degrees to its pink helmet encircled by a really purple band at its flared edge. She had sucked and been ridden by thicker and longer cocks but none so rigidly forward pointing. There was no swing. To her it still seemed to exude authority and self-assuredness.

Pressure on her shoulders forcing her downwards. She was being forced towards the cock. Natalie was not averse to cock sucking -- had she not sucked plenty? Her jersey pulled up over her head momentarily removed the sight of the so firm cock from her view.

She had never sucked one so old. Did the cum taste the same as a boy's? She had had lewd fantasies about old Mr. Henderson, the now retired maths teacher. Had joked and giggled with Annie and other girls. They had made up a lovely, sexy and kinky story. Not the usual one of a fair maiden tied up and ravished by a Sir Jasper. No, about Natalie, Annie and the others tying up Mr. Henderson and forcing him into sex. Keeping him locked away until he had satisfied them all. Forcing him into erection again and again by their bodies and sexual antics. How they had speculated on his cock. Was it big, was it small, did it still work? They liked the idea of forcing it into erection! His naked body and exposed genitalia. Their teacher helpless as they made his penis grow, making it come in front of them all. Old Mr Henderson helplessly ejaculating in front of the girls.

Pressure on the back of her head. Really there was no need. Natalie would have sucked anyway. There was no need to force Natalie's mouth open, no need for her jaw to be forcibly held open. Was this not what she had come back to the old mansion to do -- to experience a cock? Her lips slipped over smoothness, and she was soon sucking the old Duke's cock. Big in her mouth but her mouth was capacious -- as if made for sucking... cock.

Beneath her, feminine hands were once again undoing a blouse, button by button, then pulling it over her shoulders. Warm and mobile hands clasping her breasts through her brassiere manipulating. Natalie could have resisted, risen from the cock and protested that 'women were not her thing' but was sure, quite sure, her protests would be in vain. It might so easily be her bound on the table and the young man and the old Duke watching with cocks high, whilst Cynthia, she had seen it was her, did those things to her she knew some of the girls at her school did quietly and secretly. But unlike that select band, who would not wish for maleness, for Natalie there would be cock to follow. Maleness indeed. She could not imagine the boy and the old Duke other than having their way with her afterwards. Erect cocks meant only one thing in her experience -- and it was an experience she liked.

Brassiere undone, breasts freed from their captivity, free to wobble and be wobbled; young Cynthia's hands returned to clasp them without separating material. Natalie's hard nipples in her palms. Natalie felt the touch of tongue to her shoulder; Cynthia was licking her skin. What else might she lick?

Natalie sucked away; what firmness! Her lips stroked and her tongue was mobile, no part of the penis in her mouth untouched -- unstroked -- by her tongue. Even that little burrowing attempt she knew the boys so liked, pretending to be trying to insert her tongue into their openings.

The penis was removed from her mouth. Natalie smiled to herself. Some boys did that. Those who wanted more and different pleasure, whereas others just came. She had wondered if it had been like that with chocolate and sweets when they were younger. Some unable to resist gorging on the whole packet as soon as they had one chocolate or sweet in their mouths; others saving much of the packet for later, having the restraint to eke out the packet over several days.

To be fair, Natalie knew she came in the former category. A girl who, given a whole packet of chocolates or sweets, she was the one who would gorge. And had she not gorged on chocolate cocks, certainly not so much a packet as a whole bunch! How many chocolate cocks had she popped in her mouth that particular time? Chocolate cocks with a cream filling... she had swallowed it all.

Hands, feminine hands, lifting her. Hands, indeed fingers, right in her armpits. Bringing her up and off the old Duke's cock so she could once more see the boy upon the table. He was gagged but his eyes were staring at her. Was it with pleasure, taking in the sight of her now exposed breasts? His penis, long and smooth, gold banded, his taut fraenum partially restrained within a gold band. A young cock, not with the rubbery corrugations of thickened skin as with the old duke, the one she had been mouthing, instead smooth as a dildo, only real. Was she to suck? Natalie was not at all reluctant. Yet, yet was the lad shrinking from her. Did he not like what he saw? Natalie was affronted. She was used to boys almost drooling over her -- certainly their cocks drooled. Natalie licked her lips in encouragement, but his eyes went wide. Was that in fear?

Beneath her she felt fingers under her skirt, fingers at her knickers. Her legs had not been bound, no doubt, she was sure, because her legs needed to be opened and spread. Was sure she was to be mounted on that cock. There is something about having one's knickers removed by another, even, seemingly, another woman, the cotton that was clasping her wet sex pulled away leaving it all feeling open and exposed. Knickers pulled right to the ground and set aside.