Tales of Dunnis Urom

This is another story set in the same world as The Punishment Day Festival. Again in the large city of DunnisUrom. At least one of the characters in the previous story is referenced--but you don't have to read that to read this.

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FELLIS

Maci heard the bells tolling FELLIS as she made her way through the shadowed streets of DunnisUorm. It was before dawn and the city was in its dark, slumbering state between between its excited clandestine night-life and its more upright and respectable day time activities. A hunting cat eyed her from one of the gutters, big and striped. Its green eyes fixed balefully on her. She picked up her pace.

The cobblestone streets of the merchant quarter led to an arch that was surrounded by planters filled with pastel colored flowers and twin pillories, one on either side. They were vacant this morning but she had seen them full often enough. Beyond this arch was the Mother's and Matriarch's Hall--and they adorned their gateway with boys consigned to their care by the courts.

Those unlucky enough to be chosen to be sent suffered extravagantly. The Mother's Council was diligent in ensuring that those in its care remembered the lessons they intended to teach. And now, by the tolling of EAIX, one quick hour hence, she was going to be subjected to their mercies! Oh! She despised this!! Oh!!! It just wasn't fair!

Her face burned as she stepped over a puddle of something foul and crossed the street, moving through the archway into the flower-scented courtyards.The "Mother's Quarter" wasn't really a district like most of the others. It was surrounded by walls that linked to the city walls so it was considered its own domain--but it was comparatively small and had few permanent residents. It flourished because guilds and merchant houses were always happy to give gifts to the group that worked to arrange marriages, secure birthing permits, and, especially, policed young women. They didn't have official authority in many things--but their reach and power was undeniable.

She was furious at herself for having misstepped so badly and even more so at her own mother who was, she reasoned, at the root of this whole, awful ordeal.

Maci was the daughter of Eliais Throwhorn--he was prosperous as he had parlayed his experiences as a caravan guard and guide to the Kanari desert nations into contacts that he now used to import spices, rugs, and even more exotic things. He was not a member of the guilds, however, having grown up being unwilling to submit to their authority (and practice of humbling the initiates) and so when he had built his business, he had done it without them.

DunnisUorm was filled with plots and subplots and machinations and conspiracies--but Eliais had managed to grow powerful without either submission to one of the guildhalls nor overly angering them. In fact, he had thrown extravagant parties to which they were invited--he had given gifts--and he had facilitated their businesses--and even befriended, or at least impressed, the elder guild masters so that when she was born, he was already well liked and well secured.

That hadn't meant, however, her mother was unable to use the guild's resources to find her a suitable husband. She had grown up feeling superior to the other girls she was friends with: they were all having their futures and their unions arranged--and while they found it exciting and usually benevolent, there were cases where a union was arranged because the feeling of the girl's parents (particularly her mother) was that she was too taken with herself--and the union was meant to anchor and ground her.

Some of the young men of worth made their value known by evidencing a predilection for dominance and skill with domestic discipline. Maci had witnessed some of her peers being measured by their families for such a union.

"He's rich--and handsome!" Shala had said of their friend Oassis's possible future husband. Oasis' mother had been making inquiries and arranging shared activities for her (disobedient) daughter and the boy in question.

"He whips the housemaids!" Oasis had complained, "As a hobby!" She described him, having tracked and tallied any household mistakes for a week, he would summon the three girls each Theris-day, strip them naked and have them take a variety of exposing positions in the family's inner courtyard as he delivered lashes of a whip made to soak in some mixture that made its stripes blaze with pain and finally deliver a maddening itch--even beyond the normal--as they healed.

Maci's friends had seemed thrilled by this, much to Oassis's displeasure. "He also takes them for punishment--after." she growled, blushing.

"Good!" Maci's friends had judged this revelation. "If his spend is in the poor things' bottom, it'll make him more docile after!" Maci, a year behind Oassis, had found the mental image of her friend bent forward over a bed, her husband's cock in her anus, and her buttocks crossed with lash-marks hot! All the girls clashed with their mothers and Maci thought a strict marriage with lots of discipline would be good for her friend. Now, aged seventeen, Oassis was married last year (she had presented in a beautiful dress with a punishment corset on under it, her husband ensuring that all her family and friends could see her submission to him and only guess at what punishments the outfit entailed). Maci, having carefully followed her friend's courtship, suspected that when the corset came off that night, its miseries would have made Oassis very ready for the marriage bed and very, very eager to please her new husband!

She, however, had avoided coming under the thumb of the various boys she liked--and her mother had not had an easy method to shop her about. Her father, who had made his own way without being forced to humble himself before the merchant masters gave her some leeway in this (it was well known that a boy apprentice might be taken like a girl for punishment by a master or simply done often to affirm the master-apprentice relationship--but she couldn't imagine her father in the throes of such an event!). Mother, however, was having none of it. With a sound upbringing and an excellent education, the true gilding on her mother's cap would be a fine marriage for a daughter she found a bit too willful and often too clever for her own good.

So she had appealed the Mother's Council to help her find an appropriate boy for her girl. Although they must have gotten many, many such requests, by whatever stroke of bad luck they had chosen her mother's to act on, and, since she was, as yet, unmarried and living at the family home, when they had sent her a summons she had been obligated to come for an evaluation of her suitability for marriage material.

The row with her mother had been epic--she had unleashed her full batteries of ire and storehouse of resentments and even she had to admit she crossed the line by a wide mark. Her mother had declared herself "too furious" to spank her--which had confused Maci a bit but--her mother had sent her to her father's office for discipline... which she found to be incredibly worse.

Her mother could be quite adept and inventive at punishments--but her father... the idea of facing his disappointment in her behavior cut with a different kind of blade. She had immediately changed tact and begged her mother not do that (although later she had decided her father must have heard almost everything from his office) and her mother, sensing advantage had ordered her to the Mother's Council.

She'd seethed but she'd gone before them for the invasive and humiliating "interview." The older women--including some outright judgmental crones--had put her through several domestic trials--as though being the daughter of a wealthy merchant would find her doing maid's work! It was when she'd been asked after wifely duties that she'd had trouble.

To be certain, they didn't expect an unmarried girl--even at seventeen--to be experienced. They did expect her to be eager to please not just a master--but mistresses as well--and she had to be prepared to take a cock in her anus and mouth without much complaint!

She had stumbled on a question about using a seated toilet--something people of her class could well afford. Apparently the correct answer was to have a peasant style squat toilet installed to save the throne sit toilet for her husband and use the peasant style toilet herself.

She'd bristled at this intimate indignity she was expected to swallow and the Mother's Council had sensed this clearly--and bided their time--and pounced! In retrospect she saw how they had noted her resistance to the kind of humiliating submission this implied. They had then tweaked her and played her like an instrument for the remainder of the interview. She hadn't seen it then but they had needled her and pricked at her pride so that when asked about removing her sexual hair when her husband was displeased with her, made her roll her eyes.

She'd been warned, explicitly, by her mother and by one of the assistant ladies that showing disrespect by verbally scoffing or--worse--by rolling her eyes at the matriarchs was subject to serious punishment. At the time, she'd seen no reason she should not be able to breeze through this five hour long interview her mother had demanded and yet, when she'd done it, she saw the smirking triumph of the women over the young applicant.

For moments, she'd thought she'd gotten away with it, until a nasty old crone with blotted and wrinkled skin and bright, hateful eyes, had called her out, practically cackling with glee.

"You did not receive instruction about scoffing us, child?" The woman asked her.

"I--no, I--ma'am--I did--I just--" She'd stammered.

"And you just rolled those pretty young eyes at us, did you, girl?" Her voice smooth.

"Ma'am--I--I must apologize--I didn't intend--"

"You then tell us you have a HABIT of rolling your eyes with your betters? This is something you do so commonly you do it without intent?" The woman pressed--sounding taken aback that she might have done this without intending to!

Maci felt heat fire her cheeks and nose! In a panicked glance she took in the rest of the women sitting in chairs behind a low wall on a raised platform so they rose over her like magistrates. She saw immediately there would be no intervention from them--no mercy.

"No, ma'am," she said hastily, forcing herself to lock down her raging emotions. "I have so such habit. I forgot myself and broke the rule. I can only apologize." She'd hung her head, assuming a position of contriteness.It hadn't helped.

"Come tomorrow at EAIX," the crone said, "for your disciplining!" All the ladies had seemed quite pleased with this outcome.

Maci was no stranger to punishment. Her mother had not gone easy on her--and she had been brought to regular penance services at the order enclave. She hated being spanked and knew her mother thought her too quick to tears but having broken one of the cardinal rules at the Mother's Council, she understood the punishments to be more expansive.

Certainly what she'd seen from the boys (and girls) requested from the courts to be punished by the Matrons seemed wretched and remorseful when she'd seen them.they seemed wretched and remorseful.

She was early. Her mother--who managed to mostly hide her satisfaction at her defiant daughter's earning of a substantial discipline--had warned her fiercely against being late for her appointment. She didn't dare wander and possibly miss the door to the rear entrance to the Council Hall opening.

She drew in a deep, shaky breath, and knelt by it.

BRYCE

Bryce was out of his bed--an uncomfortable cot--when the chimes told FEUR. That was his signal to rise and begin his work. He had been caught by the Gendarm breaking into a station home for unmarried young women and pilfering the few valuables they had from thee common room where they slept--but what had landed him in the Matron's Quarter was the several pairs of the girl's panties he had taken as well. He had lived in the beggar's District, often hungry and always dirty and forlorn--but he had lived without the constant unbearable humbling he would face if he tried to join a guild or aspired to anything beyond the life of a beggar or urchin.

Facing being remanded to one of the prisons or workhouses run by the order, he had come undone and groveled--begging the magistrate, The magistrate had not been swayed to mercy--but the young man on his hands and knees had caught the interest of an official observer who had recommended him to Mother's Council to serve a five year penance.

Being remanded to the Mother's council was considered especially awful for boys and he had decided the consensus was correct. He was visited in his holding cell by a matron who had him stripped, his region checked and shorn of hair. Then she'd strapped his cock and balls into a leather pouch filled with an irritant that made his tenderized skin itch terribly. The spanking she gave him--with her hand--but then with a small paddle hurt so that when he was walked all but naked through the streets (save for shoes and the pouch, it's belt,and a thong of prickly itching rope through his anal cleft his hands were bound together with a rope to the wagon leading him and his reddened bottom felt like it shone like a lantern.

Needless to say, he had collapsed in tears when he arrived and been under the care of the women ever since.

He wore a loose fitting tunic and trousers so light weight that they would be comfortable to sleep in had he been allowed to wear anything in bed. Over it he tied an embroidered apron with pink frills. The feminizing apron was meant to humiliate him--but while it had been very hard at first, the women and their girls all thought he looked cute in it so he had learned to appreciate it.

His first order of the day was to empty and clean any chamber pots used by the women staying in the household. He did this as silently as he could--they were still sleeping--and he acutely appreciated the intent of the chore to remind him he was in their service for punishment. They'd also lectured him about his theft of the girl's underthings and so, for two years, he had worn outrageously embroidered female panties under his pants. They were treated with a charm to draw his focus there--and while it didn't cause the powerful, unpleasant erections that some techniques could, he found himself struggling through unwanted and embarrassing stiffenings of his cock several times a day.

There was no release from the sexual tension he suffered in the hall--it was part of the many intentional and curated discomforts he was to endure during his service.

After having completed his chamber pot rounds, he swept the small kitchen. The girls were already in the large kitchen preparing breakfast, and he went to unlatch the doors.He was not shocked--but was a bit surprised to find a girl kneeling outside the rear door.

She startled and looked up. It took her a moment: "they make you wear the apron?"

He colored faintly. "Among one of my many punishments," he affirmed.

She rose and he beckoned her in.

"Doesn't seem too bad," she offered.

"It's," he paused, "It's not--," he said. "I mean--I've gotten used to things here.My sentence is really unpleasant but I've learned to 'settle in'--as they say." He was blushing badly now.

"I guess I need to too," the girl said, looking abashed. "I'm here to be punished."

"I guessed," he said. "I saw the scheduling for a punishment on the board. I didn't expect anyone quite so early."

"I was warned not to be late," she said nervously.

He nodded, knowingly. "You don't want that," he agreed. "Do your best to submit to them--as much as you can. When I learned that, things got bearable!" He said this brightly--and, he hoped encouragingly.

What he'd seen on the board of events and chores for the day though...

She was wringing her hands and he felt for her. "Come on. I'll take you to the dressing chamber."

"I'm to be dressed?" she asked--meaning it as a joke.

"For the start of it," he said, more softly than he'd meant. There was no point in scaring her early: she'd get what was coming to her regardless. But he had to take her through the main kitchens and he knew the girls working there would recognize her as today's unfortunate.

"Come on," he led her further in.

The sounds and smells of the kitchen preceded it, He could hear laughter and smell the fresh bread and sizzling meat. When he first came, they fed him a porridge designed to be both a bit unpleasant and to make him move his bowels with powerful regularity.

A girl had been assigned to feed him, his hands bound behind his back. The girls--not products of the courts, but rather those who had applied to serve the matrons, argued over who got to feed him--they also took him to the toilets, could spank him (only with their hands!) for the tiniest imagined infraction--and they delighted in trying to provoke an erection in him.

Those were awful, miserable days where he was constantly humiliated, punished (never mind the light hand-spankings, he was real real horrible disciplines the Mother's Council visited on those they took in from the prisons!). Most of the unfortunates were put to work in other sections--the gardens, or the storage buildings--where the Council paid harsh taskmistresses trained by the order to oversee their unfortunates.

Being teased by the house girls, often brought to humiliating tears, made him wish he could serve his sentence in the labor groups! But over time, his defiance melted and the girls accepted him more--and instead of the horrible porridge, he was fed with the rest of them and while they still enjoyed spanking him, it appeared, the slaps were more playful and his unbidden erections less remarked on.

Now, he led her--wishing there were another convenient way around to the antechamber where she would wait for the women who were coming to oversee her ordeal.

"Do you get many girls sent for discipline?" she asked, and he shushed her. She claimed her mouth shut and he led he out of the hall and into the light of the kitchen.

"Who is this, Bryce?" Stellina--the senior girl at 24 years, and tall with long hair. Her sugary tone suggested she knew exactly who he had in tow.

There was nothing for it now. He lowered his head, submissively.

"This is our penitent, Miss Stellina," he said. He watched her step in close and he mentally urged the girl not to do anything to invite her wraith.

"You're our eye-roller?" Stellina asked, acting like the words tasted delicious.

Fortunately, Bryce thought, Maci was astute enough to follow his lead. She lowered her head and stood still, meekly enough as the girls gathered around, looking her over with interest. Talsa moved in behind Bryce and ran her hand through his short hair. There was nothing at all unpleasant about the touch, save that he couldn't refuse it and she knew that.

"Mmmii--" she whispered in his ear. "I'm going to miss you when your sentence is up,"

"I'm sure Miss Talsa will have another unfortunate she finds enjoyable," he said softly.

"Nhmmnh--" she disagreed her arms around his waist. He felt his cock start to respond in his panties. That might be her goal--the girls found his erections endlessly amusing and that he suffered them, unable to have relief just made it all the more delicious.

He couldn't even beg her off--any attempt to refuse her--even a mild one--was to be punished. To be sure she wouldn't punish him badly for a mild lapse--but she would punish him and he was ill able to take it.these days.

Her hands around his waist found his erection and she felt about it. "Unfortunate!" she mock-scolded him in his ear. "You're going to wet your panties!"