Tales of Dunnis Urom

"Mistress!" He whimpered. He said it softly--he didn't need any sort of attention from the others. She gave his stomach a soft pat. "Best get our unfortunate out of here before they strip her and roll her in flour!"

He quite agreed. The kitchen girls were employed and not always under punishment like he was--but there were kitchen punishments and the Council women might possibly overlook a bit of overzealous added misery on their part.

He came forward, making sure to be appropriately timid: Stellina would have him punished badly--and at length--if he gave the slightest sign of being above his station.

The poor unfortunate looked fairly ashen as he approached. She had, in fact, been lightly dusted with confection sugar. She'd recognized she was the mouse in a room full of cats and taken the humiliation without a discipline triggering outcry. She looked like she might be near tears though--and if the girls got her crying there was no telling what else they'd do.

Stellina saw him looking pleadingly at her.

"Back to stations girls! Playtime is over!" she clapped. She looked Bryce over, and he lowered his head.

"Did Miss Talsa get us all worked up?" she asked sympathetically.

"Yes, Miss Sellina. Not intentionally, I don't think--"

"Poor thing. We just haven't any control, do we?"

"No, Miss Stellina, " he said. From the sincere sympathy in her tone he thought he was likely fairly safe--but he remained still as she traced her finger over his skin.

"Try not to leave a wet spot in front," she told him. "You can take her."

Thank you. Miss Stellina--I'll try--"

She patted him fondly on the bottom and he took Maci's hand and got her out of there.

MACI

In the hall off the kitchen, she leaned against a wall and took ragged, sobby breaths. The boy, Bryce, who she had rightly recognized as a judicial consignment stood by her while she tried to regain her composure. The sprinkling of sugar over her head and shoulders had been a cruel game for the girls and she had managed without breaking down and giving them the glory of her tears--but she was shaken.

She let the boy take her hand and pretended she didn't see the bulge in his pants. She knew that erections under punishment were usually uncontrolled and he certainly didn't look like he was enjoying her predicament the way the girls surely had.

She shuddered and he started leading her.

"Not far--" he said, "Just up here."

She nodded. "Bryce?"

He looked over at her.

"What's the 'Marriage Block'?" The girls had certainly claimed she was 'being sent to it' and had found it highly amusing and, apparently, dire!

Bryce swallowed. He'd seen this on the chalk chore-board. He hadn't told her.

She had stopped though and he wanted to get her situated before the women of the Council were up and about.

"It's a joke," he said, grimacing slightly.

"It didn't sound like--" she started.

"It's a play on the term Slave Block--" He told her. "You know, slaves are auctioned?"

She did. Slavery under the order was by judicial decree, sometimes by debt, or by various kinds of contract. She knew, however, that in the desert kingdoms her father traveled to, slave markets were sometimes expansive and intricate affairs. She also knew that the slaves of that desert were sometimes taken to these lands as part of a trade or other agreement.

She nodded.

"Well," Bryce said, taking her to the antechamber where she would wait for whichever of the mistresses was going to begin her punishment. "The idea of the marriage block is that an unwed girl can be... bid on... by eligible bachelors. The Mother's Council can arrange a union all by themselves--but usually the girl's parents agree."

He coughed. "Sometimes even the girl does--but being put on the marriage block is usually for a marriage where the dominant is looking for a very submissive partner and, ahh, the Marriage Contract is pretty slave-like, I've heard."

Maci looked ashen. "They can't do that!"

"They... can." he corrected her. "It's within their authority. You--you were before the Council for review?"

She nodded, looking ill.

"And you--you demonstrated flagrant disobedience and insult to the council?"

Those words had been spoken, yes. She nodded again.

He led her to a wooden bench. The room wasn't large. There were swing-doors of wooden slats at the far end and folded towels and the tile floor had drains.

"Sit here and wait for them. You--uh--can't get up. For anything," he clarified.

If she had looked ashen before, she looked like she might faint now. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I've been here for two years," he told her. "They are very dedicated to maintaining order and discipline--but they aren't Unclean Monsters, Maci. Try to accept what you've earned and take the punishment with as much grace as you can."

Her eyes sparkled with tears.

"Don't leave me here," she begged.

"I have to," he told her. "The matrons are coming shortly. You shouldn't have to wait long."

She put her face in her hands and began to cry.

She looked around in misery. This chamber seemed to lead through the swing doors to another smaller chamber and beyond that the inner courtyard. She hugged herself and tried to steel her nerves. She had been going here to seek a union, hadn't she?

But the idea of a marriage--to a boy--presumably--who was in search of a slave wife? That was unthinkable! She shuddered with fear and anger! She brushed angrily at the fine powdered sugar on her clothes.

Maci felt a surge of panic when the door opened and a crone--maybe the crone--stood in it. She wore a shaw and walked with a cane. She looked gaunt and bent but her eyes were sharp and bright blue. The hair on her head--what she could see from under a head-scarf--looked pale and very fine.

Marci felt a surge of anger: she thought there was something hateful in those eyes and she loathed it. The woman tottered forward at an even gate and moved to lower herself, sitting beside Marci.

Marci opened her mouth to speak--

"Address me as 'Mother,' child," she said. Her voice was slightly raspy with age. Marci blushed with greater anger--

"You're not my--" she started again.

The woman held up a hand. "I am not your mother, child," she said, emphasizing the 'your'--"but I assure you I am many children's mother and so it is my title. You shall address me by it."

Maci internally squirmed in fury--she fought to control it. If this truly was the bitch who had sought to provoke an eye-roll she had a lot of things she'd like to say to her. But she was about to be punished by this witch so she clamped down on it hard.

"Yes, Mother," she managed, sullenly.

The woman beamed with pleasure at her submission. Ohh!! She broiled!! This--this termagant--she thought, searching for words that matched her fury.

"Very good, girl--now, why is my penitent all covered with--" she stuck out a finger, brushed it along Maci's shoulder and licked it "--powdered sugar?"

Maci squirmed in anger.

"Your," her voice shook with distaste, "kitchen girls thought it would be amusing to haze me," she said thickly.

"Oh?" she cackled. "I suppose you could use some sweetening then, couldn't you?"

In the silence, Maci realized she was expected to answer. There was only one answer at that.

"Yes, Mother," she said archly. She knew that her attitude was doing her no favors with this horrible woman but she couldn't help it. Then: "Are you really going to try to marry me off to the worst man you can find?"

The woman's eyes blazed with laughter--but she stroked Maci's cheek and it was al lthe younger girl could do not to pull away. "Ask me again--but properly, child."

Maci was puzzled for a moment. "Are you really going to force me into some horrible union as a punishment--Mother?" she added.

The woman smiled at her use of the tile as an epitaph. "We could, couldn't we, child? The Council will find a union that is best for you though. Mother is certain you will think it's the worst fate ever to befall you--but you will see, in time." Her grin suggested she found Maci's horror delicious!

"I want to talk to my real--" she started, in panic.

"No!" the woman snapped. "You are here to be punished girl--and oh, you are going to be! But rest assured your birthing mother is fully appraised of your condition and richly approves of our methods."

Maci felt fear and anger explode in her in what felt like equal measure.

"My father then!" she gasped out--there had to be someone!

The crone's slap to her face came with unexpected force and speed. Her cheek blazed and her eyes suddenly stung with tears. She held a hand to her cheek, silenced, blinking.

"Lower your voice--contain yourself, girl--use my proper title and get used to speaking thus." The crone said this like it was all good advice and she hadn't just smacked the younger girl hard.

Maci was afraid that if she spoke her voice would break and she would start crying--here--before her punishment even started--so she just gave the woman a watery glare.

"The Council spoke with your father as well, child." the woman told her. "It is our opinion that his approach to life is acceptable for a boy with his character--but not for a girl with yours. He confesses his resistance to submission may have been overly imparted to you." She said this softly--possibly even gently--and the words hit home.

The idea of her father feeling guilt or blame for her was beyond awful and the horrible crone watched as her breath heaved and she battled ferociously with tears and shame. After moments of this, the woman seemed satisfied with her emotional turmoil.

"Stand and disrobe, child--and acknowledge my commands."

Maci felt a sob pass her lips as she stood and begin to undress, trying to it with as little petulance as she could--which was still a good deal of petulance. She felt unbidden sobs bubble up out of her--and she realized she was crying like a young girl before her first paddling. Oh, how she HATED this! She was SEVENTEEN!! She ought be more collected in the face of this discipline! Oh!!! This ancient shriveled bitch was clearly loving her weakness! Oh!! :: SOB ::

She finally dropped her skirt and angrily collected it and she almost threw it on the bench without folding it--but she knew that was commonly worth extra punishment so she hesitated. Then--Then FOO IT!! She thought, her mind using the approved expletive that girls and children were allowed. She angrily threw the thing down. She wore only her panties now, and the woman watched her with appraising interest.

She was going to have to unveil herself and she flamed with blush and humiliation.

"Penitent Bryce!" the old woman called after moments of Maci battling with herself. This surprised her and she looked up at the crusty bitch. The older woman ignored her--and she heard bare footsteps from the corridor. The boy appeared, looking winded from having sprinted to answer the woman's call.

"Mother Kane," he panted, announcing himself.

"Our sweet sparrow here is reluctant to bare herself," said the woman. Maci felt her chin quiver with tears--her eyes blazed with fury at the crone. Bryce looked stricken though.

"S-she is just modest a-and scared, Mother Kane--" he spoke, coming to her defense. Marci saw with rising misgivings that from the look on Bryce's face, showing these bitches any resistance was a terrible error!

"A girl should be modest and this one ought be scared," Mother Kane said. "But she must also be pleasant and obedient, yes, penitent?"

"Yes, Mother Kane," the boy intoned, clearly used to obeisance with the Council women.

"Take her panties down for her, Penitent."

"Yes, mother," the boy said, submissively. Having a boy here to see her humiliating undressing was bad enough! She cooked in shame as he came forward--clearly surprised at the order but moving to obey without hesitation. She hugged herself, covering her breasts.

She knew better--but she couldn't help it.

His hands found the waist of her panties and he took it and squatted, deeply, his legs wide open. He'd probably been trained to 'frog squat,' she knew. To act in the way that made him most vulnerable.

Her panties slipped down off her hips and she felt the faint whisper of the fabric down her thighs and shins.

She made herself step as he reached her feet. He now held her panties.

"Those are like the panties you stole, aren't they, boy?" the crone cackled. Bryce colored more than he already had.

"Yes, Mother," he answered, his voice a whisper of shame.

"Tell our sparrow what you did with them, Penitent Bryce," she said, her order obviously meant to accentuate his humiliation--he was being punished too--constantly, she thought dismally.

"I would smell them when I masturbated, Mother," he said. His voice was thick.

"Scented with the girl's vaginas when you pulled your dirty, misbehaved, little penis, right penitent?" she asked archly, After two years of this treatment, doing this before a new girl could still make him cry!

"When I p-pulled m-my dirty, m-misbehaved, l-little penis, mother," He whimpered. Maci saw tears in his eyes. She hated this crone more than ever--more than anything!!

"Well, penitent? Smell her underthings! You are a connoisseur of the bouquet of such soiled garments--give us your appraisal!"

This was too much! The boy was shedding tears as he brought her panties to his nose and she despised the torment this bitch was venting on him for no reason other than the sheer cruel enjoyment of it! She also knew, in a way that was simply unbearable, that the depths of her panties were likely not entirely fresh. After her humiliation in the kitchen... they might be...

"Mother, please!" she burst out using her correct title by accident,

The woman looked up at her. Her own eyes were brimming with tears. She heard Bryce's shaky inhale and moaned inwardly.

"Please, Mother," she begged--"all h-he did was guide me here--Mother--did nothing improper or disobedient!"

He was breathing into the cloth--deeply--and her cheeks flushed with mortification.

The woman seemed unimpressed with her begging.

"Penitent Bryce is here under punishment," the woman explained as though she were slow. "Such chores of obedience are part of his sentence. His tears will not do him any permanent injury--and I will have them from the both of you. In fact, undisciplined young sparrow, you will positively sing for me!"

Maci hugged herself tighter.

"T-there is wet, mother," Bryce said in the silence."Discharge, mother," he amended, miserably. Apparently he had been taught some proper language but it made the humiliation all the more thorough.

"And her cleanliness? The woman asked, as though mildly interested.

"They are fresh, mother," he reported dully. The humiliation of this must be overwhelming. "There are no leavings on the rear."

Thank Sattva, Maci thought, internally. Her own mother of all people had embarrassingly insisted on not just clean underpants but new ones, freshly bought and laundered. She was now acutely thankful for the advice she'd angrily stewed over this morning.

The woman nodded, a satisfied smile or smirk on her lips. Using her cane, she rose and stepped to where Maci was, taking her shoulders and turning her. "March forward, Maci-sparrow. We are going to begin in the courtyard." She didn't cackle but Maci thought she may as well have as she was pushed slightly and made to walk through the swinging doors, nude, to her punishment.

BRYCE

An erection throbbed in his pants. He could see the stain where precum had dribbled from his cock and wet through the panties and his pants. Such a mark was always punishable and he felt sure the girls would have something in store for him when they saw it. The wet tears on his cheeks wouldn't spare him!

But worse, the inhaling of the girl's scent had not just gathered an erection--but it had also unlocked the doors in his mind he tried to keep firmly shut. The sense of the smell had powerfully engorged him. He feared the erection might... last.

When he had arrived, naked, spanked, and sobbing the mothers had reviewed his miserable huddled form with exacting precision and had ordered him to spare himself nothing by way of humiliation in answering their queries. He'd been forced to speak about his masturbation habits and, terrified of them, he had told them everything, hoping his submission would spare him awful punishments.

It had, after a fashion--they had apparently approved of his groveling abasement. While he didn't know it then, the reason he was not under the literal whip of one of the taskmistresses, but instead housed in the main Council building was because the observer who had recommended him to the matrons had judged him too frail for either the prisons or, now delivered here, it seemed, the Mother's Council work-house.

Instead, he had been subject to intense humiliation to see if he would break and assert himself--to lash out at the matrons or the girls--and he hadn't. That had pleased them indeed.

But he was given another element to suffer. A woman from the order had been summoned to the Council on his third day. He had been tied over a well used leather bench that smelled faintly of the female sex and the woman had been given orders to examine his penis and testacles. She had and, finally, had announced to the matrons that the process they wanted could be done--but it was rare and expensive and might not even work.

They had tried it anyway as he lay there, face down on a pillow, exhausted from having cried throughout what seemed to have been a bit of a contest by the younger women of the Mother's Council to see who could deliver the finest hand spanking. Now he still smarted and ached and he needed to go to the bathroom but he was cuffed and bound and could do nothing to help with any of it.

And with the woman's investigation of his member, he was erect--which was awful in so many ways.

She had done something then--a number of somethings. He'd been expecting great pain when she carefully worked a slick tube into first his penis and then, a much larger one, deep into his anus--but she had been quite careful and urged him to hold still and assured him it wasn't going harm him or cause him any pain if he did as she told him.

She rubbed a substance carefully into his scrotum and he felt an unpleasant sensation of swelling from it--and heat--but after a time, it subsided.

He determined--being ordered to test it in front of the matrons and a select few of the grinning maid girls--that while he could stroke himself heartily and his erection was firm and leaking, he could not--simply could not--cum.

Allowed to "try," placed before them naked and kneeling, the utter humiliation of being unable to and the shame of being made to try lashed him terribly.

Afterwords, the girls got to have an attempt--rubbing him--sucking him--even squatting to make use of his member while he gasped and moaned. The kitchen mistress had worked a lubricated finger into his anus and he had felt the potential orgasm swell and near--but despite her best efforts, he couldn't get aught save frustration and they happily remanded him to a cot where he lay sobbing.

After that, he was made to sleep naked. There was even a soft belt that they could wrap around his waist and cuff his hands to so that they lay over his sex under the covers. In this position he would be desperate for release and work hard at his penis--well knowing that the leaked precum spots would find him punished for it in the morning.

He was given warm or even hot baths--sometimes he was washed. Sometimes a girl would bathe with him and he was made to pleasure her--while her pleasuring of him was further punishment. The matrons spanked him so that his penis lay on velvet pads and his struggles incited more need.