The Manor

The men tie your hands into some kind of leather harness, which is extremely comfortable, but binds your wrists and hands closely together. They clip this harness to a metal hook which is suddenly hanging in front of you. You see Robert the butler is at a panel to the side, pushing some buttons, and the hook starts rising. You are going to be hanging from the ceiling. You gather your feet under you, but there's no need. The hook rises inexorably. Your arms pull above your head, and you're pulled to stand, and then your bare feet leave the floor. You dangle a few inches above the heavy rug, between a couch and the fireplace. A sob escapes your throat, and tears drip down your cheeks. You wonder if it will be the same cane.

"Robert, bring me the bullwhip would you?"

"Yes, Miss Cecelia, coming right up."

Cecelia takes the proffered whip, which is longer than she is tall, with a wicked thick shaft, and a narrow bit of leather at its tip. The men all gather their drinks and step well back, around the walls. Cecelia whirls the whip around the room, looking comfortable and proficient. Your eyes are riveted to it. You wonder if it can hurt worse than the cane. You remember someone said the punishments would get worse and worse. Cecelia circles your dangling body, her four inch heels soft on the rug, then clicking loudly on the hardwood floors, and the stones in front of the fireplace. She walks with a languorous confidence, toying with the whip in her right hand, toying with you. Then she steps to a distance she judges comfortable, raises her right hand, and expertly arcs it in a wide circle. The whip sweeps through the air, catches your midsection with a couple feet of free length left... which of course spiral onto your body, burning into your skin. The very end of the whip cracks against your lower belly with a loud sound, wrenching the loudest scream of the day out of your body. When you're able to overcome the convulsions of pain and look down, you see specks of blood.

Cecelia is winding up again, pacing. Richard steps forward. "Cecelia, let's pause there. We should keep the punishments proportional."

"Oh, Richard, you're such a softie. Alright, I admit the slut was trying. But if she messes up again in the slightest, and I mean the slightest hesitation, I want the next punishment cycle, and no holds barred."

The men all laugh, except the two thugs, who are like statues.

"Cecelia, you're such a sadist. I can't accept no holds being barred at all. But yes, you may have the next punishment cycle, and of course it should be a severe escalation of pain and suffering and time, since we're going so easy this round."

"Fine!" Cecelia sits on the same couch in a feigned huff, her heels stretching out to touch your toes where they dangle.

Robert pushes the buttons again, and you feel your body descend. In a minute, your arms are released and you can touch the gash on your tummy, gather your thoughts. You know what you have to do.

You gently kneel and gingerly reach for Cecelia's lap, careful not to get blood on her clothes. With love in your mind, you look into her beautiful eyes, and you speak: "Mistress, thank you for whipping this stupid fuck toy. This body is here for your pleasure, Mistress. Please tell this ignorant cunt what it would be your pleasure to do to it. This cunt will do anything to please you, Mistress." You look intently at her, willing yourself to believe every word you've spoken.

Cecelia peers into you. "I want... I want you to lick my pussy for a long time, sugar. It'll take some doing, but you'll get me there. And when I'm starting to cum, and I yell 'now!'... I want you to bite my clit. You have to bite it with exactly the right intensity. Too hard, and I'm going to string you up and turn your pretty tits into a mess of hamburger with a whip. Too gentle, and I'm going to put clamps on your cunt lips that make you wish you were being whipped. Now thank me for the easy task."

"Thank-you Mistress for your instruction. This slut will do its best to please you." You are easing into this role. You are acting how they want. It's so easy to know what to say. You wonder to what extent you're acting, in fear of the whip, and to what extent this submission is really you. It doesn't matter, because you have to shuffle to the next pair of legs, dangling from an armchair a bit further from the fire. You shuffle on your hands and knees, head down, hair hanging, breasts swaying. Someone laughs.

Three more men recite what they plan to do to you. One is going to pour melted candle wax all over your body as you lie in front of the fire, in three complementary colors, to create a work of erotic art. He promises a mix of cool, lukewarm, and hot wax, depending on how you respond. You're not sure what that means, but his tone seems to suggest he'll enjoy hearing screams from the hotter candles. Another man will bind you, blindfolded, in ropes so tight you cannot move more than an inch with any body part, and alternately tickle and bite you randomly around your body for a quarter hour, to be timed by Robert; he wants to see which bothers you worse between the feather and the teeth. The third says he's tired all these dilettantes and their silly games; he plans to spend no less than 45 minutes simply pounding your cunt and your mouth with his very large cock. Hard, then harder, and then harder. He will enjoy using your tits as handles, and seeing how hard he can drive into your body. He promises that his stamina and control are well practiced, and it will be the most brutal 45 minutes of your life. Richard says simply that you're to come beg him for a final spanking after the rest are done with you.

Cecelia calls you to stand in front of the fire and recite your tasks. She observes greedily, hoping you will forget some detail, but you have remembered and clearly state for the group every step of your humiliation to come: the ropes and feathers and teeth, the hot candle wax, the pussy-licking, the long pounding, the ass-fuck, and the spanking. It is time for you to serve. You stand quietly while they discuss sequencing. Richard seems to have power, and he gets to keep his spanking for last. Burly man is doggedly insisting your ass-reaming must be second to last, as the amount of lube you get depends on your performance for the rest. The others don't seem fussed, except Tickle & Bite doesn't want to deal with wax all over your body, so insists on preceding the candles. Finally the order is settled. Cecelia gets your tongue, first. She laughs and lies back on the couch, stretching her legs out toward you, waiting. You kneel to crawl over to her.

You are intensely aware of the fire at your back, the red stripes where you've been caned and whipped, the flush of your skin, your naked breasts hanging, the men gazing at them, the moisture between your lower lips, the dryness of your throat, the pounding of your heart. You are reciting each of your instructions and coming tortures in your mind, trying to get them right, to serve and please your masters in every detail. You are bending all your intelligence to avoid the whip and cane. You feel... not confident, but fully engaged, fully alive to the task before you. Your knees touch the rug. Cecelia's splayed knees beckon. You taste her cunt on your tongue, before you've even crossed the inches separating you.

You suddenly remember it is still only Friday evening, and Richard has said they are keeping you til Sunday. You take a breath, and begin to crawl.