The Summerhouse Ch. 17: Victoria

Clare gasped. "You can't be serious," she squealed.

"We are," Martin replied, and stared at my fiancée and myself. "It'll be our wedding present to you. Well, I also want to arrange Jon's stag do, which may or may not coincide with a pre-season tour. He will walk down the aisle with a sore arse and a massive smile on his face!"

Victoria eyed Clare and wiped the tears from my partner's eyes. "This is massive. This... mansion... is anything beyond what we could afford and..."

"I know," Victoria replied. "But I really need you as our neighbour. We are going to turn the estate next door into our kinky B&B. I want to convert the stable block and the outbuildings into something special. Just like we fantasised about when I was at University after we went to that party at the manor house near Lancaster. I will have a near limitless amount of men to beat and punish, and I'll be able to explore and enjoy myself like never before."

"Vics, we got so pissed when we said that. It was a fantasy because we saw that piece on Other World Kingdom. A nation where women lorded it over men. It's not a reality."

"But I am making it a reality," Victoria squealed. "And I do not want my neighbour phoning the cops because she witnessed the lady of the house pulverise the backside of some oil executive in the back garden! Or that I whipped a misbehaving boy. Or plundered some jackass with a twenty-inch strapon."

Clare laughed through her tears. "It's just... I can't... just... We can't. We can't take a three million pound house from you! That's..."

Victoria snorted. "It was less than two when we bought it." She shook her head and looked at her husband. "Do I need to take you down to my dungeon until you'll accept my hospitality, Miss Clare Brownlees? I enjoy making men scream, but I will happily give you a damn good spanking. I have done it before. I am very versatile when it comes to my sexuality."

Clare sniffed once more. "But Vics, c'mon. This is..."

"I am the Lady of the House," Victoria interrupted. "And you are my best friend who I share, or want to share everything with. Surely, you can find a couple of kinky-minded lodgers to enjoy the house, the hot-tub, the summerhouse and the dungeon."

"Victoria, do you..." I said, but the fearsome woman glared at me and interrupted.

"Ssshhh! This is between me and my best friend. When you become Mr Brownlees, then you can have a say." She turned to my partner and held her hand. "C'mon Clare. This is our gift to you two. And I know you are not planning for a wedding for another eighteen months at least, but the day you walk down that aisle, I'll sign over the house to you. And until that moment, you stay here, rent-free."

"Martin, could..." I said, and the multi-millionaire just raised his finger to stop me.

"We both want to do this," he snapped. "And if Victoria says that she is doing it, then she is doing it."

"Let me show you," the dominatrix said, and tugged Clare's hand to make her stand up. Martin and I followed as she took my fiancée out of the front door and they walked through the gap in the hedges that separated the two properties.

"This - this will be the main house. Mostly private, but we are going to have a dungeon here, and some guest rooms for personal visitors. But over here..." She called and strode towards an unused stable block in a large U-Shape. "This is where the fun will be. I can convert these into half-a-dozen rooms right here. Hot-tub in the middle. And look at the views across the valley. It's magnificent. And there's still three barns and an old ramshackle cottage to think about. The possibilities are endless."

"How does this..." Clare cried out to her excited friend.

"Because I will need you," Victoria begged. "Do you think I can run this without your support? I need to unwind and escape. l need to share a bottle of Prosecco with my best friend in a hot-tub and tell her my secrets and insecurities. I am asking, please, stay in that wonderful house and help me. I can't run this venue of ill-repute without my best friend at my side."

"Oh, Victoria. I'll always be around for you. But a three million pound house. It's a massive, massive present."

"And you a massive, massive friend." Victoria sighed and looked at her husband. Clare had always been reticent at accepting financial gifts from the confident dominatrix. There was a vast difference in their wealth, and if Victoria had her way, my partner would live a luxurious life of leisure. But Clare was too independent for that and valued her career immensely. We had tentatively discussed moving to a nearby village when her company confirmed Clare's promotion in Manchester, and we had hoped to purchase a two-bedroom townhouse or cottage. We had seen a few houses on the 'net and had spoken tentatively to mortgage companies.

But Victoria and Martin's old house was in a different world. "We'll talk," I promised Victoria, and she scowled further. "It's really generous of you both."

This was one argument that Victoria could not win with dominance, although she and Clare played in her dungeon for a couple of hours later that day. The lady of the house treated my fiancée to a massage and then numerous forced orgasms in a lesbian BDSM session and I wished I had been a witness to it.

Instead helped Martin in the kitchen. "I find it easier to accept that Victoria will get what Victoria wants. It's much better just to give in at the beginning rather than the end," Martin told me as we prepared dinner. "Do talk to Clare. Victoria would be delighted if you do accept."

Clare and I discussed it repeatedly when we were alone. We could not escape the belief that we would be exploiting our friendship if we accepted. "I have an idea," Martin suggested at the dinner table. Victoria glowered at him, and he gulped. "If Jon and Clare believe that accepting this house as a gift when they marry is using the relationship with us to get something, then why don't you just agree that Clare and Jon are on the rota for the B&B."

"What?" Victoria squealed.

"Well, you will have errant men to beat and whip. And I am sure you could do with an extra pair of hands for a few hours each week. And you have already said that I'll be on the cleaning rota. So add Jon, too. That way, it is not just a gift. It's also in part employee accommodation."

Clare sniggered. "Honey," she said and took Martin's hand. "I can promise you I will always be around if there is an opportunity to beat a cocky arsehole to a simpering pulp. Especially if it is to help Vics!"

The hesitation that Clare and I had about accepting the enormous gift was more than just concern. We felt uncomfortable, and later that night Clare had a date with Kevin's boss - the restaurant manager - and Victoria dispatched Martin to chauffeur them to and from the welcoming inn in the centre of the British countryside.

Victoria demanded my presence in her dungeon via a text, and she sat in a high-backed red and black leather chair when I arrived at her underground torture chamber. In her gloved hand, she held a long, thin cane. "I need a guinea-pig," she replied curtly, and rose from her seat. The navy blue Latex bustier was enticing; her bottomless attire more so, and I glimpsed a flash of her pussy as she walked.

I gulped, and she backed away from me to a five-foot board with four fastenings on it, angled at around 30 degrees from the vertical. I realised that the spread-eagled position would display my arse or my cock for her torment. She sensed my fear immediately.

"Hands in these top two," she ordered. "Face down." I did as she commanded. Her padded restraints securely anchored my body to the wooden panel. "Now I saw this device on the 'net and I've had Willie make this board for it. It's a remote control spanker machine, and it looks fantastic. I'll be nice and start you off gently." She tittered as she set up the machinery behind my back. "It's the latest invention by some sadistic woman in Germany, and they are amazing. The Germans lead the world in torturing misbehaving boys."

"And I am here to test it?"

"I tested it on Martin yesterday, but I want to unleash it on my businessman tomorrow. He has just closed a shop and made four employees redundant. He doesn't know it, but we're going to be negotiating the redundancy settlements for those employees. And this will be one of my convincers." Her voice radiated with glee as she described the pain she would inflict on the local entrepreneur who owned a string of companies and was amongst the richest people in the county.

My head was at the top of the board and looked directly at the chair where Victoria sat and put her legs on a stool. I stared at her cunt. She picked up the black remote control and pressed a button. I heard a beep from behind me and then a sharp, short whip across my backside, where a cane had lashed my unbroken flesh.

I squealed as the smack landed on the centre of my rump, and she smiled. A second later, the whirr of the motor preceded another fiery crack of the thin rod against my flesh. "Painful?"

"Yes!" I moaned.

"Excellent. I've set it to do one every four seconds at a low strength and to vary it slightly. I don't want a thousand strikes in the same spot. It'll break the skin and wear you down to the bone."

"It's very painful."

"That's the idea," Victoria replied, and her fingers ran the length of her body to play with her swollen clit. "Don't mind me. Errant boys getting smacks really does it for me. But then you like watching girls masturbate, don't you? Or do you, we've not spoken much over the years. You've sucked cum from my cunt and I've beaten you and fucked you. I've tormented you. But we've never had a proper chat, and as the person engaged to marry my best friend, I think I should know more about you. So a nice, relaxing situation to have a wee chinwag."

She reached underneath her chair and took out a large bottle of whisky and a crystal glass. The domme poured herself a generous measure and looked straight at me. "What do you want to know?" I asked.

"Everything."

I had little to say; I grew up in London, had one sister, and attended a high-achieving secondary school. I got good grades in my exams and loved football in my youth. I had a natural flair for programming and found University easy. My parents helped support me in higher education, and Clare was my third girlfriend. Both my previous two relationships ended because of infidelity.

Victoria listened. She smiled when I said my last statement, pressed a button on her remote control and laughed when the cane ripped into my flesh at ten times the strength of the previous hits. "Your infidelity or theirs?"

"Once was hers and we split up because of it. She dumped me when I confronted her. I met Clare soon after. My first was at high school, when I got drunk with my girl's best friend at a party and screwed her. Bridget chucked me when she caught us in bed. Well she chucked stuff at me first, but I sorta deserved it, I guess."

Victoria said nothing and then leant back in her chair. "My story isn't so middle class. My dad died when I was two, and my mum remarried. My stepdad was a total piece of scum, who stole the money my dad had left for me. When I was thirteen his brother, my step-uncle, tried it on with me, and went to touch me places no thirteen-year-old should be touched. I broke his fucking fingers, and I got a caution for assault. Because of that, my own mother, and her shitty husband, threw me out and I moved in with my aunt, on the other side of the country. She was a dominatrix and worked in a large house she got from her divorce. She couldn't keep her sex work from me. But she showed me how to channel my anger and energy, and she had an amazing library of erotic books. Men came to her room and screamed in agony. It was delicious hearing that. The control, the power. I frigged myself every time she took a man into the Master Bedroom which was stuffed full of torture equipment. I read so much erotica."

She pressed a button once more on the remote so that the cane whipped my backside in a quick salvo of excruciating pain. I yelled in agony, and she rubbed her clit for a few seconds before returning it to its previous speed.

"I went through the entire college on dates, because life's too short, isn't it? I never wanted a relationship, but I had some fun finding out that I am a pretty good domme. Hugh, and Stephen. Wonderful Stephen. So naïve, so obedient." She giggled. "I got good grades in my exams and then my A-Levels. They offered me a place at Uni. I wasn't going to go, but my aunt made me. But I couldn't expect her to support me in Manchester. I had to make my own money, although I had a bit saved up. I took a few hours escorting each week that would take a lot out of my outgoings. I had to whip and beat men to get through my first year, but during that time I got involved with my aunt's friend. I was an assistant to this amazing dominatrix when she came to Manchester on her trips. It gave me the confidence to find more of my own clients. I paid for my education by the screams and cries of chauvinistic bastards. The more misogynistic they were outside the bedroom, the more I hurt them inside, and the more they liked it. And the more they paid. Meanwhile, I still I did not want a relationship. People let you down, and they use you. I would not and could not fall in love."

"I met Clare. She was a first year, and I was a second year. She helped me get through my aunt's unexpected death and I made her burn her granny knickers. Because underneath her conservative bullshit, I found a slut like me and she loved being part of my world. She was the best friend I've ever had. You know she overheard some prick bad-mouthing me, so she seduced him, tied him to his bed, and then burnt off his pubes with a lighter. He wet himself with fear. You just can't teach that, can you?"

"I guess not," I said with a smile.

"And I came across Martin. He was a punter, but I enjoyed his company, and he was a profitable little earner. I didn't want to fall for him. I didn't do relationships. He just took anything I could do to him. Because it was me." She took a gulp of her whisky and set the glass on the table before continuing. "But I fell for him. And I know it may not look like it as I cheat on him every day, I whip him, thrash him, humiliate him, piss on him. But I love him more than anything else in the world. No man has ever had my love, except him. And no woman alive has my love except Clare. Those two people mean the world to me. Growing up, I had nothing, except abuse and hand-me-downs until I moved to my aunt's house. My childhood was blighted by toxic masculinity and bullies. Why do you think I work hard for food banks and charities? So, knowing that, can you see why I want to keep my friend close to me as I start my own business? You understand why I must help her? She's picked me off the floor. She wiped the tears from my eyes and held me when I needed it. Do you understand?"

I nodded, and she raised her eyebrows. "Yes," I muttered.

"Good. Because only four other people alive know that about my history from beginning to end. And if Clare says you are the one for her, then you must be a decent egg. Hurt her, and I will break you. And I am going to let you into a secret that if you tell Clare, I will dump your gonads into a blender."

"Don't!" I cried. I wriggled in the fastenings, desperate to rub my painfully sore backside. "I can't keep secrets from her."

A smile crept across her face. "Good. But you will keep this one. Martin and I own around eight percent of the company Clare works for. We didn't plan it that way, but she got a job in one of the companies we have a stake in. We know the Chief Executive very, very well. Or more to the point, my strapon knows that kinky fucker very well. He was open to a little suggestion for Clare to get offered promotion to Manchester. It wasn't entirely coincidence they chose that office when they planned for her to be fast-tracked to a management position. I need Clare and Martin around me. And Clare needs you. So please accept our offer of the house as your wedding present. This was Martin's idea, and I think he loves having you around." She sighed and pressed a button on the remote control; I braced myself, but the spanker machine stopped.

"OK, I'll speak to Clare again."

"You do that," she muttered, and rose from her chair to walk behind me. I felt her hands grip my waist and then the cool sensation and unmistakable smell of lubricant land across my crack. "Whisky and toying with my cunt has left me all horny, and Clare says I can use you whenever I want. Because she's a great friend. Like a sister. And it means we share everything: clothes, sex toys, men, cars, hot-tubs. Even houses."

I didn't see Victoria fasten the harness around her waist, or attach the dildo to it. She slowly parted my buttchecks and pushed the lubricant into my hole. The rounded head of her phallus nestled between my abused buttocks.

"But especially submissive men." I groaned as the toy inched its way into me. She was tender and loving. Her hands gripped my shoulder and ran over my body until I felt her hot breath on the back of neck. "I'm all the way in," she whispered. "How does it feel? Good?"

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"Imagine being around women who would do this to you whenever you need it. Doesn't that sound like heaven?"

I mewed as she slowly rotated her hips. The fake cock swirled against my insides and my prostate and my prick, pressed against the cool board, leaked pre-cum onto my naked skin. "Yeah!" I squealed. My body groaned and cried under the sexual pressure coming from my arse. Clare made it react that way too; when a dominant woman pegged me, my lust exploded into overdrive.

Victoria had fucked many, many men, and her skill was a joy to a watch and an incredible treat to experience. She ground her hips into my butt; I felt the warm Latex of her bustier press against my back and she pinned my body against the wooden board.

My cock rubbed against the smooth surface. My prostate tickled by the large dong nestled between my buttocks. I felt the hot whispering grunts of the dominatrix in my ear. "Do you like this?"

"Yeah." I whimpered. My body shuddered as my lust built towards my apex.

I was going to cum; Victoria was going to fuck me to orgasm. My loins tingled. The electrifying tension behind my balls escalated. The head of my cock throbbed. I panted, groaning as my fiancée's best friend pounded my backside with firm, energetic thrusts. "You going to squirt for me?"

"Yes," I mewled. My body burnt with anticipation. The climax swelled and crashed into my body, radiating from my prostate and caused every atom of my being to bathe in orgasmic bliss. A cool rush of tingling, shivering pleasure.

And then my cock leaked; wave after wave of cum flowed from my dick, pressed against the board and my naked body, as my cries of ecstatic satisfaction caused the skilled dominatrix to giggle into my ear. "Happy, Jon?"

"Yeah," I whispered and felt her bury her cock in my arse and hug me tight.

"Someone has some cleaning up to do, don't they?" She unbuckled her strapon, and she stepped away from the board, with her smooth dildo hanging from my arse. I felt it slip, and I tried to grip the falling dildo with my butt, but gravity was too powerful and it landed by my feet with a thud. Victoria laughed and unfastened my right wrist. "You know where the cleaning stuff is, Jon!"

She left me to unbuckle my left hand and then each foot in turn, before removing the mess I had made from myself, the spanking machine, the board and the dildo.

I spoke further to Clare last night and over the following days about the wedding present offer. My fiancée was still hesitant, but when we looked at the houses we could afford, with our meagre deposit, she realised she would not likely to be in the village Victoria called home. The exclusive settlement demanded a premium price, outside the reach of any first-time buyer.