Chapter Twenty One

 

Cyril’s strength was coming back. A young novice-Dominatrix was examining him closely when he opened his eyes.

‘Are you in pain?’ she asked in a low, husky voice that made him tremble as she spoke.

He nodded.

‘Yes, mistress,’ he faltered.

‘You’ve been very naughty, haven’t you?’

He nodded again.

‘Don’t you know men are born to serve women?’ she asked. Her tone was sympathetic and caring, as though speaking to a little child.

He groaned.

‘Please, mistress, be kind to me. I got here by mistake. I didn’t ask to come. ’

The novice-Dominatrix drew close, rubbing her body against him like a cat.

‘What would you give me if I set you free?’ Her question was almost a purr.

‘Anything, mistress. Anything you want. ’

She rubbed her body against him again.

‘ANY-thing? Would you tongue my pussy if I put my crack on your face? Would you lick my clit?’ she wheedled him.

‘Oh, yes, mistress. Willingly. ’

The novice drew away and laughed.

‘What about the Great Mistress? Would you tongue and lick hers, too?’

As she spoke she took his drooping cock between her thumb and fingers, rolling it gently between them.

A shudder ran through him.

‘I . . . I’d try, mistress. ’

‘So it’s not just me you want, is it? You’d tongue anyone who’d let you go, wouldn’t you?’

Cyril saw she had been playing a game with him and did not answer.

The novice trilled with laughter as she left.

‘Poor little wanker,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll make a special study of you for my project. I’ll call it “Memoirs of a Cock-busted Male”. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll have a permanent droop. ’

Just then Erica arrived for the next milking session.

‘Come in, Frenchie,’ the novice called. ‘I might bring you into my project, too. I’ll push a walnut up your arse and tan you three or four times a day for the pleasure of hearing you scream. ’

She burst into a frightening tinkle of laughter as she left the room.

After she had closed the door behind her, Erica asked Cyril whether he thought she had been joking.

Cyril was too nervous to answer.

‘I’d better get on with the milking,’ Erica said.

He took hold of Cyril’s cock and felt it throb.

‘I love you,’ he whispered.

‘If you love me, help me,’ Cyril replied in a shaky voice.

The two men embraced and began a long, slow, deep French kiss. Cyril gave a huge sigh as Erica’s tongue entered his mouth.

Gently he closed his teeth on Erica’s tongue which ran around inside Cyril’s mouth, touching his upper palate and the inside of his cheeks. Erica brushed his tongue over Cyril’s which was fluttering like a moth attracted to a flame.

He pushed his fingers inside Cyril’s arsehole and waggled them slowly.

This was the first tender embrace Cyril had since leaving Andrea. The emotions aroused in him were soft and genuine.

‘If I let you off the cross for a little while,’ Erica whispered, ‘will you go back again after we’ve made love?’

Cyril promised.

‘Oh, yes,’ he breathed.

They embraced again after Cyril had been freed. As their kiss was ending, both men were weeping with joy. Suddenly, they heard footsteps.

Guiltily they sprang apart. In vain Erica tried to fasten Cyril back on the cross before they were detected, but Vesta entered the hall too quickly followed by Thrushton, her slave.

Vesta shook with laughter when she saw what had happened.

‘You’re in love, you two,’ she bellowed. ‘I’ll see you’re not separated, then. ’

‘Thrushton,’ she said, ‘put them on the long dildo, bum to bum.’

Grinning, Thrushton picked up the long steel rod. He approached Cyril first and thrust the dildo in his anus, ignoring the scream of pain. Then he turned to Erica who was standing with his legs crossed one behind the other, his hands covering his prick.

‘Back on to this,’ Thrushton growled.

Erica turned to run but he was not quick enough. Thrushton grabbed him and pushed him, bottom first, on to the steel rod now protruding between Cyril’s bum-cheeks. Erica squealed like a pig when the rod entered his sphincter.

When they were bum-to-bum, Vesta began tickling their nipples, bring both of them to the point of explosion. Their bodies jerked agitatedly as their nipples sprang to life. They were unable to synchronize their movements and their frantic efforts to come were useless.

The lovers were threaded on the long dildo like kebab. Their moans of pain and shrieks of rapture mingled with the laughter of Vesta and her slave, Thrushton.

As their movements brought their bums into contact with one another on the steel rod, Cyril began to feel a yearning to have Erica on the end of his prick.

The more his ardour grew, the harder he slammed his bottom against Erica’s.

The movements rubbed the delicate membrane inside their bum-holes raw. Vesta titillated their nipples again, bringing their desire for each other to an unbearable pitch, making them scream helplessly.

Unable to stand the torture any longer, Erica began to beg for relief, not stopping until Lashley arrived, accompanied by the girl who had found Cyril in the marsh.

‘Do you know this girl?’ Lashley asked him.

Cyril was incapable of thinking clearly by now.

‘She’s my cousin, Great Mistress. ’

The slash of the riding crop made him understand he had given the wrong answer.

‘So you’re a liar, too, are you?’ Lashley said. ‘We have ways of finding out the truth. A session in the gym will settle that. ’

 

The gym mistress was wearing a tight white blouse and skimpy shorts through which the globes of her bottom could be seen thrusting forward as though seeking to be handled, as she entered the gymnasium.

Seeing Cyril looking at her, she demanded to know what he was looking at.

He swallowed but dare not lie.

‘I . . . I . . . was watching . . . ’

‘Yes?’

‘Your . . . your bottom, gym-mistress. ’

‘So you’d like to feel me, would you?’

He looked tearful as he agreed.

Her bulging biceps rippled. Apart from bruises on her thighs, there appeared to be no signs of her fight with Reneti. Cyril knew she was determined to maintain her reputation as a man-tamer.

Her eyes glittered as she saw the two men linked bum-to-bum by the steel dildo. She knew the preliminary work in putting fear into them had already been accomplished. What was left for her to do, then, was the interesting part of humiliating them.

Roughly, she pulled Erica off the rod. Then she yanked the other end out of Cyril, giving it a little twist as she did so, bringing tears to his eyes.

‘I’ll deal with you last,’ she said, pointing to Erica. ‘Watch this one being treated and pray my arm will weaken before it’s YOUR turn. ’

She picked Cyril up off the ground with one hand and threw him across the vaulting horse.

His bum and haunches trembled as she chose the thin cane she wanted for the job. While she was making her selection, he was softly begging her forgiveness. She paid no attention to his exaggerated promises of better behaviour in future and to the change in his story about his relationship with the marsh-girl.

By the time he had exhausted his stock of excuses and promises and given his assurances he would never offend again, the gym mistress had chosen her instrument of punishment.

She swished it a few times, listening carefully to its ‘ha-whish’ as it cut through the air. Then she laid it lightly across his buttocks, a movement that made him jump and squeal in anticipation.

‘Not yet, wanker-love,’ she softly. ‘Not yet. Y’r arse’ll feel on fire soon, though. ’

Again she rested the cane lightly on his bum, making him jump once more. Then, without any warning, she raised it and slashed it down on his bare skin in one flowing movement.

‘That was a test-shot,’ she smiled. ‘Just to liven you up. Get you ready for the main course, so to speak. ’

She ran her hand over his twitching flesh.

‘You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?’

He groaned.

‘Yes, gym-mistress. I’m afraid of you. ’

‘And your cock is rising too, isn’t it, wanker-love?’

‘Y . . . Yes, gym-mistress. My cock is rising. ’

‘So it needs to be tamed, doesn’t it?’

He sobbed.

‘Answer me!’

‘Y . . . Yes, gym-mistress. My cock needs taming. ’

‘And the best way to tame it would be to thrash you, wouldn’t it?’

Again he had to agree.

‘How many cuts of the cane shall we give you then, wanker-love? Answer!’

‘Er . . . ah . . . ‘

‘Tell me quickly, wanker-love. I’ll get angry if you don’t. ’

His voice rose.

‘Fifteen, please, gym-mistress. ’

She shook her head.

‘That’s not what I have in mind. Try again. And get it right this time. ’

He was sweating now. Gobbets of fear ran down his face and between his bum-cheeks. This was probably his last chance.

‘Twen . . . twen . . . ‘

‘How many?’

‘Twenty-five? Please, gym-mistress. Make it twenty-five. ’

It was as though he was begging to be thrashed.

She laughed.

‘Bad guess. ’

She allowed him to wriggle as he agonized over another guess.

Would thirty be enough? Oh, God, please not more. Thirty . . . He’d never had as many as thirty before.

A vision of Andrea flashed into his mind. She used to make him choose and count out loud, too.

But THIRTY . . . !

Before he could speak she laid her cool hand on his buttock and bent down to whisper in his ear. The fresh, clean smell of her carbolic soap filled his nostrils.

‘I was going to say eighteen . . . ‘ his hopes rose, ‘ . . . but since nothing less than twenty-five will satisfy you,’ she dragged out her words, ‘that’s what you’ll get. You’ll like that, won’t you?’

He began to whine like a puppy.

‘Meh . . . meh . . . I’ll be goo . . . goo . . . ‘

‘And you’ll count them aloud,’ she continued. ‘Backwards - starting at 25. ’

She stood back to let him grovel before receiving his punishment.

‘And, wanker-love, if you miscount, we’ll start again. Back at 25.’

With that she brought the first stroke down on his cringing bum.

‘25,’ he screamed.

‘Right,’ she laughed.

Another cut.

‘Very good,’ she giggled.

‘24. ’

Then ‘23 - 22 -’

He felt on fire. Each cut fell in a different spot and each was fiercer than its predecessor.

She slid her hand under his belly and on top of the horse.

‘As I thought,’ she said, feeling the wet patch. ‘You’re enjoying it.’

He moaned.

‘23 -’

She did not tell him he had gone wrong.

‘22 -’

The stinging on his bum-cheeks was like red-hot needles.

‘23 -’

‘As you wish,’ she gurgled. She did not point out his mistake.

He managed to get down to eleven, screaming out the number. Then he passed out.

‘Get a bucket of water,’ she ordered the quivering Erica. ‘Fling it over him. While he recovers, pull those knicks right off and get over that other horse. ’

Erica dared not argue. Shivering, sobbing, grovelling and babbling wild promises, he had no option but to obey.

‘Start counting!’

The first cut brought a wild shriek from the frantic maid.

‘25’.

‘Very good, Frenchie. Keep it up. ’

‘24’.

‘23 - 22 - 20’

‘Back to 25, Frenchie. Your first mistake. ’

At last he reached the end of the thrashing.

‘Like some more, Frenchie?’

Petrified, Erica dared not answer. He was afraid she would find he was lying in a puddle of sticky come.

‘Your lover has recovered now,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’d like him to give you a few, too. Love-strokes. Five, I think. ’

Erica’s shoulders were heaving as he pressed his face into the leather of the vaulting horse. He could smell the sweat of previous offenders who had been placed across it.

His hands gripped the stained leather, his toes were curled into its sides to prevent himself from sliding to the ground. Through his shame and anguish he heard the gym mistress order Cyril to give him five more strokes.

‘And remember,’ she said, ‘if they’re too light, you’ll get them yourself, too. ’

By the time both men had been punished to her satisfaction, they had collapsed on the ground, whining and blubbing like whipped schoolboys.

Watching them gently running their hands over their newly-striped bums, the gym mistress flung the cane down and scoffed.

‘Men! Huh!’

She strode out of the gymnasium.

When they were sure she had gone, they crept sobbing uncontrollably into each other’s arms, mingling their tears, fondling each other, kissing deeply and passing their hands gently over each other’s smarting bum-cheeks.

In their misery, their degradation and loss of will made them understand they loved each other.