Theirs to Train: A Victorian Menage Romance

by Samantha Madisen

  The cane again sang in the air, and her spine tingled before the searing stripe of heat reached her senses. Unlike the spankings she had received, or the whipping, the power of the cane was so concentrated that at the moment it touched her skin it was so intense she could not feel anything at all. Then, like an insect bite, it screamed across her skin, and blossomed into a searing heat, making her breath leave her chest in a silent scream. The heat spread slowly, while the strip burned intensely. Her eyes watered immediately and uncontrollably, but she managed to keep her voice within her chest.

  It was, after all, the punishment she had chosen for herself.

  The second crack landed in a stripe below the first, and tears were expelled from her eyes, but she still made no sound. The wave of the heat of the two welts crashed against each other, spreading, biting, but the third, and then fourth canes lashed into her in quick succession, right after the now-familiar slicing through the air.

  Upon the impact of the fourth stripe, she heard herself whimper. She began to push herself up, to attempt to stand, to beg for just a moment, but she stopped herself, and paused, partly raised, trembling.

  “Miss Blanchet, return to your disciplining position, or I will be forced to punish you for your further disobedience.”

  She slid slowly back to the leather, now damp with her sweat, and closed her eyes tightly as she tilted her bottom up for Mr. Blackstone’s final caning. The cane swept through the air, singing, and she let out a yelp, but the cane never landed on her bottom. Her eyes flew open, and she trembled, staring at her hand through the blur of her tears.

  Mr. Blackstone’s fingers landed gently on the first welt, and followed the swollen skin along the strip to the end, heating the already burning welt and making Lina’s whole body shake. Though the pain was intense, the pleasure that throbbed in her cunny was more so, and it almost seemed to be enhanced as Mr. Blackstone traced each of the four welts, lighting them on fire again with the touch of his fingers.

  “Ask me to give you your final stroke, Miss Blanchet. Use your most polite words, and call me master.”

  Her voice was shaking as she spoke, and each word seemed to actually touch her cunny, stroking her as Mr. Doyle had done until she was screaming with pleasure.

  “Please, Mr. Blackstone, sir...m...master. Cane me again.”

  “As you wish,” he said softly.

  And he delivered the final stroke, another neat line below the other four, so that no welt crossed over another, and her skin burned in five, hot slashes, neatly arranged.

  She was panting and could feel sweat rolling along her ribs. The waves of heat on her bottom had been overcome by the ache between her legs. Mr. Blackstone’s fingers danced over the final welt and then slipped down, to where she ached most, brushing over her little button and making her gasp.

  His touch was light, and he played with her, driving her wilder, providing no relief. Tears welled up in her eyes again as she realized that he might not yet have delivered his true punishment. The true punishment might be to tease her, and never give her any relief.

  But she could do nothing about that.

  He moved his hand to the object in her bottom, lightly pressing it in different directions to remind her it was there, and to cause the need inside of her to flare. She knew, now, that he knew exactly what his touch would do to her.

  “Today you are to get a new plug in your bottom, Miss Blanchet. A bigger one, one that, with your red bottom, will make it very difficult for you to sit. Climb up, place your knees together on the bed and lift your lovely bottom.”

  Lina obeyed, lifting her bottom upward, the cool air of the room licking at her dripping cunny.

  Mr. Blanchet tugged at the object in her bottom, and slid it slowly out, then back in, and, pumping it very gently, he began to speak.

  “Today I will also spread your legs open and fuck your cunny, Miss Blanchet. So it is very, very good that you have enjoyed your discipline. You must learn to enjoy the feel of a man’s cock inside your mouth, and here, and in your cunny. Do you understand, Miss Blanchet?”

  “Yes, master. I understand,” Lina murmured, her eyes blank as her mind was consumed by the ache in her bottom, the twisting and pulling of the object inside. How much larger would the new object be? She hoped it would press on her as this one had at first, that she would be even more full than before...

  Mr. Blackstone abandoned her bottom, and she sensed that he was moving behind her—away, to the wall of sexual devices. Cautiously, she edged herself to a slight angle, so that she could, if she strained hard enough, see a glimpse of him as he turned around.

  “Do not be so foolish, Miss Blanchet, as to believe I do not know when you move and attempt to look at me,” he said, without turning his back. “You wouldn’t want to be punished yet again, would you?”

  She didn’t answer, because her heart had stopped cold for a beat within her chest.

  “Or perhaps you would?” he said, and she heard that he was returning. He touched her burning welts again.

  “No, sir,” she said quietly.

  “Get up on your hands and knees again, my pet,” he said.

  He did not seem to notice that he called her by the affectionate term, and Lina’s heart swelled as it had before, only even more so, for he had possessed her in his speech.

  He covered her eyes again with the blindfold.

  Lina turned her chin, as though to look back at him. The temptation to ask him why he wanted her blindfolded was bubbling up inside of her, and she had to resist very hard to keep herself quiet.

  “Now lie down, Miss Blanchet, face up upon the bed.”

  She obeyed him, and several moments passed without him saying anything or touching her. But she was certain that he was devouring her with his eyes, and the thought of it was as powerful as if he had actually touched her. She wanted to cover herself, especially the betraying parts of her—her nipples, which had become hard and sore, and her cunny, which was throbbing so wildly and so wet, that she was sure even Mr. Blackstone would be aghast.

  “When your master wants to fuck you, Miss Blanchet, he shall choose the way you are to lay your body out for him. I want you to do as I command you, and then I will restrain you so that you cannot move, but you will first obey me, so that you understand your actions must be submissive and obedient.”

  Her lips parted, and she whispered, “Yes, sir.”

  “Bring your hands together at your navel,” he said quietly, his voice the calm and commanding tone which had first made her shiver pleasurably so many weeks ago at Green Grove Manor. “Now bend your knees, and bring your legs up to your chest, spreading them so that your hands are between your thighs. Yes, just like that.”

  Lina could feel her cheeks getting red, especially as she spread her legs and pictured herself, wide open, with Mr. Blackstone looking on.

  “Hook your elbow under your knee, on each side, as though your leg is a dance-partner,” he said, his voice a rumble now. She obeyed, hesitant, unclear what he might want of her.

  “Very good. Now, use your arms to spread your legs wide open to me, Miss Blanchet.”

  “I—” she began, but cut herself off, even though Mr. Blackstone was talking over her as well.

  “You will obey,” he said quietly.

  She obeyed, and sniffed quietly as a sob of humiliation caught her unaware and threatened to escape. The air of the room was cool where she was wet: between her legs, on the insides of her thighs, snaking down to her bottom-hole.

  Mr. Blackstone secured her, one appendage at a time, so that her wrists were pulled down and to the sides, prying her legs open, and her ankles were also secured, so that the lower part of her legs could not bounce up. She was completely immobilized, her legs spread wide, her cunny exposed and dripping before Mr. Blackstone. And she could not see him, where he was, what he would do to her.

  The very next sensation she felt was so unexpected that her whole body strained against the ropes holding her. When the seizu
re became trapped inside of her she shrieked. It took her a moment to realize that the sensation was pleasure—a pleasure so intense it burned like the crack of a cane. She tried to place it, to figure out what was causing it, for it felt very much like Mr. Blackstone’s fingers on her cunny, and yet softer, faster, wetter.

  Warmer.

  “Oh!” she shrieked. “Oh, my! Oh!”

  By the time she realized that Mr. Blackstone had placed his mouth on her cunny, and by the time the obscenity of such a thing had caused her face to turn red, he was no longer attending to her. She gave a gasp of exasperation, for now the need that throbbed between her legs was as excruciating as she had ever felt it.

  A warm, smooth, hard something was now between the wet lips of her cunny. It pushed against her hole. It was too big, and seemed to be stuck, but Mr. Blackstone continued forward. A sharp pain grew as he pushed against her, and she heard him make a sound, a bit like a sigh, a bit like a moan. “Your cunny is so tight,” he breathed.

  The heat of his body was close to her, and she longed to feel it against her, to feel the big thing she had taken into her mouth inside of her cunny, which throbbed and ached to be filled, even as it stung where he pressed against her. “It’s too big,” she said, whimpering, but her voice was filled with disappointment.

  He covered her skin with his, and his cock pushed in, making her whimper in pleasure and pain. His hand swept through her hair, and his lips were close to hers, smelling like the juices of her cunny. And then, suddenly, she felt a searing pain, and the hard, hot muscle of his cock began to slide inside of her, quickly, stretching her wide, filling her up, pushing against the object in her bottom.

  Lina might have screamed, except that yet again the air was sucked from her lungs and the pain and pleasure exploded so intensely that she had no words and no breath to make a sound.

  As he moved slowly in and out of her, Lina began to toss her head from side to side. She was being taken to a new high as he rubbed inside of her, and her body tensed almost everywhere.

  “Hold still,” Mr. Blackstone breathed, and Lina wondered what he meant, for she was tied down completely, but she was unable to spend long contemplating it because she was going up, up and over the height of pleasure. “You’re so tight, Miss Blanchet, do not move...”

  His voice drifted away, and Lina felt faint as her body seemed to turn to liquid and roll in waves, while at the same time tensing up to where she was sure she felt like stone. She only realized that she was screaming as the wave ebbed away, but by then Mr. Blackstone was pounding his manhood into her, and muttering things like “Don’t, you’re too...”

  And then his body was tense, deep inside of her, and he groaned loudly as the hot wetness of his seed filled her.

  Lina was still shuddering from the height of her own pleasure as Mr. Blackstone lay on top of her, his member still turgid and pulsing inside of her. The sensation of fullness that encircled her did not leave, even as her pleasure diminished in jagged waves. The heat of his body was still atop her for a long time: solid, heavy, and somehow protective. His hands went to her head, his fingers meshed in her hair, and she sensed that he was looking at her, his lips very close to her face, as he breathed heavily and descended from his own pleasure.

  “Carolina.”

  She could not be certain that she heard correctly, for he whispered it hoarsely and low, and very suddenly withdrew from inside her, almost as though some emergency had called him to another place.

  Unsure of what to do, she waited, her heart pounding, wondering if she should say something. The sound of him moving around her was difficult to decipher. Was he preparing yet another aspect of her torment and pleasure?

  Without any comment from him, she felt the restraints loosen, first on her arms, and then on her ankles, though he did not pull them away from her limbs.

  His voice seemed to come from near the door, and it was toneless and quiet.

  “Extricate yourself and... wait here,” he said, and then, almost stammering, he added: “I—someone—Dr. Doyle shall be... come for you.”

  Lina opened her mouth to say something, though as so often occurred, she did not know what it was and no words passed her lips.

  But it did not matter, for she heard the closing of the door, and then only silence: Mr. Blackstone was gone.

  * * *

  She did as he had ordered her, though the way it was delivered had been so strange she was not sure if it could be called an order. By wiggling her arms and legs she was able to loosen the restraints and pull her arms free, sit up, and slip the scarf from her eyes, to confirm what she knew to be true: Mr. Blackstone had left her alone.

  It was cool in the room, and she pulled her legs and arms to her chest and hugged herself as she contemplated the strange interaction with Mr. Blackstone. Between her legs, his seed was warm and wet against her thighs.

  Why had he left so abruptly, she wondered? Had he not told her that she would receive her next step in her training, a new object for her bottom? It made no sense.

  Her dress had been hung upon a hook on the wall, and the cane that had scorched her bottom so pleasantly replaced upon the wall of objects.

  How long was she to wait? Why was she to wait? And why had he freed her and not done what he had promised?

  The minutes dragged by in the soundless chamber, and she grew cold, so at last she rose from the bed and lifted the plain frock over her head, leaving it unlaced, simply to be warm. She sat on the bed, and waited, but so much time went by that she began to wonder if she should leave.

  But no, no; perhaps this was another test of her obedience. A strange one, one that unsettled her. But a test, nonetheless.

  It must be, she thought sleepily, as she leaned to the side and lifted her legs to the bed. Her eyes became heavy, and so she closed them, and fell asleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Miss Blanchet.”

  Her eyes flew open and she lurched to sit up straight, her mind reeling, attempting to reconstruct the moments that had happened before she fell asleep, but as always when she dozed during the day, she was disoriented in both time and place.

  The voice was Dr. Doyle’s, but until she turned toward its source and saw him, standing near the closed door and removing his fine jacket, she could not place it.

  “Dr. Doyle,” she murmured, sliding to a standing position. “I... I fell asleep... Mr. Blackstone left, and he ordered me to stay, so I...”

  Her voice trailed off, as she watched Dr. Doyle roll up his sleeves in a fashion that was, for some reason, arousing, and perhaps even sinister.

  “Am I to be punished?” she said weakly.

  Dr. Doyle, who had always been a more cheerful man—which was not much of a task given Mr. Blackstone’s temperament—gave her a small smile and shook his head. “Have you been disobedient?” he asked her, rolling the final part of his right cuff up to his elbow. His steely eyes met hers, and a cool stab of pleasurable fear went through her torso.

  “Not that I am—that is to say, I was disobedient, and I confessed to Mr. Blackstone, and I was disciplined... but then...”

  She could not be certain of why, but tears welled up in her eyes. She tried very hard to fight them back, but it did no good, and her vision blurred. She could feel that the water was going to spill over, so she looked down, and the tears spilled over her cheeks. “I feel I must have done something terribly wrong,” she said.

  Dr. Doyle came close to her and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. His expression was friendly, almost amused. “None of that, Miss Blanchet. Now, turn around and let me see if you have been properly disciplined for your disobedience.”

  Lina had ever so many more questions, and could not understand why the doctor was smiling, but she was certain that she did not want to be disobedient again, especially as she did not know if Dr. Doyle was here to discipline her further, perhaps for the unknown offense she had committed causing Mr. Blackstone to leave so abruptly.

  She
leaned over the bed, and Dr. Doyle lifted her skirt, exposing her bottom and throwing the material over her torso, so that it covered her head. Where she was still wet—and since Doyle had mentioned “discipline,” she had become more so—her skin grew cold.

  His fingers moved like feathers over the welts left by the cane. Her skin ignited at his touch, and the dull soreness that had been present turned to a throbbing heat. Her cunny became wet again as he moved his fingers over the marks of her discipline, almost as though, like Mr. Blackstone, he was admiring them. “You comported yourself very, very badly, I take it, Miss Blanchet.”

  She swallowed, unable to understand how Dr. Doyle’s touch had so quickly brought her body back to the tormented state of desire the two men so often made her suffer.

  “Yes, master,” she breathed, and her cunny pulsed.

  “It seems sufficient to me,” Dr. Doyle said, taking his hand away and making the declaration as a doctor might make a diagnosis. “Remain there, Miss Blanchet.”

  She heard him move around the room, near the wall of objects, and then return to his place behind her. He pushed on the object in her bottom, and she gasped as a sharp ache again roared to life, and then moved around inside of her as he played with the end of it.

  He slid it slowly from inside of her, and as it was pulled there were patches of it that almost scratched, a bit like the bite of the cane. But the emptiness that consumed her quickly overran that sensation, and she howled softly when he pulled it at last from inside, leaving her empty.

  He drew his finger through the wet slick of her cunny, taking with it some of the silky slipperiness, so that when he began to make circles around the edge of her bottom-hole, his fingers glided gently.

  “Oh!” Lina could not help saying. The empty canal of her bottom ached like her cunny, and pulsed like it as well. She closed her eyes, trying to be still and quiet, for she sensed that was what Dr. Doyle required of her.

  She could not stop her thighs from shaking, no matter how much she balled the fabric of her skirt in her fists. Another gasp escaped her when Doyle inserted his finger and probed her insides, pressing up and down, touching places that were sore from the presence of the object, and yet felt as though they had never been touched.