by Kane, Lacey
“It was enlightening, yes, Master.” Jocelyn retrieved her fork and took another bite of her Yorkshire pudding.
Gabriel lifted a brow. “But not enjoyable?”
“Frustrating might be more apt.”
He stifled a smile. His little pet looked thoroughly disgruntled, but frustrated was precisely how he wanted her to feel at this point in time. In fact, he intended to frustrate her far more before he finally granted her a petite mort.
But what a release it would be once he allowed it.
Scooping up a spoonful of peas, he changed the subject. “I see the gown Mariah put together for you fits perfectly.”
Jocelyn pinked up again and tried to lower her chest so he couldn’t see her tits from across the table. Another minor moment of disobedience. He couldn’t let these go.
“Did I give you permission to hide from me?”
Immediately, she sat up straighter again. “No, Master,” she murmured.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes, then reached overhead for the bell pull.
Bexley came in straightaway. “You rang, Your Grace?”
“Send in a maid to clear the dishes away. We’ve finished our supper.”
The butler inclined his head and left. A moment later, Rebecca, a perpetually troublesome scullery maid wearing the gauzy service uniform required of female servants at Blackthorne, scurried in and whisked the china off the table.
His pet’s wide eyes followed the girl, settling on the large, red hand prints on the maid’s bottom that were clear through the fine material.
Jocelyn still had not emptied more than half her plate. Perhaps going hungry until morning, particularly with all the activity he had planned for the rest of the night, would teach her to do as she was told, when she was told.
When the maid bustled out of the room again, Gabriel caught Jocelyn’s eyes. “Come stand before me.”
Again, she hesitated. But after a moment, she stood and came around the long table, then took up a position before him.
He slid the fabric over her teats down, exposing her breasts completely. Her breath caught, but he ignored it. As he had earlier, Gabriel pinched each nipple between his thumb and his forefinger. “You’ve disobeyed me, my pet. I instructed you to perform my bidding immediately, yet you hesitated just now. I instructed you to obey my servants as they bathed and dressed you, yet you sassed Clarisse, you hesitated before obeying them, and you struggled against them as they performed my bidding. And only moments ago, you attempted to hide your body from me without permission.”
With each point he ticked off, he tightened his grip on her tits, squeezing the blood out of them. When Jocelyn sucked in a ragged breath, he released one. Then he waited until the blood returned, and took it into his mouth, biting down with his teeth hard enough to cause pain, but not hard enough to break the skin.
Growling, he shook his head like a dog with her breast still gripped in his jaw. She whimpered and stumbled forward, and he suckled as though trying to milk from it. Just when her sounds turned to those of pleasure instead of pain, he bit all the way around her breast, leaving pink marks on her delicate skin from the force of his teeth.
Then he repeated the procedure with the other breast while once again pinching the first nipple between his fingers in an iron-like vise.
When he finished and looked up, her eyes hovered on the border between pleasure and pain. His little pet was proving to be far more submissive in nature than he’d allowed himself to dream. A bit willful still, perhaps, but that would only serve to keep things interesting. Her enjoyment of pain would make her training pleasurable for them both.
“Bend over the table,” he ordered her.
This time, she complied immediately. Gabriel lifted the skirt of her gown and settled it around her waist, baring her sweet arse to his touch.
He trailed his hands over the soft skin, the firm flesh, warming her up to his ministrations. “I will not allow your disobedience, Jocelyn. I’m sure you understand I must punish you now.”
Jocelyn tensed beneath him. “Haven’t you just done that?” she asked, her voice muffled slightly against the sturdy table.
“Ah, and now you doubt my methods of training you to submit. And you’ve neglected to call me Master again, I’m afraid. Two more infractions, my pet.”
Turning away from her, he pulled on the bell again. Bexley arrived moments later.
“I left a silver tray of implements with Cook. Bring it to me at once.”
The butler inclined his head. “Right away, Your Grace.”
“Better yet,” Gabriel said, halting his butler’s departure for the moment as an inspired thought struck him, “bring Rebecca with you as well when you return. And Haines.”
“Of course.” Then Bexley was gone.
While he waited for his butler’s return, Gabriel untied the snowy, white cravat from his neck. He pulled it back and used it to deliver a quick swat to Jocelyn’s hinder parts, reveling in her flinch and the tiny yelp she let free. “There will be far more of that, my pet,” he murmured.
Retrieving a napkin that was still on the table, he formed that into a gag. He tugged on a handful of Jocelyn’s hair, pulling her head back with force to take her by surprise. It worked, and she sucked in a gasp of air, easing his ability to fill her mouth with the fabric. He used his cravat to tie around her head, holding the gag in place.
Just as he finished knotting it, his servants returned to the dining hall with the requested implements.
“Set the tray on the table. Bexley and Haines, I’ll ask you to each take one of my pet’s ankles and spread her legs wide for me, holding her firmly in place. Hold her arms, too.”
He waited until they’d done as he asked.
Jocelyn’s legs were now spread as wide as they could go without her arse dropping any lower than he wanted it, and she couldn’t raise her torso even an inch because of his butler and footman.
“Rebecca, as you’ve apparently earned a punishment today, I intend to assist in completing it.”
The maid looked at him with fear and desire in equal measure on her face, awaiting further instruction.
“Choose an implement,” he commanded.
Rebecca’s eyes shone as she examined the silver tray, lined carefully with a horse crop, a flogger, a silver-backed brush, and a walking cane. “The brush, Master,” she said a little too delightedly.
Just as he’d suspected. Rebecca always achieved her pleasure when she was spanked, it seemed…but rarely drew any from being whipped or caned.
Gabriel nodded. “Excellent choice. I’ll spank my pet with the silver-backed brush while you’ll be on your knees, licking her twat.”
Jocelyn reared back at that announcement, but Haines and Bexley held her down handily. Rebecca, looking thoroughly dejected, immediately did as he’d decreed. She dropped to her knees, putting her head between Jocelyn’s pelvis and the table, and placed her tongue against his pet’s gash.
The stimulation on her twat during her punishment would help her to connect pleasure with pain. Yes, her arse would burn before he was finished, but she would be wet and needy from Rebecca’s ministrations. Not only that, but there was little Rebecca disliked more than the taste of another woman’s jelly. She’d be deprived of what she wanted, forced to perform an act she despised, and she would aid him in training his pet to seek pain in order to gain pleasure.
There could hardly be a more perfect marriage of circumstances.
He picked up the brush and slid the back of it along Jocelyn’s derriere. “Now, you’ve had seven infractions since I informed you of my requirements, my pet. You’ll receive five blows for each of them. That’s a total of thirty-five strikes with the brush.”
She whimpered into her gag and squirmed against the strong arms restraining her, which was music to his ears.
Gabriel lifted his arm. “Bexley, you’ll count aloud for me.” Then he brought his arm down, the brush landing against Jocelyn’s right cheek with a resounding thwac
k echoing throughout the dining hall.
Her hips drove forward from the force of the blow, knocking Rebecca’s head back against the edge of the table. Both women cried out, but Jocelyn’s was muffled by her gag, and Rebecca’s by Jocelyn’s wicket.
“One.”
Gabriel smiled down at the faint trace of pinking skin as he lifted his arm again. Years of fantasizing, and his fantasies couldn’t possibly compete with the reality of a prone Jocelyn, taking everything he intended to give to her and then some.
“Thirty,” the butler called with far too much glee in his voice.
Even as he counted, the brush smacked her left cheek again, a smarting blow that drove her hips forward again.
This time, Rebecca nipped Jocelyn’s button with her teeth after her head cracked against the hard, wooden table. The maid didn’t slow in her torturous licking, however, driving her tongue up into Jocelyn’s slit easily because of the constant stream of fluids building there, the steady softening of her flesh, the near-interminable swelling of her private areas.
Jocelyn had been crying freely since the twelfth blow, when her master had increased the force of his strikes by more than double.
He’d doubled the strength of his swing again at twenty-eight, causing her to scream into her gag to the point she feared she might have ruined her voice permanently. It now only came out in a rasping sort of sound, not that anyone could tell because of the gag. She doubted anyone would care, either, as her tears and screams only seemed to goad them further.
“Five more,” her husband said. “Rebecca, come out from beneath my pet’s legs.”
Jocelyn didn’t know whether she should be relieved or disappointed. While she’d never experienced anything like what the maid had been doing to her, it had provided a bit of distraction from the intense pain coming from her hindquarters.
Rebecca scurried up from the floor, bumping her head hard against Jocelyn’s private parts on her way with a snicker.
“Sit by the door, and don’t you dare touch yourself,” he commanded the maid.
She moved around the massive table and came into Jocelyn’s view, then took a seat in a high-backed chair as instructed.
“Pet,” her husband growled, “you are to remain completely silent and still for the remainder of your punishment. If you move so much as an inch, if you make so much as a squeak, you will earn a much more serious punishment than you’ve already received.”
Jocelyn couldn’t imagine what he might do to her that could possibly be worse than what he’d already done, but she had no desire to tempt fate. She braced herself, determined to become a statue for the next little while.
Instead of another blow with the back of the brush, however, something moved inside her private place—something hot and hard and metal. It pressed in deep, and finally came to a stop when she was certain she would call out if it went any further. The only reason it stopped, however, was because the base was too wide to drive inside her opening.
Her master had driven the handle of the brush up in her sex!
Jocelyn’s face burned with her shame, even as he pulled it back out and then shoved it home again, taking up the rhythm of mating. Rebecca watched from afar and ground her bottom against the chair, but she wisely did not touch herself. Still, it was abundantly clear that the maid found pleasure in watching what the duke was doing to Jocelyn.
Eventually, Jocelyn’s shame began to melt away bit by bit as her desire increased. How was such a thing possible? Never in a lifetime did she expect she might understand it.
The faster he worked the brush handle in her cunny, the more dangerously close she came to either moving in an effort to draw herself closer to his wicked attentions or moaning and revealing her growing wanton need. Neither would be advisable.
But finally, he pressed the handle of the brush in as deep as it would go and then left it there. He untied the cravat holding her gag in place and then used it to tie her hands at the wrists behind her back. His hand reached over to the silver tray beside her, and he picked up the flogger. The napkin remained in her mouth. Jocelyn dared not attempt to remove it.
“Turn her around to face me,” he commanded his servants. “I want her arse hanging over the edge of the table, her back flat on it, and her legs bent back with her feet at the edge of the table as well.”
The two men holding her in place quickly flipped her around, positioning her as her master instructed. The brush almost fell out of place, but Haines stopped its descent and pressed it, ramming it home with a force that nearly ripped a new scream of surprise from her throat. Then he gripped Jocelyn’s ankle to bend her leg into a thoroughly awkward and uncomfortable manner. Positioned just so, her head hung over the opposite edge of the table.
Her master moved around to stand directly by her head. He took up a broad stance, and she could see little but his massive thighs…not to mention the bulge straining against his pants right by her face.
Master removed the cloth napkin from her mouth. Carefully, he refolded it and then placed it over her eyes, tying it behind her head so that she couldn’t see a thing.
Nothing else happened for what felt an eternity. Jocelyn tried not to move, but she’d never been more decidedly uncomfortable in her life. Her arms were tingling into numbness beneath her, and she desperately wanted her legs to be released so she could stretch them.
“Open your mouth, pet.” Master’s voice.
She feared what was to come, but feared disobeying slightly more—enough more that she parted her lips. As soon as she did, something hot and hard and silken pressed between them and kept going, forcing her mouth ever wider as she struggled not to gag on the invasion as a salty, musky taste spread over her tongue.
After witnessing the three men ravishing Clarisse earlier, Jocelyn had no doubt—this could be nothing but her master’s member. The thought of it left her squeamish.
She wanted to shake her head free, but that would surely earn another punishment. She wanted to shake herself free from these men and their grips upon her, but she was so small and they were so large, and besides, where was she to go?
Hot tears stung her eyes, growing more pronounced as Master continued to shove his manhood deep into her mouth.
It hit the back of her throat and blocked her airway, and she panicked when bile rose up her throat. As though he sensed her terror, Master placed his hands against her ears, one of them still holding the flogger, and held her head completely still aside from angling it downward even more. “Swallow it,” he commanded.
He never stopped pressing forward, further invading her mouth with each moment that passed. Jocelyn tried and failed to swallow, but accidentally nipped him with her teeth in the process of her attempt.
Master sucked in a hissing breath. “No teeth, pet. That’s an extra ten lashes, for causing your master pain. Now swallow.”
All too quickly, she was running out of air. Steeling herself, she worked her throat muscles and tried to swallow his girth. As she did, he slid down inside her, not stopping until his sac pressed into her nose.
He held her in place like that, not allowing her to move until her lungs were fit to burst with the need to be replenished. But finally, he pulled away, releasing his grip on her head. She sucked in a gasp, barely in time. Before she’d prepared herself at all, he placed one hand on her neck and forced his way in again.
Jocelyn better understood how to do what he wanted this time, though it was no less unnatural and painful for her. Still, she managed to take his length down into his throat with greater ease.
Master pumped himself in and out in a mating rhythm. A steady stream of drool built from his repeated invasions, coating his cock and bubbling out of her permanently-open mouth. Wet, sticky slurping noises emanated from her throat. All the while, he kept massaging his hand over her neck.
Just when she was finally growing accustomed to the unfamiliar sensations, the flogger came down over her right breast, the falls biting into her delicate flesh. She j
umped and would have kicked out, were Bexley and Haines not keeping her in place so well.
“Bexley, you’ll start counting again from one. She’s to receive fifteen lashes.”
“One,” the butler called out.
The next lash bit into her left breast. She was slightly more prepared for it, but her body still thrashed from the impact.
By the time Bexley called out, “Eight!” the bite of the flogger had turned more into a dull, throbbing pain on her breasts that were heavy and full and aching for more.
Master pumped his phallus into her throat faster then, his sac slapping her in the face with each thrust. He was lengthening somehow, too, which could only mean he was getting closer to spending.
“Nine,” came, and the flogger landed harder on her right breast, sending a course of fire through her body all the way to her loins. Then, “Ten,” and a blow to her left breast, and her sex clenched against the brush deep inside.
“Move the brush to her arsehole.” Master’s hand that was massaging her throat started to squeeze as he pressed deep inside her. “So damn tight, my pet.”
The brush handle was wider than even the three fingers she’d had inside her rear entry earlier, and Jocelyn struggled not to scream as it worked its way deep within her bowels.
Once it was settled, she braced herself for the impending strikes over her breasts. The flogger didn’t land on her breasts, though. It came down, sharp and fast, over her button.
“Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen,” Bexley cried.
Her master pushed into her throat with each strike, staying deep within her with the last one as he spurted his sticky, salty seed over her tongue. Even after he’d finished, he kept himself in her mouth, and Jocelyn was forced to swallow every drop of it.
“Good girl, my pet.” Master stroked her face. Then, finally, he pulled his softening penis free from her lips. “You’ve handled your first punishment admirably.”
For some mad reason, Jocelyn almost thanked him for his words of praise. She worked her jaw, trying to ease the ache of holding it so wide for so long, and he bent to kiss the cloth over her eyes that were wet with her tears.
