by Kane, Lacey
With that, she was whisked off to the dining room again. Master deposited her on her stomach on the table, a plate of food set before her.
She was ravenous after the day’s activity, and no amount of seed could possibly provide her enough sustenance for all that they were putting her through, so she immediately started eating. She still remembered from this morning how to rock herself forward so she could take a bite. But she’d only eaten one bite when Lord slapped her on the bottom and grabbed a fist of her hair, pulling her up to look at him.
“You have until these three footmen are finished fucking you to eat as much as you can. Use your time well.”
She passed her fretful eyes over to Master where he sat at the head of the table, but he nodded in confirmation.
Then Lord returned her to her position.
Jocelyn took another bite as quickly as she could, but even as she did she felt one of the footmen climbing up onto the table behind her. He stabbed his penis into her sex while she was still chewing and pulled back on her hair for leverage. Occasionally, he’d force her head forward by the nape of her neck before once again jerking her back by the hair. The third time he did this, Jocelyn managed to take another bite. By the time he emptied himself into her womb, she’d only eaten perhaps a quarter of her meal.
No sooner had he gone than a second footman forced into her bum, marking the third time in one day she’d been sodomized. This man was even bigger around than Master was, and Jocelyn screamed in pain as he stretched her obscenely. He rutted her hard and fast, holding her around the neck as he did, which made it next to impossible to eat anything at all.
His seed shot into her bowels and he climbed off. By then, Jocelyn had only eaten slightly more than she had after the first footman finished.
Instead of mounting her, however, the third grabbed her by the ropes, flipped her onto her back, and pulled her so her bum was hanging off the edge of the table. When he shoved his member into her bottom while she was in that position, Jocelyn’s panic started anew. How could she finish eating if she couldn’t get to the food?
“Pity,” Lord said, his tone laughing.
She looked over to find both Master and Lord eating and watching her intently as she was violently buggered. The entire table, large enough to seat fifty people, shuddered under the force of his thrusts. Surviving his assault became her sole focus.
She forgot to think about eating until a handful of food was forced into her mouth mid-scream. The hand came down over her mouth and held it shut for a moment, and Jocelyn tried to chew and swallow looking up into the eyes of a footman with a limp, sticky cock.
She’d barely gotten the mouthful down when he took another handful, smothered it over his cock, and shoved it into her mouth.
“Brilliant!” Lord called out, pounding the table with glee. “She’ll have to clean him anyway.”
And so Jocelyn did, licking the food and sweat and semen and her own juices free from the footman’s member, swallowing it greedily. When she finished with him, the other who’d already spent himself in her did the same.
Then she only had the footman who was currently trying to split her body in two remaining. He battered himself into her over and over, gripping her ropes for leverage.
When finally he shouted, he pulled free from her bum and shot his seed all over the remainder of her supper. He hadn’t even finished yet when he spun her body around so it was now her head hanging off the ledge, then smeared a massive amount of food over his cock and thrust it deep down her throat, still hard and spurting streams of the stuff.
At long last she had him clean. As a final touch, as Master was calling for Bexley to have the table cleared, her final footman flipped her over to her stomach and shoved her face down into the plate.
The footmen left, and Bexley entered. Master looked down at Jocelyn almost apologetically.
But it was Lord who spoke, not Master. “Have the table cleared. And send our pet out to the stables to be cleaned like the filthy animal she is before you return her to the Great Hall.”
“Right away, my lord.” Bexley nodded to Master, then backed out of the room.
“Come,” Master said then, though his voice had lost some of its normal vigor, “we should prepare the Hall.” He and Lord left, too, and Jocelyn was alone, at least for the moment.
They had left the plate beneath her face, though, so she ate as much as she could before someone returned, whether for her or for the plate. She’d only been by herself for a minute or two before Haines, Palmer, and Smyth joined her.
Palmer hefted her over his shoulder and the three of them took her straight to the stables, where an iron tub filled with cold water was awaiting her. Without removing any of her bindings, they tossed her straight into it.
Without the use of her arms or legs, she fell completely below the surface of the water. Then their hands were on her, below the water, pumping and pinching and slapping her flesh where they could find it. Her nostrils burned and she fought not to attempt to breathe, but each moment that passed created a stronger stinging sensation in her lungs.
Finally, one of them grabbed her by the hair and pulled her free. She gasped in as much air as she could, choking as she did. She was still choking when he released her again, and she took in a mouthful of water. Again, the left her under, teasing and torturing her as she swallowed bath water before dragging her up just in time.
The three footmen then repeated their usual bathing ritual with soap and cloth and oils. But with no Clarisse present for the men to avail themselves upon, it was Jocelyn they placed between them, Palmer in her sex, Haines in her bottom, and Smyth in her mouth. When they’d each spent themselves, they tossed her back in the tub and repeated the previous process before returning her to the Great Hall.
Despite the fact that the few bits of her body that were available had been dried, her ropes and hair were still very wet, and so she could not stop herself from shivering in the drafty hall. Men’s voices rumbled all around her—what must be dozens of them, if not more. Palmer placed her on the floor, on her stomach. She tried to look around, to see if she could determine what was to be done to her next, but she could see very little in her current position.
And then she could see nothing at all, as a blind was placed over her eyes.
Lord’s voice was the one that greeted her, not Master’s.
“Send her up,” he commanded.
Two men lifted her into the air and moved her to a new position, setting her once more upon the floor. She felt something being worked beneath her ropes. Cold metal touched her skin at mid-torso and pulled through to the other end of the ropes near her bottom. Then the distinctive sound of a lock settling into place met her ears.
Then metal scraped upon metal, and a bit at a time she was hefted into the air. They spent a good deal of time adjusting her precise height, and then the chain was anchored into place. She was left hanging and bound, her body chilled to the core and fully exposed as she swung.
Master’s hands caressed her face, her cheeks, and he kissed her over the blindfold. She knew it was him. Who else would show her such gentleness or care? If he could touch her in such a way, surely she must be a full six feet off the ground.
“Good night, my pet,” he whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Good night? They were going to leave her like that all night?
And then Lord’s voice rang out in the hall. “The pet will be available for your use all night. Fuck her in any way you see fit, as long as she remains hanging. You may use floggers and crops upon her if you wish.”
As soon as he finished speaking, rough hands gripped her ropes and hair, and she had a cock in both her mouth and her sex before the first falls of the flogger landed upon her back.
It would seem she was not as high in the air as she’d initially thought.
For the last week, Montfort had essentially overseen Jocelyn’s training while Gabriel allowed him to do as he would. In truth, Gabriel was too
close. He had wanted her for too long, and now that he had her, the temptation to keep her all to himself had been so great that he would not have had her adequately prepared for what his guests at the summer house party would expect.
Truthfully, he owed Montfort a great debt for all he had done.
With the day of his guests’ arrival upon them, Jocelyn was as well prepared as he could have ever hoped.
His pet could now service three men at once with only minimal complaints, in nearly any position they chose. Buggery was becoming a more and more pleasurable experience for her, particularly when in combination with pain, and so it had become increasingly more difficult to withhold her release.
Montfort had gone far beyond merely paddling her and flogging her, or occasionally using a riding crop. She now regularly received canings like she was born to experience them. She’d been bound, chained, hung from a cross, stretched on the rack, suspended from the ceiling, and so much more.
The earl had even insisted upon having Jocelyn service Cook and a few of the maids, as many of the ladies who would be at Blackthorne Manor in short order would insist upon that and more.
While Gabriel’s guests would make use of the maids, and even a few unsuspecting grooms and footmen perhaps, his pet would see the most interest.
How often were they granted a duchess upon whom to practice their sport? It was a rarity, to be sure.
He could only imagine the splash she would make when he took Jocelyn to Town for the Season. As the new Duchess of Rochester, of course the regular members of the ton would send countless invitations for their balls and soirees and teas. But there would be an entire other set who would also seek her out, should he grant them the use of her.
In preparation for his guests’ arrival, Gabriel had instructed Mariah to fashion his pet a gauzy gown of white to set her apart from the maids who would be in their usual pink. It was designed with simple ties which connected behind her neck, so they could easily remove it no matter how she was bound or otherwise occupied.
And now, he and Montfort sat in the dining room breaking their fast while they awaited Jocelyn’s arrival after her morning ablutions. For the last two days, she’d not had a sword or a dildo in her cunny or her arse—nothing more than fingers or tongues. He wanted her to be nice and tight…more so even than normal.
Last night, he’d left her strapped to the cross and informed the servants that there was to be someone nibbling and sucking at her teats and her nubbin all night long. They were to immediately stop and toss cold water upon her if she came close to release before resuming their attentions. A series of maids and footmen were set to the task.
When he and Montfort had arisen and checked on their pet, her tits and clitoris were engorged and red, swollen certainly far past the point of pain, where even the brush of a butterfly’s wing would be enough to cause certain torment.
Gabriel had tested his theory by brushing the pad of his thumb over each of them, scarcely touching her at all while she was still bound and helpless. She’d writhed and screamed with each gossamer touch.
Then he’d kissed her, long and hard, taking far too much delight in the salty tears that met his tongue. “You are perfect, my pet. Utter perfection. You’ve been such a good pet that today, if you perform up to my expectations for my guests, I’ll grant you another release.”
Her eyes, filled with an enchanting combination of lust and fear, had followed him as he’d left her in the care of his servants.
Finally, Haines brought her in.
Her gown clung to her cunt as it so often did when he allowed her to wear one, the dark triangle of hair more than evident through the sheer fabric. Her pert nipples, still so red and vibrant and ready, looked ready to rip holes in the scrap covering them.
He motioned her over, and she obligingly came to stand between Gabriel and Montfort, her hands bound together before her. They each suckled the nearest teat through her gown, drenching the material with their saliva so that the evidence of her arousal would be as obvious as possible. At the same time, Gabriel rubbed Jocelyn’s furrow, forcing the material up into her slit and teasing her button. This, too, brought more wetness to the white material. He might even douse her in cold water again just before they all arrived.
She moaned, and his prick hardened because she’d learned so well. If her master or her lord were touching her in any way apart from wielding a weapon against her flesh, she was allowed to moan but never to scream. Screams were meant for pain only. They had to protect her delightfully raspy vocal chords in some way, and God knew she received enough opportunities to scream to her hearts’ content.
When they pulled away a moment later, Montfort settled Jocelyn onto his lap and began to feed her, rubbing his free hand over her body, while Gabriel gave her a few more enhancements.
He settled the steel collar Montfort had brought with him around Jocelyn’s neck and locked it into place, then attached a chain to the front of it. Taking each of her ankles, he spread her legs wide. After settling her ankles in the precisely placed dips in a metal bar, he placed the companion over the top and put locks on both ends. Then he untied the ropes at her wrists and placed shackles upon each of them.
Montfort turned her then, so her back was to Gabriel while the earl continued to feed her. Gabriel pulled both of her arms behind her back and connected her shackles to each other. Then he took a short chain and hooked it to the back of her collar. Drawing her wrists up slightly, he locked the shackles to the other end of the chain.
Just as he finished with these final enhancements, Bexley came into the dining room. “Your guests are arriving, Your Grace. I’m assembling the staff at the drive.”
“Excellent.” Gabriel lifted Jocelyn free from Montfort’s lap, stood her on her feet, and took the chain attached to her collar in his hands. For a brief moment, he regretted that he hadn’t doused her with water as he’d briefly thought to do. But her teats and cunt were still more than visible through the fabric without the added water for effect. “Come, pet, and greet my guests.”
With the bar between her ankles, she was forced to shuffle her feet along. Any time she slowed too much, Montfort hurried her along with a strike of his crop to her bottom or thighs. When finally they made their way out the front door to join the servants, Gabriel was pleased to discover it was raining. He led his pet out, a painstaking bit at a time, until she stood beneath the summer deluge at the end of the row of maids who were likewise soaked through.
“You will call all of my guests Sir or Mistress, pet.” Gabriel tweaked her teats again, ensuring they were as pert and red as possible before the first guest examined her. She closed her eyes and swayed, but wisely remained silent. Then he passed her chain back to Bexley. “You may not refuse them anything. If they should touch you in any way, you may thank them properly. If they should strike you, you are to beg them to strike you harder. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Master,” she murmured.
Montfort gave Jocelyn a blow to the back of each knee and then pressed down on her shoulders. “On your knees, then, like the pet you are.”
Her eyes filled with tears visible even with the rain pelting down over her, but she complied, so Gabriel and Montfort took their places.
The menservants stood beneath an overhang, protected from the weather, but directly behind the maids. As Gabriel had instructed Bexley, none of them wore coats or shirts, but merely pants and boots. Gabriel and Montfort waited just beside Bexley, who held Jocelyn’s chain.
Carriage after carriage arrived, delivering lords and ladies who shared Gabriel’s proclivity. As they arrived, they greeted first Gabriel, then Montfort. And then they progressed down through the ranks of the servants. Some of the women, and even a few of the men, took especial note of some of Gabriel’s menservants, but they all spent a great deal of time beneath their umbrellas examining the women as they came back down the line—touching here and groping there.
And then they arrived at his pet. Indeed, quite a
crowd had gathered before Jocelyn within moments, and only grew from there.
Men and women reached down and felt the weight of her breasts, examined her mouth, lifted her skirt to finger her pussy and behind, pinched her teats. Every few moments, Jocelyn was murmuring, “Thank you, Sir,” or “Thank you, Mistress,” so often that it was becoming a constant refrain. The weight of the rain was apparently too much for the fine material of Jocelyn’s garment—either that or it had not been tied properly—and it fell down to her knees, leaving her fully exposed.
The moans and squeals of the females continued to grow, not the least of which was coming from Jocelyn, when the house party truly began with the swing of a cane against Jocelyn’s backside.
She let out a scream, and then remembered herself, and said, “Please cane me harder, Sir.”
The Marquess of Pendleton turned to Gabriel, his eyes filled with lascivious intent. “We’ll be going to your Great Hall. I need to restrain your pet properly.” Pendleton had Jocelyn’s chain from Bexley and was already leading her inside without waiting for a response. All of the guests knew their way through Blackthorne Manor well by now, so Gabriel didn’t worry that he’d have any difficulty finding the proper room.
Other lords and ladies had begun carting maids off, some heading toward the Great Hall, others crossing the lawn to the stables, and still more going to various locales throughout the manor. The entire manor would be in use—there were no restrictions.
As the last of the maids went past him with his guests, some of the footmen and grooms started to trickle inside as well. That was when the guests came specifically to Gabriel and made their requests. Lady Pendleton had her eye upon Deringer, Baron Selwyn was fond of Haines, and Lady Finch requested the services of both Erroll and North.
Gabriel set Bexley the task of selecting three or four footmen to round up each of those menservants and take them to the appropriate guest—and restrain them once there.
Deringer might not put up too much of a fight until he realized Lady Pendleton intended to be in control.
