by Celia Strapp
‘I’m going to teach you a lesson today, Anya,’ said Gwendolyn sharply. ‘I want you to walk over here with me, to this peach tree.’
My heeled sunk into the grassy soil as I walked towards the tree, and yet somehow, Gwendolyn’s shoes remained pristine, walking upon the grass as if she were walking on the water. I had to shake my head a few times to remind myself that this woman was not a heavenly creature, or a devilish apparition, but was in fact a human being, just like me.
‘Now,’ said Gwendolyn, handing me the riding crop. ‘I’m going to teach you how to dominate.’
I looked at Gwendolyn’s perfect figure, standing before me, and wondered how long it took her to arrange her perfect attire in place each morning. How long it took the maidservant to decorate her hair, in that elegant wave upon her head. To make her face up, get her lips so red, her eyes so smoky black.
As she handed me the crop, I felt myself distractedly wondering what might happen if I were to just smash the crop against Gwendolyn’s body, to ruffle her perfect clothing, to smack the leather against her skin, leaving a mark as red as her lipstick, to crack the whip against her arse, to make her into my quivering little wreck.
‘Stop just standing there snivelling, you little bitch,’ said Gwendolyn, and her tone was so harsh I wondered for a moment if she was somehow jealous of me. But she’d have no reason to be jealous of someone in my position…. would she?
I straightened up and apologised to the she-devil, and then focused on the riding crop between my fingers. ‘Now I’ll bet you don’t have an ounce of rage inside you,’ said Gwendolyn, with disgust. ‘And I’m positive you’d never even think of hurting another human being…’ (Oh how little she did know!) ‘But the Duke has decided you are to be his harlot, and I am afraid that job involves inflicting quite a bit of pain.’
Gwendolyn showed me how best to hold the riding crop, so that I might inflict the hardest crack of the whip, and then she instructed me to hit the bark of the peach tree. ‘I want you to hit it so hard its peaches fall off,’ she said.
I looked up at the young, fragile peach tree, with a few juicy yellow peaches hanging from its branches, and I knew that as young and delicate as the little tree was, I’d never be able to knock off its fruit! I lifted back the whip, let the muscles in my bicep tighten, and my wrist loosen in readiness to flick against the bark, and then Gwendolyn counted me down.
‘Three… two… one!’ she shouted.
I felt an enormous force well up inside me, from the base of my shoulder blades, up into my shoulder, down my bicep, through my tricep, I felt the force of the swing of my arm, the bend of my elbow, the hard, flick of my wrist, and I hit the tree, with all my might.
And not a single peach fell to the ground.
Gwendolyn laughed. ‘Oh, you stupid little wretch,’ she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘It is going to take quite some time before you’re ready to inflict injuries upon the Duchess of Cambridge.’
Chapter 18
Dear reader, for the next few months, I cannot tell you how hard I worked. Under Gwendolyn’s tuition, I finally learnt how to manipulate a riding crop, a pair of manacles, a circus master’s whip, and even a blade or two. I learnt how to tie thirteen different types of knots, and I even began referring to the poor old servant as a ‘snivelling wretch’, which I must tell you, he seemed to rather enjoy.
During these months, the Duke came to visit me daily. Sometimes, he would take me in the afternoons, other times he took me at the table during supper, other times still he stole into my room in the dead of night, putting his hand over my mouth and pumping me with his long, strong cock while I squealed. I felt how his attitude towards me began to change, though. At first, seeing me in my exotic attire had turned me on. He found it impossible to walk past me without a thick, hard bulge appearing in his pantaloons. He’d make me walk up and down for me and watch me wobble, my flesh having grown softer and more luxuriant since arriving at the manor, being fed a suckling pig every night. I was becoming something of a prize pig myself! But lately, the Duke’s desires for me had waned. He rarely stole into my room at night to take me anymore, and had only whipped my buttocks once in a whole week. I began to wonder if there was someone else he preferred. Perhaps it was even the Duchess of Cambridge, whom he never tired of mentioning.
‘Do you know how exciting it becomes when she’s married, Anya?’ he’d ask me. ‘The forbidden fruit. I’ll let you taste her one day before long. Then you can taste that fruit for yourself.’
When the night came that I was finally ready to be presented to the Duchess of Cambridge, I was quite simply ready to crush her under the sole of my shoe. She had requested that I spend two full hours in her company, and I intended to make her feel as tiny as an ant, as worthless as a beetle, and make her skin as red as fire. She was to be my first, but my most pitiable victim.
The Duke led me down to the dungeon at a quarter past midnight, as our arranged meeting time had to be in the dead of night, when the Duke of Cambridge’s sleeping pills had knocked him quite out for he night, making our liaison with the Duchess all the more risqué (since the Duke of Cambridge was in fact sleeping in our very abode this evening!). The Duke pulled a large, iron key out from the folds of his silk jacket. ‘This is the only key, and it stays with me,’ he said sternly. Then he nodded his head towards a door which had hitherto, always remained closed. ‘This way tonight, Anya,’ he said.
‘But sir,’ I gasped. ‘You said I was never to go in there!’
I did not know what was behind this large, rusted iron door, but I was sure I had heard the squeak of rats, and even imagined the hiss of snakes, and truth be told, had never wanted to venture in there, let alone be let into the place by the Duke.
‘Don’t be a cowardly little harlot,’ said the Duke, then added: ‘much as I love it when you grow frightened.’
He opened the door, and revealed to me a small, dank cave, with spikes sticking out from the rocks in the wall, a spiked, and most uncomfortable-looking torture chair, and, most terrifying of all, a rack at one end, set into the wall in the dankest, most dismal part of the cave.
It made the other part of the dungeon look like a children’s play park in comparison!
All I can tell you, reader, about the relief that coursed through my veins at that moment, was that I was going to be the one inflicting the pain, and not the other way around.
And that is when the Duchess of Cambridge walked in, shyly, her naked body shackled, with manacles upon her wrists and small metal clamps upon her nipples. She was being led by the old, hunched servant, who was leading her by a chain with one hand, and touching himself in the downstairs department with the other. I noticed the glisten of flesh beneath his fingertips, and saw a small, thin, purple protrusion in the palm of his hand: his wiry old cock.
‘That will be all, Albert,’ said the Duke, and the old man looked back at the Duchess, then at me, and ran out of the room, whimpering.
The Duchess looked at me, her big blue eyes wide open with fear and anticipation, her lips trembling with desire, her skin shivering with fear. The Duke led her by the chain over to the leather chair, and strapped her in so that her wrists were clamped down to the arms of the chair, and her ankles were strapped to the legs. With her legs pulled apart like this, I could see the bright pink of her cunny, and noticed how much fuller it looked than mine, its lips larger, more inflamed, set wider apart, like a gasping mouth. I wondered if that was years of being spilt apart by the Duke’s thick cock that had done it, or if it was the anticipation of being whipped by me. I looked down at her cunny, and I licked my lips.
Chapter 19
‘Knowing you, my little harlot, you’ll want to get down on your hands and knees and begin lapping away at this cunny like a little cat, won’t you, Anya?’ I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as the Duke teased me. ‘But let us remember what this night is about.’ He closed the dungeon’s heavy door, and then locked it with his iron key, and put the key back
inside his jacket. Then, he began pacing up and down the length of the short room.
‘Tonight, the harlot becomes the dominatrix,’ he said, casting me a scornful look, as if warning me not to make any errors. ‘And the Duchess of Cambridge, my little peach, gets to live out her sordid little fantasy.’ He walked over to the Duchess, and knelt at her knees, just as he had told me not to do, and then he began licking and kissing and eating her quim, making me writhe with jealousy, feeling a bubble of hatred rising within me, quite sick of the Duke’s insolence toward me, ready to teach him a lesson.
The Duchess’ eyes rolled back into her head, and she began to moan with exquisite pleasure, a pleasure which I wanted to inflict upon her instead, and I felt my arm twitching, the muscle in my arm begin to spasm, and before I knew it, I was cracking the enormous circus master’s whip in my hand, and belting it down upon the Duke’s back.
‘Wench!’ The Duke pulled away from the Duchess in surprise, and, before he had a chance to say another word, I lifted the whip again, and cracked the whip down upon his back a second time. The Duke moaned in pain, but I could sense something in him had changed towards me, that he had grown attracted to me once more.
But it was too late for forgiveness.
I was going to show the Duke how it felt to be in my position.
‘Get over there,’ I snapped, in the terrible, authoritative voice I had learned from Gwendolyn, his sister.
‘Yes, mistress,’ the Duke said, bowing his head, reducing all of a sudden to a snivelling school boy.
I cracked the whip on the floor, making an almighty thunderous noise, giving the Duke a warning that this was not some kind of joke. ‘Stand against the wall,’ I said, pointing to the rack. ‘And take off your clothes.’
The Duke nodded pathetically and took off his jacket, then his shirt, and pantaloons, and finally his shoes, and I grabbed the clothes away from him, the key to the dungeon now safely within my possession.
I grabbed the Duke’s limp and obedient wrist in my sharp grip, and then in one swift movement, I encircled his wrist in the iron manacle on the rack, and then grabbed the other wrist before he had time to move, and did the same with that.
‘You know what to do with your feet, you worm,’ I said, pointing at the manacles at the base of the rack, and the Duke obediently placed them where they were meant to be. I could see his cock beginning to grow hard, growing turgid before my eyes, but I did not allow myself to falter, and quickly clicked the manacles on his feet into place, and then stood back to behold him, naked and cowering in the shadows of the cave.
I looked back at the Duchess of Cambridge, who was watching the display in wonder, perhaps feeling a twinge of the jealousy I had felt when watching the Duke with her. I could see that the juices from her cunny were running onto her leather seat, and knew that I didn’t have to worry about her entertainment for the time being.
‘Well well,’ I said, turning back to the Duke, feeling bolts of incredible energy running through me as I raised the whip into the air. ‘Looks like someone’s little harlot has finally grown up.’ I smiled, lifting my head backwards, my chin pointing up into the air, and I laughed. My laugh echoed throughout the rocky chamber, interrupted only by the sound of a squeaking rat, running past my feet. But now, I felt no fear at the sound of such a small creature. I felt no fear at the sight of the big creature before me either.
‘I’m going to whip your chest now,’ I said to the Duke. ‘And I’m going to do it once for every month you’ve kept me here.’
I let the whip crack down upon the Duke’s skin, careful not to hit his face, or his most private parts, but with a guided accuracy that I heard learnt only after months of tutelage from Gwendolyn. I felt thankful that I had concentrated in her lessons, after all.
The first hit was a clean one, and I could see it left a thick red mark across the Duke’s wiry chest, and felt satisfied at what I had done. ‘You are to thank me for that now, worm,’ I spat, my face full of disgust and scorn.
The Duke’s eyes widened in horror, seeing what a monster he had created in me. ‘Thank you, mistress,’ he whimpered. ‘Thank you.’
‘Now let me see,’ I said, as I walked about the dungeon in circles, happily counting on my fingers. ‘How many months have you kept me here, as your little harlot? It was more than one… I think it was more than two… More than three…’ At that moment, I let two more sharp cracks rain down on the Duke’s chest in quick succession.
‘Thank you, m’lady,’ he said, quickly, quietly, not wanting to enrage me further. But I could see that such subservience was causing the Duke’s ripe old cock to become quite engorged. In fact, the way his arms and legs were splayed wide apart, made his cock appear to grow even longer out of his body, and it drew the eye to nowhere else but there. He looked, if I’m being honest, like some sort of erotic coat hook! I stifled a laugh as I imagined hanging my coat on his hungry red penis.
‘Ah yes,’ I said suddenly. ‘That’s it. Four. I’ve been here four months.’
I lifted the whip again, and this time, the Duke begged me to stop. ‘No more,’ he whimpered. ‘I have learnt my lesson.’
‘And what lesson is that?’ I asked.
‘That you are a precious queen, my darling Anya, and I should no longer treat you as a harlot. In fact, I think I should make you my wife.’
I raised my eyebrows in amusement. ‘Is that so?’ I asked, letting the whip fall to the floor. ‘Very interesting,’ I said, and then I walked over to the Duchess of Cambridge, who was fidgeting nervously in her seat, spreading cunny juice all over the surface.
‘Very nice,’ I said, looking at the Duchess, taking in the declines swell of her enormous breast, looking at the delicate curve of her stomach. I ran my fingers over my own, bloated stomach, wondering if it really was just suckling pig my belly was full of now, and not the Duke’s child….
But I had no time to think of things such as that. I was hungry, and I needed to eat.
I knelt down before the Duchess, and removed her left nipple clamp. The Duchess gasped a little as the pressure was removed from her nipple, but I quickly replaced it with another kind of pain, as I took the nipple between my teeth, and bit down, harder than perhaps I meant to.
‘Oh, you brute!’ shouted the Duchess, quite clearly enjoying her punishment.
I replaced the nipple clamp, her nipple now smeared with my saliva, and I ran my tongue down the length of her soft belly, until I came to her overflowing quim, and here, for the first time with a woman, I began to drink. I heard the Duke moaning behind me, full of jealousy, no doubt, which made me drink harder. I loved the taste of quim. It was so sweet as well as salty, so fragrant too, like oysters mixed with performed flowers, the most seductive fragrance to have ever coated my tongue. I drank more and more, my thirst becoming greater with every mouthful, and I felt the cunny spit dribbling down my own legs, desperate for something to push between them.
It was then that I remembered the whip, with its smooth, leather handle, and I placed it between my legs as I drank from the Duchess, and I began to fuck myself with it.
Oh reader, I cannot tell you the exquisite pleasure that I experienced in that moment. The taste of the Duchess, the feeling of power, the eyes of the Duke upon my back, the length of the leather handle pushing open my cunny.
Despite the fact that I reached orgasm two times during the act, a few seconds during which my thighs quivered too much to continue, I simply carried on as before, thirstier than ever. It was only when I heard a terrible moan behind me that I became distracted from my act. I turned around to look at the shackled Duke, and I saw thick ropes of white erupting out from the tip his cock. Incredible! He was sewing his seed, without the help of a hand or mouth or cunny; it was just erupting all by itself!
I stopped fucking myself with the whip, and wiped my mouth dry from the juices of the delicious Duchess, and walked over to the Duke, watching his still-hard penis twitching and throbbing from its adventure.
I turned to look at the Duchess, who, it seemed, was still reacting to the throes of her most recent orgasm, and had missed the sight of the Duke’s erupting seed, but looked now upon the ropes of white on the floor, and a smile danced upon her lips.
‘What a fascinating day,’ I said, quietly chuckling to myself. And then, all of a sudden, my face darkened. ‘But it is time for me to go.’
I bent down to the floor, and took the key out of the Duke’s jacket pocket, and then opened the door. I looked back at my victims, both quivering with mixture of shock and fear and pleasure, both subservient little wretches, waiting for their mistress to set them free, and I simply walked out of the room, then locked the door behind me, and walked back upstairs into the house to gather together my belongings.
Chapter 20
I left the manor not two hours after that. I’d managed to send word to Toby, the simple little carriage boy who had driven me here some four months ago. He asked where I wanted to go, and I simply told him to take me as far away as possible, and, amused and aroused by my lacy harlot’s outfit, he didn’t seem to mind the ride.
