The Mistress of Sternwood Grange

by Arabella Knight

  The tongue at her slit lapped slowly, luxuriously, at first. Then the rasping became more urgent. Soon the thick muscle was probing. Mandy felt its firmness inside her, the angle of approach affording deep penetration. Her squeals were muffled by the soft flesh of the buttocks on her face. As the tongue explored her inner, most secret flesh, the buttocks above commenced a rhythmic joggling. Cruel hands grasped and squeezed her breasts once more, punishing and pleasuring the helpless flesh-mounds and tormenting her nipples up into peaks of fire. Above her face, the swollen cheeks were riding her ruthlessly, the heavy flesh raking her mouth so that Mandy could taste the bitterness of the hot cleft. With a cunning dexterity, the rider managed to drag her slit across Mandy’s mouth with each thrusting sweep and backward jerk of the hips.

  ‘Tongue her.’

  The command came from the twin mouthing Mandy’s labial flesh, not the naked twin who was to be tongued.

  Mandy’s tongue protruded, thrusting up into the acrid cleft, the tip just touching the rosebud sphincter.

  ‘No, not there,’ the twin cried, wriggling her bottom. ‘There,’ she hissed, lowering her gaping flesh-folds down on to Mandy’s mouth. ‘There.’

  Perched above her victim, the unshaven nude planted her hot slit over Mandy’s tongue just as the other twin’s tongue at Mandy’s own slit started to trigger a climax.

  The three naked women were briefly frozen in their frenzied lust. Fusing hot flesh to hotter flesh, they quivered as violent orgasms raked their nakedness. Mandy screamed into the buttocks above, biting them in her passionate paroxysms, as the tongue at her opened furnace stoked fresh flames. Driven into the fury of her climax, Mandy tongued the sweet flesh above with renewed vigour and violence. The naked rider gripped her mount and ground her slit down, coming furiously on to Mandy’s shining, slippery face. Mandy sensed the weight of the buttocks above shifting as her tormentress knelt up, and felt the tongue at her slit withdraw as the shaven dominatrix also knelt. In mute understanding, the blonde twins were now locked in a deep French kiss above her pinioned, helpless nakedness.

  The dildo, they informed her, both fingering its length in harmony, was carved from an Icelandic walrus tusk. It was over two hundred years old, the cherished relic of initiation rites performed in the long, dark nights before spring came to melt the ice that bound the iron land. Mandy saw that the gleaming curve of ivory was etched with runic inscriptions: an unholy pagan prayer dedicated to the goddess of ice-fire. Mandy quailed at its sinuous, wicked length, clamping her thighs and clenching her buttocks at the very thought of its penetration. The twins perceived her token resistance and exchanged slow, knowing smiles.

  Tied to the bed, her arms and legs splayed and secured at the wrists and ankles to the wooden posts, Mandy gazed up fearfully. Kneeling in silence at either side of her bed of bondage, the nudes played with their ivory shaft, probing one another’s mouth with its blunt tip. Mandy had been gagged tightly with a cruel band of crimson serge. Above it, her eyes were wide with fearful apprehension. She shook her head from side to side vigorously, signalling her unwillingness. To her relief, both twins gazed down at her, nodding their understanding.

  ‘Not until you plead with us,’ the shaven dominatrix murmured. ‘Not until you beg us,’ she added in a curdling whisper.

  Mandy heaved a sigh of relief, certain in the knowledge that she would never want – or whimper for – the dildo.

  ‘But you will,’ the whispering voice continued, as if the naked blonde had been reading Mandy’s troubled mind.

  They removed the tight gag and, hands entwined tenderly around the ivory shaft, fingers interlocking in carnal unison, the twins guided the phallus to Mandy’s mouth, using it on her lips like a lipstick. Denying what seemed to be self-betrayal, Mandy found herself opening her lips wide as if eager for the blunt tip inside her mouth. It slid in, probing her wet warmth. She tightened her lips around its cool length, sucking gently at first, then with a fierce desire to possess. Inside her, it teased the roof of her mouth, then dominantly flattened and tamed her tongue. It was intimately erotic, and Mandy juiced down at her hot slit. The twins, eyes darting down to note her involuntary response and reaction, played with the dildo for several more minutes, plying it into her mouth until the patches of sheet beneath Mandy’s parted thighs was stained dark with her wet ooze. Then, hands still wrapped around the dildo, they guided it slowly, teasingly, down over her chin, against the arch of her straining neck to her breasts below.

  The hard tip of the ivory shaft traced the soft contours of her naked bosom with exquisite delicacy, delighting her silken flesh as it faithfully fingered its passive swell. The tip addressed each nipple in turn, tapping each tiny pink bud up into pale-purple peaks of fierce pleasure. Mandy writhed, the bondage at her wrists and ankles burning into her bound flesh. At her pouting labia, the sparkling ooze of her arousal widened the spreading stain. The gag was firmly replaced, the crimson serge biting into her mute mouth, renewing her sense of utter helplessness – a helplessness as absolute as her capitulation and desire for the dildo.

  Mandy struggled to resist her innermost yearnings, stunned at the possibility of her submitting eagerly to the shaft. Taking her breasts, one in a left hand, the second in the other kneeling twin’s right hand, they nosed the dildo down along the swell of her hip, across her flattened, tense belly and across to her upper, outer thigh. Mandy jerked as the blunt tip dimpled her soft flesh. Riding her dominantly, it descended into, then against, her ultra-sensitive inner thigh. Mandy squealed as the solid weight of the phallus scored her satin flesh just above her right knee. Slowly, with maddeningly tantalising circular sweeps, it inched back up towards the hot pulse of her open slit. She jerked her hips and pounded her buttocks as her splayed thighs were ruthlessly teased, her mind no longer certain that it would be able to deny what her aching body desired: the thrust of the dildo inside her tight warmth.

  It inched up a fraction closer, and then a fraction more, the clasped hands nudging the tip up to kiss-tease her tiny, erect clitoris.

  With a supreme effort, Mandy shook her head. No. No. She mouthed her protest into the wet gag, still denying her desire for the dildo. Ignoring her totally, the guiding hands at the ivory shaft directed it to finger her wet labia with firm, downward strokes. At each stroke, the cunning hands swiftly speared the shaft up along the crease of her cleft, briefly forcing the firm length between her tightly clenched cheeks.

  The delicious torture lasted for a full eight minutes. Mandy’s aching body burned with the effort of her denial but burned more fiercely with the seething flame of desire. Suddenly, the spasms inside her told her – and told the predatory eyes of the watching twins – that she was rapidly approaching the point of no return. Her orgasm would be soon; her climax was imminent.

  Gasping audibly, she nodded, signalling her readiness for the cruel shaft. Further denial and resistance was useless: they had smashed her resolve completely and broken her spirit. They had crushed her rebellion, and bent her mind and body to their lustful will using the dark skills of erotic prowess and the spells of sexual witchcraft. Shuddering, she submitted and surrendered, closing her eyes and expecting the blunt thrust.

  It did not occur. Opening her eyes, she stared up in bewildered frustration to see the bottom of the unshaven twin hovering above the bed, the plump cheeks held apart to receive the probing dildo. Pumping the phallus deep into her twin’s anus, the shaven nude guided the shaft into the tight sphincter. Mandy threshed in her fury and confusion, and threshed with renewed violence as she felt the drip, drip of the hot juices splashing down on to her breasts from the weeping slit of the speared twin.

  She heard their harsh laughter and then the taunting words of the dominatrix.

  ‘We made you want it, no? But you cannot have it. Not even if you beg. It is sweet, is it not, to light the flames of desire and then douse them with denial. Yes,’ the alien voice from the land of fire and ice reflected aloud, ‘it is sweet.’

  For M
andy, her capitulation tasted as sour as her subsequent humiliation: sour and bitter.

  Mandy stirred fretfully in her sleep. Exhausted after her ordeal at the cruel hands of the sadistic twins, she had showered, and then slumped on to her bed. Her dreams had been troubling, forcing her to relive her earlier humiliations and erotic torments. In her dreams, she heard again the alien accents of the Icelandic blondes, giggling at her distress and plotting further humiliations as they examined her bare body for further dark pleasure. Mandy moaned softly and turned over in her sleep.

  Into her sleeping brain came other remembered voices, murmuring softly. Mandy tossed and turned, tormented by the sound of Erica and Celia. Then she awoke abruptly, and sat up. At the foot of her bed, the phantoms from her dreams were solidly fleshed: Erica and Celia stood gazing down at her. Mandy rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then shrank back, pulling the sheet up to cover her naked breasts.

  ‘The mistress has been informed of your escape attempt, girl. She is, as I warned you, most displeased. You are to be whipped soundly.’

  Betrayed. Mandy burned with resentment, hating Erica for tricking her into compliance and submission – and hating herself for being so easily duped.

  ‘Get up,’ Erica rasped, snatching the sheet away.

  Mandy rose and stood by her bed, shivering and angry. The solicitor narrowed her grey eyes as she inspected Mandy’s naked body. Mandy shielded her breasts protectively against the stern gaze.

  ‘Turn around,’ Erica commanded.

  Mandy reluctantly turned, presenting her bare bottom for their examination.

  ‘It’s a superb bottom, isn’t it?’ Erica simpered. ‘Are you sure you won’t whip it?’

  Mandy blushed furiously as they bantered over her impending stripes. She heard them discussing the merits of both the strap and the cane.

  ‘As long as she suffers, I will be satisfied,’ Celia Flaxstone remarked. ‘I have more important fish to fry.’

  ‘They are coming tonight, your buyers?’

  Mandy did not hear the reply: the solicitor must have merely nodded. Buyers. Mandy tugged her ear pensively. Who could they be and what were they hoping to buy?

  ‘Turn around, girl,’ Celia said softly.

  Mandy obeyed. The solicitor stared at her intently, then gasped as she spotted Mandy’s blonde pubic tuft.

  ‘Mandy?’ the solicitor mused. ‘Amanda. You are Amanda Silk, aren’t you?’ she demanded in a tone that needed no reply. ‘You are, aren’t you, you little bitch.’ The tone was one of anger, though still tinged with the amazement of its own discovery.

  Mandy gazed back steadily into the grey eyes.

  ‘Who is Amanda Silk?’ Erica demanded, puzzled.

  Heads together, they stood at the foot of the bed in a huddled whispering. Twice, Erica looked up, flashing Mandy ominous glances. Mandy felt the tension mounting at her chest and throat. Although she had every right to be here – she owned Sternwood Grange – she felt vulnerable and apprehensive. There were two of them, fully dressed: she was naked and alone.

  ‘Partridge brought her in, gave her shelter and work,’ Erica whispered fiercely.

  ‘Partridge will pay dearly for her final mistake in my employ,’ Mandy overheard the solicitor reply vehemently.

  They turned from their whispered conference and approached Mandy. ‘What do you think you are doing?’ the solicitor snapped.

  ‘Getting dressed,’ Mandy replied, hoping that her attempt at nonchalance disguised her hammering heartbeats.

  ‘Have you been given permission to do so?’

  ‘Don’t need it. I’ve seen all I need to see here. I’m getting dressed and going back –’

  ‘You’re going nowhere, Miss Silk, until I say so.’

  ‘You can’t –’

  ‘Take those panties off at once. Erica,’ Celia rasped.

  Erica pounced obediently at her employer’s sharp command, wrestling Mandy expertly down on to the bed and jerking down the panties in one swift wrench. With a dominant flourish, her panties were tossed aside, leaving Mandy naked and helpless.

  ‘You have caused me a great deal of trouble, Miss Silk, vanishing from London with so much to sort out and resolve. How did you learn of Sternwood Grange and what did you hope to achieve by coming here?’

  Mandy played safe and remained silent.

  ‘I am selling Sternwood Grange tonight. You will remain –’

  ‘That’s not possible. I’ve seen the will. I inherited it. It’s mine, all mine. You –’ Mandy stopped, instantly regretting her foolish outburst: the pain she had just incautiously secured for that bare-bottomed receptionist in the Bird Cage Walk offices would be as nothing to the pain her own bottom might now suffer.

  ‘So,’ Celia purred. ‘You’ve seen the will, hmm? Inquisitive little bitch, aren’t you? Tie her to the bed, Erica. Tie her tightly, mind. We can’t have our little heiress wandering around at large tonight of all nights, can we?’

  Mandy struggled but was soon overpowered, arranged across the bed and bound securely at the wrists to each bedpost.

  ‘You will assign your rights to Sternwood Grange to me.’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Then you will have to be persuaded,’ the grey-eyed solicitor murmured, her tone cool and unruffled. ‘I will enter into brief negotiations with you, Miss Silk, of course, but please bear in mind that it is I who have the upper, dare I say, the whip hand?’

  Erica giggled.

  ‘Cane her,’ Celia instructed. ‘Cane her slowly. I am going down to the office. On my laptop, I will draft a contract which you will sign, assigning all title deeds and outright claims to Sternwood Grange to me. Do you understand?’

  ‘Never,’ Mandy vowed. ‘I’ll fight you all the way. You’ll see –’

  ‘A very sore bottom when I return. A bottom which will suffer even more should you prove stupidly stubborn.’

  ‘How many strokes?’ Erica inquired eagerly. ‘A dozen?’

  ‘Do not bother counting. Punishment as persuasion must not be meanly measured. Cane her hard. And,’ Celia continued suavely, fingering Mandy’s passive cheeks dominantly, ‘I want you to try out the Indonesian bamboo I brought down with me from London. It should achieve the desired results. Twenty, thirty strokes, who cares? I want this little untidiness cleared up before my important visitors arrive this evening. There must be no impediment to the successful sale of Sternwood Grange.’

  Celia Flaxstone watched as Erica slipped out to collect the cane. Bending down, she stretched her hand out and took a painful pincer of Mandy’s bare bottom between her finger and thumb. Twisting the captive flesh, she chuckled darkly. Mandy squealed aloud.

  ‘You make a worthy adversary, my dear Miss Silk. I rather think I underestimated you. First point to you, undoubtedly. Coming down here was a big risk. But a risk you have taken and lost. Game, set and match to me, I think. Ah, here is Erica with the cane. After a taste of this little persuader all the way from the rain-soaked forests of Indonesia, you will not only be willing to sign but eager to do so. Commence.’

  The door closed on the retreating solicitor just as the first stroke of the cane whistled down to slice across Mandy’s upturned cheeks. A second withering stroke brought a torrent of abuse from Mandy’s lips. The tip of the cane came to rest, passive but potent, across the left buttock.

  ‘Silence,’ Erica demanded.

  Mandy ignored this instruction and, wriggling in her tight bondage, shouted abusive scorn at her chastiser. Erica placed the cane reverently on the bed and clasped Mandy’s hair in both hands.

  ‘Silence, you stupid bitch,’ she hissed. Mandy twisted her head and snapped at Erica’s wrist, almost but not quite nipping at the flesh with her bared teeth.

  ‘So, the bitch bites?’ Erica laughed, then fished up a nylon stocking from the back of a bedside chair and bound it around Mandy’s mouth, gagging her victim tightly. ‘Now let’s hear you squeal.’

  Picking up the cane, she took a half-pace back, judged t
he distance to the naked buttocks expertly and delivered three searing lashes in rapid succession. Mandy jerked and writhed, mouthing mute obscenities into the nylon gag.

  ‘My mistress has important clients coming. You must give your consent to the assignment of title deeds. This is only a taste of what you will suffer if you choose to refuse.’

  The cane sparkled in the evening sunset as it swept down across the soft cheeks below, lashing into their satin swell to leave thin, reddening stripes. Mandy grunted into her gag. The nylon stocking at her lips was already dark with a wet stain where she mouthed it furiously. At the bedposts, above the bound wrists, her fingers splayed out in anguished response to every searing stroke.

  Erica paused after nine swishing swipes, tapping the crimsoned cheeks warningly. ‘Give up whatever spurious claim you may think you have on Sternwood Grange and your suffering will cease. Don’t be a fool, Miss Silk.’ She dragged the tip of the wood across the curve of each punished buttock. Mandy jerked her hips and tossed her cheeks up in an effort to rid her scorched cheeks of the tormenting cane. It was a futile gesture, invoking swift retribution for her token rebellion: Erica responded immediately with two searching, scalding strokes after which she depressed the crowns of both cheeks with the levelled cane in a gesture of supreme control and total dominance.

  ‘You will sign,’ Erica snarled, raising the cane aloft. ‘No matter how long it takes to persuade you.’

  Never, Mandy resolved. Never. She was determined to cling on to her rightful inheritance, no matter what the immediate pain might be. Resigning her bottom to its inevitable suffering, Mandy consoled herself with the fragile comfort that Sternwood Grange was legally hers.