The Mistress of Sternwood Grange

by Arabella Knight

  Ozzam’s heavy hands became fists at the glass. Mandy quickly synchronised her pumping hand to Erica’s thrusts into Celia’s slit; Ozzam growled and tensed, exploding seconds later up against the glass with such ferocity that both pairs of eyes in the room beyond turned briefly and stared vacantly.

  Mandy froze, squeezing Ozzam’s flesh fiercely. The eyes beyond the glass returned to gaze upon one another, thinking the faint sound at the glass no more than a fluttering moth, Mandy supposed.

  Ozzam dropped to the floor, his head cradled on Mandy’s naked thighs. She fingered his damp, sweat-soaked hair tenderly. At the glass of the one-way mirror, the hot smear spread slowly down.

  ‘Come,’ she whispered. ‘You need a little wine to revive you. You must be thirsty, no?’

  He assented, nodding his face into her belly. She felt his chin grazing her blonde pubic curls.

  ‘But first, I must wash you. Wash and refresh your tired flesh.’

  He whispered his approval. They rose and crept away towards the hot, scented bath she planned for him. He slipped his hand into hers, willing to be led.

  Down in the kitchens, in the cosy darkness, she served him with moist sponge-cake fingers and chilled Vouvray. He ate and drank greedily. Mandy padded back to the fridge to retrieve a second bottle. Out of the corner of her eye, in the bar of sudden light cast by the open fridge door, she saw ten tiny toes crinkle up anxiously. Smiling, she took the bottle out and closed the door. The toes vanished.

  Back at the table, she sat down and picked up the corkscrew.

  ‘Why don’t you join us, Sonia?’

  Ozzam spluttered, startled as the minx, still naked, stepped out from her hiding place and scampered across to join them at the table.

  ‘Why didn’t you go as you promised?’ Mandy asked, attempting a stern tone which was instantly belied by the hug and the kiss, the cake and the wine she showered on the little naked minx.

  ‘Go?’ Ozzam queried.

  ‘My friends in the gym. You bought us all in the slave sale, remember?’ Mandy teased.

  He raised his glass of Vouvray in mock salute.

  ‘They’re free. And supposed to get away tonight.’

  He nodded. ‘Very wise. So?’ Ozzam asked, turning to Sonia. ‘Why did you not go?’

  ‘Couldn’t,’ she said simply, swallowing a huge mouthful of cake.

  ‘Could not?’ he pressed, his smiling eyes teasing her seriousness.

  ‘Couldn’t leave Mandy. Ever.’ She licked her fingers one by one and scanned the table for more cake.

  ‘Such loyalty you inspire, English rose. It is more than loyalty, perhaps. It speaks to me of devotion.’

  ‘What about poor Partridge and Sophie?’ Mandy inquired.

  ‘They stayed, too,’ Sonia said a little defensively, as if diminishing her sin by their actions. ‘Partridge said she just couldn’t leave you. Out of loyalty to your aunt. And then Sophie decided to stay out of loyalty –’

  ‘To Partridge,’ Mandy said.

  ‘With such staff as these, Sternwood Grange will surely thrive and prosper,’ Ozzam observed. ‘I, sadly, can only get obedience through fear.’ He drained his glass. ‘What of tomorrow?’

  ‘Just come down to the gym as planned,’ Mandy replied softly.

  ‘But you? And your friends?’

  ‘Do not be alarmed at what you see. Let’s keep the surprise for Celia.’

  ‘So be it. I am in your hands.’ He shrugged.

  ‘You certainly have been tonight,’ she grinned.

  He bowed, conceding the quip. ‘I will go and rest.’ He turned to go, pausing at the Gibbet. ‘What is this? Some domestic device? Such a thing is not to be found in Beirut.’

  ‘Not in the kitchens, possibly,’ Mandy answered enigmatically.

  ‘It’s for hanging meat up. Until it is high,’ Sonia explained. ‘Game meat.’

  ‘High?’ Ozzam said, puzzled.

  ‘Ripe,’ Mandy explained. ‘Toothsome and pliant.’

  ‘Ah, the rabbit, the hare and the pheasant when he is shot, no?’

  ‘Amongst other prey.’

  In their bed, Mandy cradled Sonia’s sleeping body, from time to time caressing the shoulders, hips and curved buttocks of the sleeping minx. Dawn was an hour away and, with the sunrise, Mandy knew, came stern duties to be done. But, for the moment, in the silence of these remaining dark hours, there was sweet pleasure to persue.

  Mandy thrilled to the loyalty – and bravery – of the little minx. She bent down and kissed the sleeping girl’s hair. Sonia murmured and stirred, rustling softly in her sleep as she twisted on the cotton sheet. Mandy risked another kiss, not wanting but half wishing to disturb and awake the minx. Planting her lips lightly against the sleeping eyes, she licked them tenderly with the tip of her tongue. Sonia moaned sweetly and wriggled, her trapped breasts bulging within Mandy’s encircling arm. The minx opened her eyes with delight as Mandy succumbed to temptation and kissed her firmly, lingeringly, on the mouth. Sonia opened her lips, accepting Mandy’s gently probing tongue.

  The minx snuggled down into the bed, still relishing the squeeze of Mandy’s encircling arm. At the window, an owl hooted softly. Soon the larks would be soaring into the violet of the breaking dawn. Spreading her thighs, Sonia inched her bottom up from the sheet, willing her pubis up to Mandy’s impatient fingers. Stroking the soft curls, Mandy slipped her forefinger between the moist labia. The minx wriggled, jerking her hips up higher. Turning her hand slowly, Mandy positioned her wrist at the wet warmth, dragging it up and down against the minx’s slit. Sonia squeezed her thighs together, trapping the slender wrist at her heat with a shrill squeal of glee.

  Perched on her left elbow above the wriggling nude, Mandy smiled down gently at the happy face on the pillow. Kissing the tip of Sonia’s nose, she twisted her wrist, rotating it cunningly. It was a tender pleasuring. Not for them the rabid carnality and frantic thrusting of Celia and Erica.

  At the window, the dawn chorus broke with lyrical birdsong. The little minx came just as sweetly, burbling her contented satisfaction just as gently as the soaring linnet. Wriggling down in the bed, she mouthed Mandy’s breasts and then her belly, until she brought her mouth against her pubic mound. Pressing her lips to the sweet flesh, she sucked and licked, her tongue-tip finding the erect clitoris. Mandy’s belly fluttered and imploded as, minutes later, she crushed her spasming climax down into Sonia’s shining face. The sun climbed up through the pink and silver clouds, its golden fingers stroking their nakedness as they lay, limbs interlocked, lips to lips, bosom to bosom, slit to slit.

  ‘Time to go,’ Mandy said, her voice breaking the silence. ‘We’d better get down to the gym.’

  Kissing her, Sonia slipped out of bed and scrambled for a bra and panties.

  ‘Don’t bother. They’ll expect to find us naked. We won’t disappoint them.’

  The double doors slapped together as they entered the gym.

  ‘We knew you’d come down here,’ Sophie squeaked, bounding out of the shadows and hugging Mandy. ‘Partridge and I will stand by you, whatever happens. We’re all in this together.’

  ‘Yes,’ the brown-eyed housekeeper echoed, joining them. ‘It is what your aunt would have wished, Mandy.’

  Mandy blinked the tears of emotion and affection from her eyes. For all they knew, these two could be aboard a private jet before dusk, Beirut bound for a vile servitude in bondage, yet they had chosen to remain.

  ‘What now?’ Sophie whispered. ‘There’s still time. Flight or fight?’

  ‘Fight,’ Mandy hissed. ‘Trust me, the odds are not as bad as they seem.’

  ‘Then we should get back to the wall bars and let them find us as they left us. At least we’ll have the element of surprise,’ Partridge suggested.

  They each assumed the position Erica had left them in after last night’s slave sale, contriving to wear loosened gags and cords that to the superficial glance appeared tightly secure.

  Mandy closed her ey
es. Who was boiling the early-morning kettles? she wondered. Were the other maids making melba toast to the exacting requirements of the residents? Were the flowers cut and arranged in their crystal vases? Were the quails’ eggs softly boiled and peeled?

  The greed of Celia and the blind obedience of Erica had caused standards of service to slip of late at Sternwood Grange. Mandy felt the blood of her aunt flowing through her. Like Aunt Clare, she took a fierce pride in the comfort of her residents. In the face of impending danger, all she could think of was clean linen, fresh bamboo canes and the other luxuries demanded by her guests. The residents came first – in every respect. Only one mind could focus on that absolute maxim, she realised with a sudden glow of pride: the mind of the mistress of Sternwood Grange.

  The double doors slapped together as Celia Flax-stone, followed by Erica, Ozzam and his entourage, entered the gym. Flicking on the harsh neon lights, they formed a semi-circle facing the display of naked bottoms at the wall bars.

  ‘What have you there?’ Celia asked brightly after greetings had been exchanged between the new arrivals.

  ‘This?’ Mandy heard Ozzam’s smooth voice reply. ‘This is the whip I promised you.’

  ‘You have bought a whip for me?’ she said delightedly.

  ‘Yes,’ he countered evenly, ‘I have bought a whip for you.’

  ‘Excellent. After the sale is concluded, we shall have a whipping party to seal the exchange of contracts.’

  ‘There will certainly be a whipping,’ Ozzam said softly, ‘but there will be no sale.’

  ‘No sale?’ the solicitor gasped, her voice rising a shrill octave. ‘But we agreed –’

  ‘Ah, greed. Now there is an interesting word.’

  ‘I said agreed. It was agreed –’

  ‘Nothing was agreed except that I would bring a whip. For you.’

  Erica suddenly paled, sensing the threat in his ominous tone. She backed away several paces. An alert heavy blocked her retreat, propelling her back under the glare of the neon.

  ‘Those who cheat Ozzam pay a heavy price. More than the bloated price you tried to extort from me.’

  Celia quavered, sensing danger, but her professional training loosened her brain and tongue. ‘If you wish to negotiate a lower price, we will do so. I only asked –’

  ‘For something you were not entitled to,’ he thundered. ‘You are not the mistress of Sternwood Grange.’

  Fear turned the solicitor’s face pale. She clutched at her throat nervously.

  ‘I was only doing what she told me to do,’ Erica suddenly snivelled. ‘None of this has anything to do with me –’

  ‘Such disloyalty.’ Ozzam smiled sadly, uncurling the whip slowly. With a vicious snap-crack, he lashed the polished wooden floor. ‘And yet,’ he continued, coiling the whip around his left hand, ‘I have seen true loyalty here at Sternwood Grange.’

  ‘Take these four and go,’ Celia stammered. ‘Just go, now. They are yours –’

  ‘These four are neither yours to give nor mine to take,’ Ozzam whispered.

  Erica made a desperate dash for the door. Springing from their pretence of bondage, Sophie and Partridge intercepted her. Celia Flaxstone shrieked her astonishment.

  ‘Come here, my little English rose,’ Ozzam boomed lustily, signalling to Mandy. ‘Are you sure you will not sell me Sternwood Grange?’

  Mandy smiled and kissed him but shook her head. ‘No. I have fallen in love with my inheritance. I propose to stay here. Partridge, you are in charge once more. Will you take Sophie as your assistant?’

  The housekeeper, overwhelmed by the speed of the unfolding drama, nodded vigorously.

  ‘I know you will treat the maids fairly, and pay them well. Though,’ she added softly, running her finger over the coiled whip in Ozzam’s clenched fist, ‘I trust you will be firm when it is necessary for you to be so.’

  ‘You have chosen wisely, English rose. They have proven their loyalty to you and will continue to do so. Your enterprise will prosper, of that I have no doubt. But there is one small purchase I wish to make.’

  ‘Name it,’ Mandy murmured. ‘If I can grant it, it will be yours, Ozzam.’

  He pointed the levelled whip at Celia and Erica. They struggled and cursed but were easily overpowered by the attendant heavies.

  ‘There is a place for both of them in my humble house of pleasures.’

  ‘No,’ Erica screamed. ‘You can’t –’

  A huge paw at her lips smothered her anguished protests.

  ‘You cannot buy them,’ Mandy said.

  A ray of hope gleamed in Celia’s grey eyes.

  ‘No?’ he queried, his sensual lips pursing in disappointment.

  ‘But you can take them freely. I want no payment. It is purely a private matter between yourselves.’ She grinned.

  Ozzam laughed, a delighted, braying bark. He cracked the whip with evident relish.

  Celia paled to an ashen white, slumping in the grip of the heavies. She trembled with fear and rage, cursing Mandy and Ozzam.

  ‘Gag them both,’ Ozzam ordered. Gags were brutally applied.

  ‘You are taking them back to Beirut?’ Mandy asked.

  ‘Yes. But first, I was promised a whipping party. Let us see if Miss Flaxstone can honour at least one promise.’

  ‘May I see your whip? It is something of a speciality, I believe.’

  ‘Take it, English rose. I know you will put it to good use.’ He handed her the four and a half feet of supple hide. ‘It is the stretched penis of a bull camel. I store it in virgin olive oil to keep the lash pliant.’

  Mandy weighed the six ounces of potent pain in her open palm. The oiled hide gleamed, causing her slit to pulse and moisten.

  ‘It is surprisingly light,’ she whispered.

  ‘And surprisingly lethal,’ he chuckled darkly. ‘Only to be used by a skilled hand. Are you an adept in the arts of discipline?’

  ‘Practice makes perfect, I am told. What time do you plan to depart?’

  ‘A little after noon.’

  ‘Then we must lunch together before you go.’

  ‘We have so little, yet so much, in common. I would like to invest in Sternwood Grange, against a percentage of your profit. And you must come to visit me in Beirut.’

  ‘Splendid. We will drink a toast to both ideas.’ Turning to Erica, she pointed the whip at the wretched cropped blonde. ‘Take her to the Gibbet. Punish her thoroughly, each of you.’

  Partridge and Sophie, hand in hand, led the procession out of the gym, with the bodyguards bringing up the rear. Mandy crushed the coiled whip to her naked bosom, thrilling to the glistening hide at her nipples. Soon, Mandy knew, her loyal friends would have the cropped blonde stripped and suspended in the Gibbet. Soon, Mandy thought, eager hands would be grasping canes to stripe-slice Erica’s naked buttocks.

  ‘And see to it that every resident is served with chilled champagne with their breakfast,’ she called out after them. ‘Today is a day for celebrations.’

  Celia, gagged but unbound, inched towards the double doors.

  ‘You cannot escape,’ Mandy warned. ‘There is nowhere for you to go, except Beirut.’

  Grappling at her gag and loosening it, the desperate solicitor tried to bargain. Vast sums were mumbled.

  ‘You may remove the gag,’ Mandy conceded coldly, ignoring all the urgent pleading. ‘I have no objection to hearing your sobs of torment when I whip you. Take your clothes off. Strip,’ she barked sternly. ‘I want you naked for the lash.’

  Ozzam strode across the polished floor and grasped Celia’s blouse. ‘May I?’ he asked Mandy.

  ‘She is yours, Ozzam. Do what you will. All I crave is one session with the whip.’

  ‘That I grant you freely,’ he grunted, ripping the blouse savagely from his captive. The dark skirt was dragged down, leaving Celia shivering in fear and dread, clad only in a white brassiere and sheer black tights.

  I want her naked,’ Mandy whispered, ‘with her hands boun
d.’

  Ozzam used his mouth, biting the brassiere away and spilling the solicitor’s heavy breasts. Standing behind her, he ground his pelvis into the sheen of the tights across her swollen buttocks and cupped her bosoms, squeezing masterfully.

  ‘The fruit is ripe – the harvest will be heavy,’ he grunted, closing his eyes in an ecstasy of lustful anticipation.

  ‘Bare bottomed and bound,’ Mandy prompted, cracking her whip.

  Ozzam opened his eyes and smiled. ‘As you command, my little English rose.’

  He thumbed the black tights down over the swell of the quivering cheeks and dragged them away from the wriggling feet below. Binding the tights around Celia’s wrists at her belly, he presented the naked solicitor to Mandy for inspection.

  ‘I’ll punish her across the vaulting horse,’ Mandy announced, pacing softly across the floor to stand before Celia.

  The whip rose and addressed each swollen breast, teasing each painfully peaked nipple up into purple buds of exquisite torment. Mandy traced the oiled leather down across the flat belly and stroked the pubic curls below.

  ‘To the horse,’ she commanded.

  Ozzam lifted the wriggling solicitor in his fierce grip and carried her across to the scuffed hide of the vaulting horse. Arranging Celia face down along its leather back, he stood aside, his eyes hot coals of eager expectation.

  Amanda Silk drew herself up to her proud height. Flicking the whip back, she judged the distance, so that each of the twenty lashes would sear and stripe the bare buttocks accurately, pitilessly and ruthlessly. She snapped the whip – a practice crack to test its suppleness. Across the hide of the horse, the naked cheeks clenched in a spasm of dread. The whipper smiled, knowing that the next time the harsh leather snapped, the bare bottom would jerk in earnest.