by Josie Litton
She pressed her lips tightly together, her luscious mouth firmly set, and did as he said. A low groan escaped her as the hard rubber dildo disappeared fully between her cheeks.
It was a start, at any rate.
“Good girl. Now rise up and squat down again.”
“Excellent,” he said when she had done so. “Again.”
She was clearly still reluctant but he sensed a little more confidence in her motions. “Try to establish a rhythm,” he said. “Up, down, up, down, that sort of thing.”
After several more such exertions on her part, he said, “Now faster. Up-down, up-down, up-down. Again. Yes, good, that’s it.”
Watching the dildo rapidly disappearing into her ass and reappearing, he had to resist the temptation to ease the pressure on his cock with a quick jerk off. But now wasn’t the time for such indulgence. He needed to keep her on track.
“Well done. Now move onto the next size.”
She did so but with obvious reluctance. He helped by applying more lube, then returned to his desk and continued watching her. She did try but her resolve was faltering. The second dildo was less than half-way into her when he relented.
Telling himself that it was only the first day, he allowed her to kneel under the desk instead and suck him off.
But as he was putting himself back into his trousers, he said sternly, “While I am in London, you will work out on this bench for not less than one hour a day. And that doesn’t mean you just sit on the littlest dick. By the time I return, I want to watch you take the biggest cock all the way up your ass and do the cha-cha on it.”
Cheeks flushed, eyes down, traces of his cum on her delectable lips, she nodded.
∞ ∞ ∞
London was hot, empty of almost anyone who mattered, and smelled of diesel and manure. He had dinner at one of his clubs with Tony Monkton, who seemed to want to talk of nothing but India. That and Bunny.
Among the many mysteries of their marriage, Lord Adrian had never bothered to ask the origin of his wife’s nickname but he supposed it had something to do with her tendency to wiggle her nose when irate. Her nature being what it was, that was a great deal of the time.
“How is dear Annabelle?” Monkton asked. “Is she staying on for a bit?”
“Hell if I know. We avoid each other like the proverbial plague.”
His friend smirked. “She hasn’t come to finally claim her wifely privileges?”
“God forbid!”
His lordship shuddered at the mere thought. Unlike his little pet, Annabelle was a substantial woman almost as tall as himself. Not that she wasn’t well proportioned, he would give her that. But she would have made an excellent Valkyrie or even an Amazon. The thought of her slicing off one of her breasts to better manage her bow did not strike him as at all unlikely.
“Tata is quite fond of her,” Monkton said, referring to his own wife. “She wants Bunny to come back out to India with us.”
“I wouldn’t wish that on any man,” Lord Adrian said with fervor. He was fond of Monkton in his own way. But they could have been sworn enemies and he would still have wanted to spare him Bunny.
Monkton chuckled. “Oh, I dare say, it wouldn’t be so bad. Give Tata someone to spend time with. She’s not frightfully keen on the other Raj wives, you know. Says they’re too stuffy.”
“I suppose they are,” his lordship replied although in truth he had never given any thought to the matter. India was India. It had been the jewel in the Crown for two centuries. He enjoyed his visits there enormously but only because he largely avoided the resident British community.
Give him a good tiger hunt, a decent curry, and the ministrations of a lady well-schooled in the Kama Sutra and he could be quite amenable to whatever a wily maharaja hoped for. Up to a point. Ultimately, King and Empire trumped all.
“By all means take her if you wish,” he said magnanimously. On an afterthought, he added, “Any chance, do you think, that the custom of suttee might be revived?”
From time to time, he regretted his marriage, no matter how brilliant it was. Not that there could be any cure for that. While the lower orders were free to divorce at the drop of a hat, assuming they even bothered to marry, the nobility were held to a far higher standard. They were, after all, a moral example for the nation.
Monkton chuckled. “I rather doubt it. We hanged all the chaps who thought it a good idea to burn widows alive on the funeral pyres of their husbands ages ago. Besides, you’d have to die to take advantage of it.”
“There’s the rub,” his lordship acknowledged. “Still, Annabelle can go wherever she wishes. I just damn well wish she would do it quickly.”
“Yet for all that, you seem in reasonably good spirits. What accounts for it, do you think?”
“Am I usually so dour that you must ask?”
His friend smiled affectionately. “Not dour, exactly. Just not quite yourself of late. Do you deny it?”
“I don’t,” Lord Adrien admitted. “But I have a new interest these days and it’s perked me up.”
“Your pet?”
He imagined her suddenly as though she stood before him--the ripeness of her breasts and nipples, the shadowed mystery of her cunt, how demure and submissive she was, yet how responsive to his slightest touch.
Adjusting himself more comfortably in the chair, he said, “She’s quite fetching.”
“I have to admit,” Monkton said, “I’ve never really considered getting one.”
“It’s a commitment. Frankly, she’s taking more of my time and attention than I anticipated. Still, I’m not complaining. I enjoy her.”
“That’s what matters then. As hard as you work, you deserve to relax.”
Yet his lordship found no easing in either his body or his mind when he returned to Burleigh Abbey a few days later. His pet was in her cage when he arrived and promptly had her sent for. Gesturing to the bench, he said, “Show me how far you’ve gotten.”
Rather than head immediately for the fourth and largest cock, she went instead to the second, exactly where they had left off days before.
“Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on that,” he said, exasperated. “How can that be?”
Jameson had assured him that his pet was diligent about her hour a day in the library. God only knew what she’d really been doing. Reading, probably.
A vision of her curled up on his tufted leather coach flashed through his mind, her lovely legs drawn up under her as she perused some book or other. So vivid was the image that he was certain in an instant of exactly how she had defied him.
“Your instructions were very clear,” he said. “You failed to obey them. I am now put to the trouble of punishing you.”
Not that it was really troublesome; he rather relished the idea.
Though she balked and tried to dig in her heels, he wasted no time forcing her onto the black leather paddling bench near the tall windows that looked out over the garden. Holding her firmly, he strapped her in place with her head down and her pert ass raised, her legs spread to straddle the bench so that her lovely cunt was fully on view.
Observing her in that position, he briefly considered sending one of the kitchen staff to collect a bundle of birch. A good thrashing with that would sting in the extreme. Sometimes the old methods really were the best. Still, in the interest of time, he opted for a more orthodox punishment.
Dangling the sturdy leather belt he had selected in front of her, he instructed, “You will count. Every blow. There will be ten in all and if you miss one, we will begin again.”
The first strike left a pale pink streak across her luscious bottom. The second landed a little more firmly. Slowly, he increased the force of each swing. By the fifth blow, she was gasping. Yet she still managed to call out the count, her voice quavering.
“Six!”
A streak of red appeared.
“Seven!”
She would be sore, he reflected, as she damn well should be.
“Eigh
t!”
There would be bruising marring that pale skin. He rather regretted that but it wasn’t to be helped. She had to learn.
“Nine!”
On the final blow, the leather belt cracked so hard that the sound rang through the library. It was more for effect than anything else but it wrung a startled scream from her.
“Ten!”
His lordship lowered his arm and moved closer to observe the results of his exertions. He judged the punishment to be severe enough that she would remember it and hopefully absorb the intended lesson: obedience had to be absolute. Anything less she would pay for in pain and tears.
He tossed the belt aside and released his plaything from the bench. Holding her, he stroked her hair and felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy.
“There, there,” he said. “You did very well.”
With the paddling but certainly not with the bench. By all rights, he should force her back onto it immediately. But he had a stack of paperwork waiting for him and besides, given how sore her bottom must be, he doubted that she would be able to accomplish much. Clearly, another way would have to be found.
Chapter Six
Having given his pet the weekend to recover, Lord Adrian decided to step up her training. He felt that the entire incident with the dildo bench reflected a certain laxness on his part and he resolved to do better.
With just a little thought and effort, he could come up with something more creative. She was, after all, a pet, intended to be played with.
On Monday, he took her for a walk again. Before setting out, he ordered her to stand before him and open her mouth. As she waited, wide-eyed, her chin quivering a bit, he inserted a steel bridle bit between her teeth. Leather straps went through the large rings at either side and buckled around her head to secure the bit firmly. So long as the gag was in, he wouldn’t be able to fuck her mouth but he was willing to make sacrifices in pursuit of greater goals.
“Bend over.”
She let out a little yelp when he inserted a gleaming horse tail butt plug into her anus. The plug itself was larger than what she’d had before and made of heavy steel. The tail was the real thing--long, glossy and quite fetching.
Lastly, he folded her arms so that her hands were tucked under her chin and secured them there with snug leather bindings above her elbows. That not coincidentally had the effect of squeezing her breasts tightly together.
Unable to resist, he tweaked each nipple several times. The rings in them were charming but there were other options he thought he would try soon.
“Have a look.” He turned her so that she could see herself in the full-length mirror that he’d had positioned for that purpose.
Her eyes widened even further and a becoming flush stained her cheeks. She looked like the pet she was only more so. An adorable, playful object, adorned for his pleasure.
With every movement she made, the tail brushed over her ass and thighs. Its swing caused the plug to shift inside her, heightening its effect. Already, cunt juice was sliding down her thighs in even greater quantity than usual.
He thought she looked enchanting. The tail certainly brought out her frisky side. She kept staring over her shoulder at it and even wiggled her hips to make it sway.
“Come along,” he said and led her outside.
After they had walked a bit, sticking to the lawns so as not to injure her bare feet on the gravel paths, he led her around to the front of the estate. There a large, multi-tiered fountain gushed in the sunlight. He released the gag and instructed her to lean over and drink from the fountain. She did so awkwardly, her arms being so constrained, lapping at the water with her little pink tongue. The sight inspired him to stroke his hand over her bottom to her cunt where he probed lightly, carefully inserting a long finger into her.
“Such a good pet,” he soothed when she jerked. “Keep drinking.”
Watching the motion of her tongue lapping at the water, he pressed his thumb down on her clit and rotated it. With his other hand, he twisted the plug inside her, at once turning and pushing it deeper. She moaned helplessly.
“I could make you come just like this,” he said. Not that he had any intention of doing so. He wanted her exactly as she was.
And at once.
Gripping the back of her neck, he said, “Get on your knees, facing me, ass up.”
With a quick motion, he settled himself on the broad marble rim of the fountain, opened his trousers and freed his cock.
“Suck,” he ordered.
She complied at once. He felt the coolness from the water before her natural heat took over. She pulled him deep, her tongue and the suction of her cheeks quickly working their magic.
He grasped the bun above her nape, undid it with a jerk, and wound the mahogany tresses around his hand. Holding her in that fashion, he thrust her head up and down, controlling the rhythm. Her breasts swayed to it, as did the tail in her ass.
A delivery truck drove slowly up the drive, all but rolling to a stop for a moment before going on to the back entrance. Lord Adrian scarcely noticed it. Nor did he pay the slightest regard to the goggle-eyed maids clustered at one of the windows overlooking the fountain. Nothing mattered except the exquisite pressure of her mouth and the explosive orgasm building in him.
He came with a shout, gripping her hair, his head thrown back, the cordons of his neck bulging. He could die from this, he thought distantly, and never care.
∞ ∞ ∞
Still mindful of his new resolve, on Tuesday, his lordship took his pet along when he went riding. But first, he personally saw to preparing her.
To begin, he replaced the rings in her nipples with a pair that were slightly larger, thicker and heavier. They had to be forced through the small holes but the effort was worthwhile. Her new adornments looked delightful.
“Put these on.” He handed her a pair of short black boots with soles shaped like horse hooves and long black leather elbow gloves with brass rivets along their inner sides.
When she was shod and gloved, teetering a bit on the hooves, he had her walk around to check her balance before judging it to be adequate to his purposes. The footwear forced her delectable ass out and presented it at a most enticing angle.
With a flick of his hand, he gestured for her to bend over. The position was familiar enough to her by then that she didn’t need any further instruction. As he had directed, her lovely mahogany hair had been freed from its bun and arranged for the occasion in a ponytail secured high on the crown of her head. Silken tresses brushed the floor as she obeyed him.
He patted her ass in approval, then spread her cheeks and carefully but firmly inserted a substantial steel plug into her anus. She was still trying to adjust to that, and all the rest, when he had her step into a black leather harness that left her ass and breasts bare while clinching her waist and forcing her shoulders back. Drawing her arms behind her, he quickly wove a leather tie from the top of the gloves to the bottom gloves, securing them tightly together so that she was bound from elbows to wrists. The effect was to thrust her breasts out even further.
His lordship took a moment to toy with those lovely breasts, squeezing them sufficiently to make her moan. He smiled and returned to the job of tacking her up. Spreading her labia wide, he drew a leather strap between them so that the plumb, glistening lips overlapped on either side, then extended the strap up between the cheeks of her ass where it would assure that the plug stayed in place. Lastly, he gave the strap a hard jerk, yanking it tight before buckling it at the small of her back.
When she squirmed in discomfort, he slapped her bottom firmly.
“Enough of that. Behave.”
She quieted at once and remained docile as he added a high black leather collar that forced her chin up, then hooked a long lead to a ring on the harness just below her breasts, letting most of the leather length hang loosely gathered in his hand.
“Come along,” he said.
In the hooved boots, she had to move with high, pranci
ng steps. Her ass and breasts jiggled most delightfully.
They went down to the stables where his favorite mount, Xerxes was already saddled and waiting. A few grooms and stable boys were loitering about, watching the proceedings. The stallion snorted and pawed the ground eagerly.
His little pet looked nervous which, all things considered, she was right to be.
Lord Adrian mounted in a single smooth motion, settled himself into the saddle, and let out the lead.
He started at a slow trot, doing no more than direct Xerxes in a wide circle as the grooms and stable boys looked on. His intent was to let his pet get used to the tug of the lead and the importance of keeping up. With her arms secured so tightly behind her back, her balance was thrown off. She stumbled several times but managed to stay upright.
Satisfied that she had the hang of it, he moved off onto the bridle path that led through a shaded copse of wood and out toward meadows that rolled away as far as the river.
When they reached a level piece of ground, he pressed his heels into Xerxes’ sides. The horse flowed smoothly into a trot. His little pet had to run to keep up. He kept a careful eye over his shoulder, slowing the stallion a bit when the lead pulled taut. But generally he thought she was doing well. He had resisted the urge to gag her with the bit again, preferring for the purposes of this exercise that she be able to breathe unhindered. As her breasts bobbed harder and her skin reddened from her exertions, he was glad that he’d thought of that.
She really was the perfect incarnation of all his fantasies. That sudden realization sent a ripple of apprehension through him. He had to remind himself that she was merely his pet, a source of amusement and relaxation. He did not intend for her to be anything else but he was a forthright man and he knew weakness when he encountered it, most especially in himself. If he wasn’t careful, he was at risk of letting her become more.
Still, he had to give his pet credit, she had spirit. She lasted longer than he had expected, even when he increased the pace so that the lead remained taut and she had to sprint to keep up. But inevitably, she began to flag. The day was warm and the strain on her muscles had to be considerable. Her skin was soon slicked with sweat. Her breathing became more labored. Finally, she fell.
