“I’ve been saving this pleasure for a rainy day,” Ali said as the blows came down thick and fast over the tenderest of flesh, “and today it’s bloody pissing down! And when I’ve finished here, I’m going to start on those bloody tits you flaunt at everyone. You’ll know all about pain when I’m finished.”
Chapter Nineteen
The chateau was set amongst miles of rolling countryside that included woodland, parkland and lakes. There were wooden watchtowers dotted about at intervals, consisting of platforms mounted on scaffolding and reached by steps. These were for the sole purpose of watching the ruling, dominant females at play with their exclusively male and wholly submissive guests.
They paid a great deal of money to have their dreams come true, while staying in luxurious rooms for anything from two nights to six months.
There was a strict hierarchy, presided over by the White Goddess. Below her were a highly skilled group of ladies, each one being a resident dominatrix in her own right who answered to the name Mistress. Some of these ladies chose to specialize in fields such as teacher/pupil scenarios or Lady of the manor/stable lad games. Beneath them was a handful of trainee dominants. It was from this last group that Nina Brand was about to graduate.
There were also a number of butch dominants who acted as overseers and saw to the day-to-day running of the place. Answerable to the mistresses and trainees, they were at liberty to take their pleasure with any of the rest of the staff.
This final group was made up of a whole stable of subs of both sexes. They were the slaves and trainee slaves who slept in the cells located in the chateau’s underground passages. Responsible for the household chores, they were at the beck and call, sexually and otherwise, of everyone above them.
And everyone, of course, was subject at all times to the will of the formidable White Goddess.
Understandably, fucking was rife among the staff and mistresses alike, but it was a hard and fast rule that no guest was permitted to fuck the slaves without an express order to do so from one of the mistresses. This way, Chantel maintained a high degree of obedience and client satisfaction, and had a reputation second to none in the business.
***
Ali looked around her at the familiar luxury of the lounge. Nothing had changed, except that instead of being served her coffee by one of the submissive girls on the premises, this time she was served by a tall, rather stocky man, wearing a short, white frilly apron with nothing underneath.
Dressed in her long, white dress and trademark long white gloves, Chantel said, “introduce yourself to Mistress Blackheart.”
The voice that answered was amazingly gruff, with an American accent.
“My name’s Chas, Mistress Blackheart.”
“Stand up straight, Chas.” Ali leaned forward in her seat and lifted up the apron. Underneath, his thick penis was semi hard. “That’s not a very big dick is it, Chas?”
“No, mistress.”
“What use is that?” she said, sneeringly.
“No use whatsoever, Mistress.”
“Then I suggest you get it out of my sight! Take it up to my room, and I’ll deal with it later.” Having had her fill of cocks over the past few days, at this point she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with it, but something would come to mind. “Hurry, or face the consequences.”
As he went scurrying off, she asked, “what’s his story?”
“You won’t believe this, my dear, but he’s Charles Osbert.”
“No!” Ali was aghast. “Not the much-married industrialist, number twenty-five on the world’s richest men list?”
“The very same. Apparently, even wife number eight hasn’t lived up to expectations. When she discovered him wearing an apron and taking orders from their Spanish maid, she asked for a divorce there and then. It’s his first time with us. He’s booked in for three weeks and requested that he be put to use ‘around the house’, rather than spend his free time in his room, or in the guests’ lounge. He believes that in a previous life, he was a scullery maid to a British Member of Parliament, where he had an affair with the son of the house.”
“Is he gay? Is that why his marriages fail?”
“Far from it. You remember Lynette, the mistress that joined us a couple of weeks before you left? She had to go to the kitchen to fetch one of the submissive girls for a lesson in deportment, and found Chas, apron and all, whipping the girl’s backside over the table. Lynette secreted herself to watch the proceedings, and he fucked the poor girl senseless! Of course, I had him punished severely.” She paused. “Now, about your little slut... I haven’t seen her yet, but I’m reliably informed that she’s something rather special.”
“I think so.”
Chantel gave her a knowing smile. “And she’s the reason you left us last year? Then, with your permission,” she stood to go, “I want her brought to me in my study.”
Jealously once again jabbed at Ali’s heart. Nevertheless, this was her own Tutor, the White Goddess herself, and whether Ali gave her consent or not, Chantel wouldn’t be denied.
“I’ll bring her to you myself in twenty minutes.”
“No, you stay here and rest after your journey.” ***
Chantel sat back in her chair in the oak panelled study and opened her legs.
“Bring me off.”
Horrified, Leigh just stood gaping at the open, blonde fringed, glistening sex before her. Although Ali liked to watch her bring Cindy off, it was always at Ali’s command. But now the memory of Ali’s anger when she’d found her with Nina was just too clear in her mind. What if Ali hadn’t given her consent this time, either?
“What’s the matter with you, girl? Surely you’ve done this for your Mistress?”
“Yes, Goddess.”
“Then you’ll do it for me now.”
Obediently, Leigh dropped to her knees. She dared to look Chantel in the eye before she dipped her head. Then, in the way she knew Ali liked, she began to lick at the burgeoning folds before taking the hood of her clitoris between her lips. As Chantel groaned with pleasure she tugged very gently on the hood itself, before turning her attention to the most sensitive part of a woman’s body... the terrible, wonderful clitoris. She flicked it with her tongue nipped it between her teeth, flicked at it again...
The door burst open. Leigh drew back sharply and spun round, to see her Mistress looking even blacker-hearted than usual.
Chantel remained unflustered by the intrusion. She merely grabbed Leigh’s head and pressed her face back to her moist quim.
“I’d prefer you to knock, Ali.”
“And I’d prefer you to keep your bloody hands off my property.”
“You forget yourself, I think. While she’s here in my chateau, she has become, in effect, my property. Have you lost all traces of respect? I think that maybe having a little success with your own house of correction has gone to your head, and you forget who rules in this house! Now, sit down if you wish and you’ll be welcome to watch. Otherwise, leave me alone with this...”
“I think it’s you that’s forgotten! One of the first things you taught me was ‘don’t take shit from anyone.’ Leigh, get out of the way.”
Detaching her mouth quickly, Leigh scrambled to her feet and ran to the side of the room. Standing against the wall beside the window, she clutched at the heavy drape and wrapped it around herself, not as false modesty but as a security blanket.
Chantel sat back in her chair and made a steeple with her fingers.
“You should know better than to cross me. However, I think that perhaps the journey has overtired you. Therefore, I think it best if you go to your room.”
Chantel’s voice remained perfectly calm, yet the underlying authority had the desired effect as Ali recognized dismissal. As the rushing of heat through her loins quelled itself she came slowly
to her senses, though she heard the words of her former tutor through the distorting mist of her jealousy.
“Take a shower, sip a brandy and take your frustrations out on Chas. He’s there waiting for you now. Leave the girl with me, and I’ll return her to you, safe and sound, when I’m done.”
Ali gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.
“As you say, the travelling’s probably worn me out and made me cranky. Please, use her in any way you want.” She turned and, on her way to the door, saving her blackest, most threatening look for Leigh, gave Chantel a fraudulent assurance. “You’ll be doing me a great honour by servicing her, Goddess. If she doesn’t live up to your high standards, I’ll hand her over to your staff for a flogging.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Chantel beckoned Leigh over with an aristocratic wave of her gloved hand, “but that won’t be necessary. I’m sure you’ll have trained her well.”
Over the next few days, Ali kept Jurgen chained to the foot of the bed, taking out her frustrations and lust in the most diabolical ways. However, she saw little of Leigh or the all-powerful White Goddess. There were whispers amongst the other mistresses and overseers that Chantel had decided to keep the girl for herself.
Ali studied the photograph in her hand, taken shortly before leaving England. One of her favourites, it showed a naked and bound Leigh draped over the stone that reputedly marked Braddock’s grave, with her delicious bum in the air, bearing several extremely red lines.
Now Ali made a decision of her own; a direct appeal to Chantel was in order. She headed off in the direction of Chantel’s bedroom, designed with the bedroom of Marie Antoinette in mind. With her heart thudding in her throat, she stood outside in the sumptuous hallway and rapped on the door.
“Come.”
But the sight that greeted Ali once she was inside was worse than anything she’d imagined, much, much worse than the similar scene with Nina in her own bedroom. Leigh was tied to the bedposts in the same manner, while Chantel, naked and stretched out over her, was kissing her mouth.
“Chantel! What are you doing?”
Turning her head, Chantel laughed. “I would have thought it was perfectly obvious. I’m fucking your adorable little slave.”
Chantel wore a harness strapped around her waist, to which was affixed a long, thick dildo, a dildo which she’d buried deep in Leigh’s juicing vagina. Under Ali’s hostile eyes, she continued to piston in and out, raising and lowering her buttocks in a wholly sensual manner that at any other time would have caused Ali’s own juices to flow.
“Get the fuck off her!”
When Chantel continued to thrust, Ali edged slowly toward the bed. In her hand she carried a coiled whip. And now it wasn’t merely anger that raced through her veins, it was far something more deadly than anything that had gone before.
“So, what are you going to do, whip me?” Chantel said in a voice so infuriatingly calm that it was all Ali could do to stop herself from flogging the magnificent, sleek-haired blonde there and then.
“If I have to.”
“Really! I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed. But one thing’s for sure, you’re getting way, way above yourself. However, I may have a solution to this little problem.” Slowly, Chantel withdrew the dildo and rolled to the side. She unbuckled the harness and removed it, laying it down beside her on the luxurious coverlet. “This girl of yours is quite delightful, and I would very much like to take her off your hands. I’ll pay you for her.”
“No way!”
“Then perhaps there’s yet another way. Let’s ask her which of us she prefers.”
For the first time, Ali trembled. She’d treated Leigh so harshly over the past months, more harshly than the White Goddess herself ever would, that Ali was afraid to put the question to Leigh. Instead, she said,
“I know a better way still.”
“And that is?”
“A contest.”
Chantel looked at her blankly. “What sort of contest?”
“A contest of superiority. In three days’ time.”
Chantel laughed. “With her as the prize?”
“Oh no, the stakes have just gone up. You once offered me a share in this place...”
“Which you declined.”
“I wasn’t ready. Now I am. I propose that the winner takes all.”
***
The warm rays of the Spring sunshine beat down on the assembled company of mistresses and overseers, who jostled each other for a better view as they crowded around the arena. Normally used as a training ground for the long term guests who got off on the horse and trainer games, the guest being the horse, today it had been cleared to make a sandy combat zone.
The atmosphere was one of tense anticipation as the two naked women faced each other, legs straddled with their whips in hand.
Nina Brand stood in the centre of the arena.
“Ladies, we’re here today to settle a dispute between tutor and her star pupil. It started over a girl, and will end with ‘winner takes all.’ Yes, my friends, the very future of the chateau itself is at stake. The contest will be run over three bouts. Though the winner will be decided on the best of three basis, so as not to deny you a very special finale all three bouts will take place. Ladies, I give you...” she turned and extended her arm toward the two women, “the White Goddess and her opponent, Mistress Blackheart.”
A series of cheers erupted as the bystanders chose which of the competitors to support.
Chantel, tall and majestic stood with her cool gaze fixed on Ali, her most esteemed pupil. She’d learnt her lessons well - perhaps a little too well, and was truly a force to be reckoned with.
Shorter, with age on her side, Ali stood imperiously, showing no outward sign of her inner turmoil. She swallowed hard. What was she thinking of, taking on the mighty White Goddess? She could lose everything she’d worked for, plus the only thing she’d ever really wanted. Perhaps what Chantel had said was true; maybe she was obsessed. But there was no way she’d give Leigh up. Besides, the chateau dangled like a carrot on a stick before her.
This was no time for emotions; there was a job to do!
A whipping post had been hastily erected in the centre of the platform at the top of the nearby watchtower, which gave marvellous views over the new punishment apparatus down by the lake. Based on the old ducking stool that had once been used for nagging wives, this new piece of equipment consisted of a cage in which the guest was imprisoned, chained in any preferred position of atonement, on the end of the hydraulically operated lever.
Loud hand clapping announced the arrival of the dominatrix chosen to start the contest, it would begin on the first cry to pass Leigh’s lips. Naked and tied with her back to the whipping post for the moment, in time she’d be moved to the various posts and frames around the course to start each round. Blindfolded, she’d have no way of knowing what was about to befall her and could therefore give no advantage to Ali regarding the best moment to start. In fact, she’d have no way of knowing how the contest was going, nor its final outcome until the victor was officially acknowledged. Owing to the plugs which had been inserted in her ears, her disorientation was complete.
Dressed in an intimidating black harness, the dominatrix climbed up the steps of the watchtower.
Ali flicked her eyes towards the platform, and felt a physical pain as she imagined life without the redhead, then turned her attention back to her opponent. She tightened her grip on each of the two whips in her hands. She’d chosen a matched pair of whips, each with one long, thin plaited cable. Chantel, on the other hand, had chosen two very different whips. One had six spiteful lashes while the other had a mass of lashes, each with a knot tied in the end.
The dominatrix braced herself, then drew back her arm and held the wicked, narrow cane high. A heartbeat later there was a whooshi
ng sound, followed by a Crack! as the cane came down across Leigh’s vulnerable breasts. She screamed - the contest began.
For a moment, the competitors sized each other up as they circled the arena, every muscle in their finely tuned, erotic bodies taut and ready for action.
Suddenly, with the power of a spring uncoiling, they leapt into action. In a confusion of fiendish blows, the two women ducked, twisted and leapt to evade the cruel lashes of their opponent while they struck with their own. It was Chantel who had the better aim, and the six thongs curled and flicked at Ali’s flesh, crossing her with red weals, while the knotted ends from the second whip bit into her abdomen. It wasn’t long before Ali’s torso and thighs showed the evidence of battle, red stripes jostling with lines of broken skin.
But Ali was no mean shot herself, though it took her longer to get into the swing of things due to the recognition of the enormity of the hare-brained scheme. But she mustn’t lose!
With that final thought fixed firmly in her mind, she set to it with vigour. As Chantel twisted to avoid one lash, Ali struck a vicious blow with the other. Laying down a terrible line across Chantel’s shoulder, Ali found her rhythm and, striking malicious, vengeful blows to Chantel’s thighs and belly, her mouth twitched into a mirthless smile as Chantel stumbled. Flicking one whip and cracking the other had Chantel twisting in all direction, enabling Ali to open up a deep slash across Chantel’s back.
The air became filled with a cacophony of cheers, gasps, shrieks and cracking whips. Yells rose and fell as the watching crowd encouraged both sides. And so it went on, each woman matching the other strike for strike in a contest that was beginning to look like a stalemate as their bodies became horrendously marked.
It was more from luck than design when Ali’s left-handed strike relieved Chantel of one of her weapons. Narrowing her eyes, she began to inch slowly round the clearing, causing Chantel to do likewise and so move further and further away from her relinquished whip.
Mistress Blackheart Page 20
