A Gentleman's Property

by Toby Abbott

  Whether a piercing triggered or merely accompanied an orgasm was one of the points this experiment was intended to make easier to determine, but even with the benefit of a detailed film record it was something that would continue to be debated long afterwards in the case of Miss Simpson’s first. About her subsequent orgasms there could be no doubt.

  The twofold function of the first had been to create the pain/pleasure association in the subject’s mind, and to give information about her reactions. The Baroness now knew the symptoms of Mary Ann’s approaching climax in detail, and next time she was able to ration the stimulation and time the piercing with scientific accuracy. Working as a team, Chloe suckling the left nipple, the Baroness teasing the clit, they quickly brought Mary Ann back almost to the brink, but there they paused while she receded slightly, and ‘please’ again began to dominate her conversation. Only then did the Baroness give the order. Chloe forced her needle home with deliberate slowness, and this time it was clear to every observer that the painful penetration was the immediate cause of the orgasm.

  While the Baroness prepared to make the various genital piercings herself, Chloe’s job was to agitate the sleeper rings now decorating Mary Ann’s nipples. These movements, which would have been merely painful in any ordinary circumstances, were now quite obviously giving pleasure. The Baroness had abandoned her tonguing, and was pulling out Mary Ann’s inner labia with a rhythmic milking action. This enabled her to explain the procedure and describe the subject’s reactions to the enthralled audience.

  She pierced the inner and the outer lips, and the clitoral hood. Mary Ann was on a plateau of excitement, but there could be no question that each stab of the Baroness’s needles recorded another hillock of delight on the girl’s sexual graph. For the last of the genital piercing the Baroness demonstrated that the mere placing of her tools against the flesh was enough to trigger the crisis.

  The audience supposed that no further reactions could be produced from the exhausted Mary Ann, but the Baroness had saved her most striking demonstration until last. She ordered the sergeants to release the girl from all her restraints, to remove her blindfold and earplugs, and to stand her on her feet facing the expectant Sisters and officers. Her glazed eyes made it obvious that she was at a level of erotic bliss where her surroundings made no impression on her. She was slick with sweat and shaking all over. Her new sleeper rings danced and glinted in the spotlights, and she would have fallen without the support of the sergeants. The collective lust in the lecture theatre could be heard and smelt.

  “Observe this creature,” said the Baroness, “a woman brought to a point of sexual abandon where she cannot see the objects before her eyes, or hear what I am saying about her. Although she has received no sexual caress for several minutes, she remains at a point where the licking of her nipple or the fingering of her cunt would produce an instant orgasm. But the nose, ladies, is not an organ associated with erogeneity. Pigs are ringed through the nose so that pain may make them docile. But I will now demonstrate that pure pain can make Miss Mary Ann Simpson come.”

  The Baroness stood directly in Mary Ann’s eyeline, far enough back not to obstruct any lady’s view, while she tested her needle against its block and prepared the sleeper, but it was obvious that the swaying girl did not see her. Her wide open eyes were viewing a very different world. When the Baroness stepped right up to her and positioned her tools, Mary’s Ann’s response sounded like a tender endearment, though in no language known on earth.

  “Behold,” said the Baroness triumphantly, “the joy of pain,” and at the last word she thrust the heavy needle through her victim’s septum with one brutal thrust.

  Mary Ann was exhausted by her series of orgasms, but even so this was perhaps the most enjoyable one for the audience if not for the girl herself. One of the delights of the knee trembler, relished as much by the Baroness and other Sisters as by any man, is the freedom of action given to the penetrated woman by the upright position. The Baroness stepped away from Mary Ann as soon as the needle could be withdrawn. It was hopeless to think of positioning the sleeper until the girl’s body was still. She was supported at the wrists by the two sergeants, but otherwise had nothing to limit her freedom of expression. For what seemed like several minutes, but must have been less than one, she jerked between her supporters like a mechanical toy gone berserk. Some young and inexperienced Sisters feared that her neck would snap, she was flinging it back and forth so wildly. Her arms were so slick with sweat that the sergeants were struggling to hold their grip. Eventually, Mary Ann broke free from both at once. It was a final effort, for she staggered forward into the arms of the Baroness, slithered down her body, and came to rest at her feet in a dead faint.

  The Recruitment Committee

  Lieutenant Hesione had slipped unnoticed into the lecture theatre at the height of the excitement, and had been looking on entranced from the aisle behind the rear seats, where she had found an obscure corner well away from the entrance. She was just twenty-one, and very excited about her new commission. It was not often that a junior officer had an opportunity to witness one of the Baroness’s legendary lectures, and now she would be able to assure the other subalterns that their reputation was fully deserved. It was pleasantly dark at the back of the theatre, so there had been no risk in slipping her right hand underneath her short leather skirt, while with her left she toyed with a nipple. She wore her Signals ribbon on her right nipple ring, but as she had not yet seen active service her left was plain. Like a lot of her colleagues Hesione had a barbell through the hood of her clit, which she loved to rotate or slide back and forth when overcome by lust. Her excitement mounting with Mary Ann’s, she had nearly reached a climax when the cheers of the audience and the sudden raising of the lights jerked her back to attention, her hands clenched guiltily at her sides.

  The Baroness saw the lieutenant immediately and hurried up the steps, receiving the congratulations of her admirers but not allowing herself to be drawn into any discussions, while Hesione marched smartly to meet her mistress by the door. Each step she took caused the barbell to shift within its lust-lubricated hole.

  “Well, lieutenant, have you got it?”

  “Yes, Baroness, it’s...” Reaching automatically for her briefcase, which had been wedged beneath her arm, Hesione found to her horror that it had vanished. She realised almost immediately that she must have dropped it while her hands were otherwise engaged. “Excuse me, I must... I’ll get it immediately,” and she scuttled back along the aisle. The briefcase was lying in the shadows behind the seats. A dark smile played about the Baroness’s lips when Hesione returned to her, a smile the Amazons had learned to fear, but she said nothing directly about this breach of security. She merely enquired solicitously, in her suavest voice, “Is there something the matter with your left nipple, lieutenant? It looks very swollen. And your face is flushed. I hope you are not sickening for something?”

  “Quite well, thank you, Baroness.”

  “I’m not convinced, lieutenant. Such a high colour does not look healthy. You really must take yourelf in hand.”

  This remark only heightened Hesione’s blush. To cover her confusion she rooted in the briefcase for Madame Colet’s original message and her own decoded transcript.

  “Here are the papers, Baroness... Will there be anything else?” she added hastily. She felt an urgent need to be alone.

  “Yes, I want you at the meeting in case there are any uncertainties about your interpretation. These codes can be very ambiguous. We had better head back to the bungalow at once. My carriage is outside.”

  Peggy and Purity had been tethered to a post beside the door of the building throughout the lecture, their heads thrust into feeding bags that doubled as blindfolds. The meal was a healthy mixture of raw carrots, lettuce, and other salad stuffs, with a few chunks of lean steak mixed in. They knew better than to leave any, and in this case it was not dif
ficult to follow the rules, as the food was more appetising than the varieties of porridge they were accustomed to in the stable.

  The Baroness removed the bags and made the introductions.

  “This is Mrs Grant, lieutenant, or Peggy to her intimates, of whom she now has a great many. Mrs Grant, Lieutenant Hesione of the Amazon Legion.”

  “Delighted to see you, Mrs Grant.”

  Whinny.

  “And this splendid creature is her former maid Purity.”

  “Welcome to Casco Island, Purity.”

  Whinny.

  “As they have been feeding I will just trot them back to the bungalow. I wonder if I might ask you, lieutenant, to run beside Peggy and observe her action at close quarters? I noticed on the way here that she was holding Purity back. She needs to put more effort into her work if this is to develop into the prize team I am hoping for. Just slap her buttocks whenever you see her rhythm faltering. An old lady’s feeble whip lashes will not fix the lesson in her mind so firmly as a strong young soldier’s palm.”

  Despite the blatant attractions of the two naked ponies the Baroness had eyes only for Hesione’s leather-clad buttocks during the trip back to the bungalow. The lieutenant was teetering on the edge of total loss of control. The effect of her pumping thighs on the barbell, and the barbell on her clit, was bad (or good) enough, but the sight of the elegent white bottom and the voluptuous black one churning and sweating within arm’s reach was threatening an instant explosion. She tried the expedient of closing her right eye and squinting downwards with her left, so as to see only the track, but immediately she heard the Baroness just behind her calling sharply, “Lieutenant, you’re dreaming. I can see Peggy slacking from here. Slap her! Slap her!”

  Hesione had to open her eyes again to take aim. O, those beautiful white buttocks! Buttocks that in their time had pressed the best chairs at the White House, but were now bent over humiliatingly between the shafts of a pony chaise! Those elegant thighs, the tendons straining! That perfect back, pawed by presidents! The exquisite shaven cunt, winking at her! And then the feel of her palm in firm but fleeting contact with the lovely nates! Humiliation! Thighs! Cunt! Bum! Bum! Bu...

  “Whoa!” said the Baroness, pulling sharply on the reins, “the lieutenant is not well.”

  It was as obvious to the ponies as to their driver what was wrong with Hesione, who had keeled over on the grass bank beside the path, and lay thrashing there with a fluttering hand clamped between her thighs, but they were not permitted to comment, and the Baroness was determined to misunderstand.

  “It must be the crab,” she said. “It was delicious, but I am not sure the kitchen slaves always dress it quite correctly. You had better join me in the carriage, lieutenant, and take it easy for the rest of the way. The ponies will walk to avoid upsetting your stomach any further.”

  The flushed Hesione was got shakily to her feet by two young Sisters strolling back from the lecture arm-in-arm, and helped into the carriage. For the rest of the journey back to the bungalow she had to sit with the Baroness’s free left arm draped around her back, giving her inflamed nipple ‘comforting’ squeezes.

  It was a dishevelled Lieutenant Hesione who followed the Baroness into what was called her office, though it was as big as a board-room, and contained a large oval table for meetings. Most of the Sisters and senior officers on the Recruitment Committee had already taken their seats. Major Electra was loitering diffidently near the door, and Lieutenant Chloe was standing smartly at attention behind the Baroness’s chair, at the head of the table.

  “Major, will you sit beside me?” said the Baroness, taking her place. “Here, lieutenant.”

  ‘Here’ was beside Chloe, where the two subalterns formed a guard of honour for the chairwoman, one neat and cool and efficient, the other flushed, flustered, and grass-stained.

  “Let us get straight to business, ladies. We are here to consider a report from Madame Colet, who is bravely continuing her undercover work amidst the enemies of our sex. Lieutenant Hesione will read you her translation of the message. I will ask you to be indulgent of any slight slips she may make. The lieutenant has been unwell today, but is soldiering on in the best traditions of the service. I want you to hear the report while her hand is in. Here.”

  Unnerved by this fresh allusion, Hesione nearly dropped the papers that the Baroness thrust back across her left shoulder, and shuffled them nervously to find the right place.

  “Well?”

  “Sorry, Baroness! Here it is. Madame Colet begins: ‘Dear Sir...’”

  “Dear, Sir!”

  “O, sorry! The cypher doesn’t cover greetings and...”

  “On that point common sense should guide you.”

  “Yes, sorry Baroness! Madame Colet begins: ‘Dear Baroness...’”

  “That’s better.”

  “ ‘...all is proceeding according to plan. The ship will pass through channel 119 at about 24.00 on Tuesday. Communal activities usually cease by 21.00. The decks are lightly guarded at night. My cabin is 23 starboard. I recommend a boarding party of 30. Plan to liberate up to 50 slaves...’”

  “‘Liberate’, you understand, is a technical term,” the Baroness interjected to general amusement.

  “‘...Provde an extra boat to take away my personal possessions and any useful equipment. There are about 60 passengers and crew to deal with, mostly dispersed and preoccupied...’”

  “How occupied it is best not to think about.”

  “‘...Explosives may be needed to scuttle the ship. It is imperative that one special slave be made sure of first. I will point her out...’”

  “So Madame has found a new favourite!”

  “‘... Rendevouz with me at point B on the plan. Password Checkmate. Yours faithful...’, I mean ‘sisterley greetings, Catherine Colet.’”

  “Thank you, lieutenant. The style is rather more staccato than Madame’s usual manner. It certainly cannot be the influence of that deplorable Hemingway, so we must put it down to the limitations of the code. The matter, though, is highly satisfactory. From Madame’s earlier reports I had feared she might recommend cancellation, but this is very encouraging. It would be invidious to enquire how much ‘one special slave’ has had to do with this change of heart, but I think we can all agree that Madame will deserve exclusive use of that ‘one’ if all goes well. So on Tuesday night the Bonaventure will be in channel - what was it? Who has the chart?”

  “Channel 119, Baroness. Here it is, and very convenient for us.”

  “Excellent. It seems clear to me that we should go ahead. Is there anyone who disagrees? Unanimous then. As to personnel, we decided at our last meeting that Major Electra should command the raid.”

  “Thank you, Baroness.”

  “You will need a good communications officer. Lieutenant Hesione here always seems to have her hand on the pulse. Is she satisfactory to you, Major?”

  “Entirely, Baroness.”

  “Very well. We can sort out your other officers later. Now, as to boats, what do we have available, Colonel?”

  The discussion of detail went on far into the evening. When it finally ended, and the members drifted away to supper, the Baroness was left alone with the weary Chloe and Hesione, who had been standing behind her chair throughout.

  “You must be hungry, lieutenant, “said the Baroness, turning to her secretary. “I will not need you again this evening. Just send my maid to me here before you go off duty. Oh, and tell her to bring my number six with her.”

  When they were alone, the Baroness ordered Hesione to remove the heavy chairs from one side of the table and place them against the wall. She then had her stand in the cleared space, with the tops of her thighs pressed against the edge of the table and her eyes fixed on the curtained windows opposite. Now her stomach really did feel upset.

 
; “Lieutenant Hesione, the Amazon Legion expects its officers to behave in a professional and controlled manner when on duty. They work in an environment where sexual temptations abound, but those temptations must be resisted. To risk the loss of a top secret document for the sake of a cheap thrill, a finger job, is barely excusable.”

  “But, Baroness, I...”

  “Silence! Your appointment to the Bonaventure mission gives you a chance, a last chance, to atone. If you do not grasp it, or if you fail to give satisfaction in any way before the mission, you will be broken to the ranks. A long stretch in a chastity belt, without any rest and relaxation, may be just the cure for your problem. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Baroness. Thank you!”

  “Very well. Raise your skirt and bend over the table. Grasp the far edge and spread your arms as widely as you can.”

  Knickers were an optional part of the Amazon officer’s uniform, and Hesione frequently went without. How sorry she was that this was one such occasion. There was a discreet tap at the door, and in answer to the Baroness’s “Avanti” her Italian slave-maid entered. Maria’s chief feature was her wonderfully glossy black hair, which was worn in a plaited ponytail so long that it would have swept the floor, had it not been tied to the centre of her ankle hobble. It was like a carved ebony pole down the centre of her back. The pressure was enough to keep her chin tilted upwards when walking or standing, so for comfort as well as servility she carried out most of her personal services to the Baroness in a humble kneeling position. She wore the traditional parody of the maid’s uniform, her exposed breasts offered on the high platform of a tight corset, her cunt just about covered by a frilly apron, her creamy buttocks naked. As instructed, she was carrying the Baroness’s number six strap-on.