Chapter 7

Arne sensed a freshness about Bathsheba's excitement as soon as he was awoken by her, the stern woman riding his face as soon as he was conscious, the lushly erotic scenario of his public humiliation still filling her with raw excitement as she burst into a heady orgasm; her ecstasy embellished with thoughts of the events to come magnified her pleasure; she would be granted even deeper satisfaction later, and her erotic elation would not be denied. Temporarily sated, he was pulled from the bed by his leash and led to the corner of the room where the shroud hung above him, and tethered to a ring in the wall. Aroused by her actions but denied any relief, his cock poked erect as he knelt in humble obedience, the cruel humiliations of the prior day having reduced him to a level of total servility. Bathsheba continued to finger her clitoris as she stood over him, his eyes flitting between her and the shroud.

'Yes ... today you wear the shroud for us, your journey to complete submission to the coven confirmed by it, your life handed over to me and ceded in absolute servitude for ever. The ladies will be so thrilled to see you wear it, it means so much to them too.' His cock boned rigid as the naked redhead stood over him and smiled, easing his face to her cunt.

'Not long now, your official confirmation as my property awaits you.'

Within the hour, Agatha arrived wearing one of the tight long skirts which expressed her feminine shape so well, a bag over her shoulder which contained her ceremonial silks. Arne sensed an extra pleasure in her too, as the the two women laughed contemptuously at the tethered male, kneeling and in silent obedience, his will satisfactorily broken in preparation for the ordeal he faced.

'Now, let's see how the shroud fits shall we?' Arne began to breathe heavily, taking in Agatha's soft perfume as the grinning woman unhitched his leash while Bathsheba took down the shroud. His balls tingled as the musky garment was slipped over his head for the one occasion he'd wear it, the women grinning with satisfaction at the sheepishly pleased expression his eyes showed as the cold white silk warmed to his eager body, his cock poking erect below the short flared hem. Agatha took her phone from the bag.

'Now, the first of many pictures!' Bathsheba took his leash and posed, emphasising her pure and natural dominance, her hands gripping the leather leash tightly. Agatha's cunt tingled with arousal as the scene was framed; a descendant of Matthew Hopkins, captured, shrouded, and ready to face the gallows he so richly deserved.

Arne's heart pumped as he was released from the darkness of the car to view the stark and imposing sight of Burntwood Hall for the one and only time. The women parked in the avenue of trees one hundred yards or so from the Elizabethan manor with its stark chimneys looming, and had him kneel facing it while they retrieved their bags from the car. Inside the house, Thelma Martin and the other women raised glasses and toasted the occasion unseen, each woman ready for the event as they viewed the arrival, resplendent in their black silks with whips which would ready their prize for the noose. Bathsheba and Agatha allowed Arne to savour the view before tugging his leash to begin his final journey in a straight line across the grass lawn, around which the gravel drive curved. Bathsheba's sense of dominant triumph peaked as Arne knew the ritualistic approach on all fours; the humiliating manner in which many males had known their delivery to justice over the years, the step of the two women not hurried despite their eagerness to see him struggle on the gallows.

The women inside savoured the scene, no more so than those who would witness their first hanging, and of those, Carol Finch's sadistic excitement had her wet with arousal as her cur of an ex-husband was brought to indulge her final cruel desire. Those women who had sampled the pleasure before began to descend the oaken stairs when Arne reached a certain point in his approach. Thelma smiled at the intensity of her eyes and gently urged Carol to follow them.

'You must repair to the hanging hall now Carol, I will go and welcome the male to his death; I know this day will bring you a very special pleasure in particular, I'm so glad your first event is flavoured by association, that always brings such a lush reward.' Carol sighed and said nothing, following the women down to where the noose awaited its deserving recipient.

Arne's knees ground on the cold stone steps as he was brought to the stark black door, the cool breeze lifting the shroud and exposing more of his otherwise naked body as he knelt leashed and subservient, his already submissive will broken thoroughly and to complete satisfaction by the stern redhead who now proudly knocked at the door. His anus tingled in the cold air as the two women chanted in unison with each rap of the antique brass knocker.

'Once for his capture ... twice for the shroud ... thrice for the justice ... four for the pleasure he will now be allowed.' The two women grinned contemptuously down at the male on delivering the required announcement of a male's arrival for the noose, Bathsheba pulling the leash tight and saying nothing, watching his exposed cock stiffen willingly in anticipation of what was to follow, enslaved by his own weakness for which he would pay dearly. The door swung open, and his erection hardened as Thelma Martin stood before him in black silk, curled braided whip in hand, her mature figure and contemptuous smile giving the promise of the cruel dominance he had already enjoyed at her hand. Her immense pleasure at seeing him on his final day was so apparent to Arne, and he would shortly know why.

'The shroud brings another male for deliverance to our coven. You'll cross the threshold and be taken to the place which its adornment has earned you ... your submission to the women of the coven confirmed totally.' Bathsheba passed the leash to the sneering woman and Arne was led through the oak panelled hallway, the black door shut firmly behind him by Agatha, who delighted in then slamming several bolts home, her satisfied smile at knowing that the resonating sound would emphasise capture in the condemned male's mind. Arne's tingling was further magnified after being led past several stately rooms, the trio then taking him through a concealed door under a grandiose stairway. The door was papered as per the walls, painted as per the skirting; anyone noticing it would assume it to be an incognito servant's access, the door opening into a bleak arched tunnel. The sound of the women's heels on the cold stone floor was warmed only by their contented smiles as he was taken to where it opened out at its end. On one side were large double doors, to the other a single door, both glossy black and giving Arne a blurred reflection of himself on the leash as the women paused by the larger doors and viewed them with prim satisfaction.

He was taken through the smaller door and was immediately awestruck by the array of artefacts which adorned the walls as Bathsheba and Agatha hastily stripped to don their black silks. Thelma sneered and pulled his leash nice and taut, watching his cock bone rigid as he took in the many paintings and photos, ancient and recent, of males suspended on a stark gallows, black silken witches posing satisfied by the spent and defeated males; each and every picture the same cruel scenario. His eyes drifted to the far wall, there displayed in various modes were male genitalia; older examples cured and tacked to framed boards, some floating forlornly in jars of formaldehyde, others stuffed and mounted like Victorian birds under glass domes. Thelma's cruel pleasure peaked, her arousal now flourishing as the male neared realisation of what the shroud heralded.

'Oh yes, males who are descended from Matthew Hopkins will not be allowed to spawn ... neither in this world, nor the next.' The cruel laughter of all three taunted his mind as he paled, Bathsheba and Agatha now displaying their magnificent bodies in unashamed nakedness, stepped forward with nipples hard and erect in dominant sexual arousal. Arne gasped as both slapped his face hard, his flesh warming to the sting of their hand-marks, his cock boning in submission at what he dared contemplate. Bathsheba turned and bent slightly, spreading the glorious globular cheeks of her arse.

'Sniff my arsehole, enjoy it while you can.' Thelma and Agatha sneered with satisfaction as he obediently pressed his nose to her soft flesh and sampled the heady tang of her anus.

'Surely you must have guessed what wearing the shroud would bring you?' She pulled away, all three laughing as he cowered and returned his view to the mounted cocks, she and Agatha donning their silks impatiently in their eagerness to see him hang. Thelma pulled his leash nice and tight as he contemplated the strangely contented expressions of the males who'd succumbed to the noose, her eyes pleased to see the cock which would soon join her collection stand erect in submissive awe. She toyed with his leash, smiling cruelly.

'Yes, you're a descendant of Matthew Hopkins, and you'll be delivered to know the only justice suitable for that crime ... you'll hang, and you'll please every woman present in doing so, after each has vented their feelings upon you; you showed your weak and submissive nature to the full yesterday, and those present saw you were more than ready for the noose they all knew you'd face today.' The cruel pleasure in her tone and the shameful truth he could not deny, reverberated through his tortured mind. Broken by the severe dominance of the women, coupled with his own lush desire of submission, he showed no resistance to their supreme authority as Bathsheba took his leash and led him back through the door opened by a smiling Agatha to face the foreboding double doors. Bathsheba revelled in spiteful triumph as the doors were swung open, her prize brought to face his destiny.

'Now you'll pay the price for wearing the shroud which you've earned in more ways than one, you cannot imagine the level of sexual pleasure you'll award us with your execution, and you too will not fail to show your pleasure - a hanged submissive always does.'

Only when he was led by her into the great hall was the full horror revealed to his tortured mind, and the cruel pleasure enjoyed by Bathsheba in her deceit brought home to him. He had thought he was to simply be dominated by her, but his eyes were greeted by the horde of black shrouded witches, their gleeful smiles below their sinister masks matching that of Batsheba's. He gasped and needed tugging forward as he viewed the curved velvet bench and the the stark beam reinforced beam above it, strong enough to accomodate several deserving penitents, but a single noose awaiting his pleasure above it, confirming he was the sole focus of the women's excitement and that this was the last room he would see. Bathsheba turned to him as the horde watched, her face illuminated with the ectasy of her work, his eyes fixed on the avenue of pleased women which drew him to his place of final punishment.

'Here, tricked, and now to face being tested and duly hanged, is a descendant of the tyrant Hopkins!' She grinned with a spiteful pleasure which eclipsed that which he had witnessed on her face when he had been broken with her horsewhip. The delight in her duping him cruelly, and having him know that her indication to enslave him indefinitely was a sham, cut into him as he shook his head in disbelief, the betrayal as painful as any whip.

'No ... No ... Madam Bathsheba ... Please, I ... I beg you!... ' The massed cruel laughter of the witches echoed about the gallows, their contempt at his frightened protest simply arousing them and Bathsheba all the more, her cunt now oozing as she took exquisite pleasure from his torment, cutting it short by swiping the rear of his legs with the cane to make him drop to his knees. She savoured his scared eyes which glanced from her to the noose and back, still showing an element of hope that he would be spared, then she held her head back and stood in dominant pose with hands on her superb hips as she addressed the black silken horde with a theatrical chant which several other males had heard her recite and known the pleasure of its consequence.

'And how shall he be tested?!' He panted in fear as the massed witches responded in unison, one and all no strangers to the routine that would indulge their pleasure.

'He shall be tested with the whip!' He shook with fear, though his cock bobbed erect as he felt the delight in their tone, and saw the cruel pleasure in their smiles as they responded with enthusiasm; it was now fully confirmed to him that the white smock he wore was not just to humiliate him, it was a sacrificial gown. He had worn it willingly for Bathsheba, and now he would pay the ultimate price for his submissive weakness. She lifted his cock with the cane, the triumph of her moment exquisite as she had his fate confirmed.

'And then shall he know the noose?!' She watched his eyes and saw his cock pulse pre-cum in utter defeat as he watched the array of females step slowly closer to him as they confirmed with their lusty reply.

'He shall hang in repentance!' He gasped and quivered in a confused mix of fear and resignation generated by his own submissive lust as the smiling women converged on their prize, their bodies shrouded in black silk, the whips he would know, some curled and gripped tight by white knuckles, others trailing to allow the male a good look at the snaking length that would tease his flesh. His cock boned hard as he recognised the smile of the prim mature woman from the records office; her staid grey attire now replaced by the shining black silk, her slightly sagging breasts showing her excitement as her nipples poked hard through the silk. Bathsheba turned to her as the woman's prolonged smile continued while she toyed with her whip and surveyed the male's inner eagerness to know it, betrayed by the erect cock which poked from below his short death shroud.

'There is no doubt whatsoever of his guilt?' The woman's delight was incalculable as the fingers he had last seen point out the confirmation of his bloodline in an ancient ledger, now ran a nail under his erect cock, sampling the silky pre-cum which dribbled from his bulging bell-end.

'There is no doubt of his guilt. He was so pleased to learn of his direct lineage, connecting him to Hopkins, but could not have known the sheer joy it gave me. I will now take great pleasure in awarding him the strokes of the whip he has earned so justly, and be overwhelmed with satisfaction as he hangs for the sins of his cursed forefather!' Her words drew a tumultuous applause from the eager coven as Bathsheba took his leash and sneered down at the quaking figure kneeling in the white smock, his bare arse now moving back and forth unconsciously, expressing the base act of copulation fronted by his jutting cock; the realisation within him that all hope had evaporated, and the carnal lust of his admission of weak submission to feminine dominance eclipsing the fear he felt.

Bathsheba, her pleasure immense in duping him and having him know the cruel truth that her feelings for him were that he was insignificant other than her lust for his disposal, now brought his jutting cock close to pulsing out its essence of surrender in utter defeat. She had another delightful twist for him to enjoy, showing him to the feet of a woman who stood proudly in her black silks, toying impatiently with her whip. She pulled her cloak aside to reveal the wetness of her camel-toe in the tight silken panties; her excitement at an erotic extreme.

'Sniff at her cunt, and see if the scent brings on any special memories.' He felt the cruel anticipation of all the women as he sniffed at the delicious bulge, his cock boning in bewildered submission as his mind tried to register where the spice of her excitement had been known to him before. Bathsheba sneered and pulled his head back, the woman lifting her mask, her face showing the intense thrill of attending his appointment with the gallows. Arne gasped at the revelation of a jubilant Carol Finch, his dominant ex-wife, the sight making his cock spasm and a tingling anus clench hard. The cruel smile and gentle laugh of contempt that came from her making him want to spend immediately; the woman who had crushed and humiliated him so efficiently before claiming his assets and disposing of him as though he were nothing, would now enjoy seeing him hang.

The entire crowd of women laughed at his expense as they enjoyed the sweet irony of their final meeting; the dominant Ms Finch had been instrumental in reducing Arne to a level of submission which had made him lust to know further punishment, making him seek out their superior society. Her own natural lust for domination had long yearned to know the absolute and final submission of males, which that society now enabled her to enjoy; it would begin in her triumph over a male who had thoroughly deserved the humiliation she had already meted out, and escaped that final lust. She would now taunt and humiliate before knowing total satisfaction. Arne's cock dribbled in submissive awe as he thought back on how exacting her domination had been, and now in the shadow of the gallows she showed just how erotic a prospect seeing him hang was. Now a witch of the coven, her dominance was somehow magnified by the black silk, and her taunts would leave him in no doubt of her cruel and intense pleasure in witnessing his death.

'It's so good to see you again Thomas; I took great pleasure in dominating and humiliating you, my only regret was that it wasn't within my power to see you erased from existence completely, you escaped after a mere cuckolding. Well there's no escape now, I'll now have that pleasure of disposal, and now you know it's you that's given me that power. I'll deliver the final strokes of the whip before you hang, and you'll feel the ecstasy your death has awarded me through the lash.' The cruelty of her words and sheer spite in her tone, brought his rigid cock closer to shooting his mess spontaneously as he sank in a lush submissive defeat, Bathsheba grinning and pushing his face back to sniff again at the heady arousal of his ex-wife's bulging cunt, allowing to savour her words as the women applauded her words with enthusiasm.

He knelt and sniffed in total defeat, beaten, broken, cuckolded and made to suck cock by the woman who stood in proud and dominant magnificence, who would now realise her ultimate dominant pleasure. His fear and bewilderment was tempered by a strong erotic sense of resignation to his fate as he sniffed hard at the cunt he had licked clean of other men's semen so many times. She had a final task to crown his humiliation; the women sneered as she lifted her arm from beneath her silken cape and showed him a huge anal plug. The pleasure in her cruel smile illuminated the room as she presented the black tapered plug.

'You'll want to shit as you hang slowly and painfully, but you'll not be allowed that luxury. Your semen will be the only emission you'll show as you're hoisted.' Bathsheba pressed his head down and his exposed arse quivered as it poked in acceptance of the rude plug. Carol sneered as she offered the pointed end up to his anus, and the women applauded loudly as he gasped in pain on Carol forcing the widening taper home, stretching his anus to splitting point. Arne's cock pulsed and boned rock hard as his arsehole displayed the final token of his absolute submission to a woman who had taken everything from him, and would now enjoy seeing him pay the ultimate price, the humiliation sublime as his anus was spread wide in discomfort, accentuating his feeling of fear for the noose. Bathsheba was now wet with arousal and impatient to see him waste his seed on the rope.

'So be it! Justice will be known, he is whipped and then hanged!' His leash was tugged and he was walked slowly on his knees toward the beckoning black velvet bench which shimmered in the light of a thousand candles which bedecked the walls, his eyes drawn to the stark noose which hung from the beam above it, his cock further excited by the movement of the harsh plug which teased his prostate. Bathsheba allowing him time to savour his fate as he was walked in procession to the structure, flanked by the records witch and Carol through an avenue of their smiling sisters, and she taking delight in describing its history to him with trite formality.