William Fortescue had led a brash and arrogant life, indulging his sexual urges in his seduction of many women in the chauvinistic fashion so typical of Victorian gentleman. His affairs had left many of those women burning with vengeful scorn at his bland indifference to their feelings, and his lust for sexual pleasure had taken him down to the depths of extreme fetishes, unaware that the hurt he’d caused in the abandonment of some of those women had resulted in a communication between them which his arrogant ego could not conceive. His rampant libido had taken his depraved lust to the corner of sado-masochism, and on discovering that his reception of the whip was as gratifying as the application of it, his chauvinistic blindness left him exposed to the vengeful nature of some of the meeker women he’d abused, their unseen scheming seeing him encounter one Madam Sadie Pelham as if by chance.
Those women took pleasure in their revenge at length, receiving reports from heralds of their chosen champion via the darker corners of Victorian society, regarding the progress of Fortescue’s reduction at the hands of a confirmed and most severe dominatrix. Her methods secured the total cessation of his free movement amongst the open feminine society, but guaranteed he met many who were of Madam Pelham’s ardently assertive constitution. His foolish recklessness in showing his masochistic bent, aiding in taking him far beyond the petty limits he dreamed of, and taking his crushed ego down in preparation for the true purpose of Madam Pelham’s appointment, one which she was more than delighted to be party to. William Fortescue’s actions had left many of those women he had earlier abandoned, distraught, defiled, and their position in society ruined by the mere speculative gossip their jilting engendered. Learning of the breaking of his spirit was warmly received but would not sate their vengeance, Madam Pelham’s appointment was but the aperitif for the final purpose: Fortescue’s appointment with one Madam Agnes Fairchild, the executrix queen of the dark sub-society that Fortescue would never leave alive. He was to hang, and justifiably so in the eyes the feminine scorn he’d created.
Those women who had procured the downfall of Fortescue sighed with wistful pleasure, some with a genuine sexual arousal manufactured by the spite which had grown within them, when they read in the morning papers of the discovery of a badly decomposed body found in the Thames, believed to be that of one William Fortescue esquire due to the artefacts found within the mildewed clothing on the unrecognisable corpse. Those women knew that Fortescue still breathed and that the body was the remains of a hapless and insignificant member of the lower classes, a pimp who had been chosen for his stature and duly disposed of after enduring the pleasure of Madam Pelham’s more sadistic feminine acquaintances. The whip marks he had suffered when brought to repentance in bondage and fully informed of the good purpose he’d serve, were still in evidence on the remaining flesh, adding a scandalous spice to the practices of a Fortescue who was yet to meet his end in reality. Those agents enthused with pleasure on advising that the pimp spent the contents of his balls most admirably on being smothered beneath the aroused sex of one of their larger number, a fitting end for one who’d enjoyed a sordid living in forcing destitute waifs to offer their cunts to undeserving males.
Newspapers were laid on tables up and down many households, and the vengeful women put pen to paper with some delight, enthusing in letters to each other about what they could possibly wear to the event for which they would shortly expect an invitation.
She took his leash and pulled it taut, a flush of sexual pleasure shimmering through her as he was shown the gallows hall, all the women there at its entrance enjoying the startled look of panic in his eyes as Madam Agnes Fairchild calmly acquainted him with his fate, her intense smile mirroring her deep sexual satisfaction. That smile broadened as she studied the stark horror in his eyes on taking in the foreboding panorama and viewing what lay ahead to the far side; a rudely stout gibbet and dangling noose he now knew she’d have him accomodate. His heart pounded and his sore limbs trembled as the perverse horror sank into his mind and he found himself resigned to his fate, thinking the words through his mind; yes, William Fortescue was to pay for his weakness, he was to hang today. The mature and superior woman who now took undeniable and final control over him with such contentment, echoed what was going through his head.
“Oh yes ... you’re going to hang, no need to look so shocked, you know you’ve earned it and why else do you think all these ladies look so pleased?” She laughed softly as the wretch offered a pitifully grunted protest through the tight gag which would not allow his pleading words, her pleasure increasing as she tugged his leash to the echoing laughter of the women close enough to enjoy the taunt, excited by the male’s attempt for mercy he would not receive. The dominant woman’s steps toward the well used scaffold were positive, confirming to the cowering male that she’d be ardent in her task; those soon to be satisfied women sneering and goading as his reluctance to follow was whipped from him by the woman who had triumphed in his breaking, Mistress Sadie Pelham, the openly exposed pleasure in the administering of her lash ensuring his progress on all fours did not hinder the graceful steps of Madam Fairchild as both basked in the limelight of their audience, nor her arousal which flourished with each step toward the structure which would once again indulge her ultimate pleasure.
The atmosphere amongst the women there who had not noted his immediate entrance, was one of calm indifference though they stood with the fearful backdrop of an instrument of cruel finality behind them, smiling and chatting to each other as though at some mundane social function. Their humour quickly changing to one of keen enthusiasm on seeing the entrance of the matriarchal woman who owned the structure of terminal punishment, the male who was to sate that enthusiasm and benefit from its purpose, leashed naked on all fours in humble obedience. Those that had known Fortescue in his former pompous, arrogant, and chauvinistic form, swelled with vengeful feminine spite at his reduction, their sexual arousal awoken as that spite was indulged by the haughty Mistress Sadie who followed up to ensure that obedience with the whip, as he was led to know the pleasure of defeat in that most final humiliation.
Each step seemed to take a lifetime, though he was in no hurry to fulfill the desire that every woman present lusted for, Agnes savouring drawing him slowly on the leash toward his appointment with the rope which dangled its inviting loop, the stark apparatus looming ever closer. Agnes delighting in calmly extolling the virtues of her equipment to the male, as though he were about to embark on some simple excursion.
“Of course, many men have had the pleasure of providing a final display of their submission to womanhood on my gallows, two of them husbands of mine, now late of course. One of them was responsible for its design, seeing him hanged on it was especially enjoyable.” His Mistress smiled and whipped his exposed buttocks as he faltered, bringing applause from those women in close proximity, anxious to see him complete the journey, and she adding her enthusiasm with pompous sincerity, her dialogue with Agnes purely for the ears of the doomed male so that he was readied for his fate.
“I remember the occasion well Agnes, he showed no reluctance of course, and begged to be allowed to hang for you, unlike most who’ve followed to enjoy the fruits of his labour. He gave a very pleasing display on the rope, as do all who have earned the privilege of knowing your pleasure on the creation he built for his love of you.” Agnes smiled at the sweet memory, careful to ensure the gagged male who’d perpetuate her lust saw the pleasure on her face as she basked in the enthusiastic applause offered by every woman she passed as the steps of her gallows grew ever closer. She was pleased to see that his cock hung rudely erect from his tightly ringed balls; he had been dominated thoroughly and though pleasingly fearful of his fate could not hide his sordid inner desire to give his all in honour of the superior sex.
His mind raced in spite of the slow progress as the smiling face of Agnes turned from him and was directed toward the cruel and final structure which would sate her ultimate lust, her full arse bustling teasingly in the long black skirt, the tightly corseted waist expressing her mature feminine shape; she was a picture of regal feminine dominance, confident and in complete control of his destiny, the leash may have been taut to appease her excitement but her presence alone drew him forward to know her pleasure. The fear he felt for the rope was magnified by the curt and unbridled pleasure shown in some of the faces of women he recognised, women who had experienced deeply erotic satisfaction in dominating him when he’d been loaned out by his Mistress, others women he’d abused prior to his capitulation to their dominant sisters; the satisfaction shown by those faces was especially vibrant. The cruel comments they offered as he passed kept his mind keen as to the reason he was in attendance at this place, and the spiteful delight within their addresses tinkered with his submissive aura, keeping his cock rigid despite the outcome he knew he’d not escape.
.... There is more of this story ...