Chapter 6

Blanche took delight in holding me there till last; having me kiss the feet of each as they filed past. They made me know in no uncertain terms that I would know my place by the end of the evening. I willingly kissed the feet of Arabella who was the last; she led the gimp who cried like a child as he was pulled away from the noose he so desired. Blanche allowed me to take in the full misery of the gimp and complete dominance of his mistress as they ascended the stairs to his next humiliation. She then turned my head and had me view the noose once more; what she said next sent a shiver down my spine, and had me on the verge of an orgasm without touching my rigid cock.

"If my daughter agrees to let me keep you, you'll spend in a bowl for me down here. My expectations of your balls will not as great as Arabella's. I don't like to spoil a party; my husband would confirm that if he were still around." Blanche laughed wickedly as I gave the noose a last long look before the magnificent woman took me back upstairs to face my caning.

I was overwhelmed as I emerged from the cellar door, leashed and on all fours; I was ready to beg and whine for relief as I viewed Blanche's magnificent buxom curves and folds flex in the latex, a 62 year old woman who had showed she owned me completely within a matter of hours. I willingly followed on all fours, hoping she would allow me full use of the Viagra. I also hoped she would keep me permanently, letting me me sniff and service forever, the divine orifice which had borne the dominatrix who had led me to her. Forever that is, until my sweet humiliating appointment with the noose, that had dispatched her husband. Her husband; the feeble male whose only purpose in life had been to seed this black widow; creating my captor. My emergence was awaited by a line of mature dommes, no doubt with spiteful bitch daughters of their own, who applauded Blanche's triumphal acquisition of me. The line led to the middle of a lounge where the sissy now knelt naked and un-caged, palms out, holding the cane I had chosen. I remembered Blanche's promise and eyed the zipped crotch of the formidable woman as the tight latex creased around her anus and camel-toe. Her smell and taste after caning her latest prey would be exquisite.

As I was turned into the lounge, I was greeted by a host of sneering women; a glance to the window revealed many more cars in the drive; Blanche and Cherie had made sure as many dominant friends as possible would witness the beginning of my two-week humiliation.

Further applause and cheers echoed about the house, as the gimp came through double-doors on his customary all fours; his leash tied to a padded bench which he towed behind him, Arabella behind it, who once again sneered as she looked me straight in the eyes, her lips mimed 'noose' and her eyes diverted slightly; I looked to where they moved and found Blanche sneering down at me. I was so desperate to come for her. The gimp struggled forward like a condemned man hauling his coffin to the gallows, till ordered to stop. A hush fell over the room at that point and all eyes were focused on me once more. The women started to flex and toy with their canes as Blanche jerked my leash.

"Tell the ladies where my daughter is!" She wickedly striped my lower back with the cane to encourage me; the ladies licked their lips as they witnessed a taste of what was to come.

"She has gone on vacation." Blanche fetched me three more sharp strokes across the back and legs.

"Who has she gone with?" The women sniggered and jeered, enjoying my torment.

"She has gone with Chuck ... her ... her boyfriend." Blanche smiled with pride as I squirmed before the audience.

"And just why should she need a boyfriend? What has he to offer that you have not?" The women flexed their canes all the more as they knew my caning was imminent.

"He has a large cock to satisfy her with, Mistress Blanche." The crowd of dominant women erupted with jeers and laughter. I bowed my head, the erotic feeling of humiliation before the women was intensifying; I awaited her next question and then noticed some of the women across the room move away from a large cabinet. One of them, a plump woman of about 55 wearing jodhpurs, thigh length boots and a tight white blouse, strode over to Blanche. She held a riding crop in one hand, and a mobile phone in the other; she passed the phone to Blanche.

"Thank you Miranda. Meet my cur of a son-in-law; I believe you are aware of why he's here already." The two sniggered as though at some private joke; Miranda slapped the palm of her hand playfully with the crop as she eyed me up and down.