Chapter 20

There had been many occasions in Creed’s soon to be extinguished life, where prior to his acquirement by Julia, he’d deliberately avoided the urge to masturbate, enjoying the self-denial as his eyes teased his mind to fantasies, on the day to day, passing encounters with women of a sterner appearance. The yearning the build-up of submissively erotic passion it had awarded him, would then be rewarded with the blissful release of his seed after a week or so, the lush orgasms accompanied by the explosive emissions brought forth, delectably and wholly consuming, as his mind fixed on a fantasy of being dominated by one of those superior women. Now caged with a device at the behest of a woman who’d dominated him to satisfaction, and who now required appeasement of her absolute dominance, in seeing him suffer castration upon the gallows, that exquisite pleasure of denial was increased a thousandfold.

Bound at the ankles, and with his wrists tied behind him, not to prevent him from attempting an escape, which would never entered his defeated mind anyhow, but to have him feel the lustrous flavour of how he’d experience the rope, Creed’s cock expressed its lusting desire to know that final ecstatic release, now the morning of his execution had arrived. Rock hard in what little state of erection the confines of the wicked device would allow, his bell was squeezed tight in the restrictively diminutive girth of the downward curving tube, its cruel metallic shape mocking any potency of what was locked within, and emphasising the defeat of masculinity to the whim of feminine power.

He mumbled through the gag in a pathetic excitement as the door to the stately bed chamber was opened, and the prim and pompous figures of feminine authority that were Constance, Hope, and Ella, glided into the room in their tight waisted silken skirts, their feminine scents flooding the room, the perfume increasing his lust for submission. The curt smile of contempt from Constance in particular, had him dribble through the humiliating pipe of the device, she, pleased to see him kneeling by his floor-bound mattress, and not lying on it.

“See how impatient he is to know the rope ... even more impatient than I, in seeing him please us with the display he’s earned.” Creed sniffed at the women as they bustled about him in untying his wrists and ankles, the contrasting shapes of their bodies, each so equally pleasing to his eyes in their own way, emphasising that he was inferior to all women, regardless of their physical stature, their dominance uniform.

The globular breasts from which he’d been allowed to lick his own cream from, poked their nipples hard through her silken blouse, from above the broad waist of the matronly Constance Templar as she bent to take hold of his leash, the elegant and womanly curves of of Madam Ella Hempleton, whose institution had seen to the righteous enslavement of countless males ... so many of them only released of their tenure at the pleasure of the gallows, stroking a leather crop through her fingers, and then, the slightly leaner Hope Randall whose tall and equally elegant figure radiated the sadistic power of her authority, practiced with the darkest pleasures upon any male foolish enough to accept the hospitality of Madam Hempleton’s institution ... and any other submissive male she encountered.

Creed’s only regret as Constance tugged at his leash, was that his worship of these women would not continue beyond that date ... but the women would ensure that his last day would be thoroughly enjoyed, every last moment of it. Hope lifted the placard from his neck, and tossed it to one side.

“You won’t be needing that anymore ... It’ll be quite evident to every woman present, just where you’re going today.” Ella sneered as she played her crop on the downward tube which held his cock to obedience.

“ ... and that’s not the only thing that’ll be removed today, is it? ... I’ll wager you can’t wait to feel the hands of a woman relieve you of what’s earned you the gallows.” Creed’s stunted cock pulsed longingly in the humiliating device, a lushly submissive aura building within him, on taking in that this really was the day on which he’d hang, his anus tingling around the invasive anal plug while their mocking laughter serenaded his masochistic foreboding. Constance was in her element, delighted in her eagerness to witness what she’d been so instrumental in arranging; her persistence in prompting Julia to the pleasure of his disposal had borne fruit, and her cunt was ripely aroused with the taste of her victory.

“I told you this day would come ... I wanted it so badly, and always knew you wanted it too...” She ran her fingers round his gag, enjoying the feeble grunts of excitement which were the only sounds its enforced silencing would allow.

“You’ll make no final request, nor plea for mercy ... nor will this sweet adornment allow you a final breakfast ... but we all know what it is you hunger for, and your appetite for it is matched by mine.” Creed’s masochistic pleasure at being taunted was further obliged, by the mature woman lifting her long black skirt high, to reveal her body was liberated of the encumbrance of any underwear, her broad, milky thighs and gently protruding belly, framing the puffy lips of her smoothly shaven sex, the pinky labia glistening with arousal.

“Sniff my cunt Creed, have your balls yearn for that final spend we all want to witness.” The women sneered with contempt at his eagerness to push his face forward into her altar of femininity, sniffing pathetically at the ripeness of spicy scents, which wafted from a cunt liberated for many years from the yoke of masculine tyranny which prevailed over Victorian femininity. Her pleasure at having a defeated representative of that tyranny, knelt in obedience to her dominance with the symbol of his gender locked in impotence by the mocking design of the device, was as rich as the scent of arousal he now sampled.

“Sniff hard at that scent of womanly excitement at what you face, and know that there are hordes of women out there, each one as aroused as I ... they wait Impatiently to see you hanged ... and hang you shall.” Ella gave his poking backside some sharp encouragement with her crop, as Constance let her skirt drop and tugged him toward the door, Hope adding her contentment to the situation, as Creed began the first part of his journey to the gallows on all fours.

“ ... and there are a couple of ladies more impatient than any of us, in seeing you displayed ... time for you to pay homage to them, in thanks for their granting you your wishes.” Creed’s heart raced as the three black skirts swept forward, and he trailed in the wake of feminine authority, on to know the ultimate price he’d so deservedly earned for his weakness. As they traversed the ornately decorated corridor toward the room at its end where Julia awaited him, the smug grins of the three dominants looked down at him as the lush sound of whips reverberated from the rooms they passed, each blissful crack of the thinner end of braided leather, graced by the pathetic groans of penitent masculinity. Hope closed her eyes and raised her chin, in her sadistic and pompous enjoyment of the agonised chorus.

“Hear how some of the ladies have chosen a way to whet their appetites for today’s spectacle ... you can guarantee they’ll be thinking of no-one else but you, as they administer each stroke.” That sound, and the smug contentment of the women as they continued on, clarified the good use in feminine authority that Darkington Hall was now put to, under the regal ownership of Madam Beatrice Belvedere - her rightful position assumed in such exquisitely dominant circumstances, the disposal of the masculine imposters to the title, so satisfyingly dealt with by the method that Creed now faced.

That good use was further exemplified as they approached the room, set where corridors converged, and from the other passage emerged a large group of women led by a sultry maid, formerly no more than a skivvy to those males, but now an equal amongst the women whose pleasure of the Hall was enjoyed. Among her new duties, which she carried out with sexually aroused enthusiasm, was to act as a Hall Guide, and those ladies already having had their appetites whetted for what was to come, by the maid’s retelling of Madam Belvedere’s victory as they gazed lustily up at the sorry remains in the nine cages which marked that feminine ascendency, were now treated to the pleasure of an earlier than expected view of the first male set to oblige the main attraction of Darkington Hall’s new purpose, alone.

This unscheduled and delightful encounter was utilised with sadistic aplomb by Constance; the gasps and sneers of unbridled pleasure shown by the diverse assortment of women, many having not been present at the prior satisfying exhibitions of masculine execution, and hotly eager to witness their first, was blessed with a chance to see him deservedly and spitefully ridiculed in a private showing, an opportunity which Constance would provide with dominant arrogance.

Creed’s progress was abruptly halted, Constance jerking his leash back to have him kneel in obedience, and face the scornful and elated gazes from women who’d have looked so ordinary, had he met them in some street prior to his enslavement by Julia. Now, having cast off the yoke of the misogynistic society that held them down in their daily lives beyond, and liberated by the prevailing sexual atmosphere of absolute feminine dominance within, each openly radiated their acute pleasure at being close enough to touch a male about to hang. Kneeling leashed by a woman, gagged to obedient silence, naked but for the short white shroud ... and his genitals cruelly caged and made impotent by a tin device which mocked his manhood, his humiliating position aroused them wickedly, in representing how they wished to see so many males in their lives.

“Yes ladies, this is Nathaniel Creed, a once pompous and chauvinistic male who dared use women as maids and servants in his household ... now to hang at his own request for those crimes ... and he knows that it’ll be the ultimate pleasure of every woman here, in seeing that request granted.” Creed’s realisation that what he’d once so innocently and ignorantly seen as the normal order of things in life, had the sadistic fervour of those women rise to a peak. It further justified in his own mind, his lust to be exhibited in shame below that stout beam for the curt pleasure of femininity.

His stunted cock pulsed pre-cum to the restrictive tube, the scathing pleasure of just a token representation of what awaited him outside, taking him as close to ecstasy as the blissful denial of the device would allow, the sticky thread of clear semen, dribbling in a strand from the down-curved horn, bringing the focus of the women to it, and raising the contempt of his audience in illustrating his pathetic pleasure in being dominated. Creed’s eyes met with those of a woman whom he’d gladly have masturbated over, in those days before Julia, now gone forever; mature and haughty, spectacles magnifying the spite in her eyes behind them, he knew her cunt would be bulging lustily as she addressed Constance with curt delight.

“Is he to be blessed with wearing that when entertained by the rope? ... It would be so just, in symbolising the snuffing of his urges, as well as his life.” Constance smirked at her cruel humour, guessing that she already knew the answer was to be in the negative, but relishing indulging her audience at Creed’s expense.

“Oh no, you’ll see what languishes within when he’s led to the gallows ... and you’ll see his pathetic lust to know it, his manhood raised in admission to it...” She looked down to Creed amidst the callous laughter, knowing his cock yearned to bone in lieu of that admission.

“ ... and to do want to hang, don’t you Creed.” Another thread confirming that admission, dribbled from the horn as he nodded his masochistic affirmation, in dominated obedience, Ella posing with her crop and smiling with contempt at not needing to prompt him with it, while that contempt was matched with the sighs of utter disbelief from the women, at his willingness to humiliate himself. But Constance was not done yet, despite the appointed hour closing in; Nathaniel Creed would be fashionably late, before becoming the late Nathaniel Creed.

“ ... and as for the snuffing of his urges, that’ll be done swiftly and permanently before he breathes his last ... after the final tribute to surrender is given up by him.” Now basking in the adoration shown her by the delighted women, she tugged him round to face her, keen to have him face one last humiliation before presentation to Julia.

“You’ve seen the gag which’ll prevent any unlikely protest when he faces the gallows, but there’s one other accessory he’ll wear for the drop ... isn’t there Creed?” He mumbled through the gag, as if to emphasise her prior point, drawing further sexual elation from the women; the silencing of the normal arrogance of masculinity, acutely satisfying. They then saw her point to the ground with a stern smile.

“Kiss my feet Creed, and keep your arse high for inspection.” Creed wallowed in submissive pleasure, lavishing his tongue upon Constance’s black heeled ankle boots, as the sneers, gasps, and cynical laughter greeted the sight provided in servile obedience for them. With his cheeks spread wide and emphasising the myriad of cane strokes across them, some faded, some fresh, from the countless canings enjoyed by women in breaking his spirit, their eyes were treated to the perforated cage which held his balls captive, and leading from this, the thin strap which cut through the cleft of his cheeks to join the retaining waist belt ... crossing the broad circular base of the more than generously proportioned butt plug which held his anus wide.

The more seasoned dommes amongst them, viewed the intrusive plug with tart satisfaction, aware of the reducing qualities that enforced anal punishments instilled in submissive males, enthralled that this one would enjoy his upon the gallows. Others were merely aware of their existence and hotly aroused at actually seeing one in place, whilst some, newly awoken to the delights in practicing their superiority over the male, were amazed at the simple but lushly humiliating device. Constance radiated her dominant pleasure in extolling its virtues, her cunt now slick with the spiteful pleasure in thoroughly belittling Julia’s pet, before he provided her the ultimate pleasure they all desired.

“What you see ladies, is but the tip of the iceberg...” Creed felt the play of her silk skirt against his face as she leaned forward, and his balls tingled exquisitely as she rested one hand on the flesh of his cheek, and toyed the broad base of the plug with her finger, his shimmering at the perverse pleasure it gave him, delighting his feminine audience.

“ ... there’s a much broader bulb within, stretching his anus wide ... it has him know, every waking moment, that he’s the owned property of a woman ... the combination of discomfort and pleasure it awards him, exciting him to that fact in perpetuity...” She applied a little more pressure to the base, and grinned with satisfaction as Creed’s cheeks clenched involuntarily at it, his submissive pleasure at its presence, enhanced by the sneering ridicule of his audience on noting it. Constance then had his need to erect, taken to an unbearable level of its desiring for freedom from confinement, her tone deliciously wicked.

“ ... it serves an extra purpose today ... when he hangs, the pleasure of the rope will have him yearn to defecate in the total submission it awards him ... the plug will see that he knows the pleasure of denial by womanhood, owned, even beyond death.” Creed was yanked up on the leash, to have the submissive desire on his face witnessed by the applauding women, Constance’s smile supreme, in successfully priming both he and a small portion of the feminine audience he’d face, for the fate he’d not escape. She was moved to make a personal statement, spoken with acute sincerity in her moment of triumph.

“Ohhhh ... I’m so ready to see you hang now.” Ella had a fixed sneer on her face, her lips loose, as were those of her sweaty and lubricated cunt, as she addressed the women with an air of excited impatience, whilst the equally excited Hope, moved to the door behind which Julia waited.

“Ladies! Please take your positions on the green outside ... lest you miss out on a satisfactory viewing position ... there are so many women here, as anxious as you to share Madam Belvedere’s triumph over masculinity.” Creed’s perversely masochistic bliss was teased deliciously as the curt maid and her entourage of femininity filed past while he knelt in obedience on his leash, each so enthusiastic to seek their place of advantage outside, yet each lingering a little to enjoy their close proximity to a male they’d soon see hanging limp and emasculated, having paid the humiliating price for his weakness.

As they left, the door to the room, which had its own exit to the deathly vale beyond, was pushed open with a stern smile by Hope. The light from the window beyond, shone through in illuminating the dominant majesty of Julia, and the equally regal Beatrice, though his sight of what lay beyond through the portal of the French windows was obscured by the throng of eagerly applauding women, coupled with his lowly position on all fours. Creed snorted erratically through his nostrils, overcome by the raucously enthusiastic welcome, and still not quite believing that he was actually going to hang. Dressed in a sleeveless, full length black silk cloak which hid her entire body shape, Julia’s serene and contended smile as he was led toward her on his leash, edged him closer to that cruel but exciting reality, then the lusty tones of Madam Beatrice Belvedere, Mistress of all she now surveyed, left him in no doubt as to the pleasure he faced.

Dressed in a tight black blouse which emphasised her poking breasts superbly, tight waisted jodhpurs which did likewise for the ample curves of her broad hips and backside, her knee length black boots led his eye up to her broad thighs, and the peach of her womanhood profiled in bulging arousal through the material at her crotch. A full length braided bullwhip was furled in exciting loops through a stay at her belt - the mark, and tool, of her now unchallenged feminine authority within that domain, which many males would doubtless come to enjoy the bite of, as she imposed that authority upon them. With her hair tied high, increasing the visual severity of a a woman who’d delighted in seeing to the hanging of nine mem already, she lifted a glass of blood red wine, an action followed by every woman there but Julia - her present attire prohibiting it - and held it above her head as she smiled at Creed.

A toast Ladies! ... to the first of many males to be exhibited alone, in gloriously public penance for his crimes ... and those of his gender.” Creed’s anus tingled at the plug, as if to clarify the purpose so recently described by Constance, as he felt the pompous and elated glare of the women focus upon him, Beatrice’s words not only confirming the reality of his appointment with the gallows, but also justifying the righteousness of the deed, simply due in part, to his masculinity. She heaved her breasts as she downed the wine in one, the formality of being seen to sip it in the accepted ladylike fashion, swept aside by her eagerness to progress, then sauntered toward him with an air of arrogance that had his balls yearning to spend for her there and then.

“He may not have incurred the vengeful wrath within me, that six of the previous males provided, when duly tested to extinguishment upon my gallows ... but my pleasure in seeing him initiate a tradition we’ll all patronise with supreme enjoyment in events to come, will be equally and wholesomely gratifying.” Creed quivered on his leash under the lusty applause which confirmed the unanimous feelings of his feminine audience, his eyes taking in the abject enthusiasm shown by Julia, Faith, Laura, Beryl, the youthful red-headed Lizzy ... all were there, bar one particularly sadistic figure of feminine dominance ... Madam Belvedere now switched the women’s focus to Julia, with regal pride, as their fervour and enthusiasm to see Creed appease their sadism mounted.