Chapter 15

It was a good thing that the summer season was in full swing, as even though the dominant ladies, many with their entourage of budding young dommes, had received their invitations to arrive at Darkington Hall at different times, the raised eyebrows of station masters at the nearest rail stations would have been raised even further, along with their already stirred cocks, had they known that each illustrious and imposing matriarch was headed to Darkington Hall to witness the triumph of womanhood over the male in a most exquisite and severe spectacle. Madam Beatrice Belvedere had ensured that the grand day remained as covert as was possible though, by arranging with the assistance of Ella Hempleton’s vast resources, to have transport in place on their arrival, negating the knowledge of local entrepreneurs in that trade, as to the final destination of those excited women.

It was aboard one of these greatly populated train services, that Creed found himself, the privacy of the compartment in which he travelled with Julia and the ladies of their party, saving the humiliation of his obvious ownership by them, from the eyes of those not party to the deliciously sadomasochistic event he was to witness. Made to kneel on a cushion at the feet of his Mistress from the moment they had alighted the carriage, leashed and passed among the women to see to their entertainment, along with Madam Beryl Frobisher’s new pet Ethan, on the journey down from London. Julia grinned as she rubbed her crop at the dark patch at the crotch of his grey leggings, chosen specifically so they might display such a patch, and increase his humiliation in not being able to disguise the pleasure of his being dominated; the bulge of his erect and poking bell behind the material, oozing further at the stimulation offered by her crop.

“You two males can think yourselves privileged, on being part of the small number of your gender allowed to witness justice being exacted ... unlike the three you saw being selected at Arachne House by Beatrice, her maid, and Agnes.” Creed had seen the three stark faced males enter another cab with Madam Agnes Fairchild at Arachne House, but was unaware of the purpose of their selection, thinking it may be merely for the titillation of the bold woman and the others who travelled with her ... he wasn’t aware that Beatrice’s input in their selection, was to clarify they each bore a resemblance in stature to a certain other three males, that she and a stern maid from Darkington were more familiar with.

Beryl Frobisher enjoyed the puzzled look on his face with respect to Julia’s statement, her enjoyment of this new life of absolute dominance, taken to a thrilling new high with every moment, not least with her knowledge of the fate of the three unknown males, which she’d had the further thrill of being told she’d be party to. As Ethan fawned over her, kissing her feet in the still novel sharpness of his submission to her, the sincere pleasure in her tone was evident to Creed.

“Oh yes ... they’re to enjoy a hanging too ... but not the spectacle that my sweet Ethan and yourself are to enjoy.” Creed’s cock boned rigid at the tart spitefulness in her tone, the tip of Julia’s crop glistening as his nurtured bell pulsed a little more lubrication through the thin grey material of his leggings, aided by the cruel laughter of the other women. Constance added her input to the conversation; thrilled as much at the prospect of having the debutant dominatrix that was Beryl, experience the execution of males for the first time, as equally as the promise of witnessing the satisfying deed itself. The new woman had shown herself to be a new woman in more ways than one, her ripe appetite for sadism, inhibited and frustrated for so long, had been expressed so willingly in her enthusiasm to embrace the witnessing of the act of total and final discipline.

“Believe me, Beryl my dear, there is nothing quite like seeing a male give up his seed in submission, when bound and wriggling helplessly on the rope ... it’ll be a fitting aperitif for the main event, when the added atmosphere of a full audience will ensure those emissions are given up most plentifully, and in due and deserving submission.” Laura Wentworth closed her eyes, her cunt nicely aroused as her mind focused on the lushly erotic memories of the departures of the pathetically submissive Lumsden, and the supreme satisfaction awarded in being made a widow, on her husband sending his last spend high into the air to hearty feminine applause, on succumbing to the dark pleasure of the rope, on his way to obliging her desired title of widow.

“On having seen it once, you never lose the taste for it ... after witnessing the punishment of the three from Arachne house, I guarantee you’ll have Ethan there, at your cunt permanently ... savouring the experience, until it’s time for the splendour of the main event.” Beryl smiled in recognition of the statement, her heart racing in accordance with her sincere agreement of it, and watched the world outside race by as she stroked Ethan’s back affectionately. It was the same old world outside, but she smiled with contentment at just how much her world had changed, so satisfyingly for the better.

Their progress from the leafy rural station was swift and largely unnoticed; even the Station Master there, unaware of the unusually large embarkations at his normally sleepy, and single handedly worked terminus, as he was entertained by young women placed there, in confinement within his cosy red brick dwelling some fifty yards back from it’s neat little platforms. The engine driver and his guard who watched them safely from the train, were a little puzzled by the unusual plethora of female freight which departed there, as had been others engaged in their duties on other arrivals, but hailing from areas far from that setting, the instant was soon forgotten. The route to Darkington Hall went conveniently up and across the red bridge beyond the station, by-passing the town completely, and leaving its inhabitants oblivious to the traffic going there.

Creed could feel the intense thrill of his Mistress and the other women, as they passed through the darkness of the densely wooded approach to the gatehouse of Darkington Hall, the sun streaming down on the structure in its clearing, itself hidden from view from outsiders by its winding and private approach road, the Hall itself, also invisible from that point; the finely surfaced track from the gatehouse, winding up a rise between scattered ornamental trees before disappearing over its brow, its seclusion perfect.

Creed’s curiosity was furthered, as Julia grinned and she and Constance waved from the cab, Creed pleased to see the redheaded Lizzy there in her finest tight leggings, with her similarly attired friend, Clarissa and another more portly woman whose exquisite plumpness showed the leggings off to perfection. Beyond them were Beatrice and Agnes, the two pointing their whips in directing the three males he’d seen chosen at Arachne, amongst the three open carriages which stood on the hard standing by the gatehouse. They were busy unwrapping three oblong objects, nearly as tall and broad as themselves, under the direction of those whips, but he couldn’t make out what they were before the cab moved beyond the view. Constance smiled Wickedly at Julia.

“The European tour she told us about ... so delicious, her working a fantasy she’s long held, into her vengeance.” Julia smiled knowingly with Ella, and Beryl was left wondering too. Constance puffed her breasts with a mischievous smugness.

“We’ll let Beatrice tell you about it, after she’s made her entrance ... what she has planned will extend the memory of her day of succession most exquisitely, believe you me.” Her statement to the newest member of their order left him none the wiser, but pulsing erect at the promise those smiles generated; there was nothing like the spite of a dominant woman about to have her victory over the lowly male, and as their cab crested the rise, and he saw the splendour of what she was gain, and the three were to lose ... along with their lives, a dark notion of jealousy at not being one of the three, had his balls tingling with submissive excitement. That tingling increased in magnitude as he and Ethan were ordered to strip naked, to emphasise their humbling and humiliation before all womanhood, their keen erections confirming their lust to know obedience.

They were greeted eagerly at the imposing entrance of the palatial structure, the maids taking particular pleasure at seeing two males who knew their position in the new order, their arousals fortified on being handed their leashes, confirming their lowly status below all females, and indicating how every male would enter that household under the strict regime of Madam Beatrice Belvedere ... and reversing that strictness where all females, including maids, was concerned. Creed thoroughly enjoyed being led on a leash by the young maid, whose excitement matched the general atmosphere of feminine inspired debauchery, which was tangible. Her obvious pleasure and that of the other maid, in leading naked males on all fours up the stairs, delighting their smirking owners as they made their way to the room where most were gathered.

The maids’ pleasures were enhanced, as they proudly led their obedient charges through the horde of dominant matriarchs, to receive applause whilst studied contempt was shown their leashed males, that sweet humiliation followed by the rigidity of their erections on being led to a window at the far end of the expansive room, where just two other males languished. The sneering women flicked their crops and whips in lustful admiration, as the two were leashed to a rail below the window parapet, hooded to relieve them of any identity, and their wrists tethered behind their backs to alleviate any urge to masturbate, though it was patently apparent that they were beaten males who would only do so to order.

Julia and the others mingled and exchanged pleasantries with those women they were familiar with, whilst acknowledging their presence at a distance, to Madam Hope Randall and the others, who were providing entertainment of the male hosts of the house, providing erotic distraction to the conversations being enjoyed.

Hope, Althea and Prunella, relaxed into an air of blissful satisfaction, as they observed with vindictive pleasure, the three African girls taking their turn in awarding the three condemned males a thorough judicial caning, before almost the entire female staff who’d once been at their beck and call, along with those guests who delighted in seeing the males who’d provide the main reason for their visit for the first time. Witnessing the thorough breaking of their spirits before they were informed of their fate, a most erotically satisfying treat which honed their sadistic appetites.

With each male bound naked over the padded arms of leather chairs they’d previously used for smoking, the familiarity of that furniture, combined with its novel use, held a sweet irony of its own as they were soundly thrashed for the umpteenth occasion. The chairs were placed at the windows facing the avenue of approach to the hall, so that the tearful eyes of the broken and dominated occupants could witness the frequent arrival of carriages and cabs, those open versions confirming that their visitors were entirely female, adding an increased sense of foreboding to that already incurred by the stinging pain of cane against striped and tortured flesh. They would not enjoy a view to the rear of the house, until its renewed and ominous vista was introduced to their eyes by a victorious Madam Beatrice Belvedere, when that foreboding would be vindicated in earnest, with interest, after she had arrived in some style.

The maids watched Ekua, Abla, and Naja intently, their display in application of cane or whip, always creating an extra fervour, which was not lost upon the recipients. The fact that they performed naked, proudly showing off the feminine attributes of their physiques with bold and haughty pride, had shocked some of the more reserved women at first, but the swaying of their pert breasts and tight buttocks as punishment was delivered, had warmed one and all to the erotic talent of their act. Indeed, some of the maids looked upon their bravado with some jealousy; the extra spice of males being caned by naked women, tempting them to do likewise, but none feeling quite so bold ... not yet. That jealousy was amplified by the fact that all three males had spent their seed in submission for them, on more occasions than they had for any of the dressed women, some of the onlookers suggesting that this was due to the scent of their arousals being aired so flagrantly as they cut with the cane.

Predictably, Thomas heard the enthusiastic applause of the audience, through his delirious whining and recently enforced masochistic ectasy, as he was first to shoot his mess to the leather he had once cherished so much, poking his buttocks high to invite Naja’s vigour as he received a rapid whipping of the cane, the leather upholstery ruined, along with his spirit, by his weak jets of dribbling semen in the blissful resignation to utter defeat. The women were equally delighted in seeing both Cedric and Cuthbert reduced to tears, the two marginally more senior males, pleasingly brought down to the same childlike whimperings, following excessive and stringent servings of whip and cane; the servant girls taking particular pleasure in teaching them their place. Their wills now broken almost completely, they lapsed into an automaton-like resignation to the defeat of their masculinity, but they needed a little more to help them come on this occasion. The arrival of yet more anonymous but uniformly pleased women to the already crowded room, and the fervour which broke out, on the sight of three carriages approaching on the avenue, would see them loose their seed in wondrous masochism.

Hope and the equally impressive Althea sauntered round, to enjoy the pained expressions on their faces, alongside the smug female staff, whose notable enjoyment was edging the two closer to the spend that each stinging stroke commanded they give up. As Ekua and Abla continued to thrash them, the vision of the two matriarchs who’d instigated their downfall, appearing like punitive goddesses by the light of the windows through which their tearful eyes peered, would have the two shoot their mess to the leather most satisfyingly. Hope studied the wincing features of all three, her sadism contented with their reduction from the arrogant chauvinists they once were, and satisfied that their pain would continue for a while yet. Her pleasure in seeing their minds teased further by the ominous view of what was approaching, awarded her a sadistically erotic thrill, the level of which she’d not experienced for some time.

“See the arrival of the Mistress of the house, come to take possession of what’s rightfully hers...” She stepped forward, sensing Cedric’s eagerness to come for her, having done so voluntarily after first seeing her, then having been made to do so several times after being dominated, the whiff of her cunt after he’d been punished by her, a scent he now craved. Cuthbert had succumbed similarly to the magnificent lady in purple, that was Anthea, and the two women sneered spitefully as their fingers toyed with the tears emitted by both; their goading smiles ensuring they now rolled on their cocks with each telling swipe of the cane, eager to deliver their mess in tribute. The two women made sure the view through their respective windows was not obstructed, as Hope continued her tease.

“ ... we know what you’ve done, and there’ll be many more tears with the punishment to come ... you’ll confess your crimes, then beg Madam’s mercy before knowing your fate.” Her smile went to the window, drawing the focus of the males to what was arriving, her grin intensifying with the knowledge that no mercy would be shown by the woman their eyes would take in. She joined in with the hearty applause from the feminine crowd, as the three carriages from the gatehouse came into full view; Hope turning and nodding to the three African women, whose indulgence with the canes, she’d have brought to a stinging crescendo.

“Cane the seed from them girls ... Mistress Beatrice Belvedere arrives to take control of her property.” The personal attentions of the mature women had Cedric and Cuthbert’s desire to come at their behest, as per that of some masochistic opiate, and the tantalising view gripped the balls of all three in their lustful wonder at what punishment awaited them.

Beatrice rode in regal pomp, alone in the first carriage, dressed in black as though to attend a funeral, her serene and haughty smile through the black veil of her hat at odds with that notion. She carried a whip in full view across the feminine splendour of her full breasts, which would see those confessions given up most earnestly. In the second rode the plump and imposing figure of dominant womanhood that was Agnes Fairchild, her robust femininity also attired in black, and faced by three naked males who knelt in obedience before the seated woman, she holding the leashes of all three, their destiny already determined in knowing her ultimate pleasure, shortly and swiftly.

.

As though the sight of what was conveyed in the first two carriages, were not enough to bring the emerging seed forth from the two in lusty spurts, while taking Thomas to the yearning of a second show of liquid surrender, the coaxing spite of the canes and what travelled in the third carriage, ensured that semen was let fly from their dominated cocks in ecstatic potency. Beyond the proudly contented smile of the plump young woman who flicked her whip at its horses, the open carriage transported no occupants, but three large oblong cages, their metallic forms glinting ominously in the sunlight, as the generous proportions of their propped erect display, hinted that they could accommodate the human form.

The satisfaction of those women closest the males was enriched as Cuthbert and Cedric groaned into a turgid and wanton ecstacy, enforced by the sight, and the flail of the canes, whilst Thomas did his best to muster another delivery in submission. As the seed bolted from two cocks, and the third was humped at the leather in wistful stimulation under punishment now eagerly received, the minds of all three wondered at the purpose of the cages, as their divine confirmation of capitulation to womanhood was spat out to the leather. Cedric jetted lustily in thinking that they might be caged and displayed, put on show and taunted whilst within, Cuthbert thinking on similar lines, and about their ease of torture when caged; the notion having him spurt plentifully. Thomas just lusted to be incarcerated and pilloried inside the ominous bars, as he lusted equally in efforts to spend again, but was left wanting when the caning ceased.

All three would know the cages, but they’d not know any masochistic pleasures when within, for they’d be long past any stimulation on accommodating the cramped spaces set for them. Their assumption that the three males riding with the second sternly dominant woman were merely pets for womanly titillation in their submissive service, was erroneous too.

After enduring the laughter of the women at their expulsions, further scorn was awarded the three, on Ekua, Abla, and Naja untying them from their posts, to reveal their copious emissions to the leather. The bold women then holding their heads to what they’d been responsible for, to suffer the scathing indignation of being made to lick the upholstery clean of their own semen, to the delight of the watching women. The necessary haste required in their humiliating task, due to their need to be readied to greet their new owner, prompted by flicks of the cane to their already striped flesh. Satisfied with the exertions of their tongues, the three were allowed to kneel and sniff at the cunts of their punishers while they were collared and leashed; the delightfully spicy whiffs of their slickly perspiring arousals, following their exertions in awarding the cane, stirring the two more recently spent cocks into attempting fresh erections. It had Thomas’s bone rigid, and aching to shoot his mess, as he knelt naked and taunted by Ekua while sniffing hard at her ripely scented brown cleft.

“Ohhhh! You and your two fellow tyrants do know your place now, don’t you? ... and you’re more than ready to know the full price of that tyranny, aren’t you?” Thomas’s cock pulsed pre-cum, as he nodded his head in acknowledgement while continuing to sniff hard at her cunt, the cynical laughter of the watching maids intensifying his yearning to come. Abla and Naja looked to each other and smiled as they turned their backs on their kneeling charges, and spread the cheeks of their glossy brown buttocks, the two males’ cocks managing renewed elevation at the tangy scents offered, and the jibes of the maids. Naja pulled hers wide, to put her dark pucker on full display.

“I’ll wager the taste of your own spunk was nice and salty ... you have a good sniff of something sweeter.” Their eager inhalations became rapid and nervous pants, at the rich applause which echoed around the suitably palatial room, on Beatrice entering it, in the grandiose pomp of her triumph, which would be made full in three days time.

Though the three males were more than elemental in the succession of that triumph; their sweetly erotic disposal high upon the gallows in open exposure after three days of humiliation at her hands, being the prime reason for the keen attendance of the women there, they were purposely ignored by her initially as she accepted the plaudits of her feminine guests, to impose a sense of their insignificance in the light of her triumph over them. They were left to cower on their leashes under the command of the noble African women, as Hope and Althea strode regally past them, to join Julia and her party in greeting the new owner of Darkington Hall, the conversation beyond their earshot.

Beatrice was particularly glad to have Beryl Frobisher there, and feeling her thrill at being present at a demonstration of the pinnacle of feminine dominance after years of frustration, took the opportunity to thrill her further, by having the pleasure in relating the purpose of the cages to her, and to the plethora of excited dominants who were not yet partial to the knowledge, as per Hope and those involved in arranging the glorious spectacle. “When I took my European tour, some years ago now, and had many liaisons with commanding women there, and sampled their pleasures in dominating the male, I was nicely primed on being shown on a sightseeing tour by one such imposing lady, of the establishment that is Munster, in Germany. Prior to our embarkation from her residence, she had shown me a necklace she wore, from which hung three small silver pendants, small cages finely crafted by the silversmith, the silver within, illustrating crudely crafted human figures in a dormant state. When she faced her male of the moment, who’d provided us both with satisfactory service the night before, and twirled the necklace before him, he immediately fell to her feet and plied her footwear with the adoration of his lips, in some predetermined ritual which brought a satisfied smile to her face...” Some of the wealthier women there, began to smile knowingly, having taken the grand tour themselves, and had seen Munster, departing from it, left with a lasting sordid pleasure at what they’d seen. But Beryl, and many others there, were still no wiser, yet very aroused by what they’d heard thus far.

“ ... on arriving in the older part of Munster, I was walked by her after leaving our transport, to face the church of St. Lambert, which was starkly imposing enough, even at ground level, but she smiled wickedly as she toyed with that necklace once more, and had me gaze up on high at its rude erection. What I saw there had me gasp, and when told of the story behind what met my eyes, it instilled a ripely dominant fantasy within me, to duplicate a likeness of it at my own pleasure one day ... and that day will come in three days hence...” Beryl and the other women unaware of the supreme exhibition of human vindictiveness there, gaped in expectancy, whilst Hope, Julia, Ella, and those others partial to its history, and Beatrice’s delight in it, smiled with a sordid smugness which matched hers.

“ ... high up on display for all to marvel lustily at, are three iron cages, within which were placed the remains of three religious despots, who were tortured exquisitely in public, before being executed ... one of whom had murdered one of his wives in public himself, making his extreme pain before death all the more exquisite ... I like to think there were many women there to witness his agonies, as he and the others will have no doubt been castrated for their pleasure, as was justifiably popular then. Having enjoyed death after a wonderfully extended ordeal, their remains were hoisted high in those cages, to enjoy eternal public humiliation beyond their deaths...” Beatrice’s cunt was more than simply moist and swollen with a heady arousal now, as were those of her audience, as she gazed wistfully over to the cowering males who’d have her live out that fantasy.

“ ... and now we shall have our replica here, upon the reverse of the clock tower in the inner courtyard ... their exposure may not be quite so public, given the necessary secrecy required, but their humiliation will be just as eternal, when Darkington Hall becomes a desired venue for a dominant’s grand tour, the pleasure of my exhibiting them to equally pleasured eyes, as eternal as their humiliation.” The women followed, and those from all quarters of the room gathered round eagerly, as she strode with regal elegance over to the leashed males, to indulge their enjoyment of her triumph, leading up to the revelation that every woman there yearned to see, on their wills being crushed completely in learning their fate.

The cowering trio could feel the ominous and spiteful anticipation of the women, especially those maids and household staff who’d known their chauvinistic tyranny first hand, and now witnessed the crushing humiliation they so richly deserved. The excited babble quieted to a hush, on the bold woman so magnificently attired in black lace, standing in haughty dominance over them as they crouched naked on the leashes of the black women, her smug eyes pleased to see the dappled bruising, striping, and fresh cuts to their flesh, the evidence of womanly domination having been served well ... and the erections all three could not hide, confirming the serving of it had reduced them to craving the masochistic pleasure of utter defeat to it.

All three daren’t lift their heads higher than enabling them to see above the tightly corseted waist, broad hips from which her long black skirts were draped, and the long whip which her black gloved hands held tightly in the promise of further punishment, but just her supreme presence and what she signified, had them all lusting to spend for her; their anuses tingling in unison with their dominated balls ... penitent and yearning to know their fate. She flicked the whip under their chins, the absolute hush of the observing feminine crowd, intensifying their feeling of exposure wonderfully.

“Look up ... look up to your nemesis.” Her sexual pleasure intensified to match theirs, as they sheepishly looked up to her, her cunt hot to know the adoration of the tongues of all three, over the three days in which those tongues would service her in thanks for the pleasure she would shortly bestow upon them. Their cocks stood high as they took in her attractive, mature face, and its promise of absolute dominance.

“I am now the Mistress of this house ... I own you, and everything in it.” Her contemptuous sneer broadened as she put her hands to her sides, and lifted her skirts slightly, exposing her tall black ankle boots.

“As my property, you’ll kiss my feet in confirming your acknowledgement to that fact ... get to it!” The silence was broken, as cruel and cynical laughter greeted their eagerness to confirm the erasure of their prior status, bumping their heads together as they sought to lavish their lips upon the leather of her gracefully clad feet, the sound humiliation, sweet, and having their stiff cocks ache to spurt. Beatrice’s cunt oozed with erotic pleasure as her absolute power over them was demonstrated; though two of them were linked by bloodline, it was distant, and would not inhibit her full sexual desires in dominating them thoroughly before they hanged to award her the ultimate pleasure. Her spite increased, and so would the audible scorn, as she furthered their lust for humiliation at the hands of womanhood, they’d been so earnestly taught to enjoy.

“Now lick those boots ... lick them nice and clean ... show me how you’ve been taught to know your place below your Mistress.” She sighed with contentment as she watched the tongues lap obligingly and with willing obedience; they’d been readied well for the erotically sadistic shock of what was to come. Cedric’s eyes sought out the magnificent redhead that was Hope, the taste of whose cunt he’d learned to savour, and hoped she’d favour him as a pet in whatever enslaved future was set for him as he lapped away at the tall heels. In an ironic tribute to her naming, he hoped upon hope that his attentions to his new Mistress would inspire an element of jealousy in her, leading to further punishment followed by his adoration of that beautifully white lipped and russet tufted cunt; the indelible memory of the scent and taste of it and her lower hole when in full arousal, leaving him in permanent desire of repeats of that pleasure.