Chapter 1

Prudence D’Orvell drew up outside The imposing entrance to Mannerly Hall in her Riley, the navy blue car covered with a fine layer of dust and bird lime, having been parked at the local rail station for the past few weeks, its driver having been on one of her regular jaunts on the boat-train to Europe. Prudence stepped out, a footman maintaining a look of studied nonchalance whilst his inner thoughts admired the elegant and assertive woman, knowing she viewed him and the dwindling household staff with dismissive contempt. She gave him a surly glance and threw the keys to him as a maid scurried to take her bags.

“Get that cleaned up, I’ll be needing it again later.” He took the keys and sniffed at her wafting scent on getting in the car, a half erection swelling as he watched her shapely figure glide elegantly to the door, on starting the Riley to drive it to the garage at the rear. She had a reputation for being a wild and decadent woman amongst that dwindling staff, where lewd rumours abounded, and why shouldn’t she be that way, it was argued amongst the female staff; this was the 1930’s after all, and she was a woman of means and substance.

Mannerly Hall was a fine stately home which had been the home of the D’Orvell family for centuries. It had until recent times, always had a full compliment of household staff, but the maintenance of it, and the running costs were astronomical, and Prudence had better and more interesting things to do with her inheritance money than maintain a staid tradition, by haemorrhaging her shrinking funds into the house. She also owned a more modest but comfortably sized house on the Dorset coast, and had recently diverted much needed funds in acquiring a mews house in Chelsea; the latter secured at a knock-down price, after securing the services of a property agent, exposed of sexual desires which could ruin him, at one of her debauched parties at the former.

Prudence was only slightly disenchanted by the musty smell of impending decay that brought her mind back to the millstone that the house had become, ascending the ornate staircase with a vigour that betrayed her optimistic and scheming mood to the following maid. Prudence checked her steps without looking back, finding her within earshot.

“Has Master D’Orvell’s health deteriorated much since I’ve been away? He was so poorly when I left.” The young lady answered, a little bemused, as Mr D’Orvell always appeared to be in rude health to her and anyone else who encountered him, but Prudence, and Miss Anthea Strake, her middle aged Lady in Waiting and confidant, always insisted he was ill, so it had to be true.

“I’m ... I’m not sure Madam, I’ve not seen him about the house too often since you’ve been away.” Prudence smiled to herself, knowing Anthea will have kept his movements restricted until the staff had all left for the night; none resided at the hall anymore, other than Miss Strake.

“Then he’s obviously got worse since I’ve been gone, it’s a good thing he’ll be convalescing in Europe within the next week.” Her grin broadened on knowing the maid would broadcast the news to all she came in contact with, and it would become as good as the gospel truth in their minds. Oh yes, her husband was going to Europe, but he wouldn’t be convalescing, he’d be put to good use by some very matriarchal ladies in Berlin.

Prudence’s desire to be rid of the burden of the grand house, was as keen as it was to be rid of her husband. She had been married into the D’Orvell family as a matter of convenience, and the acquisition of the stately pile, along with a timid husband some years her junior, had heralded a sound and eternally beneficial financial future. She had dominated her husband with consummate ease from the onset, and times had been good at the Hall; she being party to a large inheritance from her husband’s parents when they departed, and relieving him of his share by guile and strength of imposition. He was indeed in rude physical health, but was weak of mind when confronted by the sharply assertive Prudence. However, the great crash of 1931 had seen her lose much of that wealth, and the dereliction of duties by serving staff, as wage levels made opportunities elsewhere more viable when in comparison with previous decades, meant the availability of near slave labour was no longer there.

Her wimpy husband Horace D’Orvell, had simply bowed to her assertiveness in fear at first, but was soon taught to respect her sexually dominant desires, soon becoming enslaved by his own sexual weaknesses under enforced education by cane and whip, and learning very early in the marriage that he would have to share her favours with the frequent male companions she chose. He also found himself shared with her dominant friends, including Madam Strake, who was his servant in name only, and made good use of him. Prudence had designs on the stately home, which she would be unable to sell on in this climate, which required that Horace was out of the way; she made sure though, that the house was kept well insured, in keeping with her plan.

Prudence turned to the maid as they stood by the door of one of the rooms she was no longer required to enter, whilst performing her ever decreasing duties.

“That will be all.” The maid left the bags by the door, and descended the stairs to prepare for her departure home, eager to tell the footman of Horace’s impending departure before he too, left for home after polishing the Riley. Prudence watched the maid descend, then opened the door, her cunt tingling at what she had to tell Anthea ... and her wimp of a husband. She opened the door to the refreshing waft of cigarette smoke and Anthea’s eau de parfum, strong and somewhat overpowering, in keeping with her nature. The shapely middle aged woman sat with her broad thighs exposed, a black silk negligee gracing her full breasts and displaying her mature nipples in a perfect silhouette, her contented smile beaming down from the red lips below her tightly bunned brunette hair. Horace knelt at her feet, his half erect cock poking from beneath the frilled hem of a short black maid’s skirt, as he eagerly polished one of Anthea’s spiked heels. The doleful tones of one of Chopin’s piano arrangements, crackled from the gramophone to compliment the atmosphere.

Anthea’s eyes lit up on seeing Prudence, and she stood immediately, embracing her with a hug as Horace remained on his knees below them as they caressed, insignificant and of secondary importance to anything in the lives of the dominant women who stood above him. Prudence looked down at her pathetic excuse for a husband, sneering as he bowed his head in not daring to impose on her senses in any way, but his cock rising to lift the skirt; the pink bell unable to hide the anticipation of humiliations he always faced on her return. He knew his place alright, and was soundly reminded of it eternally.

“I see we’ve been playing ‘Maids and Mistress’s’ again, has he been put to good use while I’ve been away?” Anthea grinned as she toed the underside of his standing bell with the toe of her heeled shoe.

“Oh yes, you should see the scullery floor now he’s polished it, the maid was full of praise for my efforts, and I was so glad to take the gratitude for it. It’s a pity she couldn’t know who’d really made the effort, I’d have loved to have her see him do it under her jurisdiction.” Horace quivered in anticipation as Prudence poured herself and Anthea a Brandy, then Anthea continued.

“Oh, and I’ve had him finish hanging those paintings in the way you desired, it looks a treat now.” Prudence smiled smugly as she looked up at a portrait of one of Horace’s pompous predecessors, which had hung in the entrance hall with all the others. Prudence laughed cynically.

“I couldn’t bear to see all those old fogies eyeing me up as I came in every day, it’ll be so much brighter now.” Horace swallowed hard, his balls tingling at yet another belittlement of his family heritage, accepting that his task was purely an act of Prudence stamping her already assured dominance upon him. He couldn’t know that there was an ulterior motive for her having some of the more collectable and expensive paintings placed in an easily accessible position. She sniggered as she watched him kneel in obedient silence, then looked to the staring eyes of the portrait as she removed her skirt and let her silken knickers drop to the floor.

“Get over here now, Horace ... have your great grandfather witness your position in the household, while I tell Anthea about my trip.” Horace hurried obediently over on his knees as Prudence sat back and spread her thighs, smiling curtly as the eyes of the portrait and Horace’s, ogled her black stocking tops and glistening cunt which gaped for inspection.

“Get that tongue to work Horace, I’m so sticky after my journey ... get to your duty.” Anthea smiled as she watched his balls swung below the skirt, his cock pulsing and bobbing bone hard as he sniffed at her scent, then lapped at her seasoned folds, his anus tingling at his enjoyment of nestling his face between the superb thighs he knew so well, and also anticipating the humiliations he knew would come. Prudence sighed as his tongue soothingly caressed her cunt in total obedience, her eyes still on the portrait.

“Just imagine what the ghosts of your ancestors are thinking, seeing you utterly dominated by a woman ... in your own house, and so willingly. You’re such a wimp, Horace.” Anthea sipped at her brandy, unfazed at Horace’s belittlement, she’d seen him put to good use so many times, with so many stern women, and her cunt was no stranger to the caress of his tongue either.

“Oh do tell of your trip, Prudence dear, how was Frau Blucher and the delights of spring in Berlin?” Prudence gasped a little as Horace rasped at her clitoris, impatient to prove his good use and bring her off. She flickered her eyes at Anthea, parting her thighs wider and curtly slapping his cheek.

“Patience Horace! I’ll come when I want to, when I’m good and ready.” She lifted her thighs back.

“Arsehole Horace, that’s nice and sticky too, and a little sore ... with good reason.” She smiled serenely as he tasted the acrid tangs of her anus, probing it lovingly, she turning her attentions to Anthea’s questions now she could concentrate, and more than delighted to do so.

“Frau Blucher is in good spirits, despite all the goings on in the background there. That Austrian Housepainter isn’t one for the avant garde, so she’s having to be careful with her operations, the cabaret situation is still in full swing, but Frau Blum has had to leave for Lisbon, due to her family origins ... that side of it is really not nice at all.” Anthea wanted to know more about the German woman’s more intimate dealings, knowing of her penchant to dominate and process males for wealthy females there, and sexually aroused by the sight of Horace’s attentions, knowing of Prudence’s plans for him.

“ ... and did she have any treats for you?” Prudence stroked Horace’s hair as he continued to probe at the slick warmth of her anus.

“Oh yes of course ... things are not all bad under the new order there, young women are encouraged to pursue physical fitness, and Frau Blucher has several supremely fit young ladies in her keeping. I witnessed two of them wrestle and utterly defeat two males, both reduced to tears in submission ... so sexually exhilarating ... this was the two males reward for their impudence in taking me in unison, with my permission of course, knowing I’d see them suffer son appropriate punishment afterwards.” Anthea gasped as Prudence smiled wickedly, knowing Horace was taking it all in; the thought of his wife being fucked liberally by other males bringing him bone hard.

“You were taken in both holes ... at once?” Prudence grasped Horace’s head and held his face tight to her now generously lubricated crotch, feeling his nose snort hard at the lower reaches of her cleft as his tongue darted in and out of her arsehole.

“Why yes Anthea, it was a blissful experience having both cunt and arsehole fucked simultaneously ... that’s why my arsehole is so sore ... and to see those girls have the debutant males pay so dearly for their pleasure afterwards, it left me feeling totally vindicated in letting them indulge my weaker womanly needs ... their tears were brought forth so earnestly by the exertions exacted upon them by the girls, and the spiteful pleasure they showed in their dominance was manna from heaven indeed.” Anthea now rubbed at her cunt, imagining the delights of seeing woman rout males by physical strength, the thought so arousing.

“Prudence now teased Horace’s boning cock further.

“Of course, I’ve been careful with my diet whilst away, eating sparsely ... I’ve not shit since being fucked anally ... can you taste the young man’s spunk, Horace? He let his cream loose so liberally, having his cock massaged by his friend’s as he rode my cunt in unison.” She laughed softly as Horace’s tongue stretched to it’s extreme in the hope of tasting the essence of a male’s cock which had spent in ecstasy where his would never go, his own cock now dribbling as he basked in the sweet humiliation of being cuckolded so; an exciting new turn to a situation he was made to enjoy on many occasions.

“ ... oh Horace, I so wanted you to be there, to lick the fresh cream from both holes ... think of the pleasure you’d have had from that ... especially with all those women watching, and those muscular girls waiting to have you sample a sniff of their cunts as they crushed you too.” Horace snorted at her wet cunt as she slipped a finger over the nub of her budding clitoris and sighed as she teased him toward the news she had for him, Anthea beginning to moan, close to orgasm as she too, awaited the news to confirm the main purpose of her visit on this occasion. Prudence smiled at her as she prepared to enjoy having Horace know of his fate.

“ ... would you like to be dominated like that Horace ... cuckolded, used to clean up, made to sniff highly aroused young cunt and arsehole whilst humiliatingly wracked by taut thighs and brought to tears before delighted women? It would bring your periods of denial to an ecstatic end wouldn’t it ... I know you couldn’t fail to spend spontaneously as the tears flowed? Just think of the lustful shame that’d award you.” Horace grunted a pitiful ‘yes’, his un-pursed lips taking the liberty of savouring the feel of a kiss at her hot pucker.

“Good ... because you know the way I’ve been forced to cane you, when you’ve whined about not being invited to my parties in Dorset?, well those days are over ... you’re invited to go to Berlin, and we go in three days time.” Both women edged toward orgasm as Horace bucked in his need to spend, not quite believing what he was hearing,

“0h yes Horace, Frau Blucher is delighted at the idea of having you, she’ll have so much satisfaction in taking you to enjoy her cabarets when we go, you can say goodbye to these dull rooms for some time.” Anthea burst into an exquisite orgasm, as she watched the feeble male service his dominant wife and mistress to her satisfying climax; she knew he’d be going for a very long time, in fact he was never coming back.

Prudence moaned in the lush triumph of a deeply erotic orgasm, so wanting to tell him he’d been sold to Frau Blucher; the novelty of having a member of the English landed gentry on a leash and hers to display and humiliate, a thrill the severe German woman couldn’t resist, but Prudence had to ensure he went willingly. She needed to have him seen to go with her in nonchalant fashion, no more distressed than he normally was when seen with the woman who so obviously owned him. He couldn’t be seen to be reluctant, and trussing him up and seeing him packaged was a pleasingly erotic idea, but it just wouldn’t do.

No. Prudence would gain just as much erotic pleasure throughout the journey, aroused by his naivety as he went willingly with her to his incarceration, and would receive a divine sexual thrill in telling him as he knelt at the feet of his proud new owner. He would keep his title of Horace D’Orvell of course, and remain her husband on paper; the legalities suited this, but Frau Blucher would soon have him assume a pet name where he was, on his being absorbed into her rigorous and consuming world of the strictest domination, a delightfully concealing hood adding to his anonymity as he waited his turn in obedience with other males, in servicing her general female clientele. She would delight in removing that hood however, when he was displayed as her pet amongst her confidants, having his heritage known as she demonstrated her absolute dominance of him.

Prudence knew her well, so could easily visualise how she’d enjoy her ownership of him, due to her much favoured erotic experiences in the company of the haughty matriarch, but she didn’t share her slightly blinkered optimism on where Germany was going at that time. Despite Frau Blucher’s intent to live life as she always had, Berlin having a rich and open erotically charged subculture beyond its staid and innocent cafe society, but the signs of an ominous change were there. These seemed more obvious to Prudence as an outsider; the subtle changes more apparent to her as a periodical visitor, and party to the propaganda of English newspapers which Berlin’s inhabitants were somehow shielded from.

Frau Blucher was aware of Frau Blum’s hasty departure to Lisbon, but was dismissive of the reasons behind it, preferring to believe that this had more to do with her financial affairs than her ethnicity, and of her misguided choice of clientele, some of whom were in the military. Prudence also had a healthy mistrust of one or two of the physically potent girls who’d shamed the males so delightfully before her eyes; one of them had arrived in distinctly militaristic brown dress, a uniform matching that of the growing groups of rowdy males, whose disruptive attacks on certain areas of society seemed to go unnoticed by the police.

All this added to the convenience of depositing Horace into the hands of the formidable dominatrix; whilst outwardly, Prudence D’Orvell would be seen to be blissfully ignorant in the belief that her estranged husband was convalescing, inwardly she knew there was a good chance he would disappear completely, either through the sadistic whims of Frau Blucher, or as a consequence of the political and social upheaval which loomed ever closer. Either way, it guaranteed a divorce through estrangement, or receipt of a notice of his demise; both ways to obtain part or all of his inheritance legally, without any possibility of her implication.

Her orgasm was deeply satisfying, enhanced by Horace’s eagerness to play into her hands; her thoughts as she peaked, twisting between his reaction when he learned the truth, and of her freedom from his disposal to arrange the demise of this mammoth carbuncle of a house. Her immediate satisfaction was complete as he dutifully licked up from her arsehole, along the stretch of her flesh to lick at her juices, perpetuating the tingling of her orgasm as he cleaned up. He knew his place indeed, and what was expected of him in servicing her; he had been taught well.

“Good boy, Horace ... you may masturbate at my feet now, then you’ll wear your belt till we arrive at your destination in three days time.” Anthea sauntered over, her breasts heaving as she recovered from her own bliss, and stood, sneering down at the dominated male as he eagerly gripped his boning cock, she showing him the chastity belt which he was no stranger to, and would wear again immediately he discharged his seed.

“You are a lucky boy, Horace, you make sure you give a good show in thanks for the treat ahead ... we want you nice and flaccid, you know how tight the pouch is ... and how inviting the internal barbs are.” She grinned as she watched him jerk and arch his back, she running a finger over the sharp protrusions in the cup that would tease his bell if he dared erect within it, the thought of it increasing his excitement. Prudence made sure he spent thoroughly, delighting in taunting his submissive enthusiasm for the trip ... from which she knew was one way.

“Yes Horace, we want you nicely charged when you offer your submission to Frau Blucher, and I’ll not have you spending without permission while you dream about the pleasures you’ll offer her.” He looked up to her in absolute submission, while his balls tingled to announce the delicious spend in her honour, the notion that there was more to this trip than he was being told, magnifying the erotic euphoria of his rarely allowed stimulation. As she sat with those broad thighs crossed to deny him even the sight of the cunt that he’d worshipped, her arms crossed to match in a stance which emphasised her undeniable superiority, the dark smile she offered as she enjoyed watching his humiliating self abuse, had him guess at the true purpose of his trip ... and the seed rose from his balls in masochistic approval of his possible disposal.

Horace D’Orvell conceded that he might be the last installment of his family history and now he knew it. His feeble genetic line was sorely in need of the vigour of a strong female bloodline, and the robust physicality and confident manner of Prudence, determined her selection by his parents; his father masturbating over her in secret, the carnal desire bolstering that choice, but his hidden submissive desires at the point of ejaculation, heralding the inherent masculine weakness that was passed down to Horace. The younger man had had some fine aspirations as to sons and heirs when first wed, feeling the need to further family tradition, but his impudence was soon rebuked by Prudence as she firmly took control of him. He was queened on his first night; one of the few penetrations allowed him, then introduced to the pleasures of oral cleansing as Prudence sat enthroned upon his face, boldly announcing her awareness of his servile desire to womanhood, and of her immediate intent to enforce that destiny.

No, Prudence had not the slightest maternal inkling for the burden of motherhood and costly expense of children, both to her superb physique and financially. Horace was enveloped in the opiate of his own sexual euphoria as he was taught his place in life, openly cuckolded, going willingly to know the dominant spite of her friends, her lady in waiting becoming his Governess, and displayed on a leash as Prudence’s property at functions. The haughty and dominant wife sucked any essence of defiance from him, as a black widow consumes it’s diminutive and feeble male partner; just payment for the pleasure of service to an indomitable partner. Horace was consumed thus, her spiteful whims and pleasure in his humiliation, the only factors in preventing her from devouring him completely. The lushly masochistic pleasure of his position, enhanced by the tart and cutting denial by her, which extinguished the perpetuation of his family line, made the rare spend he was about to unleash to her feet so wholesomely gratifying as he wallowed in submission and eyed the cruel belt.

Prudence and Anthea sneered with their own satisfaction as Horace groaned in pure ecstasy, their soft and cynical laughter at his pleasure in shamelessly abusing himself, prompting a rich and generous burst of hot seed which spat from his pleasured bell, the loop of cream snaking out to caress Prudence’s extended stockinged leg and dribble to her shoe. This was followed by lusty secondary spurts which delighted Prudence as they graced the shiny leather of her shoe, Horace bucking wistfully on his knees while Anthea tapped the rude steel cup of the belt to ensure he emptied his balls adequately. His anus tingled as the last drops of semen dribbled from his cock while he awaited the command he knew would come. Prudence duly obliged pointing a waving finger at her leg and shoe, and to the dribbled blobs on the carpet.

“Lick it up Horace. You know the drill.” Their contempt for him was reinforced on his willingness to apply his tongue to the smooth surfaces of her shoe, slipping across the leather to lick his own cream from it, his delight in rasping it from the mesh of her black stockings, so evident in the performance of his duty. His anus tingled in telling him that this was where he wanted to be, humiliated by the power of womanhood, the thought of what he was to suffer in Berlin, having his balls tingling already at the thought of his next come. His sexual submission was made perpetual by the rigours of his Mistress, maid, and many friends, their appetites for dominance so keen in this world where women were beginning to show their assertive power so keenly; his path in life well and truly set below that power.

Prudence sneered whimsically on watching him consume his own mess, she would miss his adoringly servile attentions, her friends even more, but the sexual thrill of his sale to a woman abroad, and her plans for the house, far outweighed any sentiment ... and she already had designs on a male whose situation suited all her purposes so readily.

“Now lick your filth from the carpet Horace, every drop ... or you’ll spend the night in the priest-hole.” Horace’s anus stirred at the thought of being made to squirm in the confines of the restrictive cavity which existed in the Elizabethan wing of the now monolithic structure, the original part of the much extended house, but the delights of the belt were submission enough, and he wanted to be able to stretch and know its full torment. He dutifully consumed the now cold and slippery blobs which adorned the carpet. Anthea pointed him to a stout chair and he knelt on it, she smiling on seeing his flaccid cock was already threatening to swell in its pleasure at tormented confinement.

“Let’s have this skirt off, it’s nearly seven o’clock, way past your bedtime tonight.” Prudence joined her and rubbed his poking cheeks, increasing the swell as Anthea tied the waistband, then brought the steel band with its ominous cup, up between his legs on its hinge to greet the lock at the rear of the waist, deftly stuffing his hanging sack and cock into the tight steel pouch before securing it. Horace gasped softly at the feel of the cold steel, which cooled his ardour momentarily, but within seconds, his only slightly swollen cock felt the tease of the first barbs which would grace his pleasure in erection. Prudence grinned as she put her hand to the shining cup, her fingers feeling the neatly machined perforations which would allow him to pee, fingering the small dome at its apex and willing his bell to accommodate the spiked hosts within it.

“There! My knight wears the armour so suited to his station ... and as he’s been particularly noble on my return, he’ll sleep with the lady of the manor tonight.” Horace grimaced on feeling her hand run under the thin band to where it joined a circular ring, keeping his anus neatly spread, his exposed pucker peeping through an orifice broad enough to allow him to shit in confinement, and broad enough to have him accept something else. Anthea chuckled as Prudence’s finger teased the pucker with a sharp nail, Horace’s squirming increasing as his bell eased up to know the spite of the first spikes.

“Why yes Prudence ... he shall have the ‘Nurse’, she’ll keep him reminded of his position in the household.” Horace whimpered pitifully, pleasing the women no end as Anthea had him view the shiny phallic accessory which would ensure he enjoyed the benefits of the belt in full. Delightfully curved and with an exquisitely broad bell, the phallus was ornately engraved with the image of a stern woman holding a whip, and below her the words which were from his very own family crest; ‘Serve and prosper.’ Prudence watched with sublime satisfaction on Anthea easing the broad bell through the ring, Horace gasping as the rude invader stretched his anus wide, his expression twisted at the plethora of sensations. The lush mental recognition of his submission as Anthea pushed the phallus home and clicked the clasp shut on the ring, was as equally stimulating as the physical presence, which in turn had his enslaved cock erect to know the cruel barbs in the tight dome. Prudence glowed with sadistic satisfaction as he shuddered on his knees, in coming to terms with the pains and pleasures of the belt’s command of him, each fitting, an exquisite ordeal, though the ‘Nurse’ was an extra delight reserved for special occasions such as this.

“There! You know there’s always a price to be paid for the impertinence of your ejaculation. Anthea will see you to your bed now, where your dreams can’t fail to be sweet indeed.” He was leashed and led on all fours out of the room, the women now confident that the maid and footman had now departed for home. Prudence accompanying Anthea along the broad and lengthy corridor, enjoying Horace’s laboured progress as the motion had the nurse massage his prostate, on his approach to the dark stairway which would take him up to his secluded room in the floor above. Prudence stopped at the door of the bathroom, she required the refreshment of quick bathe before venturing out again, to view a prospective asset whom she had varied plans for.

“See him gagged and nicely secured Anthea, we’ll not have him try to tamper with the belt, as tightly locked as it is.” There was little chance of his tampering with the belt, he wouldn’t dare to, and the masochistic pleasures it gave him were accepted by his weak obedience. Both women knew this, but the broadcast added extra flavour to his plight, in having him know the complete control of his stern wife. She grinned as she watched him tugged toward the stairs, content with progress in her scheme so far, and entered the musty dampness of the bathroom. She laughed to herself as the dowdy taps spat and barked water to the staidly Victorian enamel bath, the walls bumped and knocked by the tired plumbing as it slowly filled, this one of several bathrooms all in similar condition. The noise made her smile as she slipped hastily into the still filling bath, her mind now flitting between the Dorset sun, the convenience of the mews in Chelsea ... and the demise of this millstone of a hall.