Chapter 7

Honor Peters was not a woman to be trifled with, as was soon made evident to Lana and Cleo as the stern woman expresses her good fortune and gratitude at seeing Faulkner’s blackmailing of her, brought to a suitably fitting end. Ralph, made to kneel in a corner in obedience and listen to the conversation, maintained a throbbing erection throughout, his submissive admiration for this woman’s spiteful pleasure, the sound justification of it, and the sadistic spectacle to come, thrilling his senses.

“He will of course, know a great deal of pain at my hands, prior to the only deserved punishment suitable ... his death ... I trust you’ll allow me that pleasure ... and that outcome.” Lana’s cunt tingled in arousal with spiteful enthusiasm for Faulkner being made an example of ... before an equally enthusiastic audience.

“Why of course, his humiliation at the Baroque after your disclosure, has given me the appetite to see him punished further ... he’s wronged me too with trying to keep his crime from me ... and blackmailing women! ... only castration followed by death will suffice!” Madeline Harper, and Ethel Bartram, the other two women who’d been blackmailed and had thoroughly enjoyed seeing the once arrogant male who’d extorted money from them, punished so deliciously at the Baroque, applauded loudly, Madeline adding her enthusiasm.

“We now know he’ll have not just used those incognito pictures of us as tools against us, he’ll have masturbated over them too ... indulging his submission and masochism as he’s punished toward his death, will be such an erotic pleasure for all that witness it.” Ethel then interjected too.

“I want to see his balls give up their maximum before they’re so rightly removed, and displayed to him as death is awarded ... but he must have had assistance with those photos ... we must have him give up a name, and see them silenced too.” Both Lana and Cleo pursed their lips with the agreeable prospect of torturing a name from Faulkner ... and with having the pleasure of a pursuit, capture, and punishment of another male. Neither had speculated on anyone else being involved with the normally independent and cocksure Faulkner, but Ethel was suspicious and confirmed the inclusion of a third party.

“ ... the pictures are much too professional for a bumbling businessman like Faulkner, and when he was taunting me with several of them whilst extorting payment, I noticed a description hand written on the edge of one ... I saw something written by Faulkner when in his office on that occasion, pen lying with top off in front of him so it was definitely his hand, and the writing on the photo was completely different.” Cleo’s clitoris rose with a succinct pleasure at the thrill of being the huntress, something that came quite naturally to her, the pleasure of the hunt and capture, something she never tired of. Lana grinned broadly, then sneered with spite as she thought on the devious nature of her would-be pet ... oh how she’d enjoy punishing him. She clicked the intercom unit on her desk, the dull buzz ended by an answering voice, which Lana responded to.

“Bring Faulkner up to the leather lounge ... it’s time for his pleasure to begin.” She moved to doors at the far end of the room

“Ladies, follow me ... you’ll find the decor of the leather lounge in keeping with our intentions, and we’ll have a little refreshment to enhance our moods further.” Cleo clicked her fingers at Ralph.

“Up you come, we’ll being need of a waiter ... and we wouldn’t want you to miss out on seeing what happens to males who dare abuse women. “ Faulkner’s anus buzzed with fear as it squeezed and dilated alternately against the generous plug that had been inserted with aplomb by Lana’s maids after his performance at the Baroque. Her mood had darkened toward him since then, and though he feared the worse, he erected hard with a masochistic aura as the maid led him from his bound confinement to the suite that was the leather room, naked and leashed on all fours, prompted by her curt smile and application of a horsewhip he’d become no stranger to. That erection pulsed rigid when he entered the room beset with comfortable leather furnishings and juxta positioned items of discomfort, to sniff at an atmosphere which confirmed that the women had indulged in more than liquid refreshment, the air permeated with the scent of feminine arousal ... and the sight of the three women he’d blackmailed, having that anus clench hard at that plug in submissive earnest.

All five women had ‘refreshed’ by slipping into the garb in which they felt most comfortable, and which illustrated their true personas; made readily available from Lana’s extensive fetish wardrobes ... each now expressing their persona as a severe and sadistic dominatrix. The curt smiles of contempt at his appearance, especially from the three he’d blackmailed, had him know he’d be sampling their pleasure in the most sadistic fashion. A large screen was briefly illuminated by an 8mm projector, which rattled off the last moments of a reel they’d been watching, which also portrayed the last moments of a male, suspended on a rope and his bound and naked hanging applauded with satisfaction by a horde of pleased femininity. He only caught the last few moments, but the moving image of the convulsing male amid the grinning pleasure of his female audience, etched itself firmly ion his mind ... and had his erection pulse rigid. The rattling projector was turned off by Lana, who turned with a smile of contempt toward the new arrival.

“Now you know what to expect, that’s one of my all time favourite home movies, a grand day was had by all ... but we’ll all have our pleasure of you whilst things are arranged ... I know you’ll want as many women as possible to witness your final surrender, and there’s a few things the ladies require from you before you’re awarded that final pleasure.” Faulkner gasped at her words, the sweet sincerity in them which told him this was no tease, but a sadistic promise, his balls tingling incessantly as his mind went to the image of the male snuffed in humiliation on the rope, trying to come to terms with how it would feel, when Lana’s tone lifted excitedly and with stern authority as she snapped at him.

“Crawl to me! Now!” The plug came into its own as he squirmed prostrate at her feet, she magnificent as ever, her full figure standing tall on black stilettos, sheer black stockings and a black leather bodice which expressed the magnificence of her womanly curves ... and without further notice, she thrashed his flesh with the flexible horsewhip she carried, the immediate stinging pain of five strokes bringing tears to his eyes and a delighted smile to hers before she announced her pleasure once more, as the three wronged women moved closer to him with smiles of contempt.

“Yes Faulkner, you’re of no use to me now, not now the truth of your crime is out, there’s only one way you can please me now ... you’ll hang, hang high before a feminine audience keener than those at the Baroque!” Faulkner’s cock pulsed rigid and dribbled pre-cum in masochistic awe at what she’d said, terrified of the prospect, but enveloped in a submissive aura of perverted pleasure at the same time.

“No! ... No! ... not that! ... not death!!” He was silenced immediately by a salvo of withering strokes from three horsewhips, dealt out from the eager and leather gloves hands from the three women who’d earned him the gallows, each smiling broadly with curt and spiteful satisfaction as his flesh was punished, in line with his mind. They would ensure his misery was thorough, before he was allowed the bliss of strangulation on a rope before a delighted feminine audience, Ethel placing a loop of wire around the neck of his scrotum, pulling it taut and enjoying the sight of his snagged and pained balls, Honor the first to make her pleasure known verbally, while Madeline continued to whip his flesh as he jerked and cried out at the torture of the wire.

“Not so arrogant now, are we? ... I’d love to see Ethel take those balls off right now ... if it wasn’t for the pleasure of seeing you send on the rope!” Her sneer broadened as she resumed her whipping of writhing flesh, and Madeline cut in, in a superior tone.

“We know you masturbated over those pictures, and that gives us a sordid pleasure all of its own, given how arrogant you were when extorting from us ... we now know it was fake, and you wanted to be dominated all the time ... hanging you will be such a mutual pleasure!” Faulkner squealed in a turmoil of pain and darkly masochistic pleasure at the irony of what he’d brought upon himself, the thought of being displayed on a noose by women, keeping his cock rigid as Ethel had the wire about his scrotum emulate just how his neck would feel ... pulling it even tighter and bringing a pained cry from him as she had her say.

“We wouldn’t want you to think you’ve suffered alone for your crimes, we know someone else took the pictures ... you’ll tell us who it was, or I’ll have those balls now, and spoil your big day!” She grinned with sadistic pleasure, at Faulkner’s girlish scream as she yanked the wire tight, the pressure now threatening to sever his balls clean off. Faulkner was now in a dilemma about revealing the photographer, but had little or no choice; the thought of never spending again prompted his cowardly disclosure.

“OOOH!! ... please! ... noooo! ... Ok, ok! ... it was ... it was ... Clay ... Eric Clay!” Lana’s ears pricked up, as the three offended women commenced thrashing Faulkner to tears. She’d had no acquaintance with Clay, but had heard the name of the seedy photographer somewhere before. She smiled at Cleo as Faulkner writhed and humped at the floor, erect in a dark ecstasy at the fate he’d earned himself as the whips cut his flesh.

“This is going to be easier for you than we thought ... we’ll soon have our man, and we’ll make a little home movie of our own when he’s ours.” Cleo grinned as Lana re-ran the reel of 8mm film through the projector for Faulkner’s benefit, the soundtrack primitive but just audible above the sound of descending whips and his cries. Ralph, now naked and kneeling, allowed to watch from a corner, longed to masturbate at the sadistic pleasure shown by each of the three women as they applied their whips with justified vigour, their victory over the male assured with their having him know he’d hang. His erection boned rigid as Cleo approached.

“Our three guests will require the services of your tongue when they’re done with him ... you can see they’re in the mood for it ... and they’ll be nicely aroused after today’s promise.” Faulkner watched the screen through his tears, heard the cry of delighted feminine applause as the male dropped through the trap ... and knew he’d hear the same himself. He writhed and humped to a crescendo of pure ectasy under the whips of the three women who’d see to that hanging, the seed pumping up from his noosed balls as he watched the sheer delight on the women’s faces as the hanged male jiggered and writhed in bound defeat on the rope. His turn on the rope couldn’t come soon enough, as he shot his mess in an ecstatic surrender, his shameful masochism sending the three women into a high dudgeon of contempt, their whips seeing to it that his humiliation was thorough.

While Faulkner was left trussed and gagged on the floor to contemplate his punishment to come, Ralph was led on all fours, over to the women who now reclined on a huge bed adorned with black silk. Madam Honor Peters was the first to demand the services of Ralph’s tongue, bereft of any inhibitions due to her excitement with the whip, and the sound defeat of Faulkner, she undid her tight pencil skirt to reveal black silken panties, sodden at the crotch, which she slipped from her legs and held out on an outstretched finger.

“Sniff! ... smell the scent of my victory!” The women laughed contemptuously as they watched Ralph’s erect cock bob and pulse as he obediently sniffed at the highly scented gusset without hesitation, the spicy aromas from cunt and anus making his heart race. She let the panties drop, then lay back on the bed and spread her ample thighs, poking her manicured finger to her messy slot.

“Cunt first ... lick me clean, boy.” Ralph now knew he’d be obliging her pucker too, and gazed at the delicious pair of orifices, and was prompted to the task by Cleo, who stroked his arse with a cane, just for good measure.

“You do a good job Ralph, or you’ll be joining Faulkner on the gallows!” The laughter of the women at her quip, only served to increase Ralph’s desire to serve, and with his cock bolted rigid with teasing arousal, he pressed his face between Honor’s broad thighs, and took a deep sniff at her glistening slot, before tasting the spice of her mature labia. Both Ethel and Madeline fingered their cunts in excitement, at seeing a male so obviously submissive and adept at servicing femininity, Honor sighing as his tongue sought out every fold of her cunt, before lifting the hood to pay homage to her clitoris, she then concurring with the thoughts of the other two with a gasp.

“Ohhhhh yes, yes, yes! ... he certainly knows his place, doesn’t he!” Cleo swiped his arse smartly with the cane, having him thrust at the silken bedding.

“Oh, he certainly does ... and he’ll earn a thorough caning for spoiling the sheets ... which he’s sure to do in confirming his submission.” Ethel and Madeline stroked their cunts vigorously now, with pompous contentment at seeing a male willing to shame himself as Cleo continued to flick his thrusting backside with the cane, Honor slipping a finger down to her cunt and feeling his tongue lap at it deliriously as she eased her thighs further back.

Ohhhhh! ... lick my asshole! ... lick it now!” Ralph’s tongue slipped down the groove of her cunt, his nose sniffing hard for her anal perfumes as he thrust his cock at the bedding, beneath the satisfied smiles of dominant womanhood. His balls tingled toward the inevitable as his tongue slipped into the tight pucker of Honor’s asshole, the deliciously tangy taste and honied scent enhanced by the sting of his Mistress’s cane, as she sought to illustrate his humiliation in submission. His mind went to the sadistic pleasure the women had shown in telling Faulkner he’d hang, and to his own perverted pleasure in knowing he’d see their explicit and ecstatic pleasure when the cruel deed was carried out, bringing the seed up from his balls in an exquisite surge, Cleo noting the urgency of his thrusting, and increasing the tempo of her caning as she smiled smugly.

“There’s nothing he likes more than to come with his tongue deep in a woman’s asshole ... he’ll earn a proper caning now!” His muffled moan into Honor’s soft and lubricated cheeks, accompanied by the rapid thrusting of his tongue into the tight heat of her anus, along with the energetic thrusting of his cock at the sheets, brought contemptuous and cynical laughter from Cleo, Lana, Ethel, and Madeline ... and a long moan of pure ectasy from Honor as she came, her sexual thrill peaking at having a male come whilst probing her pucker in absolute submission to her.

The shaming laughter and Honor’s moans of sexual delight, ensured Ralph soiled the black silk thoroughly, the sheer bliss of being dominated having him jet his seed in hot spurts to the sheets, the promise of a judicial caning assisting his surrender of cream as much as the homage his tongue paid to the tangy asshole and slick cunt being stroked before his eyes.

The sound of the descending cane, and the laughter and ecstatic moans from the women, went on late into the evening and echoed through Lana’s residence as Ralph was put to good use ... his owned balls giving up their seed on two more occasions, soiling the bed along with his tears as he was punished for pleasure, a pleasure that was mutual.

...

Outside the darkroom in his modest studio, Eric Clay grunted heavily as his masturbation reached the point of no return, and he shot his mess liberally over photographs he’d taken of two dominant women at his latest session. Like most males of that era, he’d never have admitted publicly that being at the mercy of a woman sexually aroused at dominating males turned him on, but when it came to masturbation he couldn’t get enough. The pictures were evocative enough; a tall and shapely woman, standing with spiked heel in the flesh of a defeated male, her smile so spitefully radiant, while a second, older but equally attractive woman - a bossy mother-in-law sort of character he thought - sat sneering with pleasure at the scene whilst casually smoking, but as he pondered a second masturbation, he opened a draw and pulled from it a pair of black lacey panties.

Clay’s cock needed very little physical stimulation as he sniffed at the fragrant gusset of the soiled panties, left to him by one of those many women he’d photographed, but one who had rightly guessed his hidden desires, and left him with a memento, along with a knowing and curt smile. As he stood stroking his cock toward a second sordid expulsion, feminine eyes, smiling at what they saw, peeped through a crack in the blinds at the side of the studio, more than delighted with what they saw. The woman moved from the window, round to the studio door, and rapped loudly on it in curt fashion.

Clay cursed his luck, ignoring the first rap on the door as he took in the lush scent of cunt and anus from the gusset, his cock high and rigid once more, but he couldn’t ignite the repeat of the urgent knock; it was as though somebody knew he was there, be thought ... he hoped it wasn’t that idiot Faulkner, though he had enjoyed watching those lusty dominants from an incognito position, and the money had been good too.

He hurriedly poked his erect cock back into hastily re-arranged clothing, put panties and pictures back in a drawer, then attended the door. Expecting to find a male of some sort at the door, he gasped visibly at finding an attractive raven haired woman, red lipped, tall on high stilettos, a full figure clad in a tight jacket and pencil skirt ... and a curt smile which echoed that of the women he’d been masturbating over. His semi-flaccid cock boned to a full erect again as she spoke.

“Clay? ... Eric Clay? ... photographer?” He looked cautiously either way out from the door, checking no-one else was with her; she looked so officious, and he was a little suspicious at first, that she was from some authority, his seedy reputation often brought to the attentions of the law, by the more staid members of society ... he’d soon find he was dealing with an authority he’d bow down to, without question.

“Err ... yes ... that’s me ... how, how can I help?” She looked past his shoulder and took half a step forward.

“Well you could start by asking me in.” Her tone was one of confidence and forcefulness which had his cock perk ... and had him at immediate obedience to her statement, which was more of a demand. He stepped aside and ushered her in, his eyes skipping furtively about the office, assuring him that he’d not left any pictures lying around ... though he blushed nervously as his nose detected the faintly perfumed scent of those panties was still in the air. His female visitor smiled curtly as she also detected the scent of femininity, enjoying watching him squirm, he unaware that she was fully aware of his gusset sniffing. She sniffed at the air, then questioned him innocently.

“Is there a lady here? ... I was hoping to catch you alone.” She feigned moving back to the door, prompting a hurried response from Clay ... he finding her more and more attractive, and longing to extend any liaison.

“No ... no, there’s no-one else here ... that was a client who visited just before you arrived ... her scent was a little overpowering.” She smiled at his awkward blush, and took this scented opportunity to ease him onto the bait, her smile curling wickedly.

“She must have been a very intimate client ... let’s hope I can become the same.” Clay simply swallowed hard, his cock pulsing as she then casually turned and showed him the curve of her backside as she feigned interest in some photographic equipment.

“ ... a friend tells me you sometimes do a little ... er, incognito work ... away from your studio, for the right price of course.” Clay was a little bemused at someone having made the suggestion to someone unknown to him, but this woman’s dark tone had him so aroused already ... he didn’t want to miss out on the possible opportunity of masturbating over pictures of her ... it was obvious from her pert smile that these weren’t family portraits she was talking about.

“I ... I might just be able to do that for you ... where would that be?” As he picked up a evil to scrawl an address, she increased the intrigue, and his erection, by moving to him and grasping his wrist with her gloved hand ... firmly and confidently.

“You’re to write nothing down, just keep it in your memory ... would tomorrow, ten thirty be ok?” He nodded, taking the opportunity to take in her scent as she held him firm.

“Yes ... yes, that would be fine.” He watched her purse her red lips with a certain satisfaction.

“Good. Meet me at the station car park ... I’ll be in the black Nash Ambassador ... I’ll take you to where you’ll, err... ‘shoot’.” Her smile developed into almost a sneer as she completed her sentence, having Clay’s cock pulse hard. He knew that nobody would likely notice him being picked up by her in such a busy and public place, she in a familiar and unassuming car ... she obviously had something risque in mind, and he wasn’t going to miss out. She stared him up and down for a moment.

“Tomorrow then. Be prompt.” Her cunt tingled as she walked out, Cleo Benedict had never secured such an easy capture, and she knew her eyes were on her figure as she strutted down the drive. As soon as she was out of sight, Clay retrieved the panties from the draw, and stropped his cock vigorously at the delicious scent of cunt at the gusset. He had no need for the photographs though, his mind firmly on that woman as the seed burst from his cock in her honour.

Clay was there at the station, and eagerly swung his bag of photographic equipment into the back of the car before getting in, the waft of Cleo’s scent and her wicked smile having his cock stir immediately. Having driven a little way out from the urban limits of the town, she pulled to the side of the road in a leafy area, and lifted something from the pouch in the door.

“I hope you don’t mind being blindfolded, only the other ladies and I would like to remain as anonymous as possible ... where the destination is concerned.” Clay’s cock boned at the feeling of her delicate fingers tendering him sightless, and Cleo’s cunt tingled at his obedience in allowing it; she knew that in his mind, being blindfolded assured a return journey which he’d not be able to memorise ... but her sadistic sexual pleasure perked at knowing his journey would be one way. As the magnificent residence that Lana had acquired through the defeat and disposal of its former male owner came into view, she blossomed into a pleasured mood of spitefulness, her cunt now buzzing as she parked the car and moved to release his blindfold, prompting a confession from him about which she was already aware of due to his meek nature.