Delivered to Justice by Miss Beryl Frobisher
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2019 by Midsummerman

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Beryl's recent elevation to the covert circle of dominant Victorian women, is suitably illuminated by her capture of Crawford; a male who'd been preying upon women desperate for a covert relationship. Her chance meeting with women she seeks to recruit to the Circle, leads her on to the chase, and the satisfaction of earning Crawford an appointment at Darkington Hall. Part 1 of 4.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Coercion   Consensual   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Slavery   Heterosexual   Fiction   BDSM   DomSub   FemaleDom   Humiliation   Light Bond   Sadistic   Snuff   Torture   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   White Female   Analingus   Exhibitionism   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Voyeurism  

Bartholomew Crawford boned rigid as the sunlight pierced the glass domed roof of Agnes Fairchild’s most hallowed chamber in her house of masculine correction, the bright rays having the array of death masks cast a pattern of eerie shadows down the walls as he quivered in naked penitence on a leash to a woman who’d seen to his partial breaking, and now sought the satisfaction of seeing his ultimate sacrifice to feminine justice.

He grunted pitifully through his gag, squirming his tightly bound torso and wrists under the delighted gazes of mistress and disciplinary nurse, as his eyes took in the serene looks upon the casts of men who’d granted that satisfaction he now faced, the yellowed plaster of those who’d known the pleasure long ago, emphasising the erotic expertise of a long enjoyed custom, and further down, in descending whiteness, the radiant alabaster crispness of one Thomas Creed, unknown to him, but whose ecstatic expression of having endured the pleasure of the rope was known and enjoyed by the women who witnessed his lusty fate, not least the woman who he’d now face.

The pleasure the women took in ridiculing the spent expressions arrested, following those long gone victims having been displayed in humiliation upon the rope, had Crawford’s anus tingling, and his cock pulsing with a curiously dark and surprising pleasure of his own, a teasing addiction to masochism having been whipped into him, whilst in torrid sexual arousal on countless occasions. Madam Beryl Frobisher had recently seen Creed and nine of the other faces there, earn their positions of permanent humiliation upon the wall, in pleasing exhibitions on the gallows, and as she mused over others anonymous to her, her cunt moistened in taunting Crawford, whose face would soon join them.

“Ohhh, look at this one Ekua ... it looks as though his face was frozen at the point of spending on the noose ... I’ll warrant his Mistress was enthralled with the capture, and still thoroughly enjoys it now.”. Ekua concurred with a wry smile, but pursed her sultry lips as her noble brown face sneered up at the all too fresh cast of Cuthbert Framlingham’s blissful resignation to the rigours of the rope; of the nine to hang before Creed, he was the one to offer the African woman the deepest satisfaction, his face making her cunt ooze in pert arousal, as it took her memory back to his shaming pirouette on the high gallows, sending his seed down to the boards in utter humiliation.

He had thought to continue his illicit trade in slave labour when presented with Ekua and her two African colleagues, but was whipped soundly by them, and delivered in total submission to the gallows, where the price for that indiscretion, amongst others, was paid in full. Ekua had since been taken on by Beryl, and now resided in a life of luxury, Abla and Naja, whom she still had close contact with, appointed likewise with other women of the circle. Ekua provided the perfect foil for Miss Frobisher; her shapely body and exotic promise, providing bait for wayward gentlemen who soon succumbed to their true station in life, taught their place by her expertise with the whip.

Both women sneered down with pleased eyes at the wretch that was Bartholomew Crawford, as the arched gothic door at the far end of the Hall of Faces opened, and the kneeling Crawford thrust his erect cock at the air involuntarily, quivering in humility as the bulbous but elegant shape of Madam Agnes Fairchild strutted through it; a full length black silk cape swept back to shimmer in the rays through the glass roof, her bare globular breasts poking their nipples high over a black basque, and her broad and bare hips below it, her shaven cunt framed exquisitely between broad thighs by full length black boots.

Displaying her femininity unashamedly, Crawford recalled having made her acquaintance, at Ella Hempleton’s residence on the fateful night of his capture. She’d been an exciting enough proposition when dressed formally, her confident matriarchal presence helping lure the submissive side from him, with all the other influences of the evening which had led to his downfall. Now scantily clad, he couldn’t stop his cock boning rigid in a sordid greeting, on seeing her transformed into a womanly grim reaper.

She acknowledged the women with no more than a smile, being perfectly acquainted with both, and stepped past her throne which sat centrally in the isle, and stood with legs slightly apart in majestic dominance over the quaking male. He dared look up to see the contented glimmer in her eyes which bore down on him from beneath the tight bun of hair which emphasised the severe look of authority, and grunted something inaudible through his gag, as her red lips pouted and released a pleased sigh.

“Ohhh, there’s no going back now ... you’re going to the gallows, and I’m going to have the pleasure of hanging you.” He wriggled in his bondage, and grunted further, prompting Beryl to pull his leash taut whilst Ekua flicked his eternally striped buttocks with the horsewhip she carried, amid callous laughter from the three women, Agnes delighted to see his obvious reluctance to know the lush pleasure of the noose.

“I’ve had the reports from Madam Frobisher ... and you’re guilty of defying womanhood, defiling womanhood, and disobedience to womanhood ... and shall be rewarded for it accordingly.” She sneered as his immediate reward was several more flicks of Ekua’s horsewhip, as he continued to grunt a feeble protest, though his rigid cock dribbled pre-cum, as the masochistic pleasure of his fate began to sink in. Agnes showed no pity whatsoever, enjoying his predicament, and took spiteful pleasure in taunting him further.

“Only condemned males are allowed to view my Hall of Faces ... it’s only fitting to allow them to see where the pleasure of their execution will be exhibited ... you can see how each face yearns to have yours join them, and join them you shall.”. Crawford’s anus tingled incessantly as his eyes were drawn to the masks once more, each one seeming to taunt him with their serene and teasing pleasure at having succumbed to the dominance of womanhood on the rope. Agnes grinned wickedly and stepped close to the quivering male, first turning his head to the rows of masks on the wall to her left, which his bewildered gaze had not taken in.

“Those are the ‘reluctants’ ... each one had to be whipped to the gallows, or dragged fully bound to the rope in total humiliation ... but as you can see, their faces look even more pleasured than those on the other walls...” Crawford’s cock pulsed out a further dribble of pre-cum, on noting that the twisted mouths of most, seemed to exude a satisfied smile, rather than just the muted bliss of those elsewhere.

“ ... that’s because their humiliation had them appreciate the rope so much more ... once helpless and taunted by the jeers of their audience, their resignation to the lush grip of the rope was realised, and like every other face in this hall, they spent their last in shameful ecstasy ... that’s where your pathetic and petrified face will gaze down from.” Crawford continued to squirm, and grunt what were obviously pleas through the gag, as he took in the last face in the irregular lower row of faces, now knowing his would occupy the space next to it; a row of hooks which dotted a foreboding line from his space on, telling him his mask would soon know fresher company.

The tension on the leash from Beryl increased, standing proudly dominant, and in total control of him, transmitting her pleasure in knowing it will have been she who’d delivered him there - her lusty penchant for sado-masochism, so recently put to practice, peaking wonderfully - as Ekua sated her own by silencing his pleas with a few swift flicks of her horsewhip. Agnes grinned wickedly on pulling his face toward her sumptuous thighs.

“Sniff my cunt ... see how the prospect of seeing you so deservedly dance on the rope pleases me.” Crawford’s boning cock ached to come, as his nose was eased into her moistened slot, and the rich, spicy scent of her arousal at having another male grace the gallows, had him buck and thrust his cock in absolute submission, the overpowering feminine aroma, having him longing to spend in honour of defeat to her. She sighed with satisfaction, as she lifted his chin and had his nose slip against her clitoris in moving his face away. As his cock dribbled clear lubrication in the need to shoot the contents of his condemned balls, seeing her turn and step toward the throne, he might well have thought his mental ordeal now over, but far from it.

As he watched the magnificent orbs of her unashamedly exposed buttocks jiggle and twist, as she sat and splayed their glorious flesh upon the seat of her throne, crossing her legs to display her ample thighs and the long boots which complemented her dominance, she sneered at his cowering form and enhanced the severity of his predicament, with a tone of sadistic pleasure.

“As much as I’d like to see you hoisted upon my gallows here within the hour ... and your heinous crimes warrant it, I’ve already sent out invitations far and wide, to women who’ll relish your exhibition upon the gallows...” She grinned contentedly at Beryl, whose facial expression and heaving breasts betrayed the heat of her arousal, as she proudly held the bound and kneeling male to order on the taut leash, overwhelmed with the pleasure of officially introducing her first male victim to Agnes.

“ ... I’m sure that Ekua and yourself will be more than happy to have a liaison with old friends ... and many new ones, in the country, Miss Frobisher?”. Beryl sighed lustily, knowing exactly where, in the rural idyll beyond the smoke and filth of Victorian London.

“Oh yes Miss Fairchild ... yes indeed...” She pulled back Crawford’s head on the leash, having him arch his back and fully display the erect excitement of his manhood at the morbid teasing.

“ ... and you’d so like to be hanged, out in the fresh air, before a large congregation of dominant women ... wouldn’t you Crawford.” She smiled wistfully at the thought of having a couple of guests of her own attend, who would thoroughly appreciate it. Crawford wagged his standing cock involuntarily, as if to concur, and his wriggling in fear whilst grunting his indecipherable protests, were met with swift strokes of the whip from the smiling Ekua. Agnes sneered at him as his ears took in the contemptuous laughter from all three.

“Good ... because you’re to be made a thorough example of, at Darkington Hall...” The mature woman showed excitement, unbecoming even for one so accustomed to the pleasures of seeing males to the gallows, slipping a delicately manicured finger to her clitoris and stimulating it, as the bound male writhed before her, his eyes filled with fear, but his cock high with the lush sexual masochism which would consume him on the rope, that cock duly acknowledging it with a final spend in absolute humiliation; the novelty of the open air and very public execution, so thrilling ... and his procession to it, was provide a new twist to the pleasures of feminine sadism.

“ ... you’re to be made to enjoy the hospitality of Madam Beatrice Belvedere whilst those invited guests arrive in number, to familiarise you in penitence in preparation for your death ... you’ll face a mock trial there, which will be mock only in its participants being guests and not being of the legal fraternity - but their feminine authority will be applied with enthusiasm, most justly, and most pleasurably...” Crawford squirmed on the leash, as his fearful mind had his imagination take him to the vision of a place he didn’t know, but his bell stood taut and high in the submissive exposure he knew he’d feel there.

“ ... you’ll be tried before a jury of totally biased women ... made to confess your crimes before womanhood in utter humiliation ... you’ll be found guilty ... you will be hanged!” The women watched with delight as Crawford bucked on his knees and dribbled pre-cum from his stiff erection, as though he’d already faced the pleasure of the ordeal to come; the rigours of the whip had served him well, as he thrust his cock at the air in submissive resignation to the defeat by the stern authority of womanhood he’d brought upon himself. Agnes sneered contentedly with a delighted satisfaction at his misery, then had him close to spending his seed spontaneously.

“As host, Madam Belvedere will reside in ultimate judgement, and though it will be noted that clemency in the form of a lifetime of enslavement might have been considered, no mercy will be shown you ... you’ll see her don the black cap ... you’ll see the contentment in her smile and hear the righteous jubilation of femininity, as your deserved appointment with death upon the gallows is confirmed.” Beryl’s cunt swelled with her pride, as her capture was reduced to whimpering through the gag, Ekua pressing her horsewhip against the flesh of his bucking cheeks, to have him know her satisfaction with proceedings too ... then as if to symbolise what had been so eloquently described by her, Agnes stepped down from the throne, picking a handkerchief sized square of black silk from it.

“Now we’ll see if you’re ready to accept what you’ve so thoroughly earned.” She lay the square of black silk on the floor in front of him, and stood tall on her heeled boots astride it. Beryl and Ekua knew exactly what was required, through the simple smile from Agnes, and as Beryl pulled the leash high and taut to emulate the noose, Ekua sank to her graceful haunches, and slipped her hand over Crawford’s cock. His mind was flooded with the sordid pleasures of submission as Ekua’s gracefully tanned hand stimulated him toward a humiliating oblivion; tightly bound and leashed by the woman who’d seen to his downfall, masturbated by the hand so adept with the whip, by the woman who’d vigorously seen to his submission, and facing the supremely dominant woman who’d take acute sexual pleasure in hanging him, his anus tingled lustily as the hot semen soon made its need to emerge in blissfully erotic fashion.

Crawford’s previous grunts through the gag in obvious pleading, were now replaced by mesmerised murmurings, as Ekua’s dark hand contrasted exquisitely against his white cock, and saw to his imminent surrender ... Agnes making sure that surrender was plentiful.

“See the pleasure in those masks ... the spirit of each, knows that you’re to join them in eternal humiliation ... now show them just how much you relish your image joining theirs”. He tensed against the lush bondage that held him, felt the grip of the leash tease his throat, the hand of Ekua command him beyond the point of no return, and beyond the cruel smile of Agnes, saw the space that awaited his mask ... the moaned through the gag in pure submissive ecstasy as he shot his wads of seed across the black silk and beyond it, the contemptuous laughter of the women at his surrender, ensuring he spoiled the black silk with his seed most liberally in blissful humiliation; he’d more than earned his position of eternal humiliation, and the raw pleasure of a soundly masochistic orgasm, had him jet his seed high in defeat.

Even as he squirmed in the dying throes of his orgasm, Ekua’s hand ensuring the last dribbles of his defeated potency were given up, Agnes picked up the messy silk, and strutted to the Reluctant’s gallery. No longer requiring steps, due to the multitude of masks that hung there, she stretched her plump elegance up to hang the semen spattered silk upon the hook next to the last blissfully serene expression ... his place reserved.

Though still fearful of the rope, and he’d remain so upon approaching the gallows, the teasing masochism of it, had him continue to awkwardly pulse out semen at the demand of Ekua’s hand, and as he watched his semen dribble from the silk on the hook, his mind went back to what had earned him the pleasure to come...


Bartholomew Crawford made good his escape from a woman at Reading he’d been fucking, having raided her cashbox and relieved her jewellery box of several items a wealthy woman like that would not miss ... or not that she’d disclose the loss to anyone, given the circumstances. He sat back down in the seat of the railway carriage as the train rattled back to Paddington, having masturbated in the toilet compartment over his latest escapade, but remained incessantly aroused on viewing the women amongst the passengers; his sexual deviance was insatiable.

Whereas most men of his promiscuous nature, in that staunchly prudish Victorian era, would satisfy their needs with discreet liaisons with prostitutes, Crawford enjoyed the wicked challenge of gaining the confidence of women who were otherwise upright in society, and seducing them; he having an eye which detected those who might just stray from their rigid paths, due to the disinterest or inadequacies of husband’s ... some of whom no doubt making use of said prostitutes, no longer excited by the needs of their mature wives - that maturity exciting Crawford more than any younger woman could, he was not sure why - he was In a sense, blind to the pomposity and matriarchal sternness that many exuded on initial contact, but it was this that subconsciously attracted him to them - and it would be that, which would lead to his eventual downfall, but with his cock more rigid than ever.

It was that choice of lifestyle, which dictated he couldn’t have availed himself of prostitutes even if he’d had the inclination, as he didn’t have the regular income of a profession or trade which may have led him into that routine after working hours, he was a free agent, and it was the challenge of seduction that drove him, the only means by which he earned a despicable income. Not that he was ever short of money, had ladies of the night been to his taste; he had paid the rental on his cosy bolt hole near Paddington well in advance, to ensure he always had the safety of a retreat, and his landlord asked no questions, given such generosity, neither did he find it his business to question why Crawford was often absent from the premises for weeks, sometimes months, at a time.

Crawford was returning from just such an escapade; though there were many rich pickings to be had from women residing within the capital, it could sometimes advantageous to prey on rich women outside it - especially the single ones, as divulgence of such a scandalous liaison would be difficult to explain without revealing their need for sex - and paths were less likely to cross once their virtue and their belongings had been pillaged. But this was not always the way; the more liberal social attitudes of the city, meant that women of social standing would often attend theatres and the like alone, viewing some of what was considered the more Avant Garde or risque productions, bringing them to the very fringe of where decent society met with a darker one - Crawford seeking out those who showed that they were thrilled by that mingling alone.

As the train jerked to a halt at Maidenhead, Crawford’s leering eye thought how aptly named the station was, as a regal looking matriarch and what was obviously her daughter or niece, were assisted by a guard up the step into his compartment to sit facing him. His recently milked cock stirred in his underwear, as his casual ‘good day ladies’ was met with a masked but superior smile from the plump older woman, and a more open and youthful smile from her shapely companion. His eyes watched both pairs of breasts jostle in their restrictive full length dresses, as the carriage lurched, on the train pulling out, the paltry but ungainly incident giving him fuel to allow them to hear his voice again, feigning indignance at the movement.

“Must be a novice driver ... let’s hope we arrive at Paddington in one piece.” The younger woman, not so restrained by the unwritten laws of etiquette which prevailed over the older one, in not conversing with unacquainted males, was all too happy to engage the comment.

“Oh, I should hope so, we shouldn’t wish to miss our theatre show tonight.” The older woman smirked more readily, at the girl’s enthusiasm, quietly glad of it, though with a tinge of jealousy as Crawford’s focus was now purposely directed at the younger woman ... as he hoped it would spur the mature one. Unknown to Crawford of course, Madam Sarah Randall had recently become acquainted with a certain circle of women who’d meet to innocently discuss their womanly needs, prompted by the dormant and infrequent companionship of her now mostly anonymous husband. The fact that he had a mistress was never openly discussed; she daren’t confront him on the subject, though scent she’d never used was often apparent about his clothing when he returned from ‘business ventures’ which regularly necessitated his absence from their Bayswater home for weeks at a time.

Her niece, though unaware of the true purpose of her outings with the older woman, acted as a perfect foil for the mature woman, her shapely figure attracting attention, which Sarah then hoped could be diverted to her, more experienced and womanly virtues. One of the suggestions of the circle, in her making herself noticed, was the promenade circuit of the Thames at Maidenhead, with its numerous waterfront cafes. Several of the women had enthused on its popularity, including an attractive mature lady, one Miss Beryl Frobisher who’d recently joined the circle, and unbeknown to Sarah, was looking for women of a certain disposition who might be interested in another circle, which was openly explicit to womanly needs of a more commanding nature.

Though their day had been fruitless in the intentions of the mature woman’s actual needs, the glances and brief encounters with masculinity, had excited her imagination, which in turn had aroused her sexually, and feeling short changed by the experience, this chance meeting with the apparently amiable Crawford ... who later gave his name as Cranforth, send an impetuous rush of blood to her head.

One thing led to another, and he attended the theatre with the two women, and within just a few days was privy to the sultry whiff of her mature cunt. He spent liberally within her mature folds as he became familiar with the intimacies of her Bayswater home, and in no time at all. had also effected a secret liaison with Penny, her niece who also lodged there. It was to be ‘their secret’, kept from her Aunt, and when the girl professed her need to keep her virginity intact until the engagement he promised, he convinced her to allow him to indulge her anally, which he did in bestial triumph, while her tears mingled with a sordid but lusty orgasm. Within a day or so of his carnal conquest, he was gone ... and so were several valuable trinkets, which though coveted by Sarah, would never have been noted by her ignorant husband. With the liaison so obviously at an end, and the items missed by Sarah, the distraught Penny confessed all. The forgiveness of her Aunt was exemplary, as she’d brought the misfortune upon her, and the two thought they’d never set eyes on Cranforth ... or Crawford, again.

As becomes all miscreants eventually, Crawford was to be dealt the damning hand of fate, due the recklessness of his couplings. Cocksure beyond sensibility, he made the mistake of perfecting another capture at a theatre close by to the one he’d attended with Sarah, no more than three weeks after the event ... it were as though he wished to seal his own fate. On leaving the very same theatre, Sarah’s heart missed a beat as she saw the rogue get into a cab, and help a woman she recognised instantly, into its confines after him, and it drew quickly off. He didn’t see her, thankfully, but the monthly meet of the circle of women, due in a fortnight, couldn’t come quickly enough. The woman was a Mrs Anna Gresham, who like Sarah, kept the details of her station in life, as incognito as possible, whilst happy to divulge the issues that brought her, but Sarah had no idea where she lived.


Crawford knelt by the side of his bed, having slunk back to his cosily appointed flat that day, and dressed in just a silk nightshirt, as the legitimate world clattered by in its toil to earn a crust in the street below, he grinned as he pulled the small chest out from under it, and having unlocked it with the key that resided in a slot in the flooring beneath the rug, lay the necklace and some gold items he’d relieved Anna Gresham of, to the fore of the array of valuable trinkets it was filled with. Pulling out some sparkling items from its rear, that had been filched on earlier escapades, he lay them on the bed, ready for dispatch to one of the unscrupulous jewellers he’d become acquainted with, to provide sustenance for the things in life he enjoyed. Closing the chest and pushing it back under, his cock erected as he pulled out an overnight bag which also resided under the ornate bed.

The trinkets were not the only trophies he removed from his victims residences; he also availed himself of items of used underwear from those women’s boudoirs and laundry baskets, to remind him of those conquests. His fingers sifted through the intimate garments, as the combined scents of mature womanhood wafted from the bag, as though each were there, coming back to haunt him. Some of the items were long and open crotched, some buttoned at the slot, and others were of the silky and frilled leg kind, which had become so popular with women of late. All were blessed with the spicy scents of those women, and his cock eased to rigidity in lusty honour of them.

He selected the frilly pair so recently obtained from Madam Sarah Randall, and sniffed at the gusset, the richly erotic aromas secreted from her seasoned and mature cunt, having him strop and stimulate his cock wildly. Their was something about her haughty acceptance of his sexual advances that had stirred his orgasm to a profound enjoyment, as had other matriarchs he’d sampled, but he’d never lingered long enough to discover just what it was ... it was though his departure was an unconscious escape from something else, other than the excitement of conquest and the ill gotten gains obtained from it. As he spurted his seed in lush ecstasy at the scent, he couldn’t know that that very woman would be key in having him realise what it was ... and the pungent aroma of her cunt would truly come back to haunt him, from something from which there’d be no escape.


Madam Beryl Frobisher was keenly aroused at again attending the covert meeting of otherwise ordinary and respectable women, who’d come together to brave discussing intimacies they’d never have divulged elsewhere. Her recent and obviously unknown accession to the circle of feminine dominance which she so thoroughly enjoyed the liberty of, held her in good stead with this circle, as they only knew her to be a meek spinster, whose needs to find some element of passion in her life, they assumed to be even greater than theirs. Her mission however, was to seek out those who’d held their true sexual feelings at bay, all too long as she had, and would relish the liberation of holding the whip hand over masculinity.

She’d had some good signs already, with several of the women showing indifference to the welfare of their husbands, edging toward the desire to see some physical mishap, or punishment befall them ... Sarah Randall being one such case. She became more curious, on seeing Sarah and Anna Gresham, locked in an obviously intense conversation in a corner, away from the ears of the other women assembling there. She ventured over cautiously, and just caught Sarah’s last line.

“ ... and of course, he never came back.” The two faltered in their conversation and looked furtively about for other ears, before beckoning Beryl to join them; they just had to tell someone else. Both looked flushed as Sarah gave her account of her erotic meeting with Cranforth, and Anna hers with the man who called himself Cranmer. Though both were vengeful about his appalling tricking of their confidences, they were both excited about their sexual encounters and the intrigue of it, now they’d aired it with another woman. Having gone through the basics, both were keen to exchange intimate details with each other, while Beryl listened, Sarah smiling a little more, in a sense relieved that it wasn’t just her that had been used by the rogue.

“ ... and did he entertain you ... the, err ... the ‘French way’...”. Anna blushed but maintained her haughty composure, but obviously excited at the memory of having her cunt licked.

“Oh yes ... and he did so most willingly.” Beryl feigned ignorance at the term; being a spinster, how could she possibly be aware of such practices.

“The French way?...”. Anna looked about her, to ensure no-one else was looking, and pointed down to her crotch.

“He put his face down there...”. She sighed, obviously more than glad to have experienced it.

“ ... and licked.”. Sarah grinned contentedly.

“He did the same for me too.”. Beryl maintained her mask of innocence, fanning her face as though overcome with shock at such a lewd act, though her interest in the sexual tendencies of this male grew by the moment.

“My god! ... and he did this without prompting?”. Both women looked at her with an air of indignation, but we’re charmed by her apparently innocent remark, Sarah putting her straight with a smile.

“Why of course not, we’d never dare make such a request...”. She then tittered furtively, and fanned her own face.

“ ... well, not the first time ... but I demanded it of him on the second night”. Beryl’s cunt swelled at seeing the pleasure on her face.

“ ... he seemed to enjoy being told to do it, and performed even better than he’d done the first time ... it made me feel wonderful having command of him.” Anna’s face concurred with her thoughts, and her haughty presence which matched Sarah’s, gave her a much clearer picture of what could be brought out from the two women ... and what the cad who’d used them truly desired. Anna then completed the picture Beryl was forming in her mind.

“ ... and I’ll wager his tongue went elsewhere ... it did mine, also without prompting”. Sarah’s eyes closed as she remembered the slip of his tongue into her anus, something which gave her a pleasure she was more than keen to have repeated ... especially by a male at her behest. She smirked contentedly at Anna, confirming he’d rewarded her with that service. Then her face turned a little angrier, having been cheated of the further opportunity, the theft of items, and that other fearful deed with her niece.

“His use of us in gaining our confidences was wicked enough, and the thieving of items was despicable, but his treatment of my niece was indescribably callous” Beryl concurred sympathetically, the buggering of the girl alone, was reason enough to stir her into seeking this male out, and seeing him delivered to a suitably severe friend of hers. Anna showed her anger too.

“But we can’t go to the police ... he knows it’ll ruin us if we do ... so he’ll continue doing the same to other women ... using them, stealing jewellery ... and other things.” Both women looked at each other sheepishly, Sarah uttering first.

“You’re missing underwear too?” She gave a smirk tinged with irony.

“Oh yes ... and not a clean pair either”. Sarah sneered, now more contemptible of him than ever.

“Mine were unwashed too ... one of a set of three I’d recently purchased ... he could easily have taken a clean pair...” The two women looked at other, in realisation of his filthy needs. Beryl then opened up, disclosing that she wasn’t quite as innocent as she’d made out.

“Oh yes ladies ... the lingering memory of your scent ... he’ll be masturbating over his conquest of you, though probably on his knees and dreaming of what he really wanted from the intimacy.” They looked at her, a little astonished, but nicely aroused at what she was leaning toward.

“ ... from what you’ve told me, he shows all the classic signs of being a submissive ... though he’s obviously in self-denial of it, hence his rapid departure, having come close to that self-admission. Not that it justifies his wicked acts ... I think you’ll agree, he needs to be caught and punished in the severest manner.” Madam Sarah Randall then revealed her true colours, her cunt moist with the liberty of being able to open up a little herself.

“I’d so love to be part of that ... I’d have him sniff those pantaloons in front of me, then cane him within an inch of his life”. Anna simmered with her own spiteful thoughts; she often went riding, and was thoroughly stimulated by the looks some males gave her, as she cantered by in superior fashion with horsewhip in hand ... the feel of that whip in her gloved hand, gave her such a feeling of power, and though she rarely used it on the horse, she’d always relished using it elsewhere. Her cunt tingled wickedly, as she too, lapsed into the sexual relief of disclosing the pleasure of a sadistic want she’d never have revealed, but for the fortune of this opportunity.

“I’d horsewhip him, thoroughly and soundly ... to tears.” Both women blushed and fidgeted at their admissions, expecting Beryl to be a little shocked at their heated but sincere admissions, but her warm and knowing smile told them she was no stranger to such darkly pleasurable thoughts, and had them know she was intent on seeing the indulgence of them.

“If I can catch him, you’ll both have him enjoy those pleasures of vindication ... at leisure ... but I’ll wager his crimes against womanhood have been of epidemic proportions ... and have earned him a punishment far more severe than those you’ll enjoy awarding him”. Her smug smile had their clitorises rise eagerly, as they pondered just what that punishment would be.


Beryl passed on a detailed description of the ruthless cad to her many associates within the circle of dominant women, though she didn’t disclose exactly why she sought his contact at that point, keeping smugly secretive about her need to engage him, but keeping them keen by promising he was to award them satisfaction. The women had many contacts among the dingier theatrical establishments, and ‘no questions asked’ jewellery shops; though there were a multitude of furtive males within the seething metropolis, this one’s arrogant attitude, bolstered by his belief that his escapades would go unreported, due to the delicacy of the situations, meant he was sure to be recognised by one of those now aware that Madam Beryl Frobisher sought his acquaintance. Crawford the hunter, was now the hunted.

The crack of Lizzy Grimmond’s whip was still resonating through the air, when the ginger cabby’s intended progress was brought to a halt by her outrider, Bella Crick, who grabbed Lizzy’s arm at the reins, on seeing a flashily dressed character alight from another cab some fifty yards ahead, and walk with a swagger in their general direction.

“Look Lizzy ... that could be him”. Lizzy smiled at her enthusiasm, which had already picked out several candidates that day, though she had to admit that this one did fit the description they’d been given, rather well.

“Oh Bella! If it were down to you, we’d have an omnibus full of suspects by now.” Her look of distain at her colleague, curled into a wry smile, on noting the cab remained stationary, awaiting the character’s return by his request no doubt, and the gentleman fumbled in his jacket pocket ... as he walked into a jeweller’s. Lizzy urged her cab slowly forward, to view the suspect through the window, and from her high perch on the cab seat, the two saw him lay some very feminine items on the counter, which the jeweller quickly took behind the counter for closer inspection.

Lizzy moved her cab forward, and stopped it right behind the one waiting, and put her hand in the cash bag, before alighting with her whip. The cabby’s hair stood on end when he saw the ginger girl with whip in hand; her reputation amongst the almost universally masculine trade of cab driving, was well known, and she knew he wouldn’t be willing to get into an altercation with her in public.

“I’ll take this fare, if you don’t mind”. He obviously did, but said nothing as she held onto to the horse’s bridle, to ensure he didn’t depart immediately.

“Where did you pick him up ... and where’s he going?” The cabby blurted out his response, anxious to leave.

“Paddington Station.,. and he wants to go to Southwick Street.” Lizzy grinned as the cabby’s eyes couldn’t help but sample her feminine shape clad in tight jodhpurs and knee length boots, the distinguishable groove at her crotch, confirming her femininity as she handed him some cash ... she knew he’d probably masturbate over the chance encounter later.

“Here’s five bob ... that should more than cover it.” His hand trembled as he accepted it, and took off without further hesitation. Lizzy climbed back up to the cab seat, and as she drew it up to the exact spot where the other had been, grinned at her companion.

“Well Bella, our man has come from Paddington Station, and wants to go to Southwick Street ... We’re about halfway between the station and there, so it looks very promising indeed”. The two only had to wait another ten minutes or so, before a puzzled but not displeased Crawford, noted a different cab awaiting him, his eyes leering at the two pairs of feminine thighs. Lizzy smiled pleasantly at him, though his eyes already had her yearning to use the whip on him.

“ ... he had to depart, one of his horses started perspiring profusely ... he’s making for the Horse Hospital at Russell Square ... Southwick Street, wasn’t it Sir?”. Crawford grinned and continued to leer at the shapely legs, without looking up to her face.

“Why yes please young lady ... Southwick Street it is, the top end.” He smirked to himself as he entered the cab, having just cashed in on the reward of a prior encounter with womanhood, he was now being transported by the fairer sex. It seemed there was no end to the services that femininity could provide him with. Lizzy grinned at Bella, both now convinced that this was their man, both sensing the oily charm with which he seduced women, from the one sentence he’d spoken. They dropped him off at Southwick Street, Bella smiling back at him as they drew off, feigning attraction to him, but really only interested in which door he approached, as he leered back at her. Having made a note of it, Lizzy dropped Bella off as soon as they turned a right hand corner, and she kept an unseen eye on the premises, whilst Lizzy made haste for Madam Frobisher’s residence.

Beryl had kept close contact with Sarah and Anna, since their discussion, and had become very familiar with them, Sarah almost at residence with her, on the occasion of her inattentive husband being at home ... any excuse would have either one or the other, or both at her home, as more and more was revealed about her lifestyle, proudly independent and in awe of no male. Her shapely and noble black maid who was seen to be seen as an equal by Beryl, not as a servant, adding to the mystique of her situation, which was being allowed to unfold before their eyes and increasing their excitement, as she prepared and nurtured their eagerness to adopt a dominant lifestyle; their experiences with the male that Beryl now sought, key, in stoking their vindictiveness toward masculinity.

Beryl was already aching to have Sarah know the full extent of her experiences with the circle, which remained as yet anonymous to her, as the woman’s boldness came to the fore on her extolling the desire to be seen to be in the firm control of a male, both at home and in public, when Ekua entered the parlour, wearing a broad smile, and Sarah looked on agape, immediately in admiration of the style of the radiantly haired girl who strutted in behind her.

“Miss Lizzy, Beryl ... she has urgent news for you...”. Her smile grew even broader as she looked to Sarah.

“ ... and you too, I believe ... Madam Randall.” Lizzy wasted no time, Sarah’s cunt tingling as she watched the ginger girl grip her horsewhip tight in her gloved hands in excitement.

“I think I’ve found him ... and where he lives”. It being late afternoon, Beryl was thankfully, appropriately dressed as would befit her being seen out in public in the evening, and simply picked a hat to match from the stand, and her bag.

“Come Sarah ... let’s see if this is our man”.

Progress was agonising slow en route to Southwick Street, due to the busy hour, the clattering commotion of cabs and omnibuses adding to the women’s fervour. At last they reached their destination at the corner, where they found Bella.

“He’s not left yet ... I’m sure of it.” Their eyes peered from the cab at the door in question, conscious that he may have already departed furtively, behind the cover of the tall vehicles which obscured the door from their sight on occasion, but that was not his style. They waited over an hour, then the door opened, and out strutted Crawford, casually and oblivious to the simplest threat to his caddish existence, and boldly hailed a passing cab. Sarah gasped, then sneered in confirmation.

“Cranforth ... that’s him alright.” He utterance was jolted, as Lizzy drew the cab off, to covertly follow the one he’d hailed; the density of the now evening traffic had eased, but was still busy enough for their pursuit not to be noted. Their destination was a street just south of the river, on the fringe of those seedier areas of entertainment that were stationed there, a small theatre, popular with the more risqué members of the gentry. Beryl watched him go in, then descended from the cab, in calm serenity, to join the plethora of humanity, the throng including many mature women, conveniently adopting their more veiled hats to obscure immediate identity. She grinned at Sarah.

“Give me two weeks ... you mustn’t attend my house till I call you, and let Anna know too ... then you’ll know satisfaction such as you’ve never experienced before, I promise you”. With that, she strutted elegantly into the theatre.

Beryl soon spotted him as he swanned about the cramped foyer prior to taking a seat, covertly eyeing selected women, obviously looking for those that were unaccompanied ... and making out that he was looking for someone he’d arranged to meet, when that stare was detected by women whom he then noted were with male company. Beryl noted his keenness for the more mature woman, not giving anyone under 40 a second glance. She wandered within his field of vision, and when his eye turned to her, she returned the look with a wry smile, exciting him, before moving into the theatre itself and taking a seat, careful to place herself midway in the gap between occupied seats, leaving vacant seats either side to emphasise she was alone.

She panicked a little after five minutes or so, thinking he’d not taken the bait; he was now out of her vision, and the seats either side of her were taken up. But Crawford had sat diagonally behind her in the offset seating, not willing to risk losing his chance with this elegant woman, who had a certain presence about her which had his cock stirring as he surveyed her slender neck and full bust as he craned his neck. Beryl was relieved on feeling something pull on the back of her seat, followed by a male voice.

“I do beg your pardon Madam, I dropped my hat ... so careless of me”. She twisted her neck and gave him another sultry smile which had his cock erecting nicely, as he leaned forward to retrieve the hat he’d casually dropped between his legs, and she felt him sniff at her perfume as he retrieved it. Beryl egged him on, determined to hook him.

“Yes ... very careless of you my man ... I do hope you’ll keep control of everything else during the performance.” Crawford’s heart raced at her eager familiarity, and the possible innuendo in her response, as well her her commanding tone exciting his cock to rigidity; he couldn’t wait for the interval, so’s he could indulge her more. The play was a somewhat lewd rendition of the Joan of Arc theme; this ‘Maid of Orleans’ showing less of her religious side, and more of her mastery of males, than her mastery of the sword. It had Beryl nicely aroused, given the situation. At the interlude, she accepted the offer of a drink from him, and could feel the intensity of his interest trapping him, especially as she casually confirmed she was a single woman, after just a little probing by him.

Just before the return for the second part, Beryl secured Crawford’s capture, ensuring they’d meet again ... and after which she’d thoroughly enjoy dominating him, bringing out the submissive desires she knew he harboured, and having him enslaved and his caddish behaviour brought to swift and thoroughly erotic end...

“I can see you like this sort of production, I and my maid are members of a theatrical society ourselves ... she’s appearing in a play about John the Baptist and Salome...” His balls tingled wantonly, as her curt smile acknowledged the recognition on his face at the fate of that male.

“ ... it’s a private function, as such a variation on a story would be ... perhaps you’d like to attend, if you’re free, the day after tomorrow?” Crawford nearly stumbled in his eagerness to follow her and reply, as Beryl sauntered her shapely body back toward the seating area.

“Oh ... I’d be more than honoured ... I should love to see that”. Beryl’s cunt tingled lustily as she picked her ornate slider pencil from her bag, and scribbled the address of Ella Hempleton’s residence, Boadicea House, upon a sheet of a tiny perfumed notepad ... it felt as though she were as good as signing his death warrant ... which he accepted gladly.

“You’ll be there at 7pm, prompt.” Yet again, her tone came across delightfully, as a command, and Crawford’s cock boned awkwardly as he retook his seat. She turned her head as she bent her back obligingly to have him view the delicious curve of her mature buttocks tighten the fabric of her dress as she sat.

“Oh silly me ... I neglected to take your name ... who shall I advise my friends is coming?” Crawford thought on the last name he’d used, ‘Cranmer’, but as someone of that name, and Joan of Arc, had perished in flames, he opted for yet another he could remember in association with this conquest ... Joan took him to Crecy...

“Creasey ... Bartholomew Creasey”. Beryl smirked at him, then sneered to herself as she turned her face away. Cranforth, Cranmer, Creasey ... this despicable male’s identities were countless. The two watched the final acts of the play, both contented in their own way with the evening’s progress, and both were delighted to see that in this rendition, several males accompanied Joan in enjoying being burned at the stake with her. After the applause died down, Beryl strutted out with Crawford following her like a lap dog, she feigning indifference to his presence as she moved with elegance to the exit, pleased to hear the want in his tone behind her.

“The day after tomorrow then!...” she turned and gave him a sultry smile which confirmed the promise of her true feelings.

“Oh yes... 7pm ... prompt”. He watched her strut out into the air in pompous elegance, and snap he fingers at one of the waiting cabs, then after watching her mount it, walked to a pub two doors away and had another drink, toasting his own luck as he downed it. He sensed something in the air about the way she’d controlled and dictated the meeting, in a reverse of his usual need to make the arrangements, but it only excited him all the more; he’d masturbate liberally on returning home to sniff at his prior conquests.


Beryl was smugly jubilant in receiving the adoration of the friends she herself had so recently become familiar with, on revealing to them she may soon have two more recruits to join the dominant fold, and that elevation of her reputation within the women of the circle would be assured, on bringing another male to know the deserved justice of femininity, by her personal bold endeavour. She delighted in receiving the accolades from Ella, Faith Davenport, Constance Templar, and especially one Madam Agnes Fairchild, in relating to those revered matriarchs of the circle, the search for the male she’d sought was no longer necessary, and that he could be viewed by them, in attending the theatrical production at Boadicea Hose of his own free will ... that freedom to be very short lived following it.

Agnes in particular, was thrilled to learn that this male was not to attend with the purpose of becoming Beryl’s pet, and as the women scoffed with sneering contempt on hearing Beryl divulge the callous nature of his exploits, concluded in a state of heady arousal, that there could be but one punishment suitable.

“Oh wonderful, wonderful ... and these are but the crimes we know of thus far ... they’re to be brought to a stop forthwith ... with his display upon the gallows”. Beryl was equally thrilled at hearing the sincerity of her judgement, and the applause awarded her by Agnes and the other women as they turned to face her in tribute to her work thus far, had her immersed in an erotic fervour, in imagining him high upon the rope with her posing next to him, victorious in having brought him there. Ella brought her back to the reality of the situation.

“We must ensure that everyone attending the production is aware of the need for discretion, on this occasion ... formal wear, and no whips or leashes on display ... any prospective pets attending must be controlled with verbal authority alone ... we don’t want to scare him away, before Beryl has the chance to break him.”

The women concurred smugly; their lewd production of ‘Salome’ was a popular and regularly staged production, to which males selected by the many women on having shown tendencies toward relishing the firm hand of femininity, were invited to. Those tendencies were worked on during the viewing of the risqué scenes in the play, which extolled the virtues and natural dominance of femininity, and confessions of that pathetic lust and recognition of feminine authority were given up. Those males then taken away following the show, dominated thoroughly, and so many having been taught their true place, put to good use by the women.

Some, such as a certain Mr. Lumsden, whose weakness had led him there, went on to pay the price of their submission in extremis ... willingly in his case, in entertaining the darkest pleasure, awarded at the grateful hands of Agnes upon the gallows. Others, often after long term usage as pets, would also find themselves entertaining the sadistic whim of womanhood that way ... and others would know the taut pleasure of the noose, either willingly or not, having committed crimes against femininity which demanded their humiliation upon the rope; Crawford was one such case,


On the evening of the play, Crawford readied himself for the conquest, by stropping his erect cock as he sniffed at the underwear of previous embarkations, edging himself several times but careful not to spurt his seed. He wanted to retain his full vigour when encountering the mature and haughty beauty he’d targeted two days before, and came very close to bolting his seed with the thought of her, the temptation to strop to ejaculation, so teasingly unbearable ... Suitably primed, he washed and dressed, then took a cab to Boadicea House. It gave him a strange feeling when alighting from the cab at the fore of the grand house, as there was not the hubub of human traffic he was used to at a venue giving a production, but this was a private function, he reasoned to himself. He eased a little as two other cabs arrived as he approached the door, from which two very stately looking women embarked, increasing his excitement.

From the cover of veiled curtains, someone else’s excitement peaked, on seeing him arrive. Beryl’s sense of triumph rose with the relief on seeing her capture arrive of his own free will, and her elation was tangible as she squeezed Ekua’s arm.

“That’s him Ekua ... take a good look at who’ll provide us with some entertainment after the show” Ekua grinned as she studied the male who’d so deservedly earn her whip, and the pleasure of having him know he was to hang, would have her administer it with spiteful enthusiasm. Her cunt tingled in unison with the other women, as Beryl’s gleeful smile and nod of confirmation went out to the awaiting entourage of dominant matriarchs, who then adjusted to an air of nonchalance as Ekua departed to make ready for the stage.

A curtly smiling maid opened the door on Crawford, and the suggestive admiration in it, had his cock stirring immediately, along with the waft of perfume from massed femininity within. Rosie, the maid, had been told to kerb her natural sexual exuberance on the initial arrival of this particular male, but found it hard to mask it completely; she knew that any male entering that house was to be dominated, and that this one was to please the women upon the gallows, so the cocksure and arrogant manner he exuded as he strutted pompously in, tested her restraint to the very limits. He hadn’t a clue as to what he faced, but she knew he was doomed as soon as she closed the door behind him, her cunt oozing already, at being close enough to smell a male who’m her mistress had promised she’d witness hang.

Try as she might, to appear servile as ordered, her look had Crawford’s balls tingling, as the contempt in her smile registered within him. Rather than bow and scrape before him, as he would have expected of a maid, she simply grinned suggestively then turned and announced his arrival to the women within.

“Mr. Bartholomew Creasey!” She took his hat and coat in petulant fashion, a routine so obviously anonymous to her, and after hanging them, went to follow him in, anxious to see Beryl take initial control of him, and perhaps make some hint toward his fate as Ella approached with Beryl to receive him. No sooner had the eager girl stepped forward, did the doorbell chime once more, Ella seeing her hesitance to attend, having to prompt her.

“The door Rosie ... please ... he’s not going to disappear just yet, and we’ve other guests to attend to”. Crawford’s balls tingled further at the mature woman’s remark, not quite sure what to make of it, but was soon consumed by her elegance and warm smile ... and the sight of Beryl, not to mention the rewarding sight of so many other elegant and exquisitely dressed mature women, whose eyes offered distinctly suggestive smiles from afar. Beryl took his arm and introduced him to Ella, careful to ease him immediately into the suitability risqué atmosphere behind their formal appearances.

“This is Mr. Creasey Ella ... he appreciates the more ‘open’ productions, such as the play I attended, and was most keen to see ours”. Ella gave him a wicked smile which combined with her pursing her lips, and heaving her breasts notably.

“Good, then I hope you’ll appreciate our performance Mr. Creasey ... it has a somewhat dark theme, which both ladies and gentlemen alike, will appreciate”. Crawford’s cock was already beginning to bulge in appreciation, as the atmosphere, her tone, and the mischievous and furtive attitude of the women told him there was a good reason why this was a private and select function. Beryl clutched his arm tightly, eager with her capture, and drew him toward the throng of smiling women, he noting that all were dressed in darker tones; black, purple, navy blue ... as if to further emphasise something darkly sordid was to be on offer.

He also noted that though the women congregated and chatted freely as he approached, their eyes glancing toward him with more of those suggestive smiles, the few males that were in attendance sat isolated from each other on the periphery, in silence with their thoughts. It touched a nerve with him at first, as their faces offered no smile or acknowledgement of his presence, but his ego took command in assuming that it was simply that the venue was old hat to them, and that the women would naturally make a fuss of a new male visitor as attractive a proposition as he.

He couldn’t know those males had already crossed the threshold of enslavement, in confessing their sexual desire of submission to womanhood. Already placed under the initial and controlling heel of femininity, and willingly yearning more, they were held in strict obedience not to converse with other males, or speak unless spoken to ... by their prospective Mistresses, who would enjoy dominating them after the show

He was correct in assuming that he was an attractive proposition to the women though, given that he was to provide entertainment other than simply being dominated, as all men under that roof would be. The women had enthused excitedly at the prospect of another hanging at Darkington Hall, and this one with such pleasing justification. Beryl had told of the indications he’d shown Anna and Sarah, which pointed to a denied lust for submission, which they’d all gladly assist in bringing from him, but they hoped he’d retain a fear of the rope he’d so deservedly earned, as those males always provided the most satisfactory performances upon the gallows. Dressed in a darker shade of her favourite colour, purple, Althea Richmond whispered excitedly to her fellow matriarchs while he was still out of earshot.

“See how he’s led so easily by Beryl, he must surely have yearned for capture ... and the punishments due for his crimes”. Her nipples poked hard in the fabric as the black dressed Agnes Fairchild made a mental note of his stature, in visualising him struggling high on display.

“Oh yes ... and how he’ll be made to enjoy it ... and I’m so pleased for Beryl, she’s imposed herself upon masculinity so well, in such a short time ... she’ll be thrilled to lead him to the gallows”. Constance Templar, Julia Mountford, Hope Randall, and all the other feminine dignitaries within earshot, tittered their perverse pleasure at the situation, as the prey was drawn closer by the woman who’d own him before the night was out. Crawford already felt a little of the hopelessness which would soon be instilled within him, as the women enveloped him with their manufactured smiles of well being, the feeling bringing his cock up hard, as it teased at the edge of the curious inner pleasure he’d gained when Sarah and others had demanded the service of his tongue. Beryl was sure she felt him tremble a little, and made sure he’d be eased closer to the desires she knew he withheld, by introducing him to Agnes first.

Crawford’s anus gave a sublime tingle as he was made to face the mature matriarch dressed in jet black satins, just the magnificence of her womanly presence holding his cock to a rigid attention within his underwear, her sumptuous curves not aiding any dismissal of the wanton sexual desires he was beginning to feel, so confident were these women.

“Agnes, this is Bartholomew Creasey ... Mr. Creasey, please meet Madam Agnes Fairchild, she’s always attendant at our plays, and thoroughly enjoys them ... and the company of invited guests”. Crawford dared not believe that their was any innuendo in tha statement, but it teased him further, and these women were so forward in attitude, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Agnes pursed her taut red lips with a look of pleasure, and took control of the conversation.

“You don’t know how glad we women are, to have the company of males with such ‘open’ tastes ... tastes that are so foolishly frowned upon by those who only allow the viewing of what they’d deem as ‘proper’. Miss Frobisher has told me how you enjoyed the risqué production the other night ... so I’m sure you’ll find ours more than captivating”. Crawford felt the smiles of the other women burn into him, unsure as to whether their soft laughter at what she’d said was purely at her words ... or at his predicament, as he was introduced to them. Agnes took his other arm, and his cock perked at the feeling as the two ushered him to a seat before the stage, and sat either side of him.

Crawford’s mind wrangled with the one dilemma he erroneously thought he was facing; his intention to have his way with the lustrously pompous Beryl, then depart after sampling and servicing her womanly needs, meant it was patently obvious he’d miss out on the opportunity to indulge and sniff at the underwear of the other gloriously matriarchal women there ... and their more than apparent suggestion toward openness to the erotic, thrilled him to speechlessness. No sooner had he attempted to relax in his seat, conscious of the evident hump at his crotch, than was that dilemma taken a step further.

His heart raced as both Beryl and Agnes’s hands slipped gently onto his lap, innocently enough it seemed at first, as soon as the stage curtains were drawn open to the eager applause of those women not participating in the show. He felt the knowing smiles of the two matriarchs without actually looking at them, as Ekua, playing Salome, made her appearance; dressed only in a gossamer thin, lace gown tied at the waist, which displayed her gracious femininity unashamedly, the exotic and erotic sight of her noble stature had his cock perk hard, especially when she turned to reveal an ornate whip trailing from her hand. Crawford gasped as Beryl’s hand slipped over the prominent bulge, whilst Agnes eased hers to its base and his balls. Beryl felt his cock pulse as Ekua stared at him and gave the whip a gentle flick, her breasts perking visibly as she had the first sight of a male she’d whip with spiteful enthusiasm.

“That’s my maid, Ekua ... I know you’ll love meeting her after the show...”. Crawford had no need to confirm it, the pulsing rigidity of his manhood, now teased so brazenly by her, was evidence enough of that desire, and Beryl had it bone rock hard beneath her fingers with her continuation.

“ ... and she’ll let you feel that whip, if you want...”. His mind raced as the two women gave out soft laughter as they smiled to each other across him, he, not sure as to the extent at which he’d know the feel of that leather braid as Ekua flicked it again, but both women knew it would be more than the touch of his hand that had him familiarised with it.

Crawford was soon left in no doubt as to the underlying theme of the show, which only loosely played out the legend, ... and may have been closer to the actual truth of events; the lustily confident, and now obviously dominant Althea Richmond, portrayed Herodias, Salome’s mother. Aptly dressed in her favoured purple, but scantily so, her mature curves displayed to sweetly erotic effect, was seen as in absolute control, Herod was seen as no more than a puppet, owned in every respect by Herodias, the audience of women applauding and enthusing eagerly at the end of the first act, which had Herod kneeling and bowed at the feet of his queen, dominated. and made to beg the pleasure of seeing his stepdaughter dance. Beryl nursed the covered length of Crawford’s cock, as the thrill of the scene, and especially the abject delight of the women at it, left him unable to deny the erotic emotions he’d felt when masturbating on his knees to the rich scent of a womanly gusset, and well she knew it. Her mature smile and sultry, teasing tone, then had him close to shooting his seed.

“Would you like to worship womanhood that way? ... there’s no shame in admitting it ... most men, if not all, enjoy succumbing to the pleasures of submission to femininity...” Crawford fought the urgent desire to bare his soul for a few moments, then felt Agnes softly squeeze at the balls she’d see displayed in all their penitent glory, as he quivered in the grip of her noose in a very short time from now.

“Oh come come ... we both know you want to admit it ... and so do all the women here ... it’s not just Beryl who’d gladly own you”. Crawford felt himself perspiring, the defensive wall of his arrogant ego shown to its knees by his own inner desire ... just where he longed to be ... and the curtly knowing smiles of Beryl and Agnes saw him through to the blessed relief of his admission of defeat.

“Yes ... oh yes...”. He expected the women to humiliate him over his sordid admission, his anus tingling with the shock of being outed by his own word, the strange relief of it taking him to an erotic high, but Beryl just eased out a long and pleasured sigh, her cunt tingling as she smiled with smug satisfaction at her capture.

“Good, now you can really enjoy the show ... then we’ll have the ladies know you’re my property, ... owned by me.” Crawford panted uncontrollably, as the supreme smiles of Beryl and Agnes caught the attention of women nearby, and as she casually unbuttoned the fly of his trousers and slipped her hand in to feel what was now hers in earnest, Crawford knew those women knew he’d succumbed to her dominance already, and their smug eyes had his bell pulse pre-cum as Beryl’s thumb stimulated it in victorious contentment as the next act began.

Crawford sank into an erotic oblivion at Salome’s dance, which was more of an elegant demonstration of her whip, whilst Herod cowered in a crouched position on his knees to view it, naked and overseen by his proudly domineering queen, who then had him beg Salome’s pleasure as reward for her lusty rendition with the lash. His initial ploy to work the conquest of Beryl, now ebbing away as her conquest of him and his desire to know it, took command of his rationality, furthered by the commanding tone of Beryl’s voice as she teased his mind toward her absolute control.

“See how he knows his place, and look how thrilled he is to know it ... maybe we’ll have you play Herod one day, and I Herodias ... the ladies would love to see you humiliated like that.” Crawford began to yearn for the opportunity, seeing the naked Herod’s cock boning rigid with submissive pleasure as he raised himself to his haunches to face the smiling Salome, the thrill of his exposure before an audience of women, having him live the part in sexual ecstasy. Beryl felt his nursed cock thrust at her fingers, as Ekua glared directly at him, rather than Herod, in demanding the head for satisfaction; the noble African woman enjoying the duplicity of her request, her cunt wet with arousal on directing the request at a male who’d know execution himself.

As her speech was delivered. Crawford heard an unmistakably masculine groan from one of the males on the periphery, followed by the contemptuous laughter of the women around him. Unable to wait for the final act, he disappointed himself in spontaneously ejaculating his seed; his Mistress far from disappointed, as her callous laughter had so many other women echo it, in attracting their focus to his shame. The delighted and scornful attention ensured his humiliation was prolonged exquisitely, as he squirmed on his seat and pulsed out the essence of his submissive desire to his underwear, the sneering gaze of contemptuous womanhood enjoying the surprised and ecstatic contortions of his face, as he confirmed his helpless ceding to feminine dominance. Beryl had leaned back, smirking contentedly in having Crawford witness the wretch’s humiliation.

“See how futile it is, to hold back the truth of what you desire more than anything ... and how it’s brought forth with such pathetic ease by the power of femininity... “ Crawford now wanted desperately to come himself, but felt her grip his cock tight while smiling serenely at his lust to know similar humiliation, and had him know she was now in firm control of him.

“ ... but you’ll not give up your seed until I allow it ... his Mistress may be smiling now, but he’ll be made to pay dearly for his disobedience later”. Agnes applied a little more pressure to his balls, keen to have him both suffer the bliss of denial, and enforce the pleasures of obedience within his mind.

“ ... and how you’ll give up that seed, when allowed to do so ... you’ll have well and truly earned the pleasure, when your tribute to ownership is granted” While Crawford’s anus tingled at the ever increasing comfort of being controlled, the two women smiled smugly at each other, both thinking of the final tribute he’d give, which would be gratifying indeed. Crawford was still musing lustily over their curt words, when Ekua furthered his excitement, stepping close to the fore of the stage with a broad scimitar in her hand, her noble pose with it, receiving enthusiastic applause from the feminine audience. After smiling down at her patrons, and lingering for a moment as she had Crawford enjoy her gaze, she turned and faced the rear of the stage, sweeping the scimitar down to have it cut into a block of softwood, to have it stand erect, demonstrating the validity of the blade.

The women offered further adoring applause, as Althea in her guise as Herodias, entered the stage in regal pomp, with purple hood and full length purple cape gracing her mature curves beneath it. Beryl felt Crawford’s cock pulse rigid at the sight of her mature authority, his weakness for women of a certain age so evident. Althea clapped her hands, the nipples from her globular breasts poking hard through the silk cape as they shimmered with the movement, as the male victim, shrouded from head to foot below a sheet of white silk, and obviously bound with his erect cock tenting the silk, was dragged in gracefully on a thick rug by four caped and hooded girls - nurses at Ella Hempleton’s institute, and no strangers to the delights of sado-masochism there - and pulled up the slope of a padded plinth to lie horizontally in awaiting the blade.

As if to deny further viewing of the erotic scene, two haughty maids smiled contentedly at their audience, as they drew a white opaque screen across the front edge of the stage, leaving the players behind it barely visible. Agnes smirked at the concern shown on the countenances of the males, followed by elation as limelights were ignited to the rear of the stage, casting crisp silhouettes of the players upon the screen. Beryl stroked Crawford’s cock, and teased him with what was to come.

“Such a final scene as this one, requires a little modesty ... even in this open situation ... and you’ll find it adds to the eroticism”. Agnes smiled at her, both knowing that there was another reason for the sight of just silhouettes, as Crawford watched, transfixed by Ekua’s lithe and athletic form as she posed close behind the screen and let her lace gown drop to the floor, then turned full circle, careful to stand between the silhouettes cast by the plinth and its shrouded occupant, and the erect scimitar, so as her entire body was displayed, graceful head to nubile toes.

The older women sighed jealously, and the males gasped as she displayed her lithe figure, the profile displaying her pert breasts with nipples poking rock hard. She stepped elegantly toward the rear of the stage, the effect magnifying her silhouette, then bent over to splay her broad buttocks back at the audience, her magnificent thighs apart, and holding her breasts apart as she stooped and faced the rear of the stage, had the light cast an exquisite and enlarged profile of the slot of her cunt in all its glory. With the erect scimitar to one side, and the equally erect male, shrouded and awaiting his fate on the other, an exquisitely erotic portent to the power of femininity was cast by her. Crawford let out an audible sigh, as the women gave a soft, respectful applause in appreciation of the lusty display of her cunt, Beryl letting out a soft and spiteful laugh on feeling pre-cum ooze from her captive’s boning cock, which she squeezed the end of tightly.

“Don’t you dare come ... you’ll have a private showing of her power later, and we don’t want to spoil that, do we?” The spiteful strictness of her tone had his balls ache to disobey her as it was, without the promise of his paying homage to that glorious cunt as well. He was glad of Beryl’s tight pinch as his mind dared venture to imagine the scent of that cunt ... and that of the matriarch who now held him to obedience. Agnes toyed with his balls to further test his resilience, and when he held back, sweetly enjoying the pain of denial, Agnes nodded to Beryl with a curt smile. She knew from that moment on that he was truly hers to dominate, thoroughly and with the strictest severity, she couldn’t wait to tell him he was to hang.

The silhouettes of the other women were now viewed, as they glided into the limelight from the asides they’d taken while Ekua aired her sex, the younger four, first to lose their capes and file one by one to pose their nubile bodies behind the shrouded male, whose masculinity was made all the more evident; the aroused cunts of four young women scenting the air and having his covered phallus quiver and bone at the silk. Crawford’s fading powers of restraint were then tested to the limit, as the caped form of Althea’s fuller figure swept across the screen, and sincere and hearty applause rang out for the woman they all knew, as she let her cape drop, and the elegance of her maturity was displayed with a haughty confidence that a silhouette couldn’t shade.

Crawford was tortured beyond anything his yearning balls had known yet, as Althea turned slowly in the light, displaying the profiles of her womanly charms; her large and gently sagging breasts pointing hard nipples as she turned gracefully, the gentle bulge of her womanly belly, the delicious curves of her still shapely buttocks, the gloriously broad hips and thighs resplendent as she stepped toward the plinth. Beryl felt his need, as though he’d actually uttered it, so transfixed was he by what she knew he thought was perfection in a woman, and she delighted in taunting him.

“Oh yes Creasey ... you’ve seen the power of womanhood, followed by the beauty of youth, and now ... now the mature flower of authority, which I know you yearn to worship”. Crawford was rendered speechless, as though consumed by an opiate, his realisation of the truth through her controlling guidance, having him yearn to be taken deeper into submission ... and he wasn’t to be disappointed. Ekua reappeared, and strode to the plinth to face Althea who waited at the head end. With s deft and graceful movement, she swept the silk away, and the women gasped with delight as the ride profile of the bound male’s cock stood rigid before their eyes. The silhouette of the aroused symbol of masculinity, magnified by the rearward position of the plinth, was seen in all its graphic glory, the veined contours of the shaft and its flanged and domed head standing high, in submissive arousal to womanhood. The profile of the thick ropes, their girth chosen specifically for the visual purpose, were also evident in emphasising his bondage. Beryl emphasised it further, as Crawford gaped, wondering at the dark pleasures that were going through the male’s mind.

“See how he relishes being held to order by womanhood ... bondage is such an exquisite way of having a male know his place, and he’ll have accepted his binding readily, as will you when the whim takes me”. Crawford didn’t have time to dwell on it, as the delighted murmurs from the feminine crowd accompanied a view of the delicate hand of one of the girls, as it slipped about the rude phallus, and began to masturbate it gently. Those delighted murmurs increased as Althea’s broad thighs straddled the head, and with the profile of her plump belly and excited breasts in full view, spread her equally broad cheeks and slowly descended the rich scents of her cunt and anus to the face below it. Crawford was mesmerised and acutely jealous of the male’s position, as the notable contempt of the women greeted the craning of his neck, as he lifted his face in eagerness to be consumed by her flesh.

Beyond the screen, in the intimate privacy of the stage, the three other girls crouched behind the plinth, so’s not to distract from the carnal scene on offer, and as they did so, they prepared a headless dummy on a slightly lower plinth beyond it, a waxwork casting of one of Madam Agnes Fairchild’s death masks providing a life-like face for the severed head that accompanied it. Ekua grinned knowingly at them, as they gently released a trapdoor between the plinths; the sound of it going down, audible only to the players, and having Althea moan as she ground her large buttocks and fleshy mound into her victim’s face, his cock perking in turn in the girls hand, fully aware of what was to come.

Althea’s audible sigh was greeted with smug mirth and some jealousy from her feminine audience, as she brought herself off on his face in queenly fashion, her orgasm intense and brought on swiftly by the sordidly erotic circumstances of this very special performance; circumstances which all the woman there were aware of, but which none of the transfixed and ogling male debutants were ... except the one bound and enjoying the delicious slickness of Althea’s cunt.

Crawford watched as the mature woman rose, the lush silhouette of her ample form showing the rise and fall of her large breasts as she panted with satisfaction, then she moved back beyond the plinth close to the light, and had her broad femininity project its magnified glory to the screen, obscuring any other activity on the stage. This obscuring was carried out to instill in the minds of the males, that some trickery with props was being performed under the cover of Althea’s superbly broad hips and thighs which consumed the screen, and Crawford had this confirmed by Beryl in a wickedly excited tone.

“Just you watch how realistic his decapitation looks ... you’ll believe it’s the real thing”. He didn’t see the exchange of smugly satisfied looks between her and Agnes, captivated by the scene as Althea moved from the light to stand close to the head of the male, wriggling in his bondage as the girl’s hand nursed the firmly erect cock. Crawford noted how the profile of his body had changed slightly, the dummy on the plinth behind, now raised and giving the effect that the body was somewhat elongated ... but he, nor any of the viewing males, could know the dummy was already headless. Ekua’s lithe and naked figure posed with a foot on the block as she withdrew the scimitar, and held it high above her head, before stepping elegantly to join Althea, resting the blade on the neck of the victim, the head now hooded, and strapped firmly to the plinth - inanimate.

The women went into a fervour as the wriggling torso below it, arched and writhed as the girl’s firm hand teased the rigidly standing cock toward oblivion, urging the surrender of his seed which would be given up most gratifyingly. On the stage beyond the screen, the eyes from the inanimate head flickered and gazed up at Ekua’s serene smile as she pressed the blade to the neck and awaited the moment.

Chosen from submissive captives at Ella Hempleton’s institute at Arachne House, where destitute and long forgotten males found refuge, those with submissive tendencies were singled out for good use, this former sailor was selected for the very special and erotic staging of the production. Having confessed his sordid exploits with native women on his travels, his selection to be dispatched by the noble African woman was justly fitting. The apprehension of Crawford had called for special celebration, and an occult like gesture of masculine sacrifice as an aperitif to what was to follow, was to add an extra sadistic thrill to the occasion.

The cock stood high, its owner fully aware of the price to pay following the inevitable ecstasy the girl’s hand took it relentlessly to, and the muffled groans of pure unabated pleasure were drowned out by the tumult of applause from the women, as the magnified and silhouetted image caught the pulsing jets of semen sent high in blissful surrender. Crawford gasped at the unbelievably graphic demonstration of the epitome of a sexual zenith, and the surreal atmosphere created by the abject pleasure of women at seeing such a lewd act, but what followed left him in no doubt as to the depth of sadistic desire those women held.

Beyond the screen, Ekua lifted the scimitar high, and smiled down into the eyes peeping through the hood which hid the contorted pleasure on the face below it, and with the bound male still mid orgasm, brought the blade swiftly down with a pleasure that had her cunt tingling wildly with arousal. The distinct thud of the blade had the women erupt into a cacophony of excited applause, Crawford’s cock pulsing in the need to come in Beryl’s hand, at what he believed to simply be the symbolic execution of a male, so thoroughly enjoyed by every woman there.

Althea deftly moved her leg to obscure any possible view of the rush of blood from the severed stump of the neck, the angled surface of the plinth directing the flow from the cleanly sliced arteries into the void behind, while she unstrapped the head on Ekua lifting the scimitar high again; the girl continuing to strop the erect cock, which spurted a little more in total defeat before wilting in the delighted girl’s hand. Althea removed the hood and handed the severed head to Ekua, both women mocking the look of serene pleasure on its face, before Ekua posed proudly with the head in one hand and scimitar in the other, her cunt ripe with arousal as her silhouette received the enthusiastic adoration of the feminine crowd, each hot with their own sadistic arousal at knowing the head was real.

Thrilled with the pleasure of having executed a male, Ekua was now primed nicely for her use of the whip on Crawford, and stepped backwards to enlarge her profile, obscuring the activity at the plinth, eager for the finale. The maids upended the plinth, and grinned as the used corpse dropped into the void, tossing the blood soaked sheet after it. Ekua had the full attention of the lusting eyes beyond the screen, as she turned full circle whilst proudly displaying her trophy, the magnificence of her dominance over masculinity expressed with curt pleasure.

Crawford’s awestruck attention to her victory pose, was distracted only by the the taunting scorn of women to one side of him, directed at a male who’d been given permission - or ordered - to masturbate at the scene. Both Beryl and Agnes felt his jealousy as he witnessed the portly middle-aged male kneel before the feet of the surrounding women, his total humiliation exquisite as they goaded him while he stropped his erect cock wildly, and his shaming brought to a delicious peak by their laughter, as he quickly shot his mess high in a submissive tribute to the goddess upon the stage ... and the surrounding women, from one of whom he’d now never escape enslavement by.

On the stage, Ekua now moved toward Althea, who held a large circular platter high for the benefit of her audience, Ekua now holding the head in front of her, unseen to the crowd. By slight of hand, the head was flicked into the void to join its spent corpse, the curt smiles of the two women watching its descent, its purpose served, and the dummy head placed on the platter, its life-like gaze bringing further cruel mirth from the women ... for good reason. Ekua remained naked as she stood with head on platter, while the rear limelights were snuffed and Althea and the maids donned their capes, then the two smiling maids to the fore, swept the screen back once more to reveal the players.

Beryl smiled with spiteful contentment as Crawford’s cock pulsed in her hand, he knowing the pain of denial at her command, but yearning to come at the sight of Ekua. Her brazen dominance somehow increased by her nakedness, her powerful form superb as she looked down on him with haughty confidence, he, longing to sniff at her cunt while Beryl looked on. Agnes’s cunt swelled with erotic pride, as she drew his attention to the head upon the platter, as she had more reason than any other woman there to enjoy its look of eternal serenity.

“See how life-like our dummy’s head is ... such a marvelously exquisite piece of work don’t you think? ... you could almost imagine its voice”. Crawford concurred with an exasperated nod, he now willing to do acknowledge obedience to womanhood in any gesture, and noted that several of the applauding women seemed to be offering their applause toward Agnes, who received the adoration with a blissful smile. Two of the women, Ella Hempleton and Constance Templar, whispered to each other, out of Crawford’s earshot.

“So nice to see the face of Agnes’s first husband again ... he’d have loved to have known how he was being regularly humiliated so wonderfully after death”. The face which showed a blissful contentment was indeed that of Agnes’s first husband, who’d been totally consumed by the dominance of the supreme executrix, daring to woo her after witnessing her hang a deserving male, he having a masochistic relish to know the fate by her hand himself.

Her ubiquitous contempt for him was shown initially, as it was universally for all males, but as an engineer who came to her with the promise of construction of a portable gallows, the thrill of owning him for a limited period swayed her, as did the convenience of his not insubstantial wealth. The hangings she had enjoyed carrying out up until then, though still thoroughly erotic and deeply gratifying to her feminine spectators, had been makeshift affairs involving convenient beams or hooks from which to suspend the noose - the prospect of a working gallows which could be easily erected, dismantled, and transported wherever by suitable slaves, was too erotic a gift to miss out on. His fate was granted him...

Agnes sighed with the lush arousal that seeing his pathetic face always awarded her, humiliated as a theatrical prop, the recognition of his face by most of the women there, who’d known his submissive service, awarding them a spiteful delight too. Beryl had not seen the shamed face before, but had been told of its pathetic significance, and with Crawford’s face to soon wear a like expression, the details of this ones post execution bliss and the deeply erotic pleasure of his perpetual shaming, had her cunt tingling with dominant arousal.

They had undergone a legally binding wedding ceremony, carried out by a cleric who was in turn, overseen by a priestess who owned him. The engineer remained on his knees and leashed throughout the ceremony, naked but for the white shroud he’d wear upon his own gallows at the appointed time, Agnes dressed in jet black velvet, as was befitting for a wife who was guaranteed to become a widow. The cleric, having performed the mundane but legal side of things, was then superseded by the priestess. Having already signed the vow of marriage, she now oversaw that he willingly signed away all property and possessions to Agnes with immediate effect, and gleefully announced the marriage would be terminated in two years hence, with the gift of his life at Agnes’s pleasure. He was then mocked and ridiculed with immediate effect by the women attending, whilst Agnes arranged for them to meet at her new home.

Her husband was put to good use over the two years, in what was once his property, dominated thoroughly by Agnes, and her many female friends who were regular visitors, while she made good use of his gift of the gallows. She, and many of the women who now gazed with spiteful affection at the head upon the platter, had taken great pleasure in having him attend executions, where his invention was tested thoroughly over the two years. Having used a great deal of his wealth in building a suitable auditorium within the rear of what had been his house, Agnes took much pride and sexual pleasure in initiating it ... and her welcomed widowhood, when he’d dropped through the hatch to jubilant applause from massed womanhood, in having him enjoy her part of the bargain; his tumultuous final expulsion of seed upon the rope, confirming the ectasy of his acute masochism, and earning the just contempt of his feminine audience eternally.

Ekua lay the platter at the fore of the stage, the face continuing to enjoy the goading ridicule of womanhood in respect of the fate its owner so deservedly suffered, and acting as a delightfully arousing portent to what was to come. After taking her bow and retrieving her whip, she and Althea stepped down to join the throng of women, Crawford’s balls tingling on noting that the other males on the periphery were now being made to strip, Beryl and Agnes now rising to stand over him with wicked smiles as not just Ekua and Althea joined them, but the vast majority of the women there did so, most eagerly. Beryl addressed him with haughty confidence.

“Strip! ... then kneel at my feet.” Crawford was held to the command by the authority of her tone, and by his own newly realised and crushing desire to be dominated, both he and the women knew there’d be no going back now; their smug faces displaying the pleasure of knowing what lay in store for him, as he eagerly stripped and knelt, erect, at her feet. His imagination had taken him close to such a scenario many times, at the moment of shooting his seed whilst sniffing at the mature scents of any one of the gussets collected in his exploits - it was as though he yearned to be caught and punished - and being humiliated by a woman as others watched, gave him a potently erotic relief that was beyond any pleasure he’d imagined. Punishment at the hand of a woman was due, but he could never have imagined the ultimate severity of what was deservedly earned, following the pleasures of his breaking. Beryl confirmed her capture of him, with pompous pride.

“This is Creasey, ladies ... I’ve decided to take him on as a pet, and have him know his place in the correct order of things ... and as you’ll see, he’s already keen to be taught how to serve”. She grinned down at him, as he blushed visibly at the array of women studying his exposed flesh, and the excitement that part of it couldn’t hide.

“Kiss my feet, Creasey”. He went down without hesitation, the feeling it gave him on hearing the contemptuous sneers and murmurings from the women on his kissing the toes of her shoes in obedience, having him bone rigid with the need to come. Those murmurings increased in volume, and so did that need, as Ekua deftly flicked her whip and had it trail across his back, having him feel the texture of the braid that he’d soon know in earnest. Beryl saw the need in the noble woman’s eyes, desiring the worship from him that was not just due, but would soon be enjoyed spitefully, and without question from him after a few days training.

“Up! ... and sniff my maid’s cunt ... you’ll soon become more than familiar with her scent, as you will mine ... and any of the women here who choose to check on your progress”. The soft laughter from the throng of many women in concurring with her last line, left him in no doubt of his incomprehensible popularity with the array of mature matriarchs that had stirred his cock on arrival, and that his stay with Beryl was moving toward a permanence he now lusted for; his initial intentions on arrival had been left at the door with his arrogant ego, and as he lifted his nose to view the silky brown thighs of the whip wielding African woman, her sheer dominant presence held him to order, and as his eyes took in the bulging, and slickly lubricated black lips of her cunt, the delicious whiff of her hot arousal which he sniffed at longingly, was overpowering.

Ekua looked down in him with utter contempt, as his eager sniffing saw his erect cock dribble a thread of sticky pre-cum in honour of his submission to her. Her cunt tingled with the lust to have him know her whip; already thoroughly primed with the sadistic pleasure of having dispatched one male, her raw spite for this one who’d earned the gallows, had her cunt ooze with a ripeness for his punishment in preparation for the noose. She knew his tenure under Beryl would be a short one, so her domination of him would be thorough, and her delight at seeing him come in submission under her whip for the first time, could not come soon enough.

Crawford gasped and continued to sniff at fresh air, as Beryl pulled his head away, and he felt Agnes’s hands about his neck as she slipped a thick leather collar around it, a leash of ownership hanging from a loop at its rear. His anus tingled at the way the women smiled with such spiteful contentment, as Agnes buckled the collar tight in providing a service for his new Mistress; he sensing they saw something even more significant than just his adornment with this symbol of enslavement, but the thought passed quickly as a quick jerk on the leash from the supreme woman, had his cock pulse and bob rigid with the lush feeling of helplessness it awarded him.

Agnes posed for a few moments, holding the leash up and taut in her grip, Crawford brought high with his back arched as he knelt before her, Agnes’s cunt wet with arousal as she emulated the noosing he’d suffer at her hand before long, the knowing smiles and sighs stuttered with cruel laughter from the feminine audience, taking Crawford to a submissive aura he could never have imagined as he was displayed like a dog being choked back. Agnes sighed herself as she relented, passing the leash to Beryl. Crawford’s shame was somehow magnified, on the young maid Rosie edging her way to the front of the throng, and eyeing him with the scorn and contempt his submission had so rightly earned him, the sneering remark she made to Beryl, excited him in a novel way.

“Oh do bring him back here soon ... I’d so love to be allowed to cane him”. His balls tingled incessantly while the older women smirked adoringly at her boldness, and Beryl made it quite plain she’d oblige.

“Why of course, Rosie my sweet ... he’ll be no stranger to this household, and you’re as entitled as any other woman to have him know his place”. Crawford nearly came at the smug smile she gave him, warning him of the spiteful pleasures he’d face at her hands; the thought of being dominated by a mere girl less than half his age, giving him a most unexpected and deeply submissive thrill. Beryl tugged on his leash, Ekua flicking her whip behind him, and led on all fours in naked humiliation, Crawford was taken to the rear courtyard of the house, under the scathing applause of womanhood to begin his journey to absolute submission.

He shivered in the cold air, as Beryl tugged him across the enclosed courtyard to the waiting cab, his painful progress on the cobbled surface, prompted by the flicks of Ekua’s whip, the cold air simply bringing her nipples up all the harder, his pained movement thoroughly enjoyed by Ella as she bade Beryl goodbye, and even more so by Rosie who watched every flick of the whip as she moved to open the gates. He delighted the women by faltering with a gasp on seeing the smug smile of the ginger female cabbie once more. Lizzie grinned down at him as she toyed with her horsewhip, her feminine colleague doing likewise, the ginger girl then flexing the whip in her hands as she enjoyed the immediate reduction of the cad.

“Not so smug now, are we?” Beryl enjoyed watching Crawford’s startled face, his mind racing. She knew that he’d be trying to put two and two together, and would recall that these two knew where he lived - would they know what his game was? - had he been ‘outed’ completely? Her enjoyment of teasing him closer to the truth was thrilling, but he’d know some thorough domination before learning that his crimes were known, and he’d earned the noose for them.

Crawford’s cock stood high as he studied the deliciously shaped buttocks and thighs, graced by the tall boots as Lizzie dismounted, her cunt more prominent than ever in the tight jodhpurs as she stood over him with her horsewhip and sneered at him with contempt. His anus tingled wildly, almost hoping the women knew of his exploits, now craving punishment for them. His cock pulsed as Lizzie played her whip against its stiff salute, fully aware that he’d not realise their knowledge of the deeds as yet.

“Sarah and I knew you were a sub as soon as we set eyes on you ... cocksure, arrogant, lewd ogling ... all a facade so typical of males who long to know the press of the firm heel of womanhood, and we knew that Madam Frobisher desired a new pet ... one who’d offer her the challenge of receiving a hidden admission of the desire to be dominated from... “ Crawford quivered with a mixture of relief ... and masochistic disappointment, as she curtly flicked his standing bell with her whip, before adding her final line.

“ ... and here you are ... brought to that confession, and on your way to be dominated”. She returned to the cab as Beryl tugged him toward it, voicing her own addition with pompous pleasure.

“Oh yes Creasey, openly submissive males are ten a penny, they’ve served their purpose in sating my needs ... but there’s nothing as arousing as outing one for the first time, the challenge exquisite ... we followed you to that theatre, and as soon as I set eyes on you, you were doomed”. Her cunt buzzed at the double meaning in her last word, and Crawford erected hard at the delicious irony ... he’d set out to achieve a conquest, but he’d been the prey, she’d conquered him, broken the shield that hid his desire ... and now he rode naked and leashed to pay for his weakness.

The entry to Beryl’s residence under cover of darkness via the mews at the rear, spared Crawford the shame of being seen in public for what he was, but didn’t spare him from the raw humiliation of being viewed by Beryl’s housekeeper and maids. As household staff, they were seen as very lowly by Beryl’s male guests who were not aware of their equality under her roof, and those males from the higher echelons of society were made to know the thrill of being shown as owned before their smiles, the thrill of their shaming, mutual. The expulsion of seed brought forth in gratifying volumes by certain, once pompous gentlemen, when caned to orgasm by a teenage scullery maid.

Beryl had not bothered with more than a housekeeper in her days before sexual enlightenment through the circle. Having acquired dividends through her new associates, she’d expanded not only her property, but taken on staff carefully selected through the circle; girls and women keen to vent their spite upon masculinity. They’d eagerly awaited the arrival of the male who was to hang, knowing his stay would be very special indeed. Seeing him drawn in, already naked and leashed by their Mistress, the dominant Ekua equally naked, and so obviously keen to use the whip on him without delay, exciting them to an immediate arousal. Crawford’s balls tingled at being paraded in shame before the array of tightly uniformed women, noting Beryl’s voice had taken on a sterner tone.

“Kiss their feet Creasey, you’ll show the strictest obedience to every female under my roof...”. The women tittered contemptuously, eyeing the stiffly bobbing erection which showed his submissive pleasure in knowing his place, as their colleagues obligingly lifted their skirts to have their ankle boots kissed. Beryl pulled a thin cane from a selection in an urn which stood in the hallway, its presence leaving males in no doubt as to the authority which would prevail in that household, and had it produce a delightful sound as she flicked his exposed cheeks with it.

“Quickly now! ... I’m anxious to know your immediate service”. Crawford pleased the women by hurriedly kissing their toes, his eagerness to serve and obey so apparent, and his mind consumed by a craving lust to know punishment as Ekua cracked her whip through the air behind him, he knowing the sting of Beryl’s casual flick with the cane would be as nothing in comparison to its bite.

The women applauded as he was made to follow Beryl up the stairway on all fours to receive discipline so aptly due, the stern look on Ekua’s face unmoved by it - she had but one thing on her mind, as did Beryl. She looked back on him with pure scorn, as she reminded herself of his deeds, whilst her feminine staff jubilantly echoed her triumph over him, knowing they’d play their part in breaking him for the gallows he’d so duly earned; they’d known some lustily erotic episodes with submissive males since joining her household, but this prospect had them wet with arousal on just viewing him.

Crawford’s heart raced as they passed through one expensively appointed and bright bedroom, and on through a concealed door at its rear, Beryl passing the leash to Ekua, while she illuminated some but not all of the lamps in the room which was larger than the first, the glow highlighting a huge, black silk covered bed as she unbuttoned her dress and let it drop to the floor. Crawford’s eyes took in her mature shape, her broad thighs accentuated by the silken panties which graced the slot of her cunt, her smile so spitefully contemptuous as she peeled them down and tossed them to the bed.

“Up you come...”. She grinned at Ekua as he clambered onto the silken sheets and lay face down, his head turned toward the panties which lay close by, sniffing the air to try to gain their scent.

“ ... I think restraint is necessary for his first whipping”. He boned rigid at the sheets as the sultry African woman took pleasure in binding his wrists behind his back, and trussing his ankles together, he offering no resistance and mesmerised by Beryl slipping into the bed and losing all but her comfortably fitted Basque, which didn’t restrain the feminine bulges of her torso completely, but simply highlighted the glorious width of her hips. With him squirming in satisfactory helplessness, she smiled knowingly at Ekua as she nestled back at the head of the bed and spread her thighs to have him view the gape of her mature cunt, wet with the need to see him punished, Crawford now desperate to come in submission, the feeling of being bound, taking his worship of her even deeper.

“ ... I think a little more light is required, before punishment commences.” Her wicked smile toward the African woman, drew his eyes toward Ekua, whose silky brown flesh glistened as she illuminated lamps closet to the wall, and Crawford’s cock pulsed out a flow of pre-cum, and had him test his bondage in earnest as Ekua’s sneering smile was surrounded either side by photographs upon the wall in gilt frames ... photographs of she and Beryl posing contentedly by hanged males ... three at a time in some cases ... Ekua depicted smiling lustily as she cupped the spent genitals of a male hanging centrally, her victorious smile echoed by two other shapely African women. But Beryl’s uniform smile of victorious contentment in every sordid capture had his anus tingling wildly, her absolute dominance over masculinity confirmed so graphically. Her soft laughter brought his startled face back to her.

“Oh yes ... this is a very special room, reserved for very special pets ... you should feel honoured...” He squirmed in the combined grip of fear and acutely teasing masochism, at the lot of the males pictured, his mind not daring to take him to where Beryl smiled in such satisfaction from the photos, as she edged her cunt and anus closer to his face and had him know the scent of the satisfaction she felt right then.

“ ... you’ve earned so much more than the whip, there’s no going back now, and you know you’ve earned what’s to come ... whip him Ekua!” Crawford tensed his body at the sound of the black Amazon flicking the lengthy and punitive braid, and gasped in masochistic resignation to his fate as Ekua flexed her nubile body and had the lash bite his flesh for the first time, the sting having him writhe and thrust at the sheets, his only distraction from the pain, being Beryl’s immediate nursing of her clitoris with finely manicured fingers as she pulled her glorious thighs back, her enjoyment of his pain compounded by her self indulgence in the heat of victorious arousal. Ekua’s blood was up, having extinguished a male already, in his honour, and was in no mood for mercy given Crawford’s heinous record of feminine usage. Her first salvo with the whip, delivered with forthright justification, applied with energetic spite and pure contempt.

As the nubile African’s body flexed lustily in her application of the whip, Crawford knew its kiss at his flesh heralded his utter defeat to womanhood, and as his inevitable reduction to tears compounded his lust to know it with his anguished thrusting at the sheets, Beryl confirmed explicitly and with a supreme pleasure, that he’d earned so much more than the whip.

While Ekua paused for breath and savoured her prey’s writhing, the glow of fresh lesions illustrated wonderfully by the heaving of his buttocks at the sheets, which told her he relished more despite his tearful anguish, Beryl edged the cleft of her buttocks forward and had the sobbing wretch nuzzle and taste the rich essences of her slot and anus, his eagerness to lap and probe at the warmth of her pucker, revealing his willingness to accept total defeat.

“Oh yes Creasey ... or is it Cranforth ... or Cranmer? ... you know exactly what you’ve earned!” Crawford spluttered out a gasp of disbelief into the hot and juiced crevice of her enveloping cheeks, his eyes drawn across the superb cleft of her mound to view the images of her upon the wall, standing in dominant satisfaction next the noosed and vanquished examples of spent masculinity ... his cock thrust hard at the bedding as the sound of Ekua’s whip resumed, it’s stinging bite and the realisation that he’d been caught, bringing a sordidly masochistic pleasure as the seed rose from his balls, Beryl’s moans of curt satisfaction as her fingers graced the glistening slot of her cunt, ensuring his bound surrender.

Ekua’s graceful body shimmered with delight as she applied the lash in earnest, and saw him buck and thrust in utter submission, her contemptuous smile edged with dominant contentment as her delivery of the lash ensured his delivery in total defeat ... he’d soon be licking her cunt in thanks, whilst digesting the fate he’d earned himself, and how she needed worship now.

Humiliated, bound, whipped, and taunted by the promise of the ultimate defeat to womanhood upon the gallows, Crawford unleashed his seed to the sheets in a masochistic quandary, the kiss of the whip and the taste of the commanding woman’s anus, overriding his teasing fear of the noose as he spurted his seed in ecstatic submission, the turgid and thorough jets of semen, taking his mind onto the noose he knew he’d earned ... and the pleasures of being owned had just begun.

The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.