Chapter 6

Bonforth’s arrival at Darkington, boxed and via a wooden cart, would have been undignified and humiliating enough, being at the behest of women in a male dominated era, but the arrival of fresh women who were eager to view the examining of the silk which accompanied him, added a deliciously sadistic tinge ... they having been made aware of the arrival, and seeing liberated ex-servant girls eagerly pass whips to their mistresses. Madam Barbara Huntsford grinned contentedly at Madam Beatrice Belvedere as the latter posed with her whip over the ventilated box, now laid eagerly to the ground by those shapely ex-servants of the now hedonistic hall. Barbara and Madam Marie Roussell, the French madame of Penkhull, no strangers to the matriarchal delights that Darkington held, but her accompanying friends still unaware of the full extent of their visit.

The tall, blonde, and strikingly attractive Eleanor Brigham, as dominant as she was striking, smirked at Barbara’s manner, knowing she’d not been informed upon the entirety of their visit to Darkington, guessing that the ‘dog show’ in which they’d have their gimped male slaves paraded for the pompous pleasure of dominant feminity, was merely an aperitif to something so much more cruelly erotic. She sighed lustily and looked down to a cowering ‘C10’ - the latest slave to be shown his true place, and gimp-masked into anonymity by the pleasures of the whip via feminine hands, her cunt hotly moist as she jerked the leash he’d now become resigned to as a permanent fixture.

“See the sort of women you’re to be shown before, and sold to ... see how your life will now be ... eternally.” He gasped audibly in a mixture of desperation, and masochistic desire, the women of Darkington grinning with lurid pleasure at he, Violet Preston’s C8, and Madam Barbara Huntsford’s C9, displayed their boning cocks which jutted from ringed scrotums, their defeat illustrated by their gimp masked anonymity, the only garments which the otherwise naked males wore, as they cowered in submission before the feminine crowd. Those women behind the leashed and crouching makes, grinned with equally pompous satisfaction at the three butt plugs displayed at the rear of each defeated male, showed them how they were permanently stimulated by those instruments of ownership which ensured their lowly positions were never forgotten. The women were no strangers to leashed and naked males of course, but the rubber gimp masks which humiliated these males further by marking the erasure of their personalities, added a sharply erotic note to their sadistic pleasure.

The attention of the women was diverted, and the boning of those cocks was enhanced as Madam Beatrice Belvedere lifted the lid of the box, and to tumultuous feminine applause, had the plump and ginger Miss Verity, and the stern redhead Madam Bernadette see to it that Bonforth was brought to his knees in the box by the two women who’d see him to the gallows, whilst the mature owner of Darkington lifted the black silk high from the box ... and showed the goading feminine crowd the creamy white evidence of masculine submission. Her spiteful glee was more than evident, as Bonforth’s cock pulsed freely erect, at the array of femininity there to witness his humiliation, his manhood poking high at the sight of many anonymous women, not just those from Penkhull who were as yet blissfully ignorant of his fate. but many from far and wide whom he’d guessed correctly were there for the sordidly erotic pleasure of seeing him hanged by a woman. Madam Belvedere held the spoiled silk high.

“See how he’s disgraced himself without permission, at the thoughts of what’s to come!...” He gasped as he took in the messy silk himself and the sneering laughter of womanhood as that evidence of his masochistic pleasure was used to add to his humiliation, as the mature woman handed the leash to a delighted Verity, the ginger girl’s cunt hot with arousal at the thought of being so close to the act of noosing him, while Beatrice made her intentions evident to the delighted crowd.

“To the whipping post ladies! ... We’ll have this cur know his disobedience through the taste of our whips!...” As an entourage of women followed her and the two redheaded women with Bonforth stumbling along on all fours, varied whips on evidence, sported by Ella, Constance, Hope, et al, the three gimps from Penkhull were led on all fours by their smiling mistresses - along with other males in like fashion, some masked, some barefaced, but all leashed and in total defeat - their erections bolted rigid at the teasingly exquisite cruelty of the women’s comments delivered with lusty enthusiasm; a passing severe matriarch dressed in black as per many, having the gimp-masked males long to masturbate.

“I can’t wait to see him reduced to tears at the cut of the whip ... always such a pleasure to have a male know the cost of disobedience to femininity!” Even Eleanor and Violet were taken aback by the deliciously erotic atmosphere as they watched women in various attire flick their whips eagerly; they were no strangers to a sound whipping themselves of course, but sensed an underlying excitement amongst the crowd of eagerly sadistic women, which surpassed that of a mere whipping. It was at that point that Eleanor espied her friend, Agatha Brown, her face looking as flushed as her red hair, her panting face bearing a look of sheer ecstacy, and nodding to a grinning Barbara Huntsford as they both looked toward Eleanor and Violet.

Agatha had been walking the grounds, taking in the air, when she’d crossed a mound to the rear of Darkington, at the crest of which were a plethora of excited womanhood ... some discreetly rubbing their own mounds as they took in the vista beyond with wistful thoughts. Agatha’s nipples hardened immediately, her clitoris making itself more than evident ... on seeing a sturdy gallows with noose dangling in its want for a deserving neck in the distance. A mature woman, haughty and confident in her manner, grinned at Agatha.

“Just two more days, then we’ll see him pay for his crimes ... I can’t wait to join in the chants, and have him hear my enthusiasm when he takes the rope ... it’s always such an erotic pleasure to see Madam Fairchild see to it that a male spunks his last upon the rope in masochistic ecstasy.” Agatha gasped all the more, her cunt moist and needy, as the grinning woman deftly saw to her own cunt’s needs, 48 hours could not pass quickly enough for her, and she wondered how Bonforth felt, smugly pleased in the knowledge that that period of time would pass all too quickly for him.

Agatha hurried back toward Eleanor, but was diverted by Madam Barbara and a smiling Marie, on seeing her obvious haste and guessing her discovery. The two asked her not to spoil the surprise for Eleanor, as they’d have Bonforth convey his fate to her personally when secured at the whipping post. Agatha could barely contain herself when approaching her now curious friend as the entourage of woman eagerly moved with the leashed Bonforth to the nearest place of whipping, where he’d be reduced to tears by many lashes.

“Oh my! ... oh my! ... there’s going to be so much more to our visit than just a dog show!” The blonde Eleanor’s cunt tingled with a keen suspicion as Agatha took her free hand and had her follow the grinning women past the spoiled silk which lay on the grass, justification in the pompous and arrogant minds of every woman there, that the whip had been earned. Bonforth’s erection was more than evident to the scathing women, as his mind took in the weight and reality of the shocking world he’d let himself in for; the cruelty of women toward males, so surreal, yet so tangible, not just through the fate he knew awaited him, but echoed by the many males leashed in utter defeat who’d been brought to witness his fate and were as erect as he in the hopelessness of their submission to the superior sex. That erection perked to a lusty rigidity as the sneering women drew him up to an ominous post adorned with leather manacles.

Madam Barbara Huntsford whispered something to Beatrice as Eleanor drew closer, the blonde noting her friend Agatha’s eyes were affixed to the cowering Bonforth as he was knelt before the post and manacled to it, she, rubbing at her cunt as a broad leather strap was tightened about his waist, keeping his naked body tight against the broadly circumferenced pole, ensuring he could not sag far having known the delight and misery of the whip ... and also ensuring his erection slid nicely against a smoothly polished indent carved into the post as he straddled it, an indent which had seen the surrender of countless male’s seed in humiliated disgrace, since Madam Beatrice Belvedere had imposed her dark and feminine authority over Darkington. Eleanor’s cunt tingled with a lust to see the male punished before the eyes of so many women as eager as she to witness it, but that sadistically erotic excitement was to increase no end, as Madam Belvedere ushered she and Violet up close to the pole, with Barbara Huntsford and Marie Roussell both grinning at her knowingly.