Chapter 8

This may well have been Bonforth’s day, but every male there to witness the achievement of the ultimate feminine power over masculinity, and the hotly erotic pleasure of every woman that ensued from it, would be made to know their place under the heel of dominant womanhood by that act, and would know their own whip of enslavement in many individual ways from Mistresses with highly charged and inflated egos. C10, the gimp-masked and pathetically anonymous property of Madam Eleanor Brigham of Penkhull, was to be no exception; the reality of the prior days cruelty inflicted upon him by the strutting and strikingly attractive blonde woman, having re-registered itself upon his mind when waking, having erect with masochistic awe as the spiteful truth of his situation was pressed upon him, on being walked out on all fours to be presented to a new owner.

Eleanor’s strut was performed with a precise elegance that day, the promise of a hanging, adding to the thrill of having a pet who thought he was hers forever, know the spite of her dominance in showing that he was just another worthless male, insignificant to her and sold on to a woman of her choice, not necessarily the highest bidder, but one who would continue to award her pet with the sadism she had offered ... and perhaps a great deal more. So it was with a profoundly erotic pleasure which had the blonde’s cunt tingling, that on the morning of a male’s execution, her pet would be taught a stringent and thoroughly satisfying sentence of his own, on being condemned to a new owner, that complete insignificance confirmed.

C10 panted through his mask, his leash pulled taut as he scampered along in keeping up with his strutting Mistress, his humiliation compounded by the smirks and sneers of contempt he received from many women as they watched his naked scurrying on all fours ... Till her pace slowed when stop of a grassy mound, from which the freshly erected gallows was being admired with erotic fervour by those women. C10 whimpered pitifully through his mask, on seeing the smile of a buxom and mature woman fix upon him as they approached her, not as prettily attractive as Eleanor, but equally appealing to any submissive male when mid masturbation, her lust to dominate more than apparent in the looks given him. Eleanor smirked with contentment at his bewildered looks, a mixture of fear and masochistic pleasure on seeing a woman from that other prominent group that she’d befriended.

“This is Madam Constance Templar, C10, your new owner ... kiss her feet!” Madam Templar’s cunt oozed its lubrication as he went down without hesitation, despite the pain of being broken by the supreme blonde’s indifference to his fate.

“ ... she’s a good friend to a lady whom you’ll see perform a deed we women will all be jealous of later, so your absolute obedience to her will be required at all times.” As constance took the leash from her whilst C10’s head continued to Bob as he worshipped his new owner’s tight black boots, her sadistic mind was already toying with the idea of his face being seen for the only time, and how it would look ... as he took the satisfaction of feminine applause, on satisfying the noose at the hands of that friend, her cunt now hotly aroused as she felt the tension of the leash.

“Oh yes, Madam Agnes Fairchild will be so pleased to make your acquaintance on your being displayed as my pet, and as per all males, you’ll long to make her acquaintance in a more intimate way, when you see her expertise with one of your kind upon the gallows!” C10’S anus tingled with a submissive lust at the mention of the gallows, the butt plug which gave him a constant reminder of his enslavement, clenched at while his cock pulsed and boned erect at the thought os seeing the massed pleasure of womanhood, at the execution of a male by a woman. The two women laughed sneeringly at his gasps through the mask as Constance pulled it tightly and had him look up to her through the peep-holes; those bewildered eyes giving the only token of identity to the defeated and beaten male.

“As with all the other pets, slaves, and dominated husbands there, I shall allow you to masturbate at her work, and the atmosphere of sheer pleasure in feminine dominance at the deed, and will have her know personally that you’ll be giving tribute that way...” Eleanor’s cunt blossomed into a peak of arousal at the cruel tones and explicitness of her manner in informing her new property, as Constance continued, taking C10’S cock to an aching rigidity as he basked in the submissive humiliation she knew he felt, as she took utmost dominant pleasure in taking charge of him.

“ ... Of course, there will be a price for that masturbation ... I shall enjoy thrashing you for the first time, when taken back to my chambers, introduced to a whip you’ll know well, before being introduced to a cunt which has known the absolute servility of many beaten males...” Her cunt longed to feel the loving caresses of that masked tongue, as he jutted his stiff cock at the air in an erotic fervour, she then ensuring that it dribbled pre-cum with the same wanting that her mature and lubricated slot felt.

“ ... I’ve thrashed many a boy, youth, and grown man to tears, my use of the whip or cane, thorough ... you’re not the first to feel my pleasure that way, and you certainly won’t be the last ... but you’ll be the next to cry like a child while an audience of my maids enjoy your submission to me personally ... you’ll then enjoy the full ripeness of my cunt whilst still issuing the tears of defeat.” She sighed with pompous pleasure as he let out a plaintive whimper on the buxom woman jerking the leash which now confirmed her ownership of him, bidding the blonde Mistress who’d trained her new property so well, farewell. Eleanor’s cunt longed for that hanging, and the tongue service of another gimp-masked pet following that divine spectacle, as she watched the buxom bustle of Constance, proudly take in the sneering acknowledgements of passing women, as C10 waddled beside her, erect with the thought of that whip as she took him down to view the gallows he might well adorn himself one day.

Within Darkington, the ginger Verity sighed with erotic expectation as a gagged Bonforth was led to her and the redheaded Bernadette, by a contentedly smiling Beatrice, Ella, and Hope, he naked but for that gag, and the short white silk shroud of shame, which had adorned and seen the humiliation of many males before, as Madam Agnes Fairchild had them enthrall her to a lusting arousal upon the rope. The ginger girl panting with youthful excitement ... and a potent, sexually erotic yearning, as the condemned male was waddled toward her on his knees, his cock erect at now knowing his time had come, helpless to escape the pleasures of women in his death.

“Oh my! my! ... I can’t believe it’s going to happen! ... He’s going to hang!” The spiteful ginger girl’s outburst not only had his exposed cock pulse, but had his wide eyed expression above the silencing gag show the women his being brought to reality by the girl, having him hesitate in his progress, pleasing Beatrice, as she jerked him forward on the leash.

“Oh yes Verity dear ... He’s going to the gallows where he’ll hang ... and be castrated before the rope completes its discipline upon him!” Bonforth’s anus tingled with both fear, and an intense feeling of masochistic eroticism, on knowing the taunts would now begin in earnest ... and he was truly going to die at the hands of vindictive womanhood, the leash now passed to the redheaded Bernadette, resplendently dominant in her long black hobble skirt, so avant-garde for the period, and a short whip passed to the ginger Verity ... his journey to his death, about to commence. Verity couldn’t help but toy with his gag, letting out a sigh as though she wanted to hear him make a plea, Beatrice smiling at her wistful looks.

“Oh yes, the gag will guarantee his silence, as pleasing as it is to hear their whines for a mercy which would never be granted, we will hear no such futile cries ... and we’ve found that the silencing adds to the submission of the male ... magnifying their sense of being held to obedience as they go to see where they’ll offer that ultimate pleasure to womanhood...” She laughed with cruel delight as Bonforth cowered at her words, offering a grunt through the gag as though to confirm his lusting to grunt through it on seeing the rope, further delighting the entourage of dominant women.

“ ... and of course, it ensures his days of licking of cunt in servitude are over ... but his nose is free to sniff the rich and heady arousal of just one more!” The women’s laughter was intense as Bonforth humped at the air, wondering how the spice of Madam Agnes Fairchild’s cunt would smell, and knowing it would be his last whiff of dominant womanhood, and one he’d savour as his last as she hanged him. The ginger Verity panted with excitement, stroking his bare backside poking from beneath the shroud which added to his humiliation, her youthful nipples poking hard through her dress, her cunt hot and already nicely lubricated.

“And is he to make the journey to the gallows on his knees? ... oh, I do hope so ... I want him to savour every step, knowing I’m to noose him...” The gasping girl’s cruel wish was granted by Beatrice’s satisfied nod, and Bernadette then thrilled her by confirming it further, her tightly clad figure creaking the black leather of he skirt, promising a dominance that had him longing to spurt his mess in awe of her.

“My hobble skirt is very restrictive, but I was determined to wear it today, for I know Bonforth will enjoy every twist and ripple of my backside in it, as I lead him to his death ... and my progress in it will be very slow, giving him ample time to receive ‘blessings’ from every woman on our path.” His cock stood high in a salute to the woman he’d once been instrumental in the sale of as a slave, the woman whose vindication would be as ripe and unforgiving as the rope itself, as he was jerked toward the rear doors leading to the lawns ... and the rudely ominous gallows standing high like his cock.

As the doors were eagerly swung open by sneering young maids, Bonforth took in the last morning air he’d know, as an excited crowd of women cheered, jeered, and taunted a rapturous applause at seeing him begin his last journey to humiliation upon the rope, in utter submission. Many of those women’s eyes went from him to something close by outside. He gasped through the gag on seeing a smiling Faith Lancer and the once housemaids of Chaddington; the women he’d lorded over, who were now each his superior. As the crowd parted further, he humped the air again, on seeing a donkey harnessed to a low cart, a leather leash hanging from its rear, ready for his harnessing ... and upon that cart, a brightly gilded cage as per those on high behind the clocktower. Beatrice laughed aloud as she acknowledged Madam Lancer.

“See the new Mistress of Chaddington House, once yours, now hers! ... and see the gift she has for you! ... your spent corpse will not know a coffin, pit in the earth, or the flames of destruction!” Madam Lancer sneered with intense pleasure as Bonforth was led to address her, and view the ominous cage.

“Oh yes my dear Bonforth, there are some structural alterations taking place at Chaddington ... such a pity that only your ghost will witness them...” She smiled with curt satisfaction as a grinning Verity looped the leash attached to the cart about his neck with spiteful pleasure, seeing to it that he was now doubly leashed, the braided leather cord long enough so as not to obscure his progress behind the low cart ... but close enough to have him eagerly study the gilt cage in which he’d be displayed, after satisfying the women, high on the rope. Faith sneered with sadistic pleasure as his wide eyes took in the barred rectangular cube in which he’d know eternal humiliation after death.

“ ... there had always been scope for an enclosure behind the west wing of Chaddington ... I know you had plans to build a harem-like brothel there, to entertain your misogynistic friends, before finances took a turn for the worst ... following the sudden departure of a certain three associates of yours...” Her cunt moistened wonderfully as she delighted in telling him all about the property which was once his domain, and now hers to toy with as she pleased, finances now no issue whatsoever, thanks to willing donations, and not so willing extortions, from males now regularly dominated there. As the sneering laughter of the ever growing audience of femininity died down, she continued with pompous pleasure.

“ ... we women decided on a more fitting alteration, one which to outside eyes will view just a gabled extension with an appropriately designed clocktower ... but the pleased and knowing eyes of womanhood will be treated to a secretly entered courtyard within, where your eternally ridiculed remains will hang high upon the rear wall in perpetual disgrace!” The women applauded her loudly as they mocked the now cowering Bonforth, each teasing moment bringing the reality of the noose ever closer, his eyes scanning the cage upon the low cart, and now knowing his humiliation would not end on the rope. No applaud was louder than that from Beatrice, keen that her morbidly erotic idea was to be replicated elsewhere, her cunt hot with a lusty notion.

“I would love to see a day where every manor house and stately home is passed into the hands of womanhood, and each has its former masculine owner high on display ... ridiculed after the pleasures of his disposal.” Madam Faith Lancer was not to miss out on enjoying venting her spite for the former lord of Chaddington at every opportunity in his final moments; both her ego and her dominance having been inflated to a ripeness even she could not have foreseen, on usurping him and seeing the house put to good erotic use - every stroke of the stiff horsewhip she was now seen with routinely, when applied with vigour to male flesh, took her to a new height of queenly and pompous dominance. She sighed with a lust for seeing that rope about his neck as she lifted the cowering Bonforth’s balls with the stiff whip, having his cock bone in a submissive tribute as he whined through the gag.

“Of course, Bonforth here, is going to know humiliation on three fronts after pleasing us on the gallows ... these balls to be gifted to Darkington’s exhibits of male capitulation, on his enjoying the castration he so deserves, after spending his last in masochistic thanks for his death at the hands of womanhood ... his death mask to be taken and exhibited in humiliated glory in Madam Agnes Fairchild’s gallery at her home...” She delighted in sweeping he whip up swiftly, having Bonforth groan pathetically through the gag as it scored his balls on leaving them.

“ ... and as we’ve seen, as he nears the moment we all desire, his reluctance grows ... so we know which gallery the effigy of his final, satisfied expression, will join in his extra shaming!” The women laughed cynically and with an eagerness of seeing his probable cowardice at the point of noosing; that reluctance having been seen on prior occasions by the more senior women there, the extra thrill that awarded them, having their cunts moisten in the hope of it. A gasping Verity almost skipped over to Bonforth on being given the nod by Madam Beatrice Belvedere, Hostess of Hangings at Darkington, the crack of her whip announcing Bonforth’s journey to the gallows had commenced.

The occasional braying of the donkey added to Bonforth’s lush humiliation as he was led on his knees to his death, the almost comical sound of the equine beast seeming to both mock him, and herald more mocking femininity to his sordid procession to the rope, the pace of which, governed by the redheaded Bernadette’s slow progress in her tight leather hobble skirt, the sight of her, and the ginger Verity eagerly applying her whip to the waddling male’s exposed buttocks, as he was led behind the low cart to which he was attached, his eyes filled with a sordid fear and expectation, drawing rich applause from more and more excited women as he was drawn nearer and nearer to the gaunt and sturdy wooden structure which awaited his displaying in absolute submission upon.

His eyes peered through the bars of the cage his corpse would know, the straps within it, waiting to hold his defeated and castrated body in a kneeling position of perpetual submission, a looped neck strap mimicking the noose which he’d enjoyed, to hold his head in a stoop of worship to the gracious dominance of womanhood for the pleasure of death awarded ... and for the pleasure of all femininity to mock and ridicule endlessly. His cock perked and pulsed rigid, his heartbeat increasing instantly, on seeing through those bars, the now delectable figure of his former Housekeeper, and now Mistress of Chaddington, turn from leading the donkey to smile at him, and beyond her satisfied grin ... the spectral grin of a tall and stark gallows, the dangling noose visible in a lusty silhouette.

Bonforth now pleased the spitefully sadistic minds of women applauding as they took in the sight too, and the faltering of Bonforth’s waddle on seeing the gallows in which he’d hang, Verity’s cunt tingling with a passion as never before, as both she and the hobble skirted Bernadette ensured he continued on to what he deserved with smart applications of their whips.

“There! ... look what awaits you! ... you can’t escape it now!” Bonforth’s cock came close to shooting the contents of balls he’d soon lose, at the pleasure in the ginger girl’s tone ... and the gloriously submissive pleasure in seeing the distant gallows on which he’d die ... after being noosed by a woman he’d sold into slavery, hanged by another woman ... and allowed to come on the rope before being castrated by a woman.

His mind went to those mixed emotions of fear, and untold pleasures of masochism and humiliation before he greeted death, high on display ... he just hoped he’d not be choked into unconsciousness before witnessing his own balls held high by a victorious Bernadette, and seeing the wanton delight on her face and that of the massed and rejoicing feminine audience as he hanged in shame, bound, penitent, deservedly neutered for feminine pleasure.

His gasping through the gag in disbelief that this was really happening to him, was given a stinging jolt to reality by a laughing Verity as she applied her whip, the hobble skirted Bernadette adding her own smart strokes as she pulled the leash high in emulating the noose, her cunt hot and wet, caressed by her thighs with every movement in the restrictive leather garment ... her sway of feminine arrogance made apparent to Bonforth as she drew closer to the rear of the cart, she now making as fast a progress as possible, the sight of the gallows and her want to see him hang, having her poking clitoris nursed by the soft leather. She’d have a chosen cur lick the inside of the skirt clean while she whipped him, and then her cunt, but her whimsical smile broadened on the notion that Bonforth would not witness it ... nor anything else as his spent corpse hanged in shame for the immediate ridicule of womanhood.

Faith Lancer had the donkey bray wildly, as she urged it’s slightly quicker progress to match Bernadette’s, it’s mocking cry and the delighted applause of a spitefully excited feminine crowd which grew by every moment, having Bonforth’s cock per rigid with submissive awe as they drew nearer and nearer the somehow rudely erotic structure ... he gasping through the gag and nearly losing his seed, on seeing the silhouette of the near naked Madam Agnes Fairchild toying playfully with the dangling noose.

Agnes grinned down at C10, his cock as erect as Bonforth’s as the magnificent woman’s exposed breasts poked their hard nipples, their slightly saggy flesh and that of her ample buttocks and broad thighs rippling as she stroked the dangling noose with one hand while stroking her exposed cunt with the other. His eyes gawped through the gimp-mask in submissive awe at this deliciously dominant woman’s shameless exhibition of her feminine physique, her nakedness but for a black leather basque and tall boots adding a surreal touch to the erotic proceedings, Constance smiling smugly as she introduced her new toy to the executrix.

“This is Madam Agnes Fairchild, C10 ... she’s going to take great pleasure in hanging a male today, as she always does...” C10’s cock pulsed pre-cum as he was drawn a little closer to her, sniffing at the air in the hope of getting the scent of her wet and ripely aroused cunt, unable to take his eyes from it as the bold woman eased a finger through the moistened slot and sneered at him.

“Constance may wish for you to sniff at what you view so keenly, my nameless friend, but as you’ll see very shortly, there’s a special significance for males allowed to sniff at my cunt on days such as this.” She laughed cynically, along with Constance, as a cowering C10 was led up the steps to the gallows platform, his balls and anus tingling as Agnes strutted in her boots across it, the sound of her heels upon the woodwork superbly erotic as he thought of being hanged himself, still captivated by the amazement of seeing an obviously mature woman parade herself in near nakedness, even under the subliminally erotic circumstances he now found himself experiencing in submissive envelopment. Constance smirked at his spellbound admiration of her friend’s flesh.

“Agnes leaves no doubt in the mind of her male victims, that they are being hanged for the pleasure of feminine dominance, her exposure expressing the wares of that femininity, and adding to the sheer thrill for her, her male victim, and the whole crowd’s thorough enjoyment and understanding that womanhood is the superior sex.” Agnes sneered with pleasure as the gimp-masked cur peeped at the gathering crowd of smirking and chattering women, his erection boning at just how the approaching Bonforth would feel when up on the platform and seeing the eager delight in those women’s eyes, at his impending hanging, castration. and death upon the rope for his crimes. The buxom figure of the executrix then pointing to the areas around the trap, her grin profoundly wicked as C10 took in the swirls, spots, and faded lines which stained the woodwork in those places around the trap, in contrast to the rest of the otherwise meticulously clean woodwork of the platform.

“See where males have surrendered their seed at the peak of their humiliations, reluctants,, tyrants, and those having begged the rope alike ... all males hanged by me before chanting womanhood, hear the cry of absolute feminine ridicule in pleasure, as they disgrace themselves in the rich ecstasy of total defeat.”. C10 now began to yearn that divine humiliation himself as Agnes slipped a finger through her cunt on peering toward the approaching cart, longing to see Bonforth’s cream shot high ... before his balls were then removed by feminine hands. Constance sneered at her new pet’s keen admiration of the rope above the stained woodwork, sighing with a wanton pleasure of her own as she tested his neck with a taut application of her leash ... she now knew her sexual sadism would be appeased most lustily at some point in the future, when this willing cur would be allowed to show his face just the once ... as it peered out from the noose his cowering submission to femininity so thoroughly deserved.

Bonforth’s gasping and bewildered expression would soon take in the delighted smiles of the women he’d come to know and been dominated by, as the horde of equally delighted but unknown women, there to indulge in the lushly erotic pleasure of seeing a male lose both his masculinity and his life at the hands of victorious womanhood, as his reluctance grew and the whips of Bernadette and Verity saw to it that he made that exquisite appointment.

They were all there to mock him; Ella Hempleton, whose London establishment had provided Agnes with many males who’d known the rope at her hands, Hope Randall, whose strict authority and penchant for punishment, had seen to the thorough breaking of those males, the three noble African women, Ekua, Abla, and Naja, once slaves themselves and having taken great sexual pleasure in snuffing out their enslavers ... and seeing to the exhibition of the head of the trio who now hanged in display in cages at the very pinnacle of disgrace behind the clocktower, Julia Mountford, Beryl Frobisher, Anna Gresham, Sarah Randall, all supremely dominant women. The Penkhull women added their keenness for the hanging as guests; Madams Marie Roussell, Barbara Huntsford, Elaine Stringer, Agatha Brown, Violet Preston ... and of course, the supremely arrogant blonde and strutting Eleanor Brigham, who was busying herself with acquiring a cunt licker of her own, as she watched the approach of the braying donkey.