Chapter 13

Tara’s pleasure had been at a scintillating and sexually arousing peak, on applying her whip with dominant feminine gusto upon Cecil’s flesh, whilst the two hanged curs, having known the ultimate pleasure of spending high on the gallows on being hanged by a superbly senior woman, provided an erotic backdrop as the Eastern girl showed her spite toward Western males with the long leather demon. Her sexual pleasure in doing so before her new female mentors and the excited women of Madam Olivia Renfrew’s plantation, was matched by Cecil’s, though he wept openly, shaming himself further before the women and increasing their enjoyment ... though beneath the tears his masochism had his cock bulge on longing to spurt once more, the humiliation of being reduced to a quivering defeat at the hands of a mere girl, exquisite.

After several days at the plantation, where he was both put to good use as a servant, and made to kneel naked and recite his prayers and pledges to the Maker, to remind him of the task which lay ahead, his feeble efforts in attempting to convert women to an obscure faith - and the response he’d receive - would be so thoroughly enjoyed by Mistress Martha Hilbrand ... and the women who’d paid good money to see him receive just what he so earnestly deserved. Dressed in white to make his appearance so much more outstanding, Cecil was led in lowly pomp out to the singular track which led out from the opposite end of Madam Olivia’s plantation, where the luxury of a narrow guage steam engine, saved the curs who’d brought the entourage in from the opposite side those whips which had encouraged their effort.

Cecil noted a strangely excited fervour amongst the women, as Madam Agnes boarded the meagre transport with the feminised Mirabelle, the sneering smiles of Madam Bella Wick, Georgina Parker, Judith and Madeline etc. mirrored by Martha as she had him kneel on the floor by her seat.

“Mirabelle is to be passed on to her new owner later today, she’ll enjoy seeing her new Eastern Mistress and learning their ways ... and will become more feminine than she could have imagined after a month or so...” Madam Bella Wick, who sat close by in regal pomp, had Cecil quiver in his own excitement as she stroked his back with her whip and added her own smugly contented comment.

“You’ll also see why the local women here refer to Madam Olivia Renfrew’s plantation as ‘the gateway to heaven’ ... in all sincerity.” Cecil’s cock poked high and rigid at being addressed by the woman who’d taken so much pleasure in engineering her own widowhood by hanging her husband, Madam Georgina Parker then leaned out from her nicely padded seat, expressing the curves of her mature breasts, the nipples clearly defined through the light fabric of the dress she’d chosen, poking with a certain sexual excitement.

“You see, the rear of Olivia’s plantation guards the transport you are now on ... a transport to a domain kept most secret from any dominion’s authority ... a domain where masculinity is shown it’s true position in life.” Her smug cackling at her own comment was echoed by the other women as the small train, now laden with it’s cargo of dominant femininity, their slaves and chattels, along with many elated eastern women who’d entered via the plantation, lurched as it pulled away ... not once employing a whistle which would attract unwanted attention from afar. Martha grinned as she sneered down at a now enlightened Cecil, erect in wonderment.

“It’s where you’ll spread the word of the Maker ... and the strength of your faith will be tested, having you know the purpose of your mission.” Her cunt swelled with sexual arousal in the lush humidity, as did the cunts of the sniggering women who all knew just what the purpose of his mission would be. Madam Georgina then added a further note, having his anus tingle at just why the women showed such relaxed and mischievous contentment.

“This little train never uses Its whistle and its route remains covert to most, any authority or outsider who should pay Madam Renfrew an impromptu visit and hear its puffing progress, are simply led to believe it merely works the internal rear of the plantation ... they have no idea that it disappears through the dense jungle here, to visit the Shangri-la you’ll see.” The women laughed as Cecil gasped, on the carriage being plunged into near darkness, engulfed by arboreal undergrowth allowed to provide a canopy above the meagre track. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmed light, his balls tingled on occasionally seeing males on chains kneeling in obedience by the track, those chains held by grinning women to whom that obedience was shown. Martha sneered with further contentment as she waved her approval at those women, with a broad smile.

“The foliage is nicely moist here, and the canopy high, making our detection difficult, even from one of those hot air balloons, should any fool be reckless enough to travel in one is this area ... those males you see are hand picked from captives brought to the plantation for crimes against women ... they’re put to good use along the track, made to extinguish any fires a rogue cinder may ignite amongst the dried debris...” She pursed her lips and sighed with a spiteful lust.

“ ... those males are worked stringently by their female handlers, and the secrecy of the track’s existence is guaranteed by them ... as guilty of crimes against women, they never see the plantation again ... they’re executed with utmost pleasure by those smiling handlers, their deaths as enjoyed as their dominance over the fresh arrivals.” Cecil’s cock throbbed in the want of physical stimulation at her curt pleasure in relating the fate of those males kneeling in harness by the track, the crack of their Mistress’s whips heard above the shuffling tone of the train, his mind now in awe of what may lay beyond as he pondered just what those crimes against women had been, to warrant their execution in the name of secrecy ... Madam Georgina Parker then taking delight in elaborating with spiteful feminine contentment.

“Of course most of them are simply guilty of having been typically misogynistic males, ruling over wives who’ve learned to know of the freedoms granted by the plantation - and beyond - many of those women then travelling on this very train, giving their former tormentors a proud grin as they pass, watching them toil under their new owners ... and knowing they’ll likely not see them should they make a return journey, but will remember the face of that female owner, and delight in her now handling a fresh male face, awarding them absolute freedom to choose a new pet for themselves.” Martha grinned as she watched her kneeling charge flex his torso on the need to masturbate, she longing to see him spurt too ... but under circumstances he was yet to learn of.

Cecil spotted the bulge of his cream coloured leggings with the essences of his submissive excitement, the darker patch where the head of his cock was held erect against the material, now most evident and adding to his humiliation as the train worked its course through the near darkness of the jungle route, till at last it broke out into the near light of a clearing, a crude terminus wrought from jungle timber obscuring the passenger’s exit from the train. Cecil’s already erotic imaginings were then expanded by the sight of further feminine authority dressed in uniform black outfits and carrying scimitar-like weapons, obviously guards, who offered the women gracious smiles in greeting them, but looks of contempt toward he, the clumsy Mirabelle, and the few other males.