GOOD BREEDING (5 page)

Before he began the beating however he came forward and Phyllis was able to look down at her chest as his hard fingers clawed into her soft breast flesh and then trailed down her body to comb through the thick pubic thatch at her groin, she tried to part her legs as far as her suspension would allow and was rewarded by
the feeling of hard male fingers
rasping her clitoris and finding their way inevitably into her i
nterior. He watched her with cal
m disinterest as he worked her until she had to succumb to the waves of pleasure and her head fell back. Only then did he take his hand out and begin the flogging.

He started with the fronts of her thighs and the bitter stinging made Phyllis hop and twist desperately trying to cross one in front of the other. He made no attempt to shift his aim and she was left to decide for herself whether to continue trying to dodge the whip or just to resign herself to standing and taking it. For the first
minutes she couldn’t help herself and danced like a dervish, letting her back and bottom take what she couldn’t bear to let her breasts and belly take. But in time she began to tire and the sweat ran off her in torrents until she came to rest with her head lolling forwards between her upraised arms and her feet dragging on the stones; a ferocious ache in her wrists and her skin on fire. Blearily she blinked her eyes clear of stinging sweat and tears and saw Dorca, naked now and with her back towards her, kneeling before Sir Archibald who was thrusting his pelvis hard into her fa
ce. His hands were clenched tightly
in her hair and he was clearly making no allowances for any problem she might have with taking him in her mouth. Brutally hard he rammed into her, time and again
and Phyllis could practically feel the way the hard shaft would be filling her to bursting point, making her want to gag as it hit the back of her throat but making he
r so proud that a
man would want to take his pleasure in her body. Phyllis tried to slide one stinging thigh against the other and get some relief for her empty and desperate cunt as she watched Sir Archibald freeze into stillness as his climax erupted into Dorca’s mouth. She heard the girl bubble and splutter as he emptied his balls into her and then both relaxed, she swallowing and recovering her breath, he looking at Phyllis with cold calculation.

“I am afraid that Adam wants you unmolested during or after the flogging. He says he wants you hot, so I’m sorry my dear, there will only be the whip for you
,” he told her pushing Dorca to one side and taking up the lash once more.

He stood behind her this time and belaboured her back and buttocks until Phyllis was almost numb from the sheer intensity of the pain but seething at her belly. Dorca stood naked in front of her and at Sir Archibald’s instructions, parted her legs and played with herself while the beating went on. At last she gave vent to screams of frustration as well as pain but the beating didn’t stop until she could feel the hot wet streams of blood trickling down the backs of her thighs.

Sir Archibald came round from behind her and had Dorca
go onto all fours
on the stones. He
knelt behind her and sank himself into her cunt for just long enough to lubricate his cock and then he pulled out and re-positioned himself at her anal entrance. Phyllis looked on in bitter jealousy as she watched Dorca’s body tense as it felt the blunt-headed invader imperiously push her sphincter open and begin to slide into her narrow channel. She watched as the dark skinned girl’s back humped slightly as she bore down, making every effort to comply with the ravishing of her forbidden parts. It took a scant few minutes for the experienced body to fully surrender and allow Sir Archibald to move forward and back freely and Phyllis moaned in her misery as she watched the shiny shaft slip easily in and out between the smooth skinned buttocks.

The final chapter of the beating was devoted to her breasts and here Sir Archibald used a heavy, many-tailed whip to batter and bruise them rather
than
cut them. But the pounding of mingled excitement and agony at her nipples meant that she shrieked at even the lightest touch in its wake.

She had to lean heavily on Dorca as the trio walked back to the house. She went to her room and didn’t come down for lunch.
However, she did read the note that Dorca had slipped to her on the way back – and smiled.

Chapter Five

After the mid day meal the house was quiet and shaded until the worst of the heat had passed and Clara tiptoed alo
ng the rugs of the corridor outside
her room to timidly rap at Phyllis’s door. She needed to talk to her maid and companion urgently. Ever since witnessing Lady Stuart’s caning and the slavegirl being flogged that morning, Clara had been in turmoil. She just couldn’t be as outraged as she thought she ought to be, there had been something darkly attractive about the cruelty and it was something to do with the nature of the gently vulnerable female body on which it was visited. Everything about it should have screamed
its obscenity and blasphemy at her, but it didn’t. Clara Bestwood was terribly afraid that she had been excited by it.

Phyllis’s voice softly bade her enter and she did so to find her friend and employee sitting at her simple dressing table dressed only in her lightest shift. She was dabbing at herself with a cloth soaked in cold wa
ter from the wash
hand
stand beside her. As soon as Clara burst into the cool twilight of the curtained room she began to relate her morning’s adventures in a breathless whisper as she crossed to Phyllis. But once she was there she stopped aghast. Phyllis was dabbing water on a horrific array of welts, and bruises. As she watched, the girl lifted one shoulder of her thin garment and pushed her cloth down onto her breast, where she gently rubbed it to and fro. Clara looked on in fascinated horror, down from above and behind, noting the broad swell of Phyllis’s breast and the way the whip marks seemed to follow every curve and hollow of a woman’s body.

She fell silent and Phyllis looked up at her. “You were saying, Ma’am?”

“Who did that to you?” she quavered.

“Sir Archibald, Ma’am,” Phyllis replied calmly. “He spent most of the morning punishing me. I b
elieve it was to mark the arrival on the island of another female.”

Clara put her hand over her mouth as Phyllis stood up and pulled the shoulders of her shift down to reveal both breasts. She looked down proudly.

“I think he did rather a good job,” she said, proudly stroking the cloth over both nipples and shivering with pleasure as they erected.

Clara just shook her head mutely in disbelief, tears making her eyes bright. Phyllis reached out and drew her in, holding her tight.

“Until a man has enjoyed everything he may do to you, every act he can perform upon your body for his pleasure, you are not truly a woman.”

“I…..I had no idea. Is…..is that what Adam wants from me? He wants to whip me?”

“He wants to be free to do everything he wants to you.”

Phyllis could feel her mistress’s body shaking with sobs but she made no attempt to pull clear
. She smiled to herself. It was working out very satisfactorily.

“I don’t understand!” Clara wailed. “I open myself for him when he wants me to!”

“And do you welcome his touch?”

“I do my duty!”

Phyllis sighed. “Ma’am……Clara. Pretend that you are Mr Adam and that I am you. Now touch me as though I were your wife.”

Phyllis hardly dared breathe as she watched Clara’s hand reach out towards her breast, then, trembling, touch it.

“Oh, yes!” Phyllis breathed. “That’s so good. Touch my nipple and squeeze it a little.”

From between artfully lowered lashes, Phyllis watched Clara’s expression as she touched another woman’s body for what was surely the first time. She moaned in pained delight as the bruised nubbin was squashed.

“Oh! Oh! Yes! Now the other!”

At first Clara winced each time Phyllis registered pain but slowly she became more bold, her soft hands stroking and exploring the lush mounds of Phyllis’s breasts, sharp little nails trailing along the welts that criss crossed them.

“Do you welcome his touch like I welcomed yours?” Phyllis said at length. Clara shook her head.

“You must. And now, are you ready to look fully at how a man may use a woman?
”

Phyllis let her shift fall to the floor and Clara gasped at the savage traces of the whip inscribed on the flesh.

“Now touch me as Phyllis……
..Clara. B
e as curious as you want, use your fingers to ask questions of my body. Find out what it is to be a real woman and then go to your husband.”

In the hushed twilight Clara reached out again and touched Phyllis’s stomach where a darkening bruise from the whip had sloped down across towards her right hip. Gently the cool fingers traced its path and Phyllis didn’t have to feign the moan of pleasure as she felt them move lower, lower and then brush the pubes.

“He even whipped you there?” Clara whispered, tracing a livid crater from the whip’s tip at her mons.

“He whipped me there especially!” Phyllis corrected. “And it feels better than you can imagine when he puts his cock where the lash has been.”

“Doesn’t it hurt terribly?” Clara’s breath stroked Phyllis’s cheek as she moved closer, both women looking down Phyllis’s scarred body.

“More than terribly at first, but then we women can cope with pain.”

Clara was wearing only a light blouse and Phyllis could feel her breasts pressing against hers, she could see them rise and fall, see the shadow of the cleavage. God, she was beautiful! She could feel Clara’s cheek against hers
and slowly, ever so slowly, as if she was taming the most man-shy of wild animals, Phyllis let her head go forward until it rested on her mistress’s shoulder, for a moment there was reluctance and then Clara rested her head on Phyllis’s shoulder
in return
.

Phyllis pressed her lips to the cool and fragranced skin. Clara responded in kind.

“I understand so little my dear Phyllis,” she whispered.

“Don’t try to understand. Just feel and be free. Now kiss me and take me as Adam would want to take you.”

The word
s
were hardly out of her mouth before Clara’s lips were pressed against hers, demanding and urgent. Phyllis parted her lips and returned the kiss. Clara moaned in pleasure and to Phyllis’s amazement her fingers began to flutter and fumble at her blouse buttons.

In a few moments the women stood, naked breast to naked breast, Clara’s hands were roaming across Phyllis’
s body
now, whimpers of excitement and sympathy escaping her as she discovered new hurts inflicted on her. Inevitably the exploring hands came
at last
to rest at Phyllis’s crotch as her own hands were exploring her mistress’s graceful, satin smooth back
.

“Take me!”
Phyllis
whispered and felt the small fingers sink between her plump lips, pass briefly over the clitoris and then hook upwards into the vagina. Clara broke the long kiss and pulled her head back.

“You’re so wet!” she said.

“I’m naked,” Phyllis countered with a smile.

Clara giggled and began unbuttoning her skirt, her breasts swinging as she worked. Phyllis helped her step out of it and admired the long, shapely legs, then, shy all over again, their bodies pressed together, the scents of lavender water and female musk turning the cool room into an oven of irresistible lust. Phyllis bent her head to bite and suck at Clara’s nipples and she groaned.

Slowly they made their way to Phyllis’s bed and there, with her legs spread wide apart, Phyllis lay while Clara kissed and licked her way around her body, even sampling the flooding quim until she was told to turn over and Clara gasped at the
sight of the
cuts to her buttocks and thighs.

Phyllis grinned into the twilight as she
propped herself up on her elbows and
felt cool lips and tongue on the damaged flesh
, the reserves of
a lifetime peeling away as Clara plunged into the carnal delights of sinking her face between the cushions of buttock flesh
and questing with her tongue at what lay beneath.

It was with something of a wrench that Phyllis pulled her attention back to the task in hand and wriggled around to haul Clara up the bed, lie her on her back and in her turn explore the body sharing her bed. The breasts were as full and as proudly curved up from the chest as she had seen when dressing and undressing her mistress, but here and now to have them sweetly surrendered to her hands, the nipples swelling harder and longer than she had ever imagined they could, was bliss. And then there was the prominent pubic bone she had seen so often but never from this close up, and the peeled back clitoral hood, revealing a sizeable nub of pure engorged excitement, Phyllis buried her face in her mistress’s cunt and breathed in the scent before she stuck out her tongue and prepared to take Clara Bestwood to the moon and back. She waited until the woman was chewing her knuckles to keep her noise down before she wriggled around and planted her own cunt over her face. Eager hands gripped her hips and pulled her down, the tongue spearing up into her fearlessly. Slowly the lovers inched their way upwards until Clara broke with a series of gasps and cries of mingled fear and ecstasy, her body thrust up under Phyllis, the pubic thatch grinding at her face and bucking dementedly when she chewed lightly at the clitoris
. For Phyllis there were small spasms but Clara dropped away before they could amount to anything. But
that could wait;
the
main
job was done.

Phyllis sat up and turned to face the head of the bed. Clara still lay with her breasts heaving, her face a mask of glistening vaginal discharge and sweat over an expression of disbelieving wonder.

“I never…..I never……is that what pleasure is? I never……!”

“Shush, Ma’am,” Clara said, kissing her breast before moving up to kiss her lips. “That’s the reward we reap for being women! Be what your husband wants and you’ll be amazed at how many of those your body – and he - can give you.”

Half an hour later, when he had woken and was dousing his face in cold water, Adam Bestwood looked round as someone entered his room without knocking. It was his wife – but not as he had ever seen her. She was corseted and in high-heeled slippers with only the sheerest of wraps about her. She advanced with a sway of her hips into the room and let the wrap slip from her shoulders. She had never been so confidently seductive. She had never been at ease with her nudity, even for his eyes alone, but now she was reaching behind her and unlacing the corset.

Phyllis had played her part to perfection
, he realised. But even he had not realised what torrents of sexuality had built up behind the dam of Clara’s repression.

She flung the boned garment aside and stood, straight and proud, hands on hips, breasts heaving as she breathed deeply.

“What would you have me do, husband?”

His mind reeled at the sudden reality of all the possibilities he had planned for over the months. He had never seen her so beautiful and graceful, stripes of brilliant light from outside strayed through gaps in the curtains and one slashed across her chest. She ignored it and altered her stance to open her legs slightly. Something she would never have dreamed of doing
before this day
.

“Come her
e
and undress me,” he ordered, his voice thick with sudden urgency.

Phyllis washed quickly and shrugged on a light muslin gown before stealing down the stairs and out of the back door into the bright sun of the afternoon. She had to pause to let her eyes adjust for a moment before she set off for the Torture Garden. Dorca had handed her a note, scrawled in an untutored hand on the way back from her flogging. It had suggested that Sir Archibald didn’t know everything that went on and if she was in need of relief she should go to the garden in mid afternoon.

The door was only on the latch and Phyllis stepped through eagerly. Once inside it was immediately plain that what
ever was happening it was going on
in the orangery. The unmistakable sounds of a whip echoed out from it and Phyllis trotted forwards to see what she was missing.

Alex Sweeney was delivering an exquisite breast beating to the sleek, sweating form of Dorca. She stood under a rectangular frame with two nooses hanging from the crossbeam. Each noose was drawn tight around one of Dorca’s breasts and her hands had been tied together behind her back. The ropes had been shortened enough so that the slave was pulled onto tiptoe
and her back was arched as she sought to lessen the tension on the breast roots. Her legs were slightly parted as well and Phyllis immediately spotted a more copious flow of fluid on the insides of the thighs than mere sweat would account for. Her body gleamed and shone superbly as she twisted and grunted at the lashes from the riding crop as they smacked across the drum tight skin. She stood and watched in sheer delight for a moment until Alex Sweeney turned, clearly aware that she had been there for a while.

“Get your gown off Mistress Latham, if ye please. I’ll need a fuck any minute now and Dorca tells me you’re in need of one as well.”

Phyllis blew Dorca a kiss and made haste to strip as the overseer w
ent back to work on the brutalised
orbs.
The torture of Dorca’s tits went on for a further half an hour before Phyllis discovered that
Alex’s cock was ex
tremely satisfactory and she
sampled it while bent over across a whipping trestle. Then, while Dorca’s poor tits
and stomach
took another pounding she knelt down and licked the pungent discharge from her cunt
, holding her steady to face the whip and her tongue,
until she cried out in orgasm and Alex redoubled the force of the final blows
, fetching some blood from the nipple vents
.