The Mortification of Isabel (8 page)

“You have cut your hair, Millie.”

  
Millie had the presence of mind to reply, “Yes, master. Miss Brady cut it for me just the other day.”

“Does it suit you?”

“I’m not sure, master,” she answered. “That’s for others to say. It is practical.”

“You are a comely girl by all accounts. Mrs. Brady says you are very beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I can tell you have lovely features,” he said and let his hands wander all over my face.

I could feel his cock twitch and stiffen still more and knew his seed would flood my mouth any second.

“Oh, Millie,” he groaned in his ecstasy. “Millieeeeee!”

I thought it politic and polite to swallow all his semen but was surprised to hear him say, “Oh, you darling girl. I never thought you would. That is wonderful. Every drop, Millie. You perfect angel!”

Clearly Millie had not swallowed when she had fellated him in the past. I wondered how frequently he had forced her to perform for him and whether he made the same demands of all his female servants, remembering the claims made by Margaret.

“Now lie over the chaise and I will fetch my cane.”

I looked askance at Millie and she looked at me and we both had to stifle giggles. Who should present herself for the caning? We pointed at ourselves then at each other making a great joke of the confusion.

In the end I clambered over the arm of the chaise and presented my bare bottom to be caned, feeling it was another favour I could grant my new lover.

Laurence Povey ran his hand over the curve of my cheeks. “Have you been putting on weight, my dear? Your cheeks seem plumper.”

Millie came as near as possible so that the master would think she was the one bent over. “I don’t know, master. I hope you are not displeased.”

“Not at all, my darling. A girl’s derriere should be fleshy and voluptuous but not fat. Here we have perfection. You would be inspiration to the greatest artists in the world.”

Any pleasure I might have taken in receiving such praise was cut short by the pain of the first stroke of his cane. Having been caned by the master before I had some knowledge of what to expect:
 
the blows would be painful but bearable.

Thwack! “Arghhhhh!” He gave me another cut and I screamed involuntarily.

“That was a strange noise, Millie. It hardly sounded like you.”

“Forgive me, master,” said Millie, still fighting off the desire to giggle. “I shouldn’t yell like a baby. I know you chastise me for my own good and I should be grateful.”

I received four more lusty strokes from the master and had to suffer his hands tracing the ridges of the six welts afterwards as if he wanted to savour his handiwork like some master craftsman.

Not long after these occurrences, my master informed me he was planning a fancy dress ball at which he would show me off to his friends.

There was a great deal of activity in the house as the servants prepared for the event, hurrying and scurrying in all directions. I spotted servants I had not seen before and wondered if they had been brought to Drydon Hall from other great houses in the county.

Mrs. Troak, the cook, was fully occupied and whenever I went down to the kitchen I was invariably greeted by wonderful smells and the sight of sides of beef and pork as well as trays of pies and pastries and exotic fruit that must have been imported at huge expense.

I was allowed now to make the occasionally excursion to the kitchen and other parts of the house and it was interesting to see how I was treated by different members of the household.

Some people patted me on the head or rump in an affectionate way as no doubt they would have done had I been a real dog, while others kicked me, surreptitious betraying cruel streaks in their characters. It was very illuminating as to their true natures, especially when they thought no-one else was around; some of these hefty kicks left large bruises on the backs of my thighs and my bottom.

I think with some, mainly men, the more bruises and welts they saw on my body the more they felt the urge to add to them.

In time I knew which of these men I should avoid if possible but sometimes they would seek me out and take me somewhere in the house
 
to give me a thorough beating or to humiliate me in some other way.

There were two servants I was very wary of and managed to elude them for weeks. There was something about the evil glint in their eyes that frightened me and made me think they would go to the very extremes of cruelty if they were given the chance. One was a footman and the other a groom so they did not work together in the normal way of things yet I often saw them whispering conspiratorially and glancing in my direction.

I was relieving myself in the designated area when they crept up on me and held my arms fast, dragging me off to one of the cellar store rooms.

I could tell from the smell of their breath they’d been drinking perhaps to build up Dutch courage and they’d placed things in the store in anticipation of seizing me, namely ropes and instruments for punishment.

Although I guessed they would use my body to satisfy their lust I had not anticipated the other purpose they had in seizing me.

They questioned me about trophies (seeming to believe our master had been given many fabulous gifts by kings and potentates) Mr. Povey had brought back from his expeditions and whether he carried keys to the safe and cabinets upon his person.

I had seen cabinets in his rooms but had not taken special note of their contents and I had no idea whether Mr. Povey owned a safe let alone having knowledge of its location.

When I professed my ignorance they concluded I was lying from a misguided sense of loyalty to Mr. Povey (as they put it) and sought to persuade me that co-operation with them could be a means of revenge on him for turning me into a beast. If I was able to filch the choicest pieces from his collection and pass them on they would see I was given a share of the spoils and helped to escape from Drydon Hall when the job was done.

I had to think quickly, debating in mind whether to pretend to fall in with their plan and then report the plot to John or Mr. Povey or whether to make it clear from the start that I would have no truck with their criminal schemes. If I decided to alert Mr. Povey to the danger to his property I would need to find a way to communicate which would not be easy since I was forbidden to speak. My only recourse would be to convey a warning through one of the girls, Millie perhaps.

When they demanded an answer, I nodded my head.

“Don’t try any stupid tricks,” said Skinner, the groom.

I shook my head.

“It would be a shame for Povey to lose his new guide dog so soon after it was trained,” said Hall, the footman, who seemed the more vicious of the pair.

Their plan seemed a desperate one with little chance of success until I reflected that Mr. Povey was blind and would not be aware of items going missing from his collection unless he opened a cabinet in search of one.

John spent much less time in Mr. Povey’s rooms since I had been put in charge of attending to my master’s personal needs.

The opportunity was there for me to do as the pair demanded and my reward would be release from my imprisonment, freedom to return to a normal life. A voice in my head told me I should take my revenge on Mr. Povey, betrayal was no more than he deserved.

But could Skinner and Hall deliver what they promised? Could they be trusted? What was to stop them leaving me high and dry once they had the last piece in their hands?

I needed time to think.

If I turned my back on Drydon Hall, I turned my back on John and Millie as well.

Although the plot they’d hatched and securing my part in it was their imperative, I thought it unlikely I would be released from the store room physically and sexually unscathed.

From my position on hands and knees I watched them exchange looks and then begin to undress.

As soon as their trousers were removed I saw they both had erections and there is a part of me that is always pleased when I have this effect on men, even blackguards like these. If I had known how they were going to abuse me I would never have congratulated myself.

Hall got into doggie position first but instead of thrusting his cock into my pussy, I felt his fingers push at my puckered anus and probe inside. It was the first time I had been invaded there and felt a shock of outrage and rebellion. He must have felt my body tense because he told me to be still and enjoy what was coming to me.

He remarked to Skinner how nice and tight I was.

His fingers overcame some resistance from my sphincter and pushed higher, stretching and widening my passage at the same time.

The sensations were unpleasant at first; some pain and the strong desire to defecate which was uncomfortable and embarrassing at the same time. I dreaded emptying my bowels in front of them; it was embarrassing enough picturing the man withdrawing his fingers and finding them streaked with my excrement.

I was already burning with shame that Hall was frigging my back passage rhythmically and with increasing force but there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

Then I felt him grasp me round my waist and mount me, sliding his cock into the passage he’d explored with his fingers by way of preparation.

It was much more difficult to accommodate his organ because of its length and girth and I had a feeling of being like a vessel too narrow to take the liquid poured into it except that I was being filled by something much firmer and therefore more invasive.

I felt my passage stretch and flex to take him and eventually he was up to the hilt and thrusting in and out quite vigorously just as if he was raiding my vagina.

Very gradually the feeling became less unpleasant but as he’d used no kind of lubrication, not even his saliva, there was a deal of pain each time he rammed into me.

I wondered what it would be like when he shot his warm spunk into my bowels but Hall withdrew before his orgasm and allowed Skinner to mount me. Soon Skinner was giving me another brutal rogering and this time he continued until his climax.

They had not finished with me.

Hall crouched over my face and I was told to apply my tongue to his anus. I was not sure whether this was simply to humiliate me but I concluded he also derived pleasure from the act.

My sense of shame plumped new depths.

I had no doubt I would be required to serve Skinner in the same manner and to have to perform the function of toilet paper for two men made me feel wretched. Skinner widened his legs disgustingly and pulled his buttocks apart with his hands which opened his hole still more.

Later they used the ropes to hogtie me and, when I was rendered helpless and unable to defend any part of my body, they set about me with their canes.

When all this was over, they warned me again to co-operate with their plan to steal Mr. Povey’s treasures and told me they expected an early report as to the whereabouts of the safe. Only when I had promised to do their bidding was I released from that hell hole.

***

From Laurence Povey’s upstairs window I saw the guests arriving for the banquet. My master had gone downstairs to greet them so I had a rare opportunity to stand on my feet and survey the scene.

Looking round, I realised I also had an opportunity to search for the safe if I was going to assist Skinner and Hall.

I was still uncertain about which course I should take.

I had not seen Millie or any of the girls and imagined they were preparing for the banquet and fancy-dress ball.

I found myself pulling back the rug to look for signs of a safe set in the floorboards, not knowing if this was likely or not. In any event if I found a safe I would only be able to report on its location (if I had a mind to) as I would have no way of opening it.

In fact I found it behind one of the master’s paintings which depicted a magnificent stag at bay set in the Scottish Highlands.

A cursory examination of the display cases revealed gold rings and goblets as well as necklaces made of teeth and some items I could not identify. I had never taken a proper look before but on closer inspection it seemed likely that most of the contents of the sloping glass topped cases were valuable even if they were not all traditional in their appeal.

My life in Mr. Povey’s rooms had been so circumscribed and constrained, most of the time spent on my knees, that I had not had occasion to examine the master’s material possessions.

Later in the day John came to fetch me and took me downstairs where a footman waited to lead me to the ballroom thronged with men and women in fancy dress. When the footman, none other than Hall himself, strode in, head held high, pulling me on the leather leash, the musicians struck up a fanfare and everyone turned to discover who had made a grand entrance.

There was a burst of applause and cries of appreciation.

When I was unleashed and left to wander round the room I could think only of how badly marked I must look having endured such a recent caning from Hall and his friend.

I meandered through the groups of guests keeping well clear of those who were dancing and both men and women reached out to grope between my legs or feel my breasts as I sidled past.

When I reached an area where a group of acquaintances was seated enjoying conversation, a woman stopped me in my tracks and demanded I made myself available
in lieu
of a table, placing a hot coffee pot and coffee cups on my naked back. I tried to keep absolutely still like the inanimate object I was meant to be but the coffee pot burned my back and caused me to yelp, much to their amusement.

Eventually this group released me and Hall, who had been hovering close by, attached my lead again and pulled me along the corridor to the games room where Mr. Povey was locked in combat (with hearts, clubs, diamonds and spades) on the green baize table with a large number of his cronies.

The room was full of cigar smoke and voices were loud, testimony to the amount of hard drinking that accompanied the card playing.

“Ah, here’s the bitch you’ve been boasting about. What do you call her?” asked one of the guests as a few caught sight of me.

“Bella,” said Mr. Povey.

“
Bellisimo
…
magnifico
,” said the same guest.

In another part of the spacious room, men were playing billiards.

As I crawled in their direction I heard one of them say: “Here’s a chance of some sport.”

They continued their game for awhile but I saw two of the players whispering to each other and guessed I would be the victim of whatever plan was hatched.

I was seized, hoisted onto the billiard table, and made to lie on my back with my legs open wide.

“Let’s see how many we can pot,” said one of the originators of their little diversion.

I was made to lift my knees and open up my sex as much as possible while they took turns to aim billiard balls at my pussy. Someone had the bright idea of inserting a ball inside me so that the balls they fired clicked against it. They talked crudely as so-called gentlemen do when ladies are absent, calling my quim “the pocket” and laughing at the double meaning of “kissing balls.” In order to strike the ball lodged in my pussy they had to perform what they called “trick shots” to make the billiard balls jump up at the end of their journey across the green baize.

It wasn’t long before one of them had the idea of turning me over and using the billiard cues to strike my bottom.

They seemed to lose interest in me after they had thrashed me soundly and resumed their game, leaving me to return to the card table.

Mr. Povey had instructed me to amuse his guests so I crawled under the table where I could see only pairs of legs and not their owners. I rubbed the gentlemen between their legs, moving from one to another, a little like a music hall performer keeping plates spinning. I was soon aware of which cocks were erect and which were still soft and unbuttoned the trousers of those who were responding and drew out their pricks.