Their Master's Pleasure (29 page)

Cathy seemed to gather herself and pushed down hard. She squealed and her body went rigid, but she achieved the desired result. Her buttocks now contacted the leather saddle. The phallus was wholly inside her rectum. Slowly, with myself supporting her on the left side and Elizabeth on the right, we set off back down the track.

Though Cathy tried her best to pedal, the movement of the phallus that resulted was more than she could bear, so the two of us were obliged to push her along while she freewheeled. Even so, her journey was a grievous one. The phallus might be stationary, yet it remained inside her still, stretching her anus dreadfully. The burning pain was terrible indeed, I didn't doubt, for every bump and pothole drew a moan of sheer misery from her lips. Though our progress was far from speedy we eventually passed through Bluebell Wood and crested the low rise beyond to see Bleekston Hall in the valley below.

The last mile was dreadfully hard on Cathy, impaled upon that agonising spike. When we entered the courtyard and came to a halt I was obliged to lift her from the machine. Michael, who had come out to watch our arrival, appeared considerably amused by this and made some ribald comment or other. Elizabeth shot him a look that should, by rights, have consumed him with flames on the spot. I was half expecting some caustic response from her, but my ward's lips remained firmly shut as she helped her sister indoors. That second ‘run' to the gate had done the trick, it seemed: Elizabeth had finally learned that the wisest course at times such as these was to hold one's tongue.

‘A sore-arsed a pair as ever I set eyes on,' Michael chortled. ‘Not happy girls, those two.'

‘No indeed,' I said. ‘I think you might struggle to find a happy female anywhere in the house, to be honest.'

‘No doubt about that. Let's find ourselves a nice quiet corner and I'll tell you what I've got planned for the next round. They're going to get a damn sight unhappier yet, believe me.'

 

 

 

Michael stayed a fortnight in all; and I think I have never seen such relief on female faces as the day he announced his departure.

For myself, I greatly regretted his leaving. These last two weeks had been novel and enjoyable beyond all expectation and I had learned a great deal from him. I planned to acquire the necessary items for myself so that I could continue this most fascinating of pursuits. The frame and lines were already installed, of course, giving me a head start in that respect, but I could foresee that my Canterbury craftsman would be fully occupied for some considerable time to come making clips, clamps, cuffs and so forth - not to mention a very special bicycle seat!

I was with my guest in his room on the morning of his departure. Faith was there also, sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, wearing her usual unhappy expression. Michael ordered her to spread her legs, whereupon he pushed the discouragers into vagina and anus once more and tied her loincloth to hold them in place, after which he removed her ankle chain.

‘I need to have a word with Rawlings,' he said, turning to me. ‘Can you keep an eye on her for a couple of minutes, old man?'

I said that I would and he went out. I watched Faith closely, for should she divest herself of the fearful things inside her there'd be nothing to prevent her making a run for it. Then, out of the blue, she spoke up.

‘Help me, sir, I beg you!' she whispered. ‘They're trying to steal my money - they say I can go free if only I sign some papers. Please,
please
, help me!'

I was considerably taken aback, to tell the truth, for this outburst was entirely unexpected. She looked utterly pitiful, hunched up on the bed, and I felt genuinely touched by her predicament. My suspicions had been correct all along: she was the victim of some unscrupulous person or persons who wished to rob her of her fortune. Reprehensible though this was to me I was powerless to intervene. She was here in my house as the companion of an invited guest - a gentleman - and was his responsibility and his alone. I had no right even to question him on the matter, let alone dabble in what was plainly no business of mine. She was watching me, desperation clear in her pretty eyes as she awaited my reply. I mused on the matter for several long moments, but thinking about it could in no way change the circumstances. My hands were tied by the laws of hospitality and gentlemanly conduct, and that was that.

It was with deep regret for her situation that I shook my head finally. ‘I'm sorry, my dear,' I said. ‘I cannot help you.'

‘Of course Mr Montague cannot,' a voice behind me said harshly. ‘And you were most unwise to ask him, child.
Most
unwise.'

I turned and saw Michael standing in the doorway. Obviously he hadn't gone down the stairs at all, but had remained outside the door listening to what was said. I realised it had all been a ploy on his part, to catch her out in just this way. He was entirely within his rights in attempting to trap her in this manner, of course, though it was certainly remiss of him not to advise me beforehand of the subterfuge. In the execution of his plan he had committed a far more serious breach of good manners, however. He should have spoken up the instant Faith made her plea, instead of waiting long seconds for my reply. He was setting a trap not only for Faith, but for his host also, to see if I would agree to help her. Cold rage surged in me, and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed to remain silent.

Michael came fully into the room, glaring at Faith. As for his charge, she could not meet his eye but simply sat there, head down and hands clasped as though in prayer, trembling.

‘I thought she might try this,' he said to me, tight-lipped with anger. ‘Clearly I've been far too lenient with her. Fortunately such a mistake is easily remedied.'

He rummaged in his case, taking out a cane and a length of cord, then pushed Faith back down onto the bed. He drew her feet together and bound her ankles swiftly, then lifted her legs straight up in the air and began to cane her buttocks. He struck forcefully, causing Faith to whimper and squirm under the cruel assault. Michael had not tied her hands, for it soon became clear he expected her to keep them beneath her. The urge to cover up in such circumstances is almost irresistible, however, and they inevitably crept out.

‘Hands!' Michael barked.

She pulled them back guiltily as he rewarded her lapse with three or four brutally hard strokes, after which the beating continued as before. Her face was white, a twisted mask of pain and misery, whereas Michael's expression was one of barely repressed fury.

‘I'll teach you to go behind my back, young lady,' he said, prodding her vulva sharply with the tip of the cane to underscore his words. ‘I swear to God I'll make you wish you'd never been born.'

From his tone I suspected this would be a lengthy session as well as a hard one. Some twenty minutes later, when Michael finally stopped, I had been proved right on both counts. He had one further cruelty to inflict upon her, however: once outside her wrists were tied with a length of rope, the other end of which was fastened to the back of the coach. Faith was then informed she would walk the first five miles, discouragers notwithstanding, at which her face took on a look of utter fear and desolation. With that Michael nodded to me from the coach window, Rawlings clicked his tongue at the horses and they moved off.

I retired to my study after Michael's departure and sat there for a full hour pondering matters. Finally I took out pen and paper and began to write. I doubted the two tasks I was setting Charlie Spikeman - that shady underworld character who had proved so useful to me in the past - would present him with insurmountable difficulties. Discovering the truth about Faith was merely a matter of asking discreet questions in the right quarters and greasing a palm or two. Abducting her afterwards would be harder, no doubt, though I felt sure Charlie and his band of rogues could steal almost anything if they set their minds to it.

As to what I would do with the wench once she was delivered into my hands... well, that remained to be seen. Perhaps she could be reinstated in her rightful position, whatever that turned out to be. Then again, perhaps not, for she had been enslaved once and might be a second time. Without doubt she was safer here at Bleekston Hall, where there was always room for a pretty young female, especially one trained to the lash, with a naked little slit and lively tongue to boot! The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that Faith should remain with me - purely for her own good, you understand.

Rescuing her from Michael's clutches would create difficulties at Spanker's Seven, of course, if the truth ever got out. One of us may well be obliged to resign - and if it was James Montague, then so be it. To be honest, I had been growing increasingly disenchanted with Percy and Jasper of late, for Jasper's treatment of Irene Hammond at FFF and Belinda's punishment beating at Percy's instigation made me realise how much I disliked the two of them. In fact, it would be no great trial if I never spoke with either of them again. Nigel and Humphrey would not abandon me, I knew, for true friends stay true through thick and thin.

I felt not the least guilty at the thought of stealing Faith away from Michael. In putting my honour to the test - whilst a guest in my house, dammit! - he had stepped over the line. The fellow was clearly no gentleman, but was merely masquerading as one. He deserved everything that was coming to him.

 

A day or two later a letter arrived from Freddie. Knowing how anxious Elizabeth was for news of him, I sent for her, reading the missive whilst awaiting her arrival. Soon there was a knock at the study door and my ward entered.

‘A letter from Freddie, my dear,' I said, ‘just this minute arrived.'

‘From Frederick?' she said, eager and fearful at the same instant. ‘He... he is well?'

‘Very well,' I said. ‘His future is settled: it is to be the church, apparently, and not the army as he feared. He asks permission to call on you.'

I handed her the letter. As she read it relief, joy and finally disbelief showed in her face.

‘Good news indeed,' I said, when she looked up. ‘Should the course of love run true - and I feel it only fair to warn you we aren't always so fortunate in affairs of the heart - but should it happen, it would seem you are to be a parson's wife.'

‘Right here,' she said faintly. ‘In our own village.'

‘So Freddie informs us. A small world, isn't it?'

‘But... what of Reverend Wilkins?'

‘I spoke with him just the other day, as a matter of fact. He has come into a sum of money and is to retire, apparently. He plans to live with his spinster sister in Devon, he tells me, and walk the cliff tops in quiet contemplation.'

‘Come into a sum of money,' she echoed, giving me a most searching look.

‘Indeed. Fate can be kind, on occasion. With the vicarage just a twenty minute walk away you will be able to call upon your sisters whenever you wish, and they on you.'

Though I knew she loved Freddie - or believed she did - and wanted with all her heart to be with him, the thought of parting with her sisters had caused her many a sleepless night these past months. (It was Victoria who made me aware of this, after Elizabeth had confided in her). The letter made it plain that her misgivings were groundless, for she could marry Freddie and still be near her siblings.

I remained the focus of Elizabeth's keen scrutiny for many long seconds. Finally she nodded slowly. ‘It is not fate who is kind, uncle,' she murmured. ‘You have arranged all this.'

‘Me?' I said. ‘Good heavens, why ever would you think that? I'm sure it is Freddie's father who deserves the credit. I'm just your wicked old Uncle James, remember?'

She approached and kissed me gently on the cheek. ‘Wicked, certainly,' she murmured, ‘yet uncommonly kind and considerate at times. You're a mystery to me, uncle, and I think I shall never understand you as long as I live.'

With that she departed, Freddie's letter clutched to her bosom. I shook my head ruefully, for most decidedly I was getting soft. First Faith and now Elizabeth - I seemed to have made it my mission in life to come to the aid of females in distress. I suspected my grandfather would view such noble intentions with deep misgivings, but then I am not the man he was, and can never hope to be.

They
were
good deeds, however, and I felt I deserved a reward. I would give the very next female to walk through the door a sound thrashing, after which I would mount her, right here in this very room. Or perhaps I would do it the other way round and mount her first, variety being the spice of life. The odds were on Alice, of course, for as housemaid she was in and out of here all the time. I hadn't had cause to beat her for some weeks, so probably it was high time I did. It was even longer since I had ridden her, come to think of it, and no doubt she considered it high time I did that, too. I couldn't be absolutely certain it would be she, of course, for Rose, Irene Hammond and my wards all came to the study as the need arose. I found myself growing increasingly intrigued as to who it might be - and more than a little excited at the thought of what lay in store for her.

After a good ten minutes of waiting someone knocked at the door; and surely it was too bold a rap for Alice?