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Chapter 13: An Encounter With Horatia Allenby
Nicola reacted to the sound of the woman’s arrival. I paused in applying blows with the many-tailed flogger and we both watched as the woman came into the room.
I knew her as Horatia Allenby, the wife of an ambitious financier. I try not to judge my clients. Allenby was a nice enough chap, in spite of his profession. I couldn’t help reflecting how much more he would have contributed to the nation in a useful trade; manufacturing or construction, say.
I had found his choice of wife somewhat curious. At first I had thought that he had chosen her purely for her physical attributes and the fact that she was named for the hero of Trafalgar (How different history might have been if that musket ball had not missed Nelson. Poor Hardy! How would things have been if the Admiral had died and Hardy had survived the fight? Some say that awful fellow Wellesley might have come to political power or that the Russians would have somehow avoided conquest by the French.). I had thought that she was little more than a pair of exceptional breasts (almost certainly with a profile that resulted from the ingenuity of members of the medical community that were evidently more interested in engineering than in simply healing the sick), a pleasing face and a head of startling blonde hair. However, as I had come to know Horatia, I had found that she was more than the sum of her, albeit very agreeable, parts.
Having spent some time on preparing her for her role as Allenby’s wife, I had gained a respect for the unrestrained enthusiasm for sexually pleasing that she developed during her time with me.
Horatia, seeing that I was occupied, did as she knew she should. She took one of the ball gags from the shelf of restraints and slipped the ball between her lips, stretching her mouth wide to accommodate it. She left the straps intended to fasten it hanging loose but stood back against the far wall and unfastened her blouse to bare her breasts before placing her hands behind her head and waiting for me in silence.
Nicola looked up from where she was strapped across the whipping bench, surprised by the woman’s arrival and the bizarre sight of her standing, still wearing her hat, her mouth filled with the bright red rubber ball and her ample, naked, breasts placed on display. She looked at me quizzically but, to her credit, said nothing. That alone spoke of the progress she had made in the previous weeks. Before she would have most certainly questioned the significance of the new arrival; now she appeared simply to accept the situation.
I gave Nicola a dozen further blows from the flogger, striping her buttocks in a pleasing pattern and bringing forth a crimson glow from the repeated strikes. Nicola took them willingly, thanking me for each as I required and whimpering only at the last three, a significant improvement on earlier beatings. As I finished I gave her the handle of the flogger to hold between her teeth while I turned my attentions to Horatia.
She stood passively as I prised the ball of the gag from between her teeth. Horatia ran her tongue across her lips swiftly before I pressed mine hard against hers as I groped and pinched at her exposed breasts. I heard Nicola give a muffled grunt of surprise. I ignored her, turning Horatia around roughly, and lifting her skirt above her waist before unzipping my fly to press my member up between her buttocks.
To be taken from behind had been the greatest of degradations for Horatia, as if those attributes that she most valued – her face and figure - were of no consequence. Now, though, she accepted the way in which I took her, recognising that her role was one of acceptance, not choice. “Thank you, Sir,” Horatia muttered as each of my thrusts pressed her hard against the wall, her face and her naked breasts crushed to the cold sharp edged bricks.
In time I sated myself in the cleft of her sex. I turned from her, grinning with pleasure – I know that my efforts are for the betterment of my charges but make no mistake, I enjoy my work – to see Nicola’s look of shock and distaste as she saw my glistening, cum slaked member. It had not occurred to me until that moment that Nicola might not have realised that her training could involve sexual penetration in addition to the other impositions placed upon her. In truth I only participate myself where it seems essential to the student’s progress but Nicola’s pleasing form would certainly provide an entertaining playground should it become necessary. It would be a task from which I would not shirk!
I fastened up my breeches, gripped Horatia by the hair and twisted, spinning her around and forcing her to her knees in front of where Nicola still stood bent forward and strapped to the whipping bench. “I have a task for you,” I said to the kneeling woman. “Your husband tells me you are available to me.”
“Very good, Sir,” Horatia replied.
“It concerns one of my other clients. He is a man currently without his wife and in need of sexual consolation. You will, I am sure, wish to oblige me by catering to this need.”
“As you wish, Sir.” She kept her head bowed, her long hair falling forwards toward the floor like a heavy blonde veil.
“Take this letter. It will introduce you.” I handed her an envelope. “Do you see the address?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said reading it aloud as I had intended.
“No!” yelled Nicola in defiance as she realised that it was her own home and her husband that I was referring to. Her cry allowed the flogger to fall from her mouth to the floor in front of her. She stopped, as though surprised by the strength of her own voice and the consequences of her losing the flogger, while Horatia took the envelope, got to her feet and fastened her blouse, closing it over her reddened and sore nipples.
“You can’t be telling her to do that! You mustn’t let her go!” Nicola protested as Horatia left.
My only response was to collect the ball gag that I had removed from Horatia and to push it into Nicola’s protesting mouth, before releasing her wrists from the whipping horse and wrestling them behind her back to fasten them securely there.
Nicola in denial of that which was, most assuredly, happening, stood shaking her head and grunting in disbelief that anyone could do such a thing as to send one man’s wife to pleasure another woman’s husband.
For the first time I saw something of Nicola’s spirit. I had never needed to force her into her cage before but on this occasion she needed to be wrestled around and beaten with the crop until she could be pushed inside. With her securely contained I removed her gag.
“It’s not true,” she shouted as I moved towards the stairs out of the cellar. “You wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it.”
She was still protesting what was happening as I fastened the door of the cellar to allow her time to come to terms with it.
© Freddie Clegg, 2011
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