GOOD BREEDING (10 page)

Clara
unbuttoned her boots and holding her skirts up yet again, waded into the stream to turn the pony and lead her back to the shore, where Anne and Isabelle found her a few minutes later.

“Superbly driven!” Anne enthused. “You’ve got a real feel for a thoroughbred pony. You’re a natural Clara!”

Anne showed her how to hobble a pony and then the three women sat and cooled their feet in the water until it was time to cross the ford and complete the tour of Greenlawns. By the time they returned the sweaty and dusty ponies to Jim, it was beginning to get dark and they hurried back to the house for dinner.

Chapter Nine

“We’re dining in the back dining room, girls,” Anne explained as Amanda, Anne’s buxom black maid, laid plates of bread and cheese before them in the kitchen on their return. Clara was dismayed at what she perceived to be a social insult but Isabelle explained.

“George has a certain routine he likes to follow with new guests. We will not be dining with him in any conventional sense, so we eat now, then wash and change.”

After a hurried snack, the women
scurried upstairs to
change into fresh underwear. Clara
’s
pulse started racing when Anne told them not to bother with gowns.

They came back down the main stairs in a shared female state of high expectation, fear and excitement. Even Anne was affected by being so nearly naked with two other women. Clara had been deeply shocked but then even more deeply excited to find that Anne had the elegant G brand on her backside too
, apart from the yellowing bruises and speckles from a recent caning
.

“All George’s women are branded,” she explained as Clara ran her fingers along the trench seared in the flesh.
“Hurts like the very devil for weeks but then after a month you can’t believe you ever lived without your master’s stamp on you. And it makes getting a thrashing from him even better, you just feel so ‘owned’.”

The back dining room turned out to be a plain room with a plain table, a bench either side of it and a carver at one end, in front of which a place setting had been laid.

The benches were unusually low, Clara noted. Isabelle surveyed the room with uneasy familiarity as she got Anne to adjust some of the lacings to her grey satin with gold embroidery corset. Anne was wearing a stunning black and gold one that scarcely covered her areolas.

“Have the men sent the usual permits?” Isabelle asked.

“I’m afraid so. There that should do you!” Anne tucked Isabelle’s laces awa
y tidily and went to a bureau
. She lowered the lid and took out a couple of letters, Clara couldn’t help seeing the coiled whips lying there amid piles of canes, crops and paddles. Anne held a letter out for her to see.

Her heart leapt as she saw Adam’s bold scrawl.

Dear George,

I entrust my beautiful Clara to your good care and would consider it a great favour if you would carry on her instructions concerning the good governance of the female. I will endorse any measure you see fit to employ in order to further her education and in addition I am perfectly happy fo
r you to blood
her once a day if you feel it necessary or desirable.

Yours most faithfully,

Her hand shook as she handed it back. Adam wanted her to
be
made to bleed while he wasn’t even present to witness it! What greater testimony could she seek than that he cared enough to ask for her to be beaten so severely and was so assured in his mastery of her that he didn’t bother to turn up and watch. She felt her naked loins heat and moisten as the day moved towards its close and she was as surely under Adam’s control as she had been when she had mounted her ‘double’.

“As Isabelle knows, Clara,” Anne broke into her seething thoughts and turmoil of anticipation. “I will be handing out the punishment over dinner. But I don’t doubt I will be made to pay for it later!”

She had them sit opposite each other at the table and straightaway, Clara could see that
the low benches meant their breasts were at the height of the table top.

“Tits out, girls!” Anne called cheerfully as she came behind Clara and buckled a thick collar about her neck. Clara scooped her heavy breasts out of their cups, the nipples sending tingling spears of excitement through her as she touched them.

“Lay them out properly. Stroke them up from the crease underneat
h so that they lie on the table
top in full display.”

Clara watched Isabelle and did the same, glancing down proudly at the quivering, vulnerable softness of her pale breasts. Once Anne was satisfied, she took Clara’s wrists and tied them to the ring at the back of the collar and
then
treated Isabelle the same
way
.

“I am afraid that I shall not be able to spare you anything. George knows perfectly well when a stroke is pull
ed,
” Anne told them as they heard George’s heavy
tread coming down the hall. He entered and tugged at the bell pull, as he took his seat in the carver, Amanda bustled in and served him a cold collation with a bottle of red wine and
then
left, quite unperturbed at the arrangements.

Anne went to the bureau
and lowered the lid
again
then stood beside it.

“Carve me some breast from the bird on the left,” George growled at last, once he had slaked his thirst and taken his first mouthfuls. With a lurch in her stomach, Clara realised she was sitti
ng
on George’s left. And indeed
Anne approached holding a short length of cane much thinner than any Clara h
ad seen. She laid it across the
trembling mounds
of her breasts
. Clara bit her lip.

“How many slices, master?” Anne asked.

“Six,” George said, sitting back and grinning.

Anne told Clara to
turn her face towards George, t
hat way her head wouldn’t get in the way of the strikes and also it meant that George could savour every ounce of
the
agony being inflicted on her.

Clara felt the wind of the cane’s passage against her cheek before an appalling burst of pain blossomed within her breasts. The wretched shaft had carved into her almost to the wood of the table before rebounding
. She couldn’t restrain the scream and couldn’t help the instinctive dive forwards to shield her poor teats from further torture. But even as she puffed her breath in and out to try and diffuse
the pain
,
in her mind’s eye she saw Adam looking disappointed that she had denied h
is friend the pleasure he had
wanted
him
to take in her suffering. She sat back up and blinked away the tears. Anne bent over and stroked her breasts back into full display. Then struck her again, and again. By the time the final stroke was due, she could no longer see George’s face, there was just another blur in her tears. But somehow she held on till the final cut had been laid and dared to look down. To her amazement her beautiful tits weren’t a horrid bloody mess but an intensely erotic picture of tortured femininity. The cane had left thin, vivid lines across her with speckles of blood gathered in places under the skin. It was the worst and best tit torture she had endured so far and
she
looked proudly across at Isabelle.

George ordered ten cuts from the haunch from her and she rose and bent over the table, bringing her face close to Clara’s injured breasts, her breath was cooling balm to the fires still raging in the flesh.

It was decided that
the
whip would be best on Isabelle’s rather coltish thighs. And she duly took a heavy ten. Anne might herself be slightly built but the force of her blows was in stark contrast to her build. Isabelle stifled her moans by burying her face in Clara’s breasts and licking and kissing them in between lashes.

George got up and took a closer look at the damage so far inflicted.

“This one,” he said standing behind Clara. “Rump. And make it rare!”

Clara’s heart thumped as Anne helped her stand up and then lie along the bench, spreading her legs wide
on either side of the seat
so that George could clearly see the plump lipped purse between them, now with its lips blooming like
an exotic flower
. Rare? Oh God! It was to be to the blood!

For the first time, at the hands of a man other than her beloved Adam, Clara took a beating that had the blood flowing down her thighs and dripping onto the floor. Anne was merciless and sliced into her rippling buttocks with a crop, time after time until the object was achieved. She screamed and wriggled and tried to rise but all in vain. Snot and saliva puddle
d
on the bench beneath her face and by the time it was done, she was wrung out and utterly limp.
Her breath came in heaving sobs and the pain in her bottom was worse than anything she could have imagined. It was only when Anne tapped her on the back and showed
her
the bloodied cane that she smiled proudly through her tears and with help sat up to watch Isabelle being ‘kebabed’ A long, slender steel needle was passed slowly through each breast.

The sight was unbearably erotic and Geor
ge took a break from eating to
fuck both women as they bent over the table. It was the first glimpse Clara had of his remarkable staying power. He ploughed her most enjoyably, the rough weave of his trousers playing havoc with her lacerated buttocks as she came under him. But he did not spend himself. He waited until she had quietened and then moved round to do the same to Isabelle, whose orgasm was deafening as he stuffed her from behind while twirling the needles in her breasts. With that accomplished, he stood back, ordered Anne to her knees and let her take his spend in her mouth.

Fortunately that seemed to slake his appetites for a while and no more beatings were handed out. Instead, once he had cleaned his plate and emptied his bottle, George graciously allowed them to repair themselves and then they were to attend him in the South lounge.

Clara’s bleeding had stopped but the damage was
fascinating to her
, deep scarlet patches adorned bright pink slashes and the whole was swollen and rough. It was a terrible sight and she loved it -
and she had to be dragged away from mirrors. Anne removed Isabelle’s needles and Clara nearly came just from watching the steel sliding free of the flesh.

In the lounge, Anne ran fles
h rakes and spurs over the whip-
seared skin while Isabelle and Clara entertained George by performing an enthusiastic sixty nine for him.

The following evening saw Anne driving jewel headed pins into Clara’s nipple vents, making her look as though she had flashing and sparkling pe
aks to her breast
s. It didn’
t hurt as much as the caning and she enjoyed watching blood being
drawn from Isabelle’s back down in a cellar after dinner. But upstairs, the three women were permitted into each others’ beds in any combination they li
ked while George enjoyed a final
couple of brandies.
He found them holding Anne down and whipping her cunt for a few moments then licking it until she was nearly coming and then resuming the whipping. He stripped off and Clara was offered a highly satisfactory mouthful of hard cock while she sat on Anne’s face but again he didn’t spend. He sodomised Isabelle using the lubricant of Clara’s saliva
and then lay on Anne to fuck her.

“Go to one of your rooms and wait for me,” he ordered the other two and as they hurried out they heard Anne begin to moan and cry out as her whipped cunny began to take another type of pounding.

It was half an hour later that, as they lay panting and happy in the aftermath of orgasm, Clara and Isabelle saw the naked George Presteign enter Isabelle’s room with the imperious rod of his manhood sticking out and up from his flat, muscular belly. It was Isabelle who got the mouthful that time and Clara was relegated back down to her crotch. He did at least spend that time, Clara heard Isabelle bubbling and spluttering as her mouth was flooded with his sperm
. But to her amazement his cock never really softened much. It took just a few moments playing with Clara’s breasts and tweaking the still-stinging nipples to have it back up and hard as new. This time he started wi
th her bottom hole a
nd George tested her sorely. It was some time before he could move smoothly into and out of her as she tried to remember Phyllis’ instructions about gripping and relaxing. As she knelt with her bum in the air and George shagging it energetically, above her she could hear Isabelle having her breasts played with. Isabelle was kneeling, thighs spread above the back of Clara’s head and her hair was matted with come and cunt juice when George finally pulled clear of her and set about fucking Isabelle instead. And when he
had
done that, he returned to Anne’s bed.

On the morning of the third, and their final day
, none of the women could wa
lk without hurting and mostly they stayed in their rooms while Amanda fetched bowl after bowl of cool water.

In the evening George hung Clara up by her breast
s and whipped her until
she was hoarse from screaming,
they were almost purple with constriction and so tight she thought they would burst. The vents of the nipples did indeed shed some blood under the combined assault of lash and constriction but Anne said it was perfectly normal and nothing to worry about, so the whipping continued. Clara came down at the end of it dizzy and exalted, agonised and orgasmic.

They returned home the day after and rode their saddles – prongs and all – like good island women should. Clara was relaxed and proud despite the incessant stinging at her crotch and the constant drizzle of cunt juice seeping down her thighs. She felt utterly at home now; she adored her husband’s cruelty, she adored the pony slaves, she adored the way that island women only existed to please their men; she had even decided that if Adam wanted her branded she would not object.