Chapter 7
Serena struggled against the rising panic that was threatening to bury her sharp wit and her strength. As she felt herself being carried through the pitch black to the farthest reaches of the cellar, she tried to control her panting, erratic breath.
The man's fingers, covering her mouth, were bruising her cheeks, pressing cruelly into the soft skin. The panic lifted somewhat, when her native humor got the best of her. She could always detail this incident in the cellar as the reason for the black eye.
She had a feeling that James was going to be very embarrassed when he saw it. In the distance, she saw a dim light. It was the old tackle room, now long abandoned. It had been used when the inhabitants of the house had owned a carriage before the days of the automobile.
As a matter-of-fact, the old equippage was still there, the landau, the turnabout, and the magnificent coach, which used to be driven, so the old-timers in the neighborhood said, by an incredible matched set of four bays, imported from Ireland. The room was seldom visited, and James kept it carefully locked, due to the value of the old-fashioned conveyances. A very prominent buyer from a very prominent institution in Washington had offered James thousands upon thousands of dollars for the vehicles, and James, as a matter of family pride, since the coach still bore the family crest proudly, had refused, preferring to keep the treasures in the family.
Their value could only be enhanced and twice a year, he and Marvin came down to oil the old wood down, and rub the rust from the axles and the iron braces. Serena felt herself carried to the door, beneath which the light shone in a long, broad, flat ray of gold.
She lay passive in the powerful arms which were carrying her, wondering what fate lay in store for her behind that formidable, and until now, locked door.
She felt as if it were a fairy tale out of Grimm, only more explicit in its sexual nature, not that Serena ever kidded herself about the fairy tales she had read to her children, when they were younger. Some of them used to make her cream in her pants.
And Serena's pussy was really creaming now, as she felt herself suspended from the powerful arms, felt the male odor of sweat, and recently expended sexual juices, felt the hot, moist breath of the man's mouth, blowing on her pinioned neck.
She could come just like this, she thought, wondering at her perversity, and enjoying it anyway.
Against her ass crack, she could feel a monstrous bulge, and she knew that the man was in full erection. The very thought of it, and the thought of the recent ass-reaming her husband had given her, caused her to become weak in the knees.
What was going to happen to her? Serena could go a little pain with her pleasure, but mutilation, and terminal sado-masochism, that is, torture that ended in death, or close to it, was a frightening prospect.
Then she saw the door open, and she was carried through. The door slammed shut behind her, and she caught her breath in her throat, as she heard the heavy lock slam into its bolts.
At first, she was slightly blind, as she tried to adjust her eyes to the dim light. Even though she had been carried a way in darkness, the bright lights from the kitchen were still with her, contracting her pupils. As her eyes adjusted, her pupils dilated with terror.
What greeted her wondering eyes was the runabout being slowly dragged around the room by-Martha! Martha's strong, work-worn, thick body, naked as the day she was born, was chained to the traces of the sharp little cart, a bit in her mouth from which her saliva dripped down both sides, dribbling off her chin, and splashing on the stone floor.
In the runabout itself sat Marie, a vision in black leather. In her hands she was wielding a long, brutal looking black leather whip, which she was cracking over Martha's broad, straining back.
Marie stopped in her driving of Martha, pointing the whip in Serena's direction.
"So! You have brought the little lamb to slaughter, eh, Marvin!"
Behind her, husking in her ear, She heard the sultry laugh of Marvin.
"Bring her to the cart. Let her be a passenger for awhile. Soon she will know the tip of the whip, too."
Marvin hauled Serena, shaking and awe-struck, over to her beloved Marie. She was still in shock, the scene registering in a bizarre, alien kind of way. She felt divorced from it, as if it were something happening outside herself, away from her immediate environment, but still Marvin's powerful arms were around her waist, although he had removed his hand from her mouth.
Serena's mouth was wide open, but not in any attempt to scream. She doubted, even if she desired to make the attempt, that she could.
Her breath was coming in quick gasps, as Marvin heaved her on the seat of the runabout as if she were a feather, and jumped into the cart, sitting on the seat opposite to Marie and her.
She turned to look at Marie, and found her black-masked face gazing into her face. Her eyes behind the black leather mask, were twinkling.
"So my pet, you will taste the whip sooner than you expected."
Serena turned to Marvin, attracted by his husky, deep-throated chuckle, and she gasped.
Marvin was stark naked, with the exception of a black leather mask, leather, studded wrist bands, and a huge, studded leather belt around his waist. ilis cock was massive, fully twelve inches, and it was erect. It stood at an obscene forty-five degree angle from his belly. Serena's eyes widened as she stared at the massive, gorgeous body of the faithful manservant who had tread so lightly in her home for so many years, had attended to her wants and needs so faithfully, with such self-effacement.
Charles Atlas in his heyday, Samson, Atlas, himself, would have envied the perfect, powerful body that sat with such ease in the pleasure cart. Every muscle on his body was delineated with perfect, Michaelangelo-like precision. His smooth, tawny skin was gleaming with sweat, and Serena creamed in her pants as she thought what effort must have been put forth to produce the perspiration. The room was redolent with the odor of sexuality, recently indulged in.
Then her gaze wandered to Martha, her broad body gleaming between the traces. Martha was heavy, but not fat. She had a beautifully formed, Germanic body, and her muscles, too, gleamed solid, and well-formed on her buttocks, her back, her thighs, and her rounded, firm arms. Her waist was small in comparison to her hips and breasts. And such breasts she had. Huge, melon-shaped, and swinging pendulously under her, jiggling with her every movement. She could have been sculpted in marble, a tribute to Mother Earth, and she certainly was the epitome of that rotund, fertile womanhood so universally worshipped throughout the world.
Serena was staring at her round, marble-perfect white haunches, and watched her pussy lips, peeking through the abundant flesh. They were red, and swollen, like a budding rose of passion, gleaming with come juice. She could see little trickles of cream seeping out of Martha's little hole. Martha was obviously enjoying her bondage.
Her back was raised in long, gleaming welts from the ministrations of Marie's lashing. And as Serena stared fascinated at the woman, Marie stood up in the cart.
"Enough, you slut, you've had your rest. Move! Move!" With that she flicked the whip with a practiced hand, and the tip of the whip raised another welt on Martha's heaving back. Martha tossed her head back and grunted from the pain of the whip, and moved, her heavy, strong arms and legs moving the cart, and its occupants forward. They moved slowly, ponderously, around the room, around the large, gleaming, ghostly coach with the family coat of arms, and the landau, sitting resting on its traces. Serena, as they moved at a dream-like pace around the room, almost heard the ancient ghosts of this ancient family, whispering from the stone walls of the great, dark room, their misty images peeling off the walls, as they rose from their ages-long slumber to witness the bizarre ritual of pain and pleasure being performed here tonight.
What an obscenity, in an apparently normal, sunlit household, where every word and gesture was ritualized for the greatest ease, and the least surprise in life. Serena found it hard to believe that she had been transported to this world of perversions, nestled in a corner of her well-ordered household.
And her pussy twitched. Her breathing had been shallow for a long time now, caught by her shock, and her fascination. It was as if her mind were transported outside itself, stood, slightly above her, hovering over her head, watching in mild surprise.
Finally, Marie desisted from her whipping, and called, "Whoa!" to Martha, who stopped, ponderous, heavy, and obedient in her traces, and waited for the next command.
Marie stepped out of the runabout, and released Martha from her traces.
"Now, you may rest, Mare," said Marie, removing the bit from Martha's frothing mouth. "Go sit in the cart."
Martha climbed in. She stared with grave solemnity at Serena, who stared back. But there were no words exchanged.
"Bring out the fresh horse," shouted Marie, to Marvin. Marvin got up, and stood, smiling over Serena. His cock bobbed at about eye level, and Serena resisted the urge to put her mouth over it. After all, he was married to Martha, and Serena was the lady of the house. She had better maintain at least some of the familiar decorum that was observed. At least that much familiar habit might save her from going over the deep end.
And Serena was being drawn more and more into sympathetic affinity with this blatant outrage to everything civilized.
With a sudden, practiced move, Marvin reached down, and pulled Serena to her feet. With another assured gesture, Serena found herself divested of her satin robe, watching Marvin throw it out of the cart. It described a shimmering pale blue arc in the dim light, and landed in a luxurious, gleaming heap on the stone floor.
Everything to Serena seemed to be in slow motion. She felt Marvin's powerful arms lift her over the sides of the cart, and she felt herself land on the stone cold floor. She had come to the kitchen in bare feet, and she started at the kiss of the cold stone against the soles of her feet.
Marie was snapping her fingers, summoning Serena to her sexual destiny for the evening. As if in a trance, Serena moved toward the powerful leather-clad Marie, and felt herself pushed to her hands and knees, on the hard, cold stone floor, between the traces of the cart.
Still in a dream-like state, Serena felt the cold bite of the steel bit between her teeth, as Marie forced the bit into her mouth, felt the bite of the checkrein, pulling her head back, forcing her to enslaved docility, whether she wished it or not. Marie hauled the crupper over her backsides, and adjusted the breeching, which cut across her buttocks muscles.
Serena blushed, as the breast collar was pulled through the girth, the heavy leather biting into her soft jiggling globes. Then the girth was tightened, and Serena's enslavement was complete. She was nothing more than an animal, harnessed to the brute pleasure of whoever held the reins.
She cried out, as she felt the reins pulled heavily, felt the bit pull against the sides of her mouth. Marvin was at the reins this time, and Serena quaked, as she realized that if Marie's hand was heavy, Marvin's hand was sure to be heavier!
Then she felt the bite of the whip on her naked, white, already bruised and beaten back, and she winced and cried out again. She didn't know if she could take this. She had recently suffered several hours of heavy sexual abuse from her husband. Even if she still felt greased, and alive sexually, she didn't think she wanted to suffer more masochistic pleasure.
She tried to hang her head, only to have her head checked by the brutal leather harnessing that held her body in whatever position her master and mistresses desired. There was no way she could hide, no way she could wiggle out of this.
And as the realization dawned on her that she was, indeed, a captive, her dream-like state vanished, leaving wounded pride, humiliation, and a futile anger in its place. Here she was, the mistress of this household, and these creatures her servants, and yet, she was in bondage to them!
The thought brought angry tears to her eyes, stinging them, and blurring her vision. This was more than she had ever bargained for, when she told Marie that she would like to taste the whip.
And then she did, indeed, taste the kiss of the whip against her white buttocks. Marvin's hand was as practiced and sure as Marie's had been, only this time, instead of being a witness, Serena was on the receiving end. She reared up in the harness, struggling to shed the humiliating, degrading bondage. It was hopeless!
"Move, mare, move!" bellowed Marvin, landing the whip again on Serena's quivering backside. Serena pulled against the breast collar, trying to avoid the pressure of the bit in her mouth. At first she didn't move the cart at all, the weight in it being too heavy, or so she thought, for her strength.
But the body-building and healthy regimen Serena had followed for the past weeks, had built up her body to perfection, and her strength was greater than she herself realized.
As she felt the whip bite into her quaking flesh again, she pulled, harder this time, and the cart moved, slowly, ponderously and jerkily at first, but with a growing rhythm, as the burden lightened with its motion.
"Hah! Hah! Gee-up!" Marvin was shouting.
Serena was doubly frustrated by the fact that she couldn't anticipate the vicious bite of the whip, couldn't look back over her shoulders because of the harnessing that held her head straight forward, to see what was going to happen next. She was bound to a pure, degrading helplessness that stung her breast as acutely as the whip was stinging her white, exposed, and vulnerable flesh.
Serena thought of all the horse shows to which she had gone, her fondness for the riding quirt, which she used liberally on her high-spirited thoroughbred mare.
How dare she, she thought. What a piece of arrogance. We ask a wild creature, a horse, to do our bidding, and then we torture him in the process, force a basically docile nature into servility.
She made a mental note to remind Marie that she was not to be too severe in her punishment of her children, too. Children can be broken the same way.
And while she was thinking of it, her anger building, and her sense of shame as the whip bit into her quivering buttocks, she was going to take riding lessons. A horse, especially a good one, and her mare was superb, shouldn't need more correction than a slight pressure of the knees. She was going to dispense with the quirt, unless her husband and she wished to use it in their games.
She wished her husband were here. It would give her a sense of comfort to know that her husband, her equal-no, what was she thinking? Her superior! It would be nice to know that he shared her kinky sexual customs. But there was hope for him yet.
Serena pulled for what seemed an eternity, feeling the bite of the whip on her white ass.
She hated these beasts. How dare they! And she blushed a deeper crimson when she thought how she had been betrayed by Marie, Marie with whom she had made love, with whom she had been intimate. Her position in her own household of dignity and authority was gone now, and she was a craven thing, a toy, a beast of burden, prone and crawling along a hard, cutting stone floor, bearing the weight of her own servants whom she was pulling.
The leather harnessing was biting into her flesh. The crupper and breeching, where they met on her backside, were rubbing her skin raw. Each move forward of her arms and legs caused an ache or a pain somewhere. She felt that she would not have one inch of flesh whole at the end of the evening.
Around and around the room she crawled, pulling the wagon, with its obscene passengers, feeling the ghosts of the family pointing at her, laughing, laughing the way the passengers in the runabout were laughing at her.
And her tears flowed, silent and unchecked down her blushing, humiliated cheeks, as she pulled for what seemed to be an eternity. Marvin flayed her mercilessly, yelling at her to speed her up. Serena's knees were cut and bleeding from the pressure of digging into the stone floor, to gain some leverage to pull the runabout, and the palms of her hands were also red and raw from pressing and sliding against the cruel, unyielding stone.
Serena let out a wild shriek of pain, as she felt the reins pull her up short, her head being flung back, the sides of her mouth a center of excruciating pain. Marvin had halted his beast of burden.
She started as she felt something digging at her exposed pussy. "The little mare enjoyed her drive," she heard Marvin's voice husk, and she realized that Marvin was tickling her creaming pussy with the tip of the whip.
Her face almost burned away from the heat of her blushing. Of course, through the pain and the humiliation, her perverse sexuality had told its tale by causing her pussy to cream. And there was no way that Serena could hide it. In her horsey position, her twat was wide open to the prying gaze of the passengers in the runabout.
She heard Marie's voice, sultry, caressing. "That little mare can be ridden in more ways than one, Marvin."
And then she heard, with growing shock and wonderment in her voice, the soft, quiet, passive voice of Martha, now glowing with a vibrance she had never even suspected in the bland, sweet-tempered, steady woman.
"I think she should be tamed, Marvin. And I'd like to see you do it. You're the best horseman I've ever met."
Serena heard the insinuating laughter of the three, Marvin's deep-throated peeling rising above the lighter laughter of the women. She felt the cart jiggle, which caused her to wince with pain, as the jolting caused the leather harnessing to bite deeper into her already deeply abused and braded flesh.
"Well, then, let's see what we can do to inject some life into the bag of bones," she heard Marvin's voice growl. She jumped as she felt rough hands grab her ass cheeks, waving so high and exposed.
No, she thought to herself, not another ass-fucking. Once is enough, especially since her husband had been so big that he had really hurt her, and her ass was still throbbing from the brutal mauling it had received from her husband's pleasure pole.
She knew that Marvin was between the traces, and then she felt his cock, hot and throbbing, rubbing up and down her ass crack. She held her breath. In her mind she willed him to find her pussy. At least that was lubricated and therefore not as sore as her ass.
She waited a long, suspenseful minute that felt like eternity, as Marvin's powerful hands roamed over her body. She jumped at every new area of flesh he touched, waiting for the violence to descend, waiting for the pinch, or the slap she was sure to follow.
But instead, Marvin's hands were light, and caressing on her back, tracing the line of the checkrein which held her head erect, and running across the crupper, pausing to wiggle a finger slightly into her ass crack, and then around to caress her belly, now gouged red where the girth bound her. She felt his finger wiggle into her belly button, and as he did that, she felt her pussy cream even more.
Then Marvin's powerful, stiff prick wended its way down her ass crack until it was pressed against the opening of her pussy. Serena almost swooned when she felt the vital, throbbing head pressed to the opening of her suppurating womanhood.
She wanted it. For all her humiliation, in spite of the degrading position she found herself in, she wanted to have the breath fucked out of her by Marvin. And her pussy started pouring cream copiously.
Marvin felt it around the tip of his cock, as he waited one breathless moment before plunging home with a great cry.
"Yeahhhhh!"
Serena screamed with the exquisite agony and ecstasy of that wild plunge, which spread her womanhood wide open. His invading man-hammer plowed a straight course upward, and didn't stop until his mushroom-shaped head was planted deep into the most secret recesses of her flayed and humiliated womanhood. Never in her heyday, had Serena been so used, so humiliated, and the knowledge of the use to which she was submitting, not entirely against her will, created an enormous conflict in her, a tug-of-war between the pleasure and the pain of it all.
She moaned as Marvin started sawing in and out of her pussy with sure, long strokes, deep-fucking her with a strength and steady rhythm that sent Serena climbing higher toward another orgasm. At this point, she had lost sight of the orgasms she had had. She felt that the whole day had been one huge climax, with her blindly, furiously, mindlessly, seeking only her sexual pleasure.
She had indeed become an animal. She thought of her husband, sleeping quietly and soundly in her bed upstairs, thought of her position in the household, which would never be the same again, and she wanted to hide her head in shame, as she gave herself up to the glory of Marvin's fucking, willing her pleasure to mount, willing herself open, to ease the passage of Marvin's huge mauler in and out of her creaming twat.
She wiggled her ass against Marvin's grinding groin, feeling his thighs, as he knelt between the traces, taking her wildly, savagely, in the presence of the two other women, rubbing against her inner thighs. Marvin's hands were still roaming around her belly, up to her breasts, hanging pendulously down where they escaped from the breast collar. She felt his rough hands pinching her nipples, not brutally, but just hard enough to increase her pleasure, as the small little shooting needles of pain from her tweaked nipples shot through her body, and landed in a growing puddle of warmth in her belly.
She arched her hips backward into Marvin's glorious body, and surrendered completely, mindlessly, to his fucking.
Each thrust of his cock sent another spiral of pleasure through her body, until she was bathed in sweat and gasping as the heat burned up her oxygen supply. Behind her closed eyelids, colors were growing wild, greens and blues, and oranges and reds.
She felt her stomach lurch against her sternum, felt it flip itself inside out, felt the slight wave of nausea, so fleeting that it was only noticed after the fact, and then she came. She felt the sticky spring of her pussy cream pouring in great, stringy cascades around Marvin's demanding dork, as he plowed in and out of her with a rhythm that didn't vary at all.
She felt Marvin's hands check the wild, gyrating motions of her hips. No, she thought, I want to come. I want to come now. I can't stand it.
"N-N-Noooo, don't. Let me come. I need to come," she husked, as Marvin pinned her hips, preventing her from humping herself to her orgasm.
"You will come when I want, little mare, and not before. In the meantime, enjoy the sweet torture."
"No!" she bellowed, enraged. After all the tension from the pain and humiliation they had put her through, she felt she deserved an orgasm, wanted one so badly, that her pussy ached with a screaming ache.
Marvin's cock did not increase at all, and Serena hovered, maddeningly at the edge of the precipice of pleasure, wanting to throw herself over.
It was Marvin's contention, that instead of hurtling over in one quick, violent motion, that she was going to float over, feeling the peak of her pleasure peak even more. He was dangling her there, her heart beating, her stomach throbbing, her pussy creaming in great, warm gushes of sticky woman-juice over the steady-fucking prick.
Marvin was now bent completely over her back, his hands braced on either side of her quaking, taut body. She could feel his warm breath husking in her ear, sending maddening shivers of pleasure and excitement down her already sex-bloated body.
And still his body humped into hers, in slow motion, as slow as she was coming. She shrieked in anguish, and then gasped in husking, shallow little gasps, as Marvin's merciless dong plowed its slow and sensuous rhythm in and out of her pussy.
Her orgasm started with heavy, maddening little jerks at first, which built slowly. She felt as if she were floating in slow motion, and that her orgasm was suspended in air or water in her belly, stuffed to overflowing with Marvin's massive dong.
Her throat was even coming, and she felt the queer, deep-throated grunts which started pumping out of her throat, against her will. Her sex sweat was pouring freely, and drying on her skin rapidly, which only intensified the sharp, almost painful ecstasy that was running sharply through her. And still Marvin held her hips still, still his dong plowed slowly in and out of her twat, until a howl was wrenched from her throat, as she felt the contractions increase in speed, building slowly at first and then getting faster, until her body was a frenzied picture of spastic delight. Then, and only then, Marvin released her hips, which, out of the rational control of Serena's mind, ground heavily and erratically against Marvin's hips. Marvin slammed home, as deeply as he could one more time, and then knelt, still, pressed into Serena's pussy gone mad.
And her pussy had indeed gone mad. She was creaming and gyrating and blind with the lust that had taken possession of her body. And her howl went on and on and on, as she came and came and came, tears pouring from her eyes as freely as the sweat poured from her body, covering her skin with a gleaming wetness.
And then she fainted, heavily, her last spasm mixed with the pain of the biting leather harness.