Taming the Brat by Sean O'Kane

Copyright Sean O'Kane

A Silver Moon Books Downloaded from http://www.electronicbookshops.com

The right of the author to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1.

It was a Friday evening when I got the first call from Sam Andreotti.

      I remember it clearly because I was watching Sonia practice her own, very special version of office management. It isn't a technique you will find in any ACAS handbook; but it works. Ever since I had found her my business had run like well-oiled clockwork.

       My office has an ensuite bathroom and in one wall is a large window, through which I can observe Sonia's office and the whole of the administrative area where three girls work under her direction. From their side the window is a mirror. Of course only Sonia and myself have keys to the bathroom. 

      Each Friday evening, after the close of business, Sonia would hold what she called,  'Staff Assessment and Training Sessions.' She had an unerring ability to pick out from job applicants those who would respond to her style of management.

      That evening I was leaning against the wall and enjoying the sight of Julie being  'assessed' and  'trained'. The two junior girls had already had their sessions and had left, each with two sets of flushed cheeks. But Julie was Sonia's secretary and had been with us for some months. She was well down the road towards being where both Sonia and I wanted her.

      She was kneeling up on Sonia's desk, her back to me, with her hands on her head and her legs as wide spread as her knickers, now pulled down and stretched tight between her thighs, would allow. Under her short skirt she was barelegged; Sonia would only allow that or stockings; no tights.

      As I watched, Sonia hiked Julie's skirt up until it was rucked up around her hips so that I could see the delightfully tight little globes of her buttocks. She poked the index finger of one hand up into her sex and Julie gave a little moan as she was penetrated. Sonia was standing in front of her and now casually referred to some notes she held in her free hand.

      "On the whole you have kept a pretty good eye on the girls Julie, but you yourself have made one or two mistakes in punctuation and spelling that I have had to correct."

      "Yes Miss Jacobson. I'm sorry."

      "I will punish you for those now, and then we will discuss your personal development. Climb down and undress."

      Without a word Julie clambered down and did as she was told. She had a delightful figure, very petite but with good hips and nice firm buttocks. When she was naked she stood with her back to me, her straight blonde hair falling onto her shoulders where there were yellowing traces of bruising. Julie stood quietly while Sonia walked round her slowly, letting one finger trace the lines of the bruises. The girl shuddered under her cool touch.

      "Was this that boyfriend of yours?" Sonia asked.

      "Yes Miss Jacobson. Last weekend."

      "Very good Julie. Well done! So at last you've told him about how you respond to proper management?"

      "Yes Miss Jacobson. He used his belt."

      "Good for him!"

      Julie stood quietly, hands by her sides, head bowed, as Sonia walked round her once more.

      "You know Julie, I think you're nearly ready for Mr. Masterson himself to become involved in these assessments."

      At the mention of my name, Julie looked up. "Really Miss Jacobson?"  And although she was facing away from me I could hear the eagerness in her voice.

      Sonia smiled fondly at her. "Yes really. But there is one thing which still needs attending to. Has your boyfriend ever taken you in the rear?"

      Julie hung her head again and was silent for a moment. "No Miss Jacobson," she whispered finally.

      "You will attend to that this weekend. I will punish you for your mistakes and then I will give you extra. Three extra. That should indicate to him where he should be concentrating his attentions."

      Sonia went to her desk, opened a drawer and took out a riding crop. She swished it in the air in front of Julie a couple of times and I saw another shudder run through the girl's body.

      "Oh Miss," she moaned.

      "Come now girl," Sonia said sternly. "You want me to give a good report to Mr Masterson surely. If not, you're quite free to leave. You know that don't you?"

      For a brief moment Julie's head turned towards the door, but then she looked back at Sonia and I could see her square her shoulders and draw herself up to submit herself bravely to whatever was coming. Inside my trousers the throbbing grew worse as I imagined slipping myself between those pert little buttocks after they had been lashed by the crop. Just a couple of weeks to wait now.

      "No Miss. I don't want to leave," she said.

      "Good. Spread your legs, and bend over against your desk." Sonia smiled, "If you like you can imagine it's him beating you. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

      Julie returned the smile. "Yes Miss."

      "Good. When I've finished I'll give you the crop to take home for him."

      "Oh thank you Miss!" Julie's voice became girlish with enthusiasm and she turned to bend over her desk. She spread her legs and jammed her hips against the front of it, reaching out to the sides to grip its edges.

.     Sonia looked over and smiled at me before turning her attention to the upthrust buttocks in front of her. She laid the crop across the twin pillows of smooth, pale flesh, then raised her arm and brought the crop swooshing down across them. It cracked home loudly and brought an anguished grunt from between Julie's tight gritted teeth as her head jerked up convulsively.

      "Come now Julie," Sonia rebuked her, "you can stay down better than that. There's only five more to take."

      "Yes Miss Jacobson. Sorry," Julie whispered and resettled herself. The second lash whistled in and although the girl did not jump this time, she was unable to prevent herself from gasping. And the third lash made her go up onto tip toes to try and absorb the stinging pain. There were three neat red lines across her upper buttocks. Sonia laid the crop lower down now, so that it passed across the groove of her sex. Julie stopped wriggling. She knew that the next three would burn right across them. Sonia drew her arm back slowly, savouring the sight of the girl pushing up to meet the ferocious blast of the next three lashes. And she laid them on with a will. Julie couldn't help the little shrieks which answered each blow, but after only a few seconds of frantic wriggling after each one she was set for the next. And when the last one smacked across her lips I could see that they had begun to engorge and peel open very enticingly. The throbbing in my groin became more urgent.

      "You can get up now," Sonia told her when she had finished, flicking the crop's tip at her sex. "I don't think your boyfriend will miss the significance of those marks, especially as I am giving you the crop to give to him." Sonia ran the shaft of the crop down the crack between Julie's buttocks and smiled. "I'm sure he'll know what to do with it."

      When Julie stood up she turned slightly and I could see a secretive little smile on her face too. Sonia put one hand under her chin and kissed her for a long time.

      "Next week, if you've done as I've told you, I'll have a reward for you. And I'll tell Mr Masterson that you're nearly ready."

      Julie dressed and left after another kiss from Sonia. The riding crop was sticking out of the top of her carrier bag and she was blushing and confused.

      I was leaning against the front of my desk when Sonia entered my office. She came straight over to me and knelt down. In a matter of moments she had my frantically rigid member free of my clothes and was sucking hungrily at it.

      Sonia is a great believer in heirarchy and authority. That's why I employed her as my P.A. and office manager in the first place and why she jumped at the opportunity. I was wealthy, and the power I wielded through my business was exactly the aphrodisiac she was looking for. And if she herself wielded power in my name, that also excited her. But as senior member of staff she fully expected to receive far more severe punishment from her boss than she gave out. As far as she was concerned, that was only right and proper.

      The phone rang just as I had planned out the evening. I would let her suck for a little longer before releasing myself into her mouth, then take her out to dinner and after that we would repair to my penthouse, above the offices, where I had a room specially equipped to slake Sonia's thirst for submission to my authority.

      I would have let the phone record the call, except that Sam identified himself at the start. Sonia pulled her head back and looked up at me in surprise. I reached out and over-rode the machine to take the call myself. Any annoyance I might have felt at being deprived of the opportunity to sound the capacious depths of Sonia's throat had vanished. Sam Andreotti was a bigtime mover and shaker.

      He wanted to come over from the States and see me to discuss some business he had in mind and would the beginning of next week be alright? I said that I thought I might be able to fit him in, mentally cancelling everything else in the diary. If Sam Andreotti wanted to talk; I wanted to listen. He was a major league player, and although my company was no small-fry in the  import-export game, any association with him could only be good for me.

      Or so I thought.

      He would be coming over with his daughter so would I do him the favour of booking them into a hotel of my choice? I told him I would have one of my people attend to it, and I'd look forward to seeing him.

      I put the receiver back thoughtfully and told Sonia what he'd wanted.

      "Okay I'll book the hotel, cancel everything I can, and handle what I can't for you," she said, before turning her attention back to a cock which was slightly more flaccid than it had been a moment ago. A few expertly placed licks soon remedied that though and I settled back to enjoy my imminent orgasm, my forthcoming evening and the prospect of lucrative business.

      When Sam and Laura walked into the office I was watching through the two way mirror. That way I was able to avoid being seen to be gaping at her. She was not only one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen; but also she carried an aura of sensuality about with her as if it was the waft of an expensive perfume. She was tall, blonde and tanned, her long legs were shapely and in complete harmony with the generous swell of her hips. Her slender, graceful waist, set off to perfection by the impossibly well tailored suit she wore, supported high, prominent breasts. But it was her face which saved her from the Barbie-doll syndrome. She had a wide full-lipped mouth, a strong jaw line and straight nose. It was an intelligent face with large eyes of the most bewitching sea-grey colour. I had to tear my gaze away from her to look at Sam. He was about sixty, tall as well with a shock of white hair and the sort of wind-tanned skin you get from an outdoors life.

      The girls in the office did their fair share of gaping too. And I could forgive them. Laura Andreotti would make most professional models feel inadequate.

      Sternly I pulled myself together and by the time Sonia showed them in I was seated at my desk and contriving to look busy. My chance to have a sneak preview of Laura meant that when I stood up to shake hands with both of them I was able to withstand the blast of her sexuality and turn straight back to Sam. As I did so I caught a hint of fury in her eyes and a tightening around her mouth, she was obviously not used to men failing to react to her. Round one to me, I decided, but was surprised that I felt as though some sort of contest had already begun between us.

      Sam meanwhile had taken a seat and settled himself.

      Sonia stood beside me and when Laura first spoke she shattered the spell her physical presence had cast.

      "Get the girl to go make me coffee will you, I'm parched." It wasn't simply the rudeness, it was the petulant whine in her voice which struck both of us. I saw Sonia wince but, professional that she is, she went.

      While Sonia was out of the room, Sam explained that though he didn't normally shift much off his home turf; I knew he was renowned for that, he wanted to meet me in person before he made me a proposition.

      "I'm honoured Sam." I said.

      From the corner of my eye I saw Laura give a quick look round my office. "You'd better believe it," she said.

      Sam tried to laugh away his obvious embarrassment and fortunately Sonia returned with coffee. From then on Sam and I managed to talk business, but only in a general way. He had done his homework on my company but for the moment seemed only to want me to confirm what he'd learnt. At last I suggested we meet for dinner, they'd had a long journey and I would call them a cab to get them to their hotel for a freshen up. Then I'd pick them up later and maybe we could talk in more detail over a drink and a meal.

      "Yeah, you guys do the boring bit," Laura said, "I'm heading out. Couple of friends of mine are slumming it over here. I said I'd look them up." 

      "How nice," I managed, smiling through gritted teeth. Sam rolled his eyes helplessly and I began to warm to him. I stood up to guide them down to the car park but Laura hadn't finished.

       In a way plainly calculated to draw my eye, she crossed her legs and languidly ran the fingers of one hand up and down the graceful curves of a calf and ankle. "Anywhere I can get pantyhose? I must've snagged a heel getting off the plane."

      I could see no sign of a ladder but said as galantly as I could that I was sure that the hotel would be glad to send out for tights if she found herself without spare pairs and then went straight back to attending to Sam. Immediately, I could feel waves of hostility coming towards me from her. Obviously I had been meant to fall over myself to attend to her. That was twice now I had failed to rise to the bait.

When I got back to the office Sonia was bristling with fury. "God what a brat! What a spoiled rotten, bad mannered brat!" she fumed. From then on the name stuck, and Laura was  'the Brat'.

      My club; 'The Lodge ' is a very select and discreet institution. It's owned by some friends of mine who work in the City and is set in its own estate in the Berkshire countryside, but within striking distance of the city.

      It offers its members very special facilities and I wanted Sam to experience them. I wouldn't normally have taken a business associate there on the first meeting but Sam was rich enough to be different. So once I had learned that Laura would not be joining us, I had booked both of us in for the night.

      Over dinner I waited until Sam had told me more about the deal he was proposing before I introduced him to the delights the club had to offer. It was a simple enough deal; he wanted to buy the company I had built up for the equivalent of fifteen million pounds. At first glance I suppose most people would simply want to know where they signed. But I already had plenty of money and I enjoyed running the business. It always provided me with challenges and excuses to travel. In the ten years or so during which I had been developing the business I had built up a network of good agents all over the world and this was what Sam wanted.

      "I know we Yanks get up peoples' noses and we're too Goddamned brash most of the time. I want my companies to be able to move their products smoothly and easily from country to country. So what I want to buy is your company and your time. In addition to the fifteen million I want you to stay right where you are and just concentrate on handling my companies' accounts."

      That took me aback, I will admit. I'd be a multi-millionaire still have a fat salary, and I'd still be doing what I enjoyed most.

      Sam went on, "I mean you Europeans, you got more style!" he enthused, waving a hand to take in the pannelled luxury of the dining room. The waitresses in their long dresses with the very low cut necklines moved quietly among the tables. "Jeez! Look at the broads you got serving! Even they've got style!"

      I knew that they had a lot more to offer than mere style and decided to show Sam what was really on offer as a way of distracting him and giving myself more time to consider his proposal.

      I beckoned one of the girls over. She was black haired and had very pale, clear skin. Like all the other waitresses she was dressed in a long satin evening gown. Her breasts were almost exposed by the plunging neckline and a small strip of gauze only partially hid the dark tips and the clearly rouged nipples in their centres. In front of my place at the table was a metal disc with the number of my room on it. A slender chain ran through it. I picked this up and gave it to the girl who smiled at me and then unclasped the chain and put it round her neck before fastening it again. It hung snugly under the black silk choker she wore like a collar.

      "I'll tell you when I want you," I said and she bobbed me a charming little curtsy, then turned to leave. "Oh, and make sure you bring a good selection of whips with you," I added. The girl turned again and bobbed another little curtsy before going to tend to another table. When I turned back to Sam I had the satisfaction of seeing him looking from me to the retreating girl and back again with slack jawed amazement.

      "You mean this is a cathouse?" he managed to get out at last.

      I nodded. Sam gaped at me for a few seconds more and then burst out laughing.

      "I guess that's a perfect illustration of what I meant," he said at last, wiping his eyes with his napkin, "in the States it'd have 'Fuck'em and whip'em all night! Free hash browns in the morning!' written in neon letters twenty feet high outside. It's style Al, you've got it and we ain't."

      I think it was then that I began to like Sam Andreotti. And in that liking the Brat's fate; and as it turned out, mine, was sealed.

      I explained to Sam how the girls were all specially trained and that any without a room number around their necks were still free. He chose a pleasantly chubby little brunette who I recommended, having beaten her soundly only a fortnight before and found her very willing and sturdy. We decided to leave business for the night and, still chuckling, Sam headed upstairs with his girl while I beckoned mine over.

2.

The girl's name was Marietta. I had had her a few times in the past and always found that she responded well to pain. She knocked on the door as I was pouring myself a brandy from the bottle I had brought up with me, and entered carrying several whips. She had put on a proper leather collar and had wrist and ankle restraints on as well. She placed the whips carefully on the bed and then stood quietly beside them with her hands clasped demurely in front of her. I could see her breasts rising and falling as she breathed hard through mingled fear and excitement.

      I must confess that every time I have one of the girls at the club I am seized by an uncharacteristic indecision. I am torn between administering a good thrashing in the room or going into what's known as the Common Room where beatings are given in front of anyone who wants to watch. I had passed the room a few minutes earlier and heard a crop being plied with great enthusiasm while the victim screamed most enjoyably and the guests laughed and talked amongst themselves. On this particular evening however, I decided to keep Marietta to myself and gave her the signal to strip. A simple zip at the back of the dress is all that needs to be undone and in a sensuous rustling the whole garment falls to the girl's feet. They are only ever dressed in stockings and high heels underneath and now Marietta stood virtually naked before me. I beckoned her to me and made her turn around in a complete circle. She has a good figure; a nice pert backside, not overly large breasts but prettily uptilted ones and smooth, firm thighs.

       Now here again there is a choice, but I always the girls in making this one. Marietta had obviously not been with anyone for a few days as there was no trace of whip, cane or crop on the pale skin, so that meant I had  'carte blanche'.

      " Well Marietta, " I said, " where shall I start? Shall I make those tight little buttocks tremble under the whip? Or shall I work the riding crop across your delightful little breasts and make them shudder instead? Or maybe you'd rather have the whip curl around your thighs and lick at the soft skin between them?" As I spoke these last words I ran a hand over the bush of hair at her delta and she obediently opened her legs so that my fingers could run along the length of the crease between her lips. I spread them apart and softly began to tease the nub of her clitoris, rubbing just the tip of one finger against it and feeling it begin to harden and thrust up in response. "Or there again perhaps you'd like all three?" I added.

       She licked her lips nervously and I smiled. This little ritual of mine always disconcerts them because they are used to simply obeying orders but I have always found that it pays dividends. If they are given a part to play in selecting the type and amount of suffering they are going to endure; they get very excited by the cruelty of the choices facing them and respond much better.

      Marietta could make no immediate reply so for the moment I told her to undress me and when we were both naked we went to look at the whips she had brought with her. I made her take them up one by one and run them through her hands. I watched her face carefully as the leather lashes caressed her fingers and saw her flinch just slightly as the knots in the multiple lashes of one particular one trailed over the soft skin of her palm.

      "I bet that one hurts doesn't it?" I said.

      "Yes Master," she replied softly in the accented English most of the girls have as a result of being imported from Eastern Europe.

      "Now where does it hurt most Marietta? Where would you like me to use it on you?"

 I insisted.

      She shook her head helplessly, "I. . . wherever the Master. . . I don't know," she stammered.

      I pressed on ruthlessly. "Tell me Marietta. Tell me where this whip hurts the most."

      I reached out and gently began to stroke and rub her nipples, then roll them hard and tweak them between thumb and forefinger. I had seen them begin to swell and harden as she contemplated her answers. She shuddered under my insistent caresses and her eyes closed but her hands clenched themselves around the lashes of the whip and she gave a little whimper of pleasure.

      "Between the legs Master," she whispered at last, "there it is terrible."

      "So it is there that you want me to use it?"

      She opened her eyes and looked at me very briefly before looking down.

      "Yes Master."

      I tied her to the foot of the four poster bed, facing away from it. Her arms were raised and spread, her wrist restraints clipped to the rings which hung from the posts; her legs also spread wide open and similarly tied. As ever she looked very sweet and vulnerable and I kissed her for a long time, enjoying the passion with which she returned my kisses. Her lips were soft and ardent against mine as she darted her tongue teasingly into my mouth. Marietta was aroused and knew full well that she was exciting me and that that excitement would be expressed in the severity of the beating she was about to receive. What's more she knew that I knew and we were locked together in the age old dance of dominance and submission.

      At last I broke the kiss and stepped back. Her face was flushed and her dark eyes shone with arousal and a kind of challenge. I let my hand slip slowly down across the flat expanse of her stomach until once again it found the thick bush of dark hair at her pubic mound and when my fingers probed the slit of her sex this time they found it slick with juice and the lips full and open. We smiled at one another. I lifted my hand away and put it to her mouth where she sucked my fingers clean of her musky juices, one by one.

      I could wait no longer, and flicking out the whip I took careful aim at the place where her thighs joined. At the first lash which smacked home across her bush I heard her suck in her breath and saw her hips buck in an involuntary spasm. At the second, which I placed carefully in exactly the same spot, she gave a little grunt behind gritted teeth and her stomach muscles clenched. Her eyes were fixed on the long lashes of the whip as I swung it again and this time her head went back as it smacked home. I could see her throat convulse as she stifled a scream and as the fourth lash whistled in, her control broke and a small choked off scream did escape her.

      She was warmed up now, I judged, and so I backed away a little. The whip had left vivid stripes which ran across her stomach and curled round her hip but I wanted it to land on a much more tender target from now on. She watched me intently, her mouth hanging open and her breath coming in delightful little gasps. I steadied myself and then lashed her again. This time the knotted leather strips bit into the front of her right thigh and curled round to deliver the worst of their punishment to the soft skin at her crotch. She made no attempt to restrain the scream this time but howled and writhed in her bonds at every lash from then on. I moved to stand directly in front of her and struck alternately forehand and backhand to make sure that both thighs got the full treatment. Her hips twisted and bucked as though she was being given a good reaming out and as I counted the tenth lash I realised that the whip was coming away from her body glistening with sweat and the juice of her arousal. I gave her two more for luck and then took her down.

      The Lodge has always trained its girls well; although she was panting and sobbing she fell to her knees immediately I freed her and took my throbbing member deep into her mouth. I let her suck for a minute or two, enjoying the feel of her tongue expertly swirling around the tip and the pleasure of delving into her throat. But I wanted her on the bed and when she got up and lay on it she opened her legs wide and raised them for me to see the livid marks traced on the skin either side of her sex. Some of the stripes ran right across it, and then spanned the buttock cleft to run  up onto her buttocks themselves. Faced with the arousing sight of a well thrashed girl proudly displaying the marks of her thrashing, I plunged straight into her, making her gasp as I pushed myself all the way in and I felt her moist channel grip my shaft. She kept her legs spread straight out and up by my shoulders all the time I shafted her. And when I finally pumped myself into her she bucked and cried out as though she was still under the whip.

      Although I took her twice more that night I didn't beat her again. It was considered bad form to risk disturbing other guests' sleep.

      The next morning I woke as Marietta rolled out of bed and began to dress. As she was pulling the dress itself up her legs, she gave me a coquettish little grin and rubbed a hand ruefully across the dark bruises on her pale skin.

      "Tell your supervisor that after breakfast I want you and Irena round in the stableyard." I told her.

      "Yes Master," she replied quietly and fastened my disc round her neck again to signify that she was still required by me. Irena was the girl I had chosen for Sam and if we were going to discuss business again, I wanted the discussion held on my terms.

      Sam was subdued at breakfast; I guessed that last night he had indulged himself with Irena in ways he had never done with a woman before. I was proved right when he spoke at last.

      "Well Al, I've got to hand it to you. When you entertain a business guest you don't do it by halves," he said.

      "Irena good was she?" I asked innocently.

      "Good?! Hell Al, I haven't fucked so long and so hard for years! And boy can that girl soak up some punishment."

      Proof of just how much punishment Irena had soaked up was in plain view when I took him round to the stableyard.

      Once again I had the pleasure of seeing Sam lost for words as we rounded the back of the house and came into the stableyard. There were Marietta and Irena both naked and both harnessed to take us for a drive. Each girl was harnessed between the shafts of a single seat trap, their wrists were manacled to the shafts and their only clothing was the soft leather boots on their feet. As it was full summer and the day was already hot the groom had lathered them both in sun blocker which made their skin glisten very prettily. From where we stood I could see Marietta's bruises fanning out from the crease of her bottom and from between her legs but Irena's back was a network of criss - crossing weals from shoulders to thighs.

      "Well," I said, "I don't think you'll need to do much more than touch her up a little to get her going."

      Sam had the grace to blush and I laughed. "Not that I need to tell a Yank how to ride or drive a pony. But it's a very old English tradition to ride round one's estate on a fine morning like this and besides I know a good place where we can talk in private. So just follow me."

      "I'll bet using girls as ponies ain't that old a tradition though." He replied.

      "Oh you'd be amazed at what we Limeys have got up to over the centuries Sam. Come on."

      I led him over to where the girls were waiting. Their reins had been looped through an iron ring on the wall of the stable and they stood quietly, although Marietta was obviously looking forward to being run and she fidgeted her feet impatiently from time to time. I undid the reins and handed Irena's to Sam.

      "The bit is the same as a horse's, " I explained, " you'll just need a touch to left or right to steer her with. Rein her in to stop her and use the whip to gee her up. Simple really."

       I watched as he clambered into his seat and took the whip from its slot beside him. Irena's hands clasped the grips on the shafts more tightly as his weight came onto them and shifted her stance to brace herself for pulling. I briefly checked Marietta's bridle and made sure her bit was fully at the back of her mouth and then I too mounted and took the long whip into one hand as I gathered the reins in the other. I touched its tip to Marietta's shoulder, pulled her gently round to the left and we were off.

      I settled back and watched Marietta's muscles bunch as she leaned against the weight of the trap. I flicked the whip against her flank and immediately she found the extra strength to propel herself into a trot. Behind me I heard Sam's whip crack down on Irena and when I looked back she was trotting vigorously after us, her full breasts bouncing and her knees lifting high.

      It is, I believe, one of the greatest pleasures life can offer to trot out with ponies on a fine morning in the English countryside. There was a pleasantly cool breeze in our faces and the ponies themselves needed only the occasional flick to encourage them to keep up the pace. We headed out on the track which runs due South of the club's golf course and down to a small ornamental lake. I reined Marietta in a little to let Sam come abreast of us and pointed out a few local landmarks as we rattled along.

      After a mile or so I pulled Marietta to the right and she leaned harder into her work as the trap came off the track and we bumped over grass for a few yards. There was a copse of trees here and a pleasant walk to the lake.

      By the time we pulled up in the shade of the trees I could see that Marietta was sweating although the day was not yet at its hottest. Irena, being of a more chubby build was suffering more and Sam cracked the whip several times across her already reddened buttocks as she laboured to pull him over the grass. When we had dismounted I showed him how to take the girls' bridles off and then use the reins to hobble them with. There were water bottles in each trap and we gave each girl a good drink before we left them and resumed our discussions.

      As we walked through the copse I was surprised by Sam starting with an apology.

      "I underestimated you Al," he said and then glanced back to where our ponies were standing silent and patient. "Hell I underestimated a whole mess of things. I thought I was a control freak but I don't know diddlysquat compared to you guys. And I guess that if there's anything you don't like about my offer it's that you'll be working for someone else, however it's wrapped up."

      This was a shrewd guess and I nodded as he went on. "I can relate to that Al. But if you'll give me a day or so, I think I might be able to come up with something which will interest a man like you."

      I didn't mind waiting, I was coming to like Sam and anyway there was a lot of money at stake. I told him I was quite prepared to wait and we walked on in silence for a moment before Sam seemed to steer the conversation off at a tangent.

      "How the hell do they do it Al?" he asked suddenly.

      "Do what?"

      He jerked his head back towards where the ponies were waiting. "How the hell do they get them so submissive?"

      "Oh there are ways and means," I said airily. I wasn't about to reveal any trade secrets yet.

      Sam seemed to accept my reply however and took off again on an unconnected subject. He stopped suddenly and became brisk and businesslike. "I want to get back to town Al. There's people in the States I need to talk to. Will you take Laura out for me? Show her the sights; that sort of thing."

      I said I would be delighted to and we headed back to our ponies.

      I gave Marietta an affectionate pat on the rump when I tethered her back at the stableyard. It had been a hard pull for her and Irena back up from the lake. They were both lathered in sweat and there was a foam of saliva around their bits. Both girls had weals on their flanks from repeated lashes to encourage them up the incline and I suspected that it would be a few days before Irena would be available for use again.    That  would be extra on my bill, but nothing compared to the figures Sam was bandying about.

      He was quiet and thoughtful on the drive back to town but I was in high good humour at the prospect of squiring a beautiful girl around London for an afternoon and evening. Marietta's docile submissiveness had left me in such a good mood that I was prepared to believe that Laura couldn't possibly be as awful as she had appeared to be the day before.

      My good humour evaporated however as soon as we entered the hotel, which was one of the finest London had to offer. Laura was bored and furious. How dare her father go off and leave her in this Godforsaken excuse for a city? The shops were all shitty, she said, although it didn't seem to have stopped her buying up most of what they had to sell by the looks of her room. The service at the hotel was the worst she had ever experienced she went on,.... and on and on. Sam gave me a helpless look and I realised that my day was likely to go downhill pretty sharply from here on in. But I had promised Sam and it could well be in my own best interests to get her out of the way so that he could get on with coming up with a new offer.

      With surly bad grace Laura accepted my offer of an afternoon and night on the town. Sam and I left her to get changed and Sam disappeared hurriedly before I had a chance to change my mind. I waited for her in the lobby and when she made her entrance my hopes for the day rekindled.

      She was stunning. She wore a bright red mini skirt and a white silk blouse of such simple elegance and perfect cut that you knew at once it must have cost the equivalent of a small country's defence budget. Moreover she was obviously not wearing a bra and her perfectly rounded and firm breasts swayed and thrust most appealingly at the thin material. Her nipples formed delightful little peaks at their tips. The length and shapliness of her legs was set off by a pair of elegantly strappy high heeled sandals but what really impressed me was the simplicity of her make-up. Her wide, sensuous mouth with its soft, full lips, was no longer made-up with the strident lipstick she had worn earlier, instead she had used a much paler one, which together with a pale eye shadow contributed to an impression of restrained good taste.

      I could see mens' heads turning as though they were on strings, following every step of her progress from the lift over to me. She took long, graceful steps which made her hips sway languidly as she moved. I was the focus of a lot of male envy by the time she stopped in front of me. I took all this in from the corner of my eye as I made a show of reading a newspaper. The last thing I wanted to do was to fall into the trap I had managed to avoid the day before.

      Bad mistake.

      By appearing once again to ignore her, I infuriated her and she went into full  Brat mode.

      Using the piercing nasal whine which only American women can achieve she snapped, "Let's get out of here. These geeks all staring at me give the creeps." Her voice knifed through the quiet of the lobby and I was indeed glad to get out of there.

      It was not the last time that day I was glad to make an exit.

      I had committed the ultimate sin in the Brat's eyes. Three times now I had failed to respond to her sexuality and now she was determined to get some kind of reaction. She didn't care what reaction, just so she wasn't ignored. That she couldn't stand.

      I am something of a patriot and I suppose that some of my pride in my country came through in my voice as I drove her in the Bentley past the sights of London.

      Sensing a point of weakness, the Brat attacked by rubbishing everything she saw. America was better, bigger, newer and had saved this little 'piss-pot country' times without number.

      Fortunately I am good enough myself at manipulating people, especially women, to know a wind-up when I see it, so I was able to dismiss her crude attempts to enrage me. By keeping visions of her father's millions firmly in mind I maintained an air of amused detachment. But of course this only spurred her on to try harder.

      As a man who has always dominated the women around him, the one thing I really hate is seeing men manipulated and dominated by women. And so when the Brat returned to that tactic, I had to summon up all my self control to prevent myself from putting her over my knee there and then.

       It was at a well known waxworks that I began to get an idea of just how deep her malicious streak ran, and how desperate she was to be the centre of attention. It was probably a mistake to take her there in the first place as it gave her ammunition in plenty to make comments about the whole country being stuffed with waxworks anyway. But just as we were leaving, Laura appeared to develop a problem with the heel of one of her shoes. Balancing on one foot, she lifted a leg to take the offending shoe off. Her short skirt rode up and revealed a breathtaking length of perfectly shaped thigh. An elderly attendant, seeing her wobbling a bit, made to approach her to help. In my hurry to move her on, I had got some paces ahead, and as I went back towards her, saw the unfortunate man standing beside her, in the act of offering her a steadying hand.

      "You after a grope or something buster? Butt out or I'll have you fired for being some kind of old pervert."

      This was delivered in the most piercing tone she had attained yet and everyone turned to stare. The poor man went bright red and retreated. Laura replaced her shoe and as she straightened up I could plainly see a gleam of triumphant malice in her eyes. And as she sauntered towards me I was perfectly sure that there had been nothing wrong with her shoe, she had engineered the whole scene to feed her desire for attention and power. I must have betrayed some of my anger because from then on she homed in on every male she could and I had a hard time keeping my hands off her.

      By the time I took her for dinner at a small restaurant I frequent in Soho, I was grimly determined that Sam was going to come up with a really terrific offer, and if he wasn't then I was damn well going to make him. He was going to pay for this.

      In front of a staff I had known and respected for years, Laura reduced me to cringing embarrassment. A state I am not accustomed to, and mentally I was totting up Sam's bill for my discomfort.

      The maitre d', whose name is Henri and who is known to many discerning London diners, was told in no uncertain terms that his restaurant was dingy, inefficient and probably a health hazard. She reduced our waiter, a friendly and well-meaning lad who had served me on many occasions, by means of a continual stream of complaints to such a state of nerves that he spilled some of Laura's angel hair pasta while he was trying to serve it. Although, by great good fortune, it didn't spill on Laura herself it triggered such a tirade of personal abuse, delivered at top volume, that the hapless boy was nearly in tears of rage and humiliation. And again I saw that ugly gleam in Laura's eye as she glanced over at me. It took every shred of self discipline which I possessed to deny her the pleasure of reacting.

      By the end of the meal, which I hastened as best I could, the staff and other customers were glaring at us, Laura seemed to be enjoying the hostility and Sam's tarrif was now astronomical. Only by leaving a tip the size of the bill itself did I feel I could ever show my face in there again..

      As it turned out I did go back; and I took Laura with me. But that was still a long way in the future and when we did return it was under very different circumstances.

      From the restaurant we did a tour of the better known night clubs and I was treated to the finest exhibition of prick teasing I had ever witnessed. While I tried to talk and drink with friends, I watched Laura time and again use her femininity and beauty as a weapon, backing it up with a vocabulary that would have made a navvy blush. She deliberately lured her victims in, crossing and uncrossing those wonderful legs, letting her skirt ride up her long thighs and making sure that her blouse was sufficiently unbuttoned to reveal a tantalising amount of cleavage. I lost count of the number of young men who, having got as far as having their offer to buy her a drink accepted, were then invited to 'go take a flying fuck at the moon ' when the drink was delivered.

      By the time I dropped her back at the hotel, although it wasn't late, I was exhausted. But mainly I was enraged on behalf of my country and my sex. Both of whom I had seen treated in the most ill-mannered way I could imagine. Sam Andreotti was the object of my anger as well, his daughter had extinguished any affection I might have had for him and I was furious that he had inflicted his harridan on me and everyone else. Whatever offer he came up with, I decided, wouldn't be nearly good enough. I would use one of his daughter's fruitier phrases to tell him exactly where he could shove it.

3.

Once I had escorted Laura safely into the hotel lobby and left the staff to her tender mercies, I eased myself back into the driving seat of the Bentley, closed my eyes and breathed out in a long sigh. I needed to restore the balance of the day. It had started so well; in the company of women as I like them to be. But it had then turned into a nightmare of vitriolic bitchiness which made my fingers itch to be gripped round the perpetrator's beautiful neck.

      There was only one thing to do. I picked up the phone, dialled Sonia's number, let it ring three times and then broke the connection.   

      The lift stopped one floor below my penthouse flat and I strode into my office walking quickly through Sonia's, carefully ignoring anything there that would require my attention in the morning. I flicked on the lights, shrugged off my jacket and went to work. As usual Sonia had made sure that everything was immaculately tidy on the large mahogany desk which dominated the room, but I set about changing all that. I went through every drawer and scattered letters, reports and faxes all over the desktop and floor until the place looked like the aftermath of a tickertape parade.

      Sonia was the sort of P.A. over whom most bosses would have fought to the death. She was attractive, intelligent, efficient and trustworthy. But most important of all for me; she had her own needs which required fulfillment and my requirements for a female employee exactly matched hers for a male employer. In return for a handsome salary I had what I needed; and Sonia got what she wanted.

       The three rings were an agreed signal that I needed her at once. In fact I had only just finished my preparations when there was a timid knock at the door and Sonia entered.

      As I had known she would be, she was dressed for work. She wore high heels and a smart, dark blue suit with a skirt some three inches above the knee. Her blouse was crisp and white and I was quite certain that she wore stockings underneath. Whether she dressed like this at home and sat waiting for my calls, or changed in a hurry when I summoned her; it was no part of our arrangement for me to enquire.

      Her eyes widened when she saw the chaos and she clapped one hand to her mouth in horror.

      "Look at it!" I yelled, "I leave you in charge for one day and when I come back this is what I find!"

      "I'm sorry sir!" she gasped, "I. . . I'll tidy it up straightaway."

      "You're damn right you will and I'll make sure you do it properly! Now go to the bottom right hand drawer of my desk and bring me what you find!"

      "Yes sir," she whispered and went to do as I said, trying not to let her heels puncture or tear any of the papers as she went.

      She opened the drawer and gave a little whimper when she saw what it contained.

      "I haven't got all night Sonia," I told her impatiently. "Do you want me to sack you now or will you take your punishment?"

      "I'm sorry sir. No, I don't want to be sacked." Hastily she grasped the long, slender riding crop and picked her way back to me. Despite all her care she tore some of the papers on the way. I snatched the crop from her.

      "You'll pay for that as well. Now get to work."

      "Yes sir," she said meekly and began to sort out the mess.

      To start with she squatted down to pick things up. This position tightened her skirt round her bottom and made it ride up her thighs until the lacy stocking tops were visible. I began to flick at her with the crop knowing that it would hardly register through her clothes to start with. But as she struggled on, trying to gather sheets of related paperwork together and get them back in their proper places, I harried her mercilessly. Gradually the flicks became harder and landed not just across her buttocks but also across her shoulders and back.       After several minutes of this she was breathing hard and had stopped squatting down to retrieve papers from the floor. Now she began to bend from the waist and present me with a tantalising target as her skirt stretched tight and her thighs were exposed practically to her crotch. She began to give little yelps and moans as the crop thudded across her clothes. She had nearly completed her task when, bending over a drawer while the crop lashed down onto her back, she had to stop. I smiled grimly as I saw her grip the desktop and heard her gasp as a shudder ran through her whole body. I kept up my onslaught regardless however, until every last document was safely tidied away.

      When at last it was all done, she came to stand before me, head bowed and hands behind her back. I lifted her chin with the tip of the crop and saw that she was flushed and her large eyes were glistening with tears.

      "I'm very sorry sir," she repeated softly.

      "You'll be much sorrier yet," I promised her. "All you've done so far is repair the damage. Now I'm going to punish you for making it in the first place."

      "Yes sir. But please sir, I'm afraid I've made another mess," she whispered.

      "What? Where?!" I demanded.

      "I. . . I've. . . it's down there sir." She brought one hand round from behind her back and slowly, reluctantly indicated her loins.

      I gaped at her in disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me you've wet yourself!?"

      "Yes. . . I mean no sir! Not that way! I've. . ." her voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, "I've had an orgasm sir."

      "I don't believe you! You're just covering up for the greater embarrassment of having wet your knickers."

      "No sir. Honestly it's true." She looked at me, her hair was dishevelled and she was blushing furiously. Altogether she looked very appealing.

      "Show me." I said.

      She hung her head and wordlessly began to hitch up her skirt. Although she wasn't in Laura's league of physical perfection, Sonia had shapely enough legs and took her time exposing them until finally the skirt was bunched up round her hips. Then she hooked her thumbs into the slender straps which crossed her hips and pulled her knickers down. I could see quite clearly how the material clung to her slit and how she had to tug hard to get the gusset to release its hold on the moist, tender flesh at her crotch; I gave no sign of having seen though. Carefully avoiding pulling down the hold ups she was wearing, she stepped out of the knickers. She wriggled the skirt back down and bent to pick up the flimsy things to hand them to me.

      I took them gingerly, they certainly felt damp as I raised them suspiciously towards my face. From a few inches away my nostrils caught the musky odour of female arousal. I clenched the offending garment in my fist and shook it in her face.

      "You are beneath contempt!" I hissed in fury. "First your work is slovenly and incompetent and now I find out that you are depraved beyond belief! Obviously sacking is the only punishment which will mean anything at all to you."

       "Oh no please Sir!" she begged, "I'll willingly accept any punishment. . ."

      "Oh I can see that!" I sneered.

      "Anything at all Sir!  You can....." she swallowed hard, "you can do anything you like with me. But please don't sack me Sir."

      Her eyes pleaded with me.

      I had her bend over, spread her legs and grasp her ankles in the middle of the floor, thus presenting me with one of the finest sights a man can ever hope to see; female buttocks willingly presented for punishment. I love the uniquely feminine swell of the hips and the way the lips of the sex thrust backwards so blatantly between the tops of the thighs proffering themselves to the very source of the beating they are about to receive. All the better in my opinion if the long thighs are sheathed in sheer black stockings to set off the pallor of the smooth globes of the buttocks. Through the arch of her legs I could see Sonia's breasts hanging down ripely and swaying as she braced herself for the thrashing.

      "I am going to give you eight strokes Sonia," I told her. "I require you to count them off."

      "Yes Sir."

      I laid the crop carefully across her skin, pressing it in firmly so that it would leave a groove for me to aim at. I backed off two paces then strode forward and brought the crop whistling down. The sharp crack echoed slightly and Sonia rocked forward under the impact, sucking in her breath between clenched teeth before she counted the stroke in a shaky voice. I laid the crop on again to target the second stroke, retreated, then strode forward. She cried out this time and counted the stroke in a strangled whisper. Relentlessly I carried on until six clearly defined, crimson lines striped her backside. Her moans and cries were continuous by then, peaking in shrieks as each lash cracked home.

       I felt I had achieved what I had set out to do, the balance of the day was restored. Memories of the appalling Laura were pushed to the back of my mind as I concentrated purely on Sonia's submissive endurance of her beating.

       But how she loved those beatings, even as she endured them.

      I saved the best for last. After six lashes I came to stand beside her and laid the crop across the backs of her thighs, right at the top. I placed my left hand on her waist to brace myself properly.

      "Oh God!" I heard her murmur.

      Smiling, I pressed the crop to her flesh and this time it pushed against the lips of her sex. It had been clear as the beating progressed that they were becoming more and more engorged, swelling open and becoming shiny with her juice. I lifted the crop away and then brought it slicing down. This time it landed with a slightly damper smacking sound and a fine spray of moisture was thrown up. Sonia writhed and staggered slightly but her cry was the throaty, hoarse cry of a woman almost at her peak of pleasure. She counted seven in a whisper before bracing herself once again for the final stroke which would propel her excitement to its climax. Once more I carefully laid the crop against her lips, prolonging the anticipation. She gave a little mew of frustration and wriggled her hips against the leather of the shaft. I slowly drew my hand back and then whipped it in again as hard as I could. Sonia gave a shout of mingled pain and ecstasy. Her legs nearly buckled under her and she had to stagger again to keep her balance but she remembered to gasp out the final count of eight before a rippling spasm shook her whole body and she moaned softly. When it had passed and her head slumped down, I let her slowly straighten up. She ran her hands lingeringly over the welts on her bottom and then looked round at me; her eyes bright.

      I laid her out on my desk, her legs hanging over one edge and her hands reaching up over her head to grasp the other. This made her arch her back and her breasts pushed up towards me as I stood between her open legs. I bent over her and spent a long time fondling them, feeling their weight and roundness. Her nipples were still erect and tight from her orgasm under the crop and I flicked at them and squeezed them, hard and then soft until she began to moan again and her head rolled from side to side. I moved one hand down to her sex and found the tender flesh of her lips still moist and engorged, the nectar of her arousal still flowing from between them. As I pushed two fingers into her she arched her back still further and rocked her hips. I withdrew my hand and spread the moisture on it over her breasts while I teased her entrance with the rock-hard shaft of my member. Looking down at the gleaming purple head where it nestled at her crease, I held the shaft just behind it and pushed it slowly inside her, just so the head was penetrating, I could feel her vagina desperately contracting round the thickness, trying to draw it in. She snapped her hips up at me urgently and I moved a little more into her, she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist and I let her draw me in the rest of the way and then said, "I'm going to take you upstairs after this. You know that don't you?"

      Sonia's face was by now fixed in a sort of determined grimace as she ground her hips fiercely against me to move herself on my shaft, desperate to cram every last centimetre of it deep inside her so it could ram her to her next orgasm. "I know," she managed to gasp out,  "but fuck me first for God's sake!"

      I obliged.

      Despite the fact that neither of us got more than a couple of hours' sleep that night, Sonia was up well before me and by the time I had got downstairs she was chivvying my staff in her usual brisk fashion. She followed me into my office and I noted wryly, as I settled myself behind the desk that she sat down on her chair with no indication whatever of discomfort. I knew perfectly well that her breasts  were marked as well and speculated as to how her bra might be rubbing on them. But she gave no hint of either pain or pleasure and merely looked me in the eye. "Shall we deal with appointments and messages Sir?" she asked levelly.

      It never ceased to amaze me how Sonia could so completely compartmentalise her character.

      "Of course," I replied briskly.

      "Mr. Andreotti rang and left a rather odd message. He said:  'Tell Al I know what it must have been like but I still think I've got something for him. And it's not what he thinks it is.' Then he asked you to ring him."

      I made no immediate response but got up and paced about while Sonia waited patiently for my decision. It wasn't the message I'd expected. What was Sam up to now? What could he offer me that I wasn't expecting? In the end I gave in.

      "Alright, tell him I'll meet him for lunch at the Savoy. Tell him he's paying and he'd better make it good. You handle everything here Sonia."

      "Yes sir," she said quietly and left.

      Sam was waiting for me and held his hands up in mock surrender as soon as he saw me.

      "Alright I know, she's a twenty four carat bitch. But I needed you to see that before I make my final offer."

      I was tempted to keep the promise I'd made myself and tell him what he could do with it, but Sam Andreotti was a shrewd judge of character - as I was going to find out - and he'd correctly judged that I wouldn't turn down a deal until I'd at least heard what it was.

      "Okay, fire away."

      "I'll up my offer to twenty five million for your company and give you a seat on the board of each of my companies which will be dealing with yours. That way you'll still have a lot of say in what goes on. Of course you'll get a full salary for each seat on each board, and there are five of them."

      I gaped at him. It may not have been the coolest reaction but it was the only one I was capable of at that moment. I think I made some attempt at a reply but he stopped me.

      "There's a catch of course. The whole deal, plus a cash payment of five million bucks bonus, rests on you taming Laura. If you fail, then I give you the five million and take your company."

      He went on grinning at me while I took a long pull at my scotch and tried to stop my hand from shaking.

      "You're a cunning old bastard Sam," I said at last. "You make me an offer I can't refuse and then put a condition on it which no-one in their right mind would accept."

      "So? For thirty million upfront and an income with six noughts at the end as well, go a little mad Al. What've you got to lose?  You're a rich man either way, and you and me, we're two of a kind, we can't resist a challenge. Hell if we weren't we wouldn't be sitting here kicking these kindsa figures about."

      I couldn't deny that he had me interested. But what did he mean by  'taming' his daughter - exactly?

       I asked him, very well aware that I was sniffing the bait.

      "For a start she's not my daughter. She's my step-daughter, from my first marriage, and I've had five since. Trouble is, each of the bitches I married spoiled Laura as a way of getting at me when things got bad. On top of that she's naturally headstrong and stubborn. So the result is I can't do a thing with her. She'll be a rich woman when I die but she's a menace to herself and everyone else right now. I can't leave her shit the way she is. Oh I tried it once, gave her some money and let her off the rein. In six months she was in a rehab clinic. It took another year for her to straighten out."

      "Look Sam," I persisted. "What precisely do you mean by  tamed'?"

      "I want you to teach her all the discipline she should've learned years ago. I want her to be able to conduct herself properly; be polite, do what she's told -  and I want her taught how to behave with a man."

      Light suddenly dawned. "You want me to take. . .that. . .  that. . . brat Laura and turn her into a woman like Marietta or Irena!? Is that it?" I was gaping again, but I couldn't help it. He had to be mad!  

      "I don't want her turned into a whore, but yes. I want her submissive and obedient."

      "For a start that's impossible Sam! And secondly, even if it was, she'd need her backside flaying at the very least! And it's well. . . a bit callous isn't it? I mean she is your step daughter."

      "I'm trying to do her a favour Al. Misery likes company right? She's not happy, so she makes everyone round her unhappy as well. You've seen her do it. Believe me, I know Laura. I know what she needs."

      "Yeah but she doesn't."

      "That's why it's gotta be done by someone hard like you. She's a creature of extremes. What she's doing now is over compensating for the part of her that really is generous and giving. And I know that those qualities are there; I know her better than anyone. She needs taking in hand Al. You know I reckon that every time she hurts someone, she's really hoping that someone else will stop her."

      I considered again. If Laura's brattishness was a cry for help, it was the best camouflaged one I'd ever seen. But Sam was a good judge of character, you couldn't get where he was and not be. If he said Laura really was a different person under that malicious, cruel exterior she presented to the world, then there was a good chance he was right. But she would have to be reconstructed from the ground up.

      "Like I said, it can't be done gently Sam. She'll have to know who the boss is. And teaching her isn't going to be easy. I'll bet she's never obeyed an order in her life."

      He grinned again."You're right there, on all counts, but if you accept my offer; you'll have my full consent to use whatever means you want. If she needs the crap beating out of her; beat the crap out of her, and I'll co-operate any way I can. You'll have two months."

      I sat back to consider. The idea of a woman as beautiful as Laura being as obedient as one of the girls at The Lodge, was appealing. And so was the thought of having the training of her, by any method I chose. I thought of how she'd behaved the night before. I would be doing a lot of people a big favour if I succeeded.

       I began to laugh. Sam was a indeed a superb judge of character and he was a control freak right enough. He knew I couldn't resist the challenge and the thrill of gambling twenty million dollars. He also knew that I wouldn't rest until I had tried every trick I could think of to turn the lovely Laura's character round and she was doing everything and anything I wanted.

      He was constructing a ring in which we two would fight it out for dominance, and he was pulling both our strings.

       But even knowing that didn't put me off. And Sam knew that as well.

      "It's a deal." I said.

4.

One thing I was certain of when I left Sam that day, was that I was going to need a team. Laura was going to take some serious reconstructing and I would need some backup. Secondly I needed somewhere to hold her. She wasn't going to come, or stay, willingly. At least not at first.

      The first person I recruited was Sonia. That was easy. When I told her about my deal with Sam I would have had to nail her feet to the floor to stop her joining me. As for somewhere to hold Laura, well there was my house in Suffolk. In some ways it was ideal. It was big, old and isolated, what's more its grounds were surrounded by a high stone wall. However I employed three staff there and they would have to be told what was going on. I had few illusions about being able to keep Laura's presence a secret.

      The following day I left Sonia to start moving the office. We had decided to set up a temporary HQ at the house and she would commute to town every few days to make sure her girls were behaving themselves. I phoned the house and told Mrs Jenkins, my housekeeper that I was on my way and that I needed to speak to her, Reece the butler and young Jim the gardener. They knew my particular tastes well enough but I felt that on this occasion I might have to make extra arrangements to guarantee their compliance.

       Reece and Mrs Jenkins both lived in and had seen me entertain plenty of girlfriends in the past. The girls had all been willing partners however and nothing had ever been said about the annoying habit a riding crop has of making such a resounding Crack! which echoes along corridors late at night when plied on female flesh. Neither of them had raised an eyebrow at one particular girl who was especially turned on by being served by Reece while she was sitting down to dinner stark naked except for a black velvet choker, shoes and long black gloves. Of course by the second night she was displaying a splendid set of marks on her bottom and had winced when she had sat down at the table. Reece hadn't batted an eyelid; in fact he'd just gone and fetched her a cushion.

      However I didn't feel I could rely on their discretion when it came to keeping a beautiful young woman in chains; and I was sure that that was the least I was going to have to do. I had to sound them out.

      As I had feared both Reece and Mrs Jenkins balked at the idea of Laura being kept against her will. However, I refused to allow myself to be downcast and approached the third member of staff; Jim the gardener. He was a man in his mid twenties, tall and broadly built. I had recruited him from the local pub when I had first moved down there. He was excellent at his job, but inclined to be overfond of the pub in the evenings. I told him his wages would be doubled and that there might be what I termed  'fringe benefits' to suit the tastes of a lusty young man like him. However, if I heard any gossip which might have come from a loose tongue in the pub, he would lose everything. He was perfectly obliging and turned out to be an invaluable asset in the end.

      So my problem was simply Mrs Jenkins and Reece. I had no desire at all to fire them, although that was the simplest course, Laura was not going to be the cause of anyone losing their job. Not while I had anything to do with it.

      These thoughts were running through my mind on the drive back to town. And when they got as far as Laura; the answer slipped neatly into place and I laughed out loud.

      As part of our deal Sam had told Laura that business was going to keep him in England for several weeks. Weeks I was going to need in order to make my preparations. This had put her in a foul mood and was costing Sam a fortune in tips to unfortunate members of the hotel staff who caught the rough end of her tongue. So when I invited Laura down to my place in the country for lunch the following Saturday, Sam leapt at the opportunity to get rid of her and Laura was so bored that it only took him the threat of cancelling her credit cards to persuade her to come.

      Meanwhile Sonia was making good progress at removing the office to Suffolk and had free access to come and go from the house as she needed to. We met in mid week and decided that it was time the three office juniors completed their training, and that on Friday night I would handle their disciplinary sessions.

      At five on Friday evening I took Sonia up to my flat and into what we called the white room. It was where I stored all the equipment for her discipline and mostly where I used it. She stripped for me very prettily, facing away from me at the end, so that as she lifted each leg in turn to slide the stocking off it, I got a good look at her buttocks. She had generous hips which curved smoothly in to her waist. Her back was strong and her shoulders quite broad for a woman. Sonia knew very well that I enjoyed the sight of a naked woman from the back.

      While I am as fond of breasts as the next man, I have always found something intensely erotic about a woman's back. I love the look and the feel of it, whether it is already marked by the whip or whether it is just about to be marked. And these are the only two states a woman's back should exist in, to my mind.

      On this occasion however I made myself wait and watched while Sonia fastened on her wrist and ankle restraints. Finally she stood in front of me and held her hands behind her so that I could fasten the restraints together. I knew she was waiting for me to run my hands over her buttocks in token of what was to follow, but I denied both of us that pleasure. I had work to attend to downstairs and simply ran the end of a chain under the clips and then looped it high up behind her. The chain hung from a hook in the ceiling and by pulling up on the length of it which ran between her wrists, her hands were pulled up behind her back, forcing her to bend forwards. When she was bent at right angles and a small gasp escaped her, I slipped a padlock through the links to hold her fast and then left.

      Downstairs I entered the office and told Julie, Trudi and Tina that I would be conducting tonight's session. I began with Trudi and Tina, or maybe it was Tina and Trudi, I never could remember which was which. They were pretty enough morsels though, Sonia knew very well what my requirements were. They looked at each other nervously but came to stand in front of me, one black haired and one brunette. I could see their breasts rising and falling under the neat white blouses which Sonia insisted on. She had left me samples of their work and these I now began to peruse. I took my time, riffling through the sheets of hard copy, inspecting them for errors. I really didn't have to look far. In Sonia's absences over this week, they had already become slipshod and this session was, if anything, overdue. I went to the brunette first, Tina I think, and pointed out several basic spelling errors and one piece of mis-punctuation which succeeded in altering the sense of an entire paragraph.

      I looked sternly at all three of them.

      "Miss Jacobson will not be in the office as much as usual over the next few weeks. However I will be taking a closer interest than normal in your work to compensate for this. And just in case any of you think this might allow for a bit of slacking off, I intend to disabuse you of that notion right now."

      I could see their bottom lips begin to tremble and decided it was time to start. Whilst I thoroughly enjoy any noise a woman cares to make while being disciplined, I cannot abide wailing before even the first lash has been laid on. I had Tina bend over her desk. Her little skirt was too tight to raise so she had to unzip it and step out of it before bending over. She had nice legs, not overly long but shapely and pleasantly sturdy. Once she was half lying on the desk top, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her knickers and pulled them down until they left her buttocks clear and her temptingly sweet little sex lips just peeking out from their hollow at the tops of her thighs. Lastly she pulled the hem of her blouse up to prevent it getting in the way.

      I knew that Sonia always took two turns of the strap round her hand before she beat them so that really she was just cutting at them, but I felt that as their real boss was going to deliver the beating tonight, it should be one they would remember. I made Julie go to the cupboard where they hung their coats and fetch the strap. They all watched me, Tina twisting round fearfully to look as I took only a single turn and therefore left a much longer lash.

      "Six tonight. Four next week if I'm convinced that standards have been maintained."

      To her credit, and I made a mental note to enter it on her file, Tina didn't burst into tears but gritted her teeth and hung on to the far edge of the desk as if her life depended on it.

      I didn't hold back. I lifted the strap well up and leaned into the blow. The girl yelped in shock as it smacked down across her cheeks, making the creamy flesh ripple. It made the other two jump as well. At the second blow she let out an enchanting little breathless scream and her feet shifted urgently as she tried to diffuse the stinging. At the third and fourth lashes her head jerked up and she began to bounce up and down on tiptoes. I was wielding the strap hard enough for the broad red stripes to already have appeared, and I laid on the fifth and sixth so that they crossed the already inflamed areas. This was no mean feat as the girl was by now in a frenzy of jigging and wriggling which made accuracy very difficult.

      When I allowed her to stand, her face was tear streaked and flushed. She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand, breathless and sobbing.

      "Good girl," I told her, "when you can type like you take the strap, I'll be proud of you."

      "Thank you Sir," she replied and a shy, proud, little smile lit up her face.

      I turned to the next one, probably Trudi, who was biting her lip and obviously fighting back tears.

      "Come, come. It's only a strap. The stinging will stop in less than half an hour." I told her impatiently. She glanced up at her friend who was pulling her skirt back on and tucking in her blouse. Her tears had dried now and she looked proudly back at Trudi. That did the trick, she squared her shoulders and came forward. She was taller than the first one and although her skirt was flared and could have been raised, she was not to be outdone. She unzipped it and let it fall about her feet then stepped away from it casually. Now that her friend had thrown down the gauntlet, Trudi was not going to be outdone. Like her friend she was bare legged but the legs were longer, a little on the thin side perhaps, but interesting. She tossed her head defiantly and hitched her blouse up to pull her knickers down completely before she bent over. And once down she bunched the blouse right up until it was just under her bra strap. Her youthfully slender hips merged smoothly with the long lines of the sinews in her back. Her buttocks were small and tight, beckoning to the strap which hung just behind them.

      As with Tina, I didn't hold back. But I was very impressed with Trudi, she had made up her mind that she wasn't going to let her friend get one up on her. Only gutteral grunts got through her gritted teeth, while I used the strap like a paint brush to wash a coat of wide crimson stripes over her trembling bottom.

      I smiled at her when she straightened up.

      "Well done too! You've both done remarkably well. If I can only find reason enough to give you four next week, I shall be proud of you on the one hand but disappointed on the other. But in any event I may well give the pair of you something extra....if you're very good."

      They giggled as they worked that one out, and then went to repair their make-up. I knew that Sonia had been promising them I'd give them a good shafting when they were ready for it, and it seemed as if they were.

      That left Julie. She still stood behind her desk looking nervously at me. Of course I knew that between Sonia and her boyfriend, she was well on the way to becoming truly submissive. At the moment though I didn't know how far the boy had pushed her, or how far she could be pushed.

      "Miss Jacobson has given me very good reports about you Julie," I told her,"However, you do need to keep a closer eye on Tina and Trudi."

      I was standing close beside her and felt her trembling slightly. Tina and Trudi emerged from the wash room, flushed and laughing. They said a suitably respectful goodnight to me and shot meaningful glances at Julie as they left.

      A thought struck me. "Sonia tells me your boyfriend is disciplining you as well. Have you shown Tina and Trudi the marks?"

      She blushed furiously but nodded. So that was what had been going on while Sonia had been away!

      "Okay then, let me see how he's been getting on."

      She stripped for me as docilely as she had for Sonia. On her buttocks were four very distinct parallel dark ridges; undoubtedly the work of the crop and laid on very recently.

      "Last night Julie?"

       She looked over her shoulder and nodded, "he said it was a message for Miss Jacobson."

      I laughed, "let me guess,  'Thanks for the riding crop'?"

      She smiled at me. "Yes sir. He. . . .we enjoyed it. . . ."

      "Go on."

      "He said he was sorry if it got in the way of anything, but if there was something I could do for Miss Jacobson or you. . .I was to do what I was told"

      "What a very sensible young man you have." I was impressed. The lad knew how to play this game. When she went home tonight, he would have a good look over her to make sure she'd been used. "It would be churlish to refuse such an offer." I told her.

      I had her bend over her desk like the others but used the strap on her back and shoulders. And when I had finished I told her to kneel and take me in her mouth. She was flushed and out of breath but not crying, so she took me in very smoothly. For a young girl she was very good, she took her time and made sure I could see how carefully she licked at my shaft and how much of me she could close her lips over - and it was a surprising amount. When I came I held her head tightly so that I could get my thrusts deep into her throat. She had obviously been well trained in this as well and made no attempt to struggle but concentrated all her efforts on riding them smoothly and swallowing.

      While she was dressing I wrote a quick congratulatory note to her boyfriend and told her that I would give her a pay rise now that I thought she was ready to start working with me in my office on occasions. She looked me in the eye and smiled proudly when I told her.

      I went back up to Sonia once Julie had left. She was groaning loudly by this time and clearly enjoying herself so I poured myself a well earned drink and told her how  the session had gone. When I felt fully recovered from my exertions downstairs I used a whip on her. It was one of her favourites, a heavy single lashed one that was long enough to mark both buttocks and then wrap round the hip as well. Just to spice things up a bit I told her that if she came before I had finished with the whip or before she had my permission, she would sleep on the kitchen floor. I then gave her ten hard lashes and watched her struggles against her mounting excitement. Her moans and writhings as the whip curled and cracked around her thighs and bottom re-awakened my own excitement and before I took her down I made full use of her bent over posture to penetrate her from behind. Sonia is one of the noisiest girls I have ever known. Once I started to get up a good rhythm in her flooding passage she yelled and shouted, groaned and begged me at the top of her voice to go harder and deeper. You really couldn't keep her in anything other than a penthouse. But she is energetic. Even tied as she was she managed to ram herself back into me and grind away against me, wriggling her hips and arching her back up as far as her arms would allow. And when I started to pump myself into her, she keened away like an air raid siren, spasms running right through her from head to toe.

      When I did take her down I reminded her that I hadn't given her permission to come, and so before I went to bed I made sure she was curled up and chained in her basket on the kitchen floor.

      The next afternoon I drove Laura down to Suffolk. She was in one of the filthiest moods I had ever seen and my heart sang.

      When we pulled up in front of the house, which I believe to be one of the finest Georgian properties in the county standing in acres of parkland, I looked across at Laura.

      She didn't disappoint me.

      "You got any plumbing in this shit heap?" She asked.

      Mrs Jenkins was waiting for us in the kitchen. She was preparing dinner: a salad of Suffolk sweet cured ham to start with, breast of Norfolk turkey and asparagus to follow, and her own Mocha cake to lead on to the selection of local cheeses.

      When I first engaged her, Mrs Jenkins had me scouring the country for the ovens she felt were worthy of her skills. And between us we had collected a huge solid fuel oven and a selection of electric ovens and gas hobs. She would have no truck with anything being  built in. Everything was free standing and around the walls were Welsh dressers for crockery and, of course her beloved cooking utensils - blackened with years of honourable service - while in the centre of the room stood a huge scrubbed deal table. All this enabled her to produce food which made me the envy of the county.

      I stood back happily while Laura looked round. And then she let loose.

      "You mean he makes you work in this!? Christ you couldn't make popcorn without risking food poisoning in here! Lady you should get this bastard to fix you up a proper kitchen for Chrissake!"

      I watched as Mrs Jenkins' plump face went white with horror and then her lips compressed in fury.

      Almost humming a cheerful little tune to myself I introduced her to Reece as we retraced our steps to the lounge. As always he was dressed in his immaculate dark suit. I had managed to persuade him to abandon his wing collar but that was his only concession to modernity. He inclined his head gravely when I introduced Laura.

      To my absolute delight she burst out laughing. "Oh come on Masterson!" she hooted, "you got him from some film set right? Oh man! You Limeys crack me up!" She wafted over to the sideboard and poured herself a generous measure of brandy. I glanced at Reece who had frozen to the spot.

      Perfect!

      I dismissed him and after she had knocked back her drink I showed her to her suite. The luxury of the appointments silenced even her and I was free to return downstairs.

      I sauntered happily into the kitchen to find Reece and Mrs Jenkins waiting for me.

      Reece spoke first. "Are we to understand sir, that this young ........lady is the one on whom you intend to. . . experiment?"

      "It is." I replied cheerfully.

      Mrs Jenkins spoke, choosing her words carefully. "I believe that there may after all be some young people today who need a measure of. . . .discipline. I take it that there will be some degree of punishment. . . if necessary of course."

      "Yes Mrs Jenkins. And it will be necessary, believe me."

      "How severe will this corporal punishment be sir?" Reece asked.

      "How severe would you like it?"

      "I believe our rooms are well enough set apart to allow us not to be disturbed by any of your activities sir." Reece gave me his frosty smile. Mrs Jenkins grinned widely.

      "Then here is the deal. The process starts now. Your salaries are doubled, also as of now. And if I. . . we succeed, they will probably double again."

      It was agreed and phase two could go into operation straight away.

      "Mrs Jenkins I want you to exceed even your highest standards tonight. Reece I want you to be as butlerish as you can be. And don't be surprised at anything you see or hear me do."

      "Yes sir."

      And so I began, quite certain that as usual I was in complete control.

5.

It was vital that Laura hated me; really hated me. At the moment I was just another bug her step-father's empire would tread on in its own good time. Alright she would rather I was trodden on sooner than later, but I hadn't risen above the rank of minor irritant yet.

      Certainly I had gone some way towards my goal by refusing to be flattened by the blast of her sexuality on our first meetings. But after the night I had planned, I was sure she was going to hate me like she'd never hated anyone in her life.

      However the evening got off to a bad start.

      Laura achieved the impossible.

      I would not have believed that she could look anything other than stunning, but she managed it in trumps. She came down for dinner in a trouser suit of such floral horror that it left me speechless. Unfortunately it was on this precise night that I needed to allow myself to be swept away on the tides of her beauty. The only saving grace was that she removed the jacket before sitting down at the table. The top she wore underneath it at least had the advantage of a low  neckline which left the swells of smooth flesh at the tops of her breasts visible. I concentrated on these and the grace of her naked arms and shoulders, and plied the wine. In the candlelight the diamonds at her ears and throat sparkled and the wine soon brought a similar light to those large grey eyes. It also made her relax a little and I found that if I tried really hard I could let myself believe that inside that gorgeous but brittle exterior there was a beautifully compliant woman trying to get out.

      As the meal went on I began to make my move. Several glasses of wine had gone down, in fact we were well into our second bottle and Mrs Jenkins' food had worked its magic. I began to tell her how beautiful I thought she was and how much I had desired her from the first time I saw her.

       It was music to her ears and she smiled and simpered. I told her that I came from a very correct English family and that had accounted for any reserve she might have detected. The wine and her own arrogance left her defenceless. I could see her believing me more by the minute. Of course, she was telling herself, I was just like any other man after all, I could be dealt with like all the others. I could be made to come to heel and worship at the shrine of her body, and then be dismissed any time she chose. She became almost good company once she was sure that I was behaving myself as a man should in her presence. She laughed pleasantly and even blushed a little at some of my more extravagant compliments. From the corner of my eye I noticed Reece raise an eyebrow at some of them. In him this constituted uncontrollable shock.

      At last the wine was finished, Reece served two glasses of my best brandy and left us. It was crunch time. A quick refill of her brandy after a few minutes and I suggested we go upstairs.

       She looked at me and I swear I almost physically felt a wind rush over me and leave my hair standing on end. It was as though she could flick a switch and turn it on full blast. Even the awful outfit faded into insignificance as she smiled at me. Her soft lips parted over her perfect little teeth and her eyes gave me the most openly lascivious look I had ever been on the receiving end of. But it was more than that, she somehow managed to convey all the invitation her naked body would offer, without removing one single garment.

      It took me a second to realise that this was the Brat operating on full power. This was how she always got what she wanted. Tonight I would keep her amused very nicely.

      I played along and we made our way to her room. She held my hand and as we went upstairs and I could feel the Brat coming increasingly to the fore. She was in control of a man and he was going to know all about it.

      When we got into her room she put her arms round me and let her lips brush mine so gently and quickly I wasn't quite sure she'd done it at all. Then she stood back,

      "Al, I want to watch you undress." She said in a husky voice. She lay back on the bed letting me see the lovely curve of her hip and the slope of her long thighs. I undressed. Normally I like women to undress me, but tonight I was prepared to make an exception. When I stood naked in front of her, she came close to me again and let her fingers trail slowly across my chest, then down my stomach to where my erection stood up stiffly. The lightest of touches there, just enough to make it stiffen a little further.

      "Not bad Al," she said finally and gave a low laugh which set off a further tightening in my belly, "not good either, but I can work with it. Now be a good boy and lie on the bed."

      I gritted my teeth and did as I was told. Then in my turn I watched her undress. She turned away from me, unzipped her top and let it slip slowly off her shoulders and down her back. As I've said I love the female back; and the Brat had one in a million, long and sinuous, the muscles playing on either side of the spine as she bent and twisted each way to free herself of the garment. She wore no bra and the view was dazzling. She put her hands up to her hair and raised it into a blonde cloud before looking at me over her shoulder.

       It was such a corny pose that it nearly broke the spell, my erection was only saved by her unzipping her trousers and stepping out of them. She had thong backed knickers on which framed the full curves of hips and buttocks to perfection and her thighs seemed to go on for ever, strong and smooth. Kicking away the trousers she approached the bed wearing only the knickers and her high heeled sandals. I lay back as she climbed nimbly onto the bed and stood astride me.

      "Take my panties down with your teeth," she said.

      She put her hands up to her hair again and this time I found I was riveted by the sight of her breasts. Despite their size I could see that there was not a single crease where they curved up away from her ribs, they were classic in their perfection, firm and rounded above and below areolae which were extraordinarily dark for a blonde girl. I got to my knees and made to put my hands on her hips to help with getting the knickers off. Immediately she backed off,

      "Touch when I tell you." She snapped.

      Putting my hands obediently by my sides I knelt up and put my face close to the material where it just covered her bush of pale blonde pubes. A delightful perfume came from the crack of her sex just centimetres away from my mouth, it was musky and spicy and overlaid with a delicate scent from what must have been a very expesive bottle. I tried to concentrate on the job in hand and getting a firm grip with my teeth I pulled downwards, she helped with the straps at her hips and I slid them down to her ankles, acutely aware of the fact that I was now kneeling at her feet.

      While she slipped her feet out of them, she balanced by placing a hand on my back. I sat back on my haunches looking up.

      And what I saw was the most devastatingly perfect female sex I had ever seen. She hadn't rouged the lips, she didn't need to. The fact that she had a man kneeling in front of her, drinking in every aspect of her perfection was enough to excite her. They were silkily engorged and blushing a delicate pink, hinting at the delights they only just concealed. All at once, and it was only for a second, I understood how some men can love to abase themselves in front of women and allow themselves to be dominated. I licked my lips.

      "You want to smell Al? Go ahead, I'll let you."

      In a dream I raised myself up and made to bury my face in the source of the musky perfume I could scent more powerfully as I came closer. But suddenly her hands were in my hair and pressing me back down.

      "That's close enough. You want to touch?"

      I nodded and raised my hand, she took it and allowed only the tip of my index finger to run along the crack. Her tormenting me brought me safely back to my senses and I knew what was coming next.  Everything had gone according to plan, apart from the near lapse which the sight of her sex had induced. I waited patiently; I could afford to now.

      She began to sway and undulate her hips, running her hands down the insides of her thighs and then back up to cup her sex lips and trail her fingers across them.

      "If you're a very good boy Al. I might let you fuck me." There was a lazy, malicious smile on her face now as she tilted her hips towards me, "Would you like that Al?"

      "No." I said.

      I climbed off the bed. Never had the uttering of one syllable given me more pleasure.

      "Thanks but no thanks."

      I began to walk towards the door.  

      "What!?" A raw shriek came from the bed.

      "You're not bad, but on closer inspection, not really my type." I reached the door and paused for a second to enjoy the look of blazing fury on the Brat's face.

      "You fucking Limey fag!!" She screamed.

      That hurt. But she would have to wait to find out that I wasn't. I smiled said that I hoped she slept well, then left.

      As I walked down the corridor to my room I heard a fusillade of breakable objects shatter against the door and incoherent screeching and yelling. The Brat in full disappointment mode.

      What a lovely evening it had been. War had been declared and the first pitched battle had gone to me. Hands down.

6.

The Brat didn't show for breakfast the next morning, which was a pity. I had arranged to heap a final indignity on her head, but instead I had to give Reece the pleasure. I sent him up to her room with a tray and had him inform her that as I had business to attend to, he would drive her to the station and put her on a London train.

      I was just finishing in the dining room when Reece entered.

      "How did it go?" I asked.

      "I believe the young lady was a little upset sir. I shall clean the walls when I return from the station."

      I spent the rest of the morning on the phone to Sonia who had been making good progress. The next day, builders, decorators and electronic engineers would move in and everything would be ready to go in about ten days.

      That evening I got an anguished phone call from Sam.

      "You sure you know what you're doing Al?" He asked. "I've never seen her this angry, and you should hear what she's calling you!"

      "I can imagine. And yes I know excatly what I'm doing. If I'm going to reconstruct her Sam she has got to find herself completely in the power of the one man she hates above all others. That way when she submits to me we'll know that she'll submit to anyone."

      "Well you've done a fine job on the first part. I just hope you can do the second. The upside is that I don't have to persuade her to stay in the country now. She says she isn't going anywhere till she sees you in hell."

      I was grinning broadly when I hung up. The Brat was tightening the noose around her own neck.

      I took a stroll around the grounds just after that and came across Jim. He was sitting outside his shed in the kitchen garden fitting a new handle to a spade. I watched as he made an very professional job of it.

      "Oh I used to be a joiner sir, before I got keen on gardens." He replied when I commented. This was a breakthrough.

      "Listen Jim, if I sketch out a few designs I've got in mind for. . . well let's just call them, devices. Could you make them?"

      "If they can be made in wood; I can make them. And I'm a dab hand with leather too."

      I sat down with him and drew a few rough sketches. It had been bothering me how I was going to get them made without awkward questions being asked, but now everything was slotting into place perfectly.

      I left Sonia to travel up to Suffolk and oversee the work at the house. She was submissive to only one man, to everyone else she was a slavedriver and God help anyone who didn't do their job on time. I had business at The Lodge and I had a guest.

      Bob Ringland was a local bigwig and very influential. I reckoned that two nights at The Lodge would render him amenable to whatever I needed. Besides I had arranged to borrow some equipment and I needed to pick it up.

      I had reserved my little Marietta and on the first night, once I had left Bob happily plying a whip to a girl called Valentina's rear end while she was tied down over the bars in the common room, I took her to my bedroom. Memories of the Brat trying to dominate me had made me urgent. So I simply had Marietta spread herself out face down on the bed and I used a whip on her. Of course with the girls at The Lodge one doesn't need to restrain oneself to four or six lashes. They are trained to it after all, and I laid into Marietta with a will. I started with her buttocks and worked my way up towards her shoulders. Once I had achieved a pleasing overall redness, I started again. She was a good girl and took it all quietly enough, just bucking and writhing enough for excitement's sake but not howling the house down.

       However, even as I enjoyed the Crack! of each lash landing I suddenly became aware that really I was seeing the Brat's body heaving and jerking, it was her voice I was hearing letting out explosive grunts at each impact and moaning when she saw my arm raised yet again. And most of all it was the Brat I was hearing surrender herself to the joy of submission and pant out an orgasm as the whip whistled and stung relentlessly.

       And even as Marietta obediently raised her haunches and I parted her glowing cheeks to plunge into the tight little channel between them, I knew it was really the Brat's body I wanted to enter like this and spend myself deep inside her.

7.

On the drive back from The Lodge I outlined the favour I needed from Bob and as I had hoped he was more than helpful. I promised him a return visit; as soon as Valentina's bottom and back could cope with it, I added mentally. He'd had her in his room for nearly the whole stay and as she was in no fit condition for work after the floggings he'd given her, it had added a hefty amount to my bill. But it would be worth it.

      After I had dropped him off at home I paid a flying visit to the house, just to make sure that Sonia had everyone under control, and then I took off for a whistle-stop tour of my European agents. I was going to have my hands full for the next few weeks and had to make sure that business was taken care of.

      By the time I returned to Suffolk, everything was finally ready and all that remained was to receive our guest.     

      It was time for Sam to play his part.

      It took one quick phone call and then all we had to do was wait. But not for long. Sam had obviously played his part to perfection. It was the Brat herself who rang me and practically purred down the line. She told me she had the papers all ready for me to sign and would bring them down personally. Sam had told her that he and I had concluded a deal and that I was selling my company to him.

      The Brat walked into her trap on the following afternoon. As she got out of her taxi I watched with Sonia from an upstairs window. We could tell from the easy, self confident way she walked towards the house that she was sure she'd got me right where she wanted me. We heard Reece greet her at the door and went on action stations. Sonia retreated to the cellars where we were going to hold her. I went down to greet her and Reece paid off the taxi.

      As I entered the lounge I could see how good a job Sam had done. Laura was radiant, she was so confident and looking forward to her victory so much that the Brat had gone for a moment. What stood before me was a beautiful woman who had the extraordinary knack of exuding sex, and furthermore a beautiful woman  who I was going to train to be utterly obedient.

      "Al!" She greeted me pleasantly, "Nice to see you!"

      "Nice to see you too Laura. Have you got the papers for me?"

      "Oh yeah! I've got them alright." She opened her attache case and spread out a sheaf of papers for me. As Sam and I hoped, she didn't look at any of them too closely. I sat down and began to sign on the dotted line. When I had finished I pushed them over to her and she did the same, humming a little tune under her breath. With great determination I kept a staight face. Gravely we sorted the agreements into piles. She returned her copies to her case and I placed mine in a neat pile on the table for Sonia to file later. I looked over at Laura and saw that the Brat was back. Her eyes gleamed in malicious triumph.

      "We've got you Masterson you smug bastard! Sam's got you trussed up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey. And you just signed away a fortune!"

      I must confess that at that moment I was smug. Very smug indeed. I had done nothing of the sort. Sam had simply told her that that was what was happening and she was so keen to see me ruined that she had taken his word for it. She was the only one who had signed away anything, but just what, she would find out in due course.

      She snapped her case shut and stood up to leave.

      "I'm afraid you're not going anywhere," I told her. "You're staying here for quite some time."

      "What the fuck are you talking about?"

      I was really going to have to do something about her language as well as everything else.

      "I mean that effectively you are a prisoner and you will not leave here until I say so."

      As I spoke I pressed one of the switches which had been installed on the underside of my chair arm.

      "Are you out of your. . . ?.We'll just see if you can stop me!" She stormed to the door and tugged at the handle. Of course it was locked, the switch I had thrown had locked it.

      "Open this door you bastard!"

      "No."

      Rage and disbelief possessed her for a moment but then she ran for the window and tried to open that. No good either, I was way ahead of her. She looked round wildly for something to throw but I had taken the precaution of removing anything of that sort and besides all the windows were of toughened safety glass. I had also taken the precaution of screwing all the furniture down, knowing her temper. It was just as well, she tried several very expensive chairs before she gave that one up. By now she was dishevelled and panting with fear, anger and exertion but suddenly she lunged for her case and took out her mobile phone. I abhor the things, the phone in the Bentley being my only concession, and had consequently not thought about that method of summoning help. But I remained calm, as irritatingly calm as I could.

      "Your step-father?" I asked as she punched the keypad.

      "How did you know Sam was my step-father?" She stopped abruptly.

      "Because he told me before he helped me set you up. In fact it was his idea."

      Perhaps I overdid the smugly calm bit, but anyway I got the phone off her. She threw it at me and I had to duck a bit sharpish, but then she was on me and we got down to business.

      She charged with her fingernails raised to claw at my face. I stood up to face her but  then bent a little to avoid her nails and to allow her momentum to carry her over my shoulder and then I straightened, grasping her legs in a sort of fireman's lift. She kicked and struggled, beating her fists against my back. It was truly tempting to take a little time to give her her first spanking. Her short skirt had ridden up and her buttocks were well within range. But I told myself sternly that business came before pleasure.

      However her frantic wriggling made the skirt ride up ever higher, and soon I found that right beside my face her buttocks were almost naked, with just the narrowest of thongs running up between them. Their perfect roundness beckoned to my hand and on second thoughts I considered that she might as well get started straight away. I swung her down off my shoulder and held her by one arm round her waist while I perched myself on the arm of my chair. She screamed and swore as she felt her little skirt yanked up until it was tight around her waist, and her struggles got really violent. But when the first spank landed with a deeply satisfying Smack! right on the meat of her left buttock and set it to trembling deliciously, she stopped dead still for a second, until the stinging heat of the smack penetrated fully.

      "You fucking shit Masterson! How dare you!" She yelled in disbelieving outrage, and then yelped as a second smack set up ripples in the flesh of her right buttock.

      "Get your filthy hands off me! You bastard! Aah! Jesus! I'll see you ruined for this! Aah!" Her diatribe continued as I beat out a steady rhythm on her wriggling bottom, forming livid patches of red where the palm of my hand smacked down time and again. But although I kept it up until my hand stung, she also kept up her tirade of abuse and threats. I was surprised. I had thought tears and howls of pain might have replaced them by then.

      Maybe I had more of a job on my hands than I had thought.

      But in any event when I had grown tired of the sport that spanking her afforded, I swung her up onto my shoulder again, unlocked the door and carried her to her cell. It was reached down a stone staircase which led off from the kitchen corridor. I jogged down it so that my shoulder knocked some of the wind out of her and her struggles and screams abated a little.

      Sonia was waiting for us and she looked splendid. I had decided that the Brat should have a woman in dominance over her as well as me, and that that woman should be submissive to me. That way Brat's own submission would be intensified. Sonia had a leather basque on, stockings and stilettos, and from her right hand she trailed a whip. As the Brat was upside down and her face was pressed to my back, she missed her. But when I took her into her cell and set her down on the floor she saw her alright. She took one look and fought like a tigress. It took both of us to fasten wrist restraints on her and get her chained to the wall. Even then she kicked frantically but ineffectually. Sonia and I were panting a bit, she was strong and I made a mental note to watch that.

      Of course any woman in chains gains in attractiveness, so the Brat, despite her hair falling over her face and her suit being thoroughly rumpled still looked very appealing. She tugged at the chains and screamed incoherently at us until I decided that we would leave her to calm down before I explained what was going to happen to her. So without making any reply, Sonia and I left, locking the door behind us. The cellar we were keeping her in had been made quite comfortable; central heating, whitewashed walls, a simple bed, but of course there were plenty of chains. The Brat seemed unappreciative of our efforts on her behalf and screeched insults after us which only faded once we had closed the door at the top of the stairs.

      We took some food down to her about four hours later. She had obviously been crying and looked a mess, but after four hours of solitary imprisonment she had no choice but to believe what was happening to her and to listen to me.

      "You are here because of what you are - a Brat - a spoiled malicious Brat. Of course I realise that a lot of it isn't your fault, but nevertheless you have what the Americans would call a  'negative effect' on those around you. We will cure you of this. You will learn respect and obedience. In short you will become the person you should have been all along."

      Her arms were spread out against the wall but she made a spirited attempt to bring them together - around my throat. Sonia's whip lashed out and caught her across the fronts of her thighs, below the hem of her short skirt. Her mouth opened in an almost comical  'O' of surprise as the leather smacked across her flesh leaving an instantly visible red mark on the silky skin. She looked in horror at Sonia.

      "You bitch!" she shrieked, " you fucking. . . . .!" A coolly delivered second lash. The Brat tried to cross one leg over the other protectively. Sonia flicked out again, and again she screamed. I held up my hand to stop her at three, and continued.

      "You can have this tough or you can have this very tough. You cannot escape. The only people who know you are here are the people who put you here. You are completely dependent on us for everything now. You only eat when we say you can, you only wash when we say, you only stand or sit when we say. Your obedience will be absolute or you will be punished. Understand?"

      There was silence except for the sound of her laboured breathing.

      Then she looked up and let fly with another obscenity.

      Sonia whipped her across the stomach this time, five lashes. I waited until she'd stopped screaming and offered her some food. I held out a slice of apple for her to take from my hand but she turned her face away, lost in a world of fury and hate.

      "You will eat from my hand Brat or you'll starve, believe me." I could see her chest heaving with the effort of containing her rage but she said nothing. That was an improvement. I went on to tell her that any food she refused would wait till the next meal time.

      "And if you'd answered my question earlier instead of swearing at me," I finished, "I would've let you sleep on the bed. But as it is. . . . . "

      We left her. She screamed after us to come back, not begging us you understand, telling us! My poor Brat, she had such a lot to learn.

      Sonia was rampant that night, and I liked her in a basque so I used the whip she'd used on the Brat. The basque emphasised the generous hips and made a wonderful target when she bent over. I gave her ten good, hard ones and then had her strip before I tied her down on the bed, on her back. Then I made her large breasts judder and shake under a further lashing. She came in howling ecstasy, pumping her hips up to meet the lash as I worked it across her open thighs finally. And as I lay on my back and enjoyed the feel of Sonai's breasts swaying against my upper thighs while her mouth played slowly with my erection I found that now we were under way I was looking forward to the next few weeks even more than I had expected. The Brat was going to be tamed, I was sure of it. I would fulfil my part of the deal and by then it would be too late for her.

      Despite all the subsequent events I can still remember that first morning of her captivity. She was in a terrible state. We had knocked through the wall into the cellar next to the Brat's and put in a bathroom for her. But of course as she had spent the night in chains she hadn't been able to use it. I tut - tutted at the state of her when I entered the next morning and left Sonia to supervise the cleaning up. The Brat was in no condition to make life difficult for Sonia, she was stiff, exhausted and humiliated. When I returned she was naked, soiling her clothes had made the process of getting them off her very easy. She was just finishing in the bathroom when I came back, watched over by Sonia who had the whip at the ready. Sonia was fully dressed because we didn't think it was time yet for the Brat to see that she herself could be whipped, for the moment she had to represent absolute authority, exercised in my name. At a simple command the Brat came back into her cell, when she saw me she tried to cover herself with her arms. I let that go and told her to sit on her bed. She did so and made no protest when her wrists were chained again, but this time with much longer chains, so that she had some freedom of movement. Then we approached breakfast. The meal she had refused the night before was still on its plate, on the floor where I had left it. I took up the brown slices of apple and offered them to her again but despite her hunger she wouldn't touch them. Sonia made no move with the whip, I had decided that this submission would be made by the Brat of her own free will. She would have to give in eventually and I didn't want her to be able to hide behind having been whipped into it. We left her again, but took the food with us. By lunchtime the apples were definitely looking the worse for wear but the Brat had figured out that I meant what I had said about keeping on re-presenting food. She still had some fight in her though and tried to snatch the food from my hand. I was ready for it and moved my hand away in time. Then Sonia and I had another struggle while we shortened her chains so that she was pressed back against the wall at the head of her bed with her arms above her.

      We left her there until supper time. Then at last I got her to feed, sullenly and with much bad grace she ate the stale slices of apple and cheese from my hand. As a reward I let her have some fresh as well.

      "Now we're going to let you out for a while tonight and you can look round the facilities we've installed for you." I told her. Immediately I saw a light come into her eyes, she was thinking of escape, though where she was thinking of going stark naked, God alone knew. But it was irrelevant anyway. I introduced her to her collar, a thick leather one with an engraved disc hanging from it saying simply  'Brat'. I showed it to her and I think she would have spat at me if she hadn't been harbouring hopes of escape. Once that was fastened round her neck, Sonia pushed a steel bar, about five feet long, through a ring at the back, then one at a time she unfastened her wrists from their chains and attached the restraints to the steel loops at the ends of the bar. I saw the Brat's hopes die as she watched all this and was hauled to her feet. Her arms were spread apart at shoulder height and securely shackled; she wasn't going anywhere and in fact she even had to sidle out of her cell door.

      We took her into one of the rooms above the old stables where we had installed a gym for her. There was a wide variety of modern equipment, I wasn't going to let such a magnificent body get out of condition, and besides Sonia had added some truly fiendish touches to some of them. After that we led her back through the kitchen and into the front of the house. She was very quiet and I could see her looking around at everything, searching for a weak point, a way out, and I made a mental note to have another look round and make sure I'd thought of everything.

      Eventually we reached the lounge which has a large and impressive marble fireplace with armchairs on either side. I gently propelled her towards it and told her to stand facing it with her legs apart.

      "Get stuffed." She replied through gritted teeth.

      I spanked her for the second time. I took a good swing and caught her on her left buttock with my open hand. Smack! It was a resounding blow and again made the smooth globe shudder very enjoyably. She gasped in shock and twisted away from me but Sonia weighed in with one equally heavy on her right buttock. She yelped this time and whirled around helplessly, knowing that whichever way she turned she was exposed. I repeated the command and very slowly she obeyed. She chose her speed of obedience quite deliberately. It was just fast enough to be classed as obedience, but just slow enough to let me know that she was going to go at her own speed. Not good enough.

      This time I allowed Sonia to whip her back. I simply leaned across her and pressed the bar against the mantelpiece while ten lashes of a scourge were applied. She wriggled and screamed desperately at each smack of the thongs but couldn't move. It wasn't a severe beating but it let her know we were serious, and it served to show me that her back could take a great deal more if required to. Then we ignored her. I rang for Reece and he served us brandy without batting an eyelid at the sight of a beautiful woman naked and in irons with very red bottom cheeks and a whipped back, standing in front of the fireplace. When he had gone we chatted over the days ahead, sorting out business and how we would proceed with her.

      I reached out a foot and prodded her on the thigh eventually.

      "What's your name?" I asked.

      There was a second's pause while she sorted through the abuse she wanted to hurl at me, but then she said sullenly, "Laura."

      I stood up and delivered two more smacks. They were hard enough to make her rock and nearly stagger. I saw the tears come to her eyes.

      "What's your name?" I asked again.

      "Brat." She whispered.

      It was progress and I deciided to push ahead.

      "Brat, Sir. You will address me as Sir. And Miss Jacobson you will address as Miss. Now answer me properly."

       I saw the muscles in her jaw set themselves. She made no reply.

      "What a pity! And you were doing so well! Never mind, it'll give us a chance to show you another room we prepared for you. Come along."

      By grasping one end of the rod across her shoulders I spun her round. Sonia got hold of the other end and we marched her out, back downstairs. Once she saw where she was going she tried to dig her heels in but a couple more smacks had her descending the stairs well enough. We took her past her quarters, right to the end of the corridor and then Sonia opened a door and pushed the Brat into this cellar. She couldn't help whimpering when she saw it.

      It was to be her punishment room. It wasn't yet complete; Jim was still working on some designs I had given him, but there were chains and whips enough to tell her all she needed to know. I guided her forward until she stood under two chains which hung from the ceiling and by lowering these a little we could unclip her wrists from the bar and then directly refasten them to the chains. Once the bar was removed and the chains tightened she stood in the middle of the floor with her arms raised and opened. I went to a rack which contained a variety of whips and selected one with about twenty, eighteen inch lashes.heavier than the one she had just felt.

      "You'll probably get to know and love all these." I told her, "but we'll start with this one. Now I'm going to give you ten lashes before I repeat my question. I think you'll answer properly then, but you'll get ten more if you don't. If you still refuse then you'll be back here in the morning and we'll continue."

      "No please, I'll answer!" She said. I could see the fear in her eyes, she licked her lips and swallowed hard.

      "Too late my little Brat. You must learn." I smiled at her and went to stand behind her while Sonia settled herself eagerly to watch from in front.

      "Oh God! No! Please don't hurt me anymore!" She wailed. And still she hadn't learned the correct form of address!

      Her buttocks were well reddened by now so I left them alone. I struck at her shoulders and worked my way down her back. Such a long graceful back! And how it twisted, swayed and arched in its attempts to escape the flogging.  I had a much harder whip hand than Sonia. The lashes whistled down and fanned out across her skin leaving broad swathes of crimson in a kind of tartan pattern as I worked the whip backhand and forehand, going over the lesser weals from before. She screamed and yelled the whole time, but I was pleased that not one obscenity passed her lips.

      When I had counted the ten lashes I let the sobs and gasps subside.

      "Now what is your name?"

      "Brat. . . Sir!" She panted.

      We took her down and Sonia prepared her for bed before chaining her down under her quilt by her collar and wrists. She was trembling with shock at her first whippings and I could see Sonia's look of contemptuous pity. Tucked up under her quilt, her blonde hair streaming across the pillow, I felt we had taken quite a few paces down the road to finding Laura and losing the Brat. I sat on the bed briefly. "Now that wasn't so bad really was it Brat? Once you're over the shock, you'll realise it didn't actually hurt as much as you thought it would."

      She looked up at me in disbelief, but then, too fearful to shoot back her usual defiance she had to consider my words. And I watched as her grey eyes clouded with thought. "No Sir." She whispered at last.

8.

We had made more real progress that first day than I thought we would. So it was inevitable that overnight the full reality of what had been done to her would sink in and we would get a reaction. We did. Over the next few days she went on a hunger strike to try and call our bluff. She wanted to make herself so ill that we would have to call in medical help; or someone, anyone, just so long as they might help her.

      I'd reckoned on that, but I'd also reckoned on the fact that although she was strong willed, she had never been denied anything in her life, nor denied herself anything.

      We had a tedious week nonetheless. Every meal she refused we kept until it was beyond consumption, and then we started again. But we didn't punish her. I wasn't going to give her the excuse of having been forced into feeding from my hand, instead I put my faith in Mrs Jenkins. After five days of taking only water, we moved her. We took her, in what we called her yoke - the bar across her shoulders - and stood her against the kitchen wall by threading the yoke through an eyebolt I'd had put there.

      By now she wasn't the blonde goddess who'd first walked into my office all those weeks ago, she was looking gaunt and bedraggled. Her fine features had sharpened and she no longer radiated her sensuality. But she would, in time. For the moment she stood with her head bowed, her chains clicking whenever she moved.

      And Mrs Jenkins cooked! Sonia and I were treated to menus which would have had an angel drooling. On the table in front of the Brat mouthwatering dishes were prepared and then carried out to us right past her. She stood it for twenty four hours and then caved in.

      "Alright," she said at last, "I'll eat."

      "I beg your pardon?" I said, "I don't think I heard that correctly."

      "I'll eat. . . .Sir; damn you!"

      "No you won't."

      She looked at me aghast. "What?!"

      "You'll eat when you beg for food and not before. Do you realise all the trouble you've put us to? No Brat, you'll have to beg now."

      She hung her head and I thought I heard a sob. When she looked up there were indeed tears in her eyes. "Well?" I asked.

      "Please! Please you bastard! D'you hear me now?! Please let me eat!"

      "Sir." I insisted.

      "Please let me eat Sir!"

      I fed her some scraps from my hand, very slowly and gave her water. She took three meals that day and I loved the feel of her lips and sharp little teeth on my fingers as she fed.

      Three days later, when Sonia took her back to her cell for the night, she gave us ample proof of how much stronger she was. I went upstairs into the office and switched on the monitors which would show me the cell and the bathroom.

      The Brat was sitting on the toilet, just wiping herself between her legs while Sonia watched her, holding a chain attached to her collar. When she stood up, Sonia pulled her over to her and reached out to stroke one of her breasts. The Brat shied away and put an arm across her chest, Sonia immediately flicked out with the whip and caught her around the waist, the arm dropped to shield herself and Sonia reached out again. This time the Brat held still while she stroked the curves and slopes of those exquisite breasts. She made  'shushing' noises as she did so, as if the Brat was a skittish horse, and gradually she submitted to the caresses although she kept her eyes screwed tightly shut. At last Sonia's fingers began to toy with the nipples and they began to fill and harden, the Brat couldn't restrain a soft gasp of pleasure but then Sonia pulled at them hard and she cried out, her eyes opening wide in shock.

      "Soon you'll love wearing weighted clamps there. It hurts beautifully," Sonia told her. "Now go and lie on your bed."

      Very nervously she did as she was told and Sonia chained her collar to the wall. She lay with her arms stiffly by her sides and her legs tightly closed while Sonia sat beside her. Slowly she let her hand trail down the smooth belly until her fingers were playing with the bush of blonde pubes. The Brat turned her face to the wall and Sonia laughed.

      "Oh Brat! We'll begin your training properly tomorrow and soon you'll learn the pleasure of opening yourself to your Master."

      The Brat looked up sharply, "Who?" she asked.

      "Who. . . Miss." Sonia corrected her, "I'll whip you for that in the morning. Your Master; Mr Masterson."

      The mention of my name broke the spell. She went wild, kicking and struggling, tearing at her collar, which she was able to do as her wrists hadn't yet been chained. Sonia took a couple of solid kicks in the midriff and sank onto the floor to curl up, winded. The Brat scrabbled frantically at the buckles on her collar, got it off and ran for the door. I turned off the monitor and went slowly down to the lounge, taking my time. After all I didn't want to interrupt anything.

      As I entered the room the Brat was obviously just finishing her 999 call. She turned to me with a smile of triumph as she replaced the handset. I sat down in one of the armchairs and grinned back.

      "You could escape before they come," I told her, "the doors are open. But if I were you I'd get some clothes on."

      She gaped at me, but just then Sonia came in looking quite composed and carrying a dress over one arm. "You've got a good kick on you," she told the Brat and put the dress on the table.

      The Brat's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What the fuck are you up to now?"

      "Sonia note that lapse down for punishment tomorrow."

      A torrent of abuse then gushed out of the Brat which was so foul I shall not repeat it here. I refrained from any response other than to suggest that she might like to put the dress on before the boys in blue arrived.

      "Oh no," she said, a crafty light coming into her eyes. "You'd like that wouldn't you? No, I want them to see me how you've been keeping me you bastard!"

      I shrugged, "It's entirely up to you Laura."

      She didn't have time to ask why I'd used her real name because there was a knock at the door. I went to show the police in while Sonia went to the bureau and unlocked it. The Brat watched us tensely, holding her arms across herself to preserve her modesty.

      Two officers entered and I conducted them straight to the lounge. They took in the sight of the naked Laura and she blushed but then remembered herself and told them to arrest me and Sonia. They asked her why and she told them, with admirable brevity and many expletives. We all listened politely and then the officers turned to me.

      "I am Doctor Masterson," I told them, "and I believe Chief Superintendent Bob Ringland will have mentioned me to you." They said he had and I continued, aware from the corner of my eye, of the gathering look of horror on the Brat's face. "My assistant has the papers the young lady signed, committing herself voluntarily into my care, and as you can see we have a long way to go. In fact we are having trouble getting her to wear clothes."

      They took in the dress still lying on the table. Sonia handed them the papers which Laura and I had signed and flicked through them. They were all quite proper and Laura's signature declared that she was putting herself into my care for rehabilitation.

       While she thought I had signed away a fortune; she had signed away her liberty.

       With a trembling hand the Brat took the papers in her turn and looked at them. She scanned them quickly and with a moan of despair fell to her knees. Sonia knelt beside her and put an arm round her shoulders. The policemen looked embarrassed, apologised for disturbing us and left.

      The Brat hadn't moved when I returned so Sonia and I took an arm each, hauled her up and took her to her new quarters. She didn't struggle, just moaned hopelessly. This time we took her to a stall at the far end of the stable block. There was a metal collar and padlock waiting for her which we chained to the stall partition. Her wrists were clipped behind her and we drew a chain from between them through her legs and up to the front of the collar. This made it very uncomfortable for her to even try and move her hands. She tried it anyway and found out that the slightest movement resulted in the chain cutting into the soft flesh of her sex. We laid her down on the straw and threw a blanket over her.

      "No more Mr Niceguy Brat. Now you have to earn your way back to your cosy little cell," I told her.

      While Sonia went to get the Brat up next morning I waited for her in the punishment room, tapping my riding crop against my leg. I was looking forward to this. I had only spanked the Brat so far and given her a few lashes of the whip. But today I was going to show her what her future really held.

      Sonia led her in on her chain. She obviously hadn't slept much and she looked tousled as well. But I still felt a stirring in my loins at the sight of her, and especially as I knew I was going to use the crop on her for the first time. She was wide eyed with fear as Sonia led her in.

      "Oh my God." She whispered when she saw the crop. Sonia tugged hard at her chain and she stumbled into the room.

      "What punishment is due Miss Jacobson?" I asked.

      Sonia laughed harshly. "Where do you want me to start Sir?" She asked. "There were several lapses in the proper manner of address, and she swore repeatedly. Then there is the small matter of attempted escape, and of course assault on myself."

      The Brat's bottom lip was quivering now. For the first time she fully understood that she was completely in the power of the man she hated most in the world. The man she had tried to humiliate. I rubbed salt into the wound. "You are going to be punished Brat. And I want you to think of every man who you have manipulated and humiliated in your life as you receive each stroke."

      She was trying very hard not to cry as Sonia pushed her over to the bar. This ran across the far end of the room from side to side but about four feet in from the far wall, it was a simple device and one of Jim's first. A wooden beam mounted on each wall roughly four feet above the floor. I made the Brat bend over and place her arms on it outstretched at right angles to her body. There were simple pads of foam tied to the bar to stop her breasts from rubbing, I had plenty of plans for those breasts and I didn't want them marked until I was good and ready. Sonia strapped her wrists down tightly and she was ready, not a murmur of protest this time. The Brat knew she didn't have any choice and she also knew she was up against somebody far better at manipulation than she was.

       She had had to spread her legs to get down to the proper height and from behind the view was stunning. Her long thighs with their satin skin ran up to the hollow at their tops and her delighful sex lips pushed out at me surrounded by their blonde fleece. The taut buttocks merged into the smooth hips whose swell narrowed dramatically to the graceful waist. Sonia knelt and attached ankle straps which she tied to ring bolts in the floor. There was no way her arse was going to escape this beating.

      "If I was using the strap I would give you at least eighteen strokes Brat," I told her. There was a sob. "Oh stop it girl!" I said sternly, "you'll find you can take a lot more than that. And as I'm using the crop I'll only give you ten."

      "You should be grateful Brat," Sonia told her, "if it was me you'd get twenty."

      There was the sound of sobs being hastily gulped back. "I'm very sorry I tried to escape Sir. It won't happen again, I promise." The voice was scarcely more than a whisper. Sonia and I exchanged grins.

      "Count the ten please Miss Jacobson," I said and swished the crop in the air.

      "Oh please have mercy Sir!"

      "At ten lashes Brat, I am being merciful. But I won't always be. You're only a novice slave but once you know more of how I require a slave to conduct herself, punishments will be much harsher."

      We had wasted enough time. I swung in the first lash and the Brat's head jerked up.

      "One!" Sonia counted, I could see the victim's shoulders writhing and tugging at the straps which held her wrists. A stark line of white immediately showed across the centre of the buttocks and as it filled to an angry crimson, an incredulous gasp escaped her as the scalding pain gripped her throat.

      I swung in the second, the crop hissing in the air and then cracking loudly onto the Brat's bottom. "Two!" Sonia counted. The Brat screamed and sobbed uncontrollably.

      The third lash hissed in. Crack! It exploded on those gorgeous buttocks and a third fine line of crimson appeared as if by magic. "My God!" The Brat shrieked,"please! I can't. . . .No!" She howled as she heard the swooshing of the descending crop.

      The fourth lash cracked home, carefully laid to cross the first three lines. Sonia counted it and the Brat went up onto tiptoes, wriggling her hips and jigging about to try and absorb the pain. "No more! God, please!" she screamed.

      Hiss! Smack! Number five was a beauty, it crossed the first three in the opposite direction to number four. Sonia counted and the Brat danced a little jig of agony trying to lift each leg in turn while her voice cracked at the effort of trying to get relief by screaming ever louder.

      I took my time about the sixth, there was a nice pattern on her bottom now and I didn't want to spoil it. So eventually I laid it across the lower buttocks, just above her lips. I would introduce her to the agonies of being whipped there in due course. For her last four I shifted to her back and, striking downwards really let her have it. Her screams merged into an incoherent babbling and she writhed and shuddered under each lash. I had a furious erection by the time I stopped. I wanted her badly, I wanted to feel how she would writhe and buck under me as I ploughed her vagina or anus after a good whipping. But I had to wait a little longer. Sonia counted number ten with a definite tinge of regret in her voice and the Brat could only summon up a moan as the last lash hardly registered above the blaze of pain her first experience of a real beating had kindled. Sonia untied her and she fell to her knees, her hands immediately going behind her to feel the red hot ridges traced on her flesh. We let her rub them for a moment and let her tortured breathing calm.

      "Turn and face your Master," Sonia told her eventually. Slowly and clumsily she swivelled on her knees until she was kneeling up in front of me. I held the crop across the fronts of my thighs and I could see her eyes were glued to it.

      "Feed her in the stableyard this morning and if she works well until lunch I might feed her myself then."

      Shakily she got to her feet and Sonia led her out. I waited a little while before following, and when I reached the yard the Brat was kneeling on the cobbles, chained by her neck and with her wrists pinioned behind her back. Sonia was placing a bowl of cereal on the ground in front of her. At the command she bent forward and began to try and eat. No protests again. She made heavy going of lapping and sucking up her breakfast, but as Sonia cheerfully informed her, she would get used to it.

      She spent the morning on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. This gave Reece and Mrs Jenkins a good view of her glowing buttocks, to say nothing of her sex and her breasts. Her face was nearly as red as her bottom and her knees by the time she had finished. At lunch I let her kneel by my chair in the dining room and I fed her by hand. It was so much more comfortable than the cobbles of the yard that I could see the beginnings of gratitude in her face.

      "Eventually you will be ready to rejoin civilised people," I told her after the meal, "so you might as well make a start. And one lesson you will learn is to be still until you are spoken to."

      She spent that afternoon in the office while Sonia and I worked. She faced the wall with her legs held apart by a spreader bar between her ankles and her wrists were clipped to the ring at the back of her collar so that her elbows were raised on either side of her face.

      For several days we continued with the routine of the Brat remaining chained virtually all day, scrubbing the kitchen floor, feeding from my hand and receiving light but regular punishments. But one night I decided it was time to let Sonia play with the Brat in the punishment room. Jim had just finished making a whipping bench, and he'd done a good job too. From somewhere he had acquired some leather, padded it and stitched it so that now it was covered very professionally. It stood in the middle of the floor waiting for its first victim. As per my design he had made one set of legs longer than the other so that the Brat would be bent over it with her bottom offered up nicely, as well as her back. As soon as Sonia began to lead her down the stairs she began to whimper and beg; but very politely we noticed. Her hands were fastened behind her back so she couldn't resist the pull on her leash and we made steady enough progress. But as we went along the corridor towards the punishment room she began to twist and pull back. Sonia's patience broke and she took her whip out from her belt. I let her slash the Brat around the legs until she quietened and went obediently but repeating a kind of mantra,

      "Please Miss! Please! I haven't done anything wrong!"

      With a savage jerk on the chain which brought the Brat screaming to her knees on the floor of the punishment room itself, Sonia rounded on her.

      "You stupid little bitch! Don't you understand yet? You're here to serve and it doesn't matter whether you've done anything wrong or not. If it pleases your Master to have you beaten, then be beaten and shut up about it!"

      I saw the Brat's face crumple as she was about to break into full floods of tears but Sonia's open hand caught her a stinging blow on her cheek and stopped her dead in her tracks.

      "Get onto that bench now! Or I'll thrash you far worse where you are!"

      Shocked and stunned she staggered up and then lowered herself gingerly onto the bench. Sonia roughly kicked her feet apart and buckled ankle restraints onto her which she clipped to the steel rings threaded through the longer set of legs. Her wrists were freed and then fastened in similar fashion to the shorter ones. Her mane of blonde hair spread out over her shoulders and back and Sonia swept it forward till it fell in a thick curtain round her face. From under it a small voice begged, "not my ass again! Please not my ass again!"

      "When will you learn respect!? That will be entered in the punishment book for tomorrow," Sonia told her, grinning. The Brat's shoulders began to heave in silent sobs. I decided to put the finishing touch to her misery.

      "You may select a cane Miss Jacobson. I'm going to get Jim."

      I stayed long enough to watch Sonia select a nicely whippy little number from the cane rack and swish it in the air in front of the Brat a few times. As I left the room I heard the first Swoosh! and Crack! followed by a howl from the Brat.

      Jim was waiting in the kitchen for me, I had promised him a look at how his bench was performing, and it was my intention that quite soon the Brat would be serving him as well as me, or anyone else I told her to.

      As soon as I conducted him back to the stairs leading down to the cellars we could hear the last of the lashes being laid on. The Thwack! sounds of the cane landing echoed down the corridor and the Brat's answering yells and screams were a constant backdrop. As the caning stopped they subsided into broken gasps and groans. When we entered the room we saw that Sonia had worked the cane across the Brat's shoulders and back, and a new network of thin red lines crossed the smooth flesh, overlaying the marks of her earlier punishments. Jim seemed very impressed and ran his hand slowly over the Brat's body, using his fingers to appreciate the curves and contours, as if he was testing a piece of timber. The Brat herself tensed when she felt a strange hand, one much harder than mine, run over her skin and gave a muted groan at this fresh humiliation. I saw no reason to spare her the full extent of it and allowed him to run his fingers down the buttock crease and explore the soft lips of her sex. He used two fingers to open them and feel her clitoris. "Oh God!" She moaned as his fingers invaded her and she tried to struggle against her bonds. He probed at her for a few moments and then withdrew his fingers, wiping them on her buttocks casually as he did so.

      "Hmm, a bit tight and dry Sir," he said. I had wanted a complete stranger to be the first to sample the delights of her interior, the humiliation was so much more extreme.

      "What's her arse like?" He asked. From under the tangle of blonde hair, Brat gave a scream of revulsion.

      "Quite impassable I should think Jim. But we'll work on it and she'll be ready for you quite soon now," I told him. He tried it anyway and made her shriek again and again as he screwed a finger deep into her resisting tunnel.

      "I'll look forward to using that Sir. In the meantime I'll press on with those other designs."

      He gave myself and Sonia a cheerful grin, slapped the Brat heavily on her rump and left. Sonia released her ankles and wrists and we watched to see what reaction we'd get. She levered herself up slowly with her arms and finally stood in front of the whipping bench with her back to us. For once she was completely silent.

      I turned her by her shoulders and then held her chin so that I could look into her eyes. She looked back at me steadily, not defiantly, not sullenly, but calmly. She had undergone what had been unthinkable a couple of days earlier and had endured it. I knew that fires of pain would be raging across her back but I saw the beginnings of determination to undergo whatever it took, to accept and to see it through. Even though she didn't know what  'it' was. The humiliations we were heaping on her were driving her to mere endurance rather than defiance. We were making progress and I wanted to make a lot more the next day.

      But as for that night, Sonia was to return to London the next day and I decided that she should push the Brat a bit further on.

      "Take her to her stall. Put a butt plug up her and if she's good for the rest of tonight and tomorrow she can return to her cell."

      I stayed long enough to make sure that the Brat bent over again, whimpering but obedient while Sonia lubricated and then inserted a thick dildo into her anal opening.  She grunted as it slid in but didn't struggle; Sonia still held the cane. At the end of her chain, her hands fastened behind her back the Brat followed Sonia out quietly while I made my way to the office. I settled myself in front of one of the monitors and turned it on to watch what happened in the stall.

      I saw the Brat kneeling on the straw while Sonia chained her collar to the partition and then stood in front of her.

      "You've taken your first real beatings well enough Brat. A bit noisy, but you'll quieten down as you get used to it."

      "Yes Miss."

      "Lie down. Your Master will want you tomorrow and I want to make sure you don't give him any trouble."

      The Brat lay back on the straw, her back arching where her wrists were still held behind her. Sonia stripped down to her basque and lay beside her. I could see the Brat watching her wide eyed.

      "Open your legs," Sonia told her. I saw a brief hesitation on the Brat's part but then she obeyed. And I watched as Sonia's hand began to play with the lovely sex I had been so close to a few days ago, and which I would possess tomorrow. I watched as the fingers probed into the honeyed depths of a vagina I was certain was going to be soft and welcoming. Gradually the Brat's hips began to undulate a little and the lithe body began to stir, a small whimper of pleasure escaped her. I could see Sonia watching her carefully while her eyes closed and she surrendered to the caresses. At last she began to buck her pelvis up to meet the fingers which penetrated her and then Sonia stopped. The Brat's eyes opened wide in surprise as she pulled away and stood up.

      "That's enough for now. Just remember to open yourself properly when you're told to. But you've done well enough to earn a little reward."

      The Brat's face was a picture of disappointment but she turned onto her face obediently while Sonia unclipped her wrists and then padlocked them together in front of her. She put the blanket over her and left her for the night.

      I waited in the office with the monitor still on. I could stilll see the Brat quite plainly, and by the time Sonia had joined me we could both see the movements under the blanket as her joined hands took over where Sonia had left off. The movements became more and more frenzied, her body arched up and she gave out fierce moans of delight. Her legs opened wider until they were outside the blanket and her feet were scrabbling for purchase in the straw to push herself higher and get her fingers deeper into herself. Then there were a series of spasmodic, frantic thrusts with her hips and one final shuddering moment when her back was bowed, the long muscles in her thighs stood out in clear relief and she shouted in ecstasy before collapsing back into the straw.

      She could have reached under herself and pulled out the butt plug. But she didn't.

      "Very good. We're making real progress now." I told Sonia and then took her down to the punishment room. I wanted to try out Jim's bench.

      When she was naked I tied her down on it exactly as the Brat had been and I used the same cane the Brat had been beaten with. Across her broad back it made a most satisfying contact and it left such slender marks that there was plenty of room to work with. Although she didn't make nearly as much noise as the Brat had she was soon arching her head back and letting out hoarse cries of pain and pleasure. I became so absorbed in fitting as many stripes on as I could that I lost count of how many lashes I had delivered. But eventually I was aware that she was coming, I saw the shudders run through her time and again and waited until she relaxed into her bonds and her head fell forward.

       I made her crawl at heel up to my bedroom and when she had undressed me I allowed her to take me in her mouth.

       There was only one sex I wanted to get into at the moment, and I wanted to savour the anticipation.

       As always Sonia gave good service, she spent several minutes just licking at the tip of my erection which was throbbing pretty well by now after the evening's events. She had a good tongue, long and almost prehensile in its ability to wrap itself around a rigid member and stimulate virtually every nerve ending simultaneously. I held out for a good long time so that she could enjoy herself lapping around my scrotum and licking at that bit behind it, of which she was very fond. But eventually I passed the point of no return when she had me about as far down her throat as it was reasonable to expect and I grabbed her head to push against and emptied myself into her. She made throaty little growls and purrs as she felt my sperm splash out against the back of her throat and took a long time about making sure she'd got it all gathered in before reluctantly letting my subsiding erection slip from between her lips.

      I chained her up in her big dog bed which we had brought from London and left her to sleep there while I retired to my bed and thought about what I would do with the Brat tomorrow. It was probably those thoughts which caused me to wake in the small hours of the morning with a steel hard and urgent erection. Hurriedly I woke Sonia and hauled her into bed. She was no more than half awake when I raised her rump and pushed into the tighter of her channels. It was well used to penetration but gripped my shaft with all the pleasing tightness you would expect of a woman's rear entrance. Sonia moaned in the dark under me as I took my pleasure with her most intimate regions but it was the thought of enjoying the Brat this way which finally propelled me to ejaculation, and I lay back well contented as I heard and felt Sonia burrow down the bed to lick me clean.

9.

Sonia was gone for a week and I got down to serious training with the Brat. Her failed escape attempt had knocked the fight out of her, she had resigned herself to her captivity and I knew that the sensual side of her nature was beginning to assert itself. In other words we had softened her up and now it was time to really move things along.

      I saw Sonia off early the next morning and went to rouse the Brat. She was beginning to stir as I entered her stall, I could hear the rustle of straw and the clink of her chains. I removed the padlock from her hands, extracted the plug and unchained her collar, she stood up but kept her eyes averted downwards. I could see why, the sharp smell of urine rose from her bed. After her beating, the plug being put up her, Sonia's hand playing with her and then her own hands bringing her to a climax, she must have slept very heavily. I laughed and led her out the back of the stableyard to an overgrown patch of ground.

      "Squat down there and finish the job." I told her. She had got used to Sonia watching her on the toilet but with me there she squatted for a long time before she could perform. When she had finished I introduced her to the uses of dock leaves. She had to stand up and straddle her legs wide apart to wipe herself, but she didn't cry; just blushed furiously.

      " That's twice now. When you toilet train children," I said, " you reward good behaviour. But you're a bit big for that so I'll punish you for failures. Now bend over."

      She looked up at me quizzically. I wasn't carrying a whip, what was I going to do? I held her chain and bent to a clump of stinging nettles at my side. Carefully I picked a switch of them. I told her that I could either repeat my command and add that failure to the morning punishment which was still to come or. . . .  She bit her lip but turned away and bent over, but only a little way.

      "Right down! Hold your ankles." I told her. She did so and I got a real surge of arousal. Alright she wasn't going to get the whip but it was the first time she'd bent over without being tied. She opened her legs to get her hands right down to where I wanted them and I considered my options. Her lovely soft lips were very inviting, but I had other plans for them. I settled for the backs of her thighs and began to whip her with the nettles. Of course the blows weren't hard, just enough to ensure a good contact between skin and leaves. She sucked in her breath sharply but stayed down until I had given her eight, enough to spread a painful rash right up to her buttocks. When I allowed her to straighten up she was flushed and her eyes were brimming but she kept herself under control; even when I led her back to the house.

      She had done well enough the previous day to avoid a full going over with the crop so I introduced her to a new level of punishment. And now that she was aware of how much the crop hurt, she appreciated it. I took her into the kitchen and had her bend over and lie her torso on the big table in the middle of the room, spread her arms out and grip the edges. Of course Reece and Mrs Jenkins were going about their business but the Brat had so little dignity left now that she did as she was told with no murmur of protest. I told her I could run a chain under the table and so keep her firmly anchored or she could simply stay where she was until I told her to move.

      "I'll stay down Sir." She replied softly, and was there just the slightest hint of pride in there? I can take it, kind of pride?

      Much impressed I took down a tawse from a hook on the wall over where she had been chained and showed it to her before giving her four with it. The kitchen echoed to the fleshy smacks it made as it landed. And of course being wider than a crop or a whip it made the buttocks ripple very prettily. Mrs Jenkins came to survey the results, over the yellowing bruises from the crop there were wide swatches of red sreaked with white where the fingers of the tawse had separated on impact. The Brat had managed to restrict herself to hissing between clenched teeth for the first two blows but had let out breathless little shrieks at the last two and done her jig up on tiptoes.

      "You want to get some witch hazel Mr Masterson," said Mrs Jenkins, "bring down the bruises much faster that will."

      "What a good idea! Would you see to it please?"

      After I had eaten and the Brat had fed from the bowl Reece put down for her, she was put to work chained in the kitchen, and I went to see how Jim was getting on. He was sawing and hammering in his shed and we spent a pleasant hour or so looking at the frame taking shape. It was going to display her beautifully we decided. When I returned to the house I took the Brat up to her gym and played with her there until lunch. I found the jogging machine very entertaining. It had been a simple job to anchor rings in the hand rails, and when her wrists were clipped to these she had no choice but to keep up with any speed I set the machine to work at. I am aware of how much store the Americans put by this form of exercise and I thought she would enjoy it. And she did to start with, while I let it run at a gentle trotting speed. She looked delightful, even though she needed a wash and her hair was getting matted, her breasts bounced and swayed and her buttocks shook with every stride. But then I began to increase the speed, she began to pant and gasp for breath. I increased it again and she gave me an imploring look as her legs pumped furiously to keep up and her breasts shook and trembled. I kept her at it till she let out a despairing wail and collapsed, hanging on to the bars with her hands while her feet were swept back by the moving belt. I turned it off and listened to her rasping breath for a while until it calmed and then told her that she'd only done three miles. We'd go for four tomorrow. She groaned.

      When I released her I clipped her wrists behind her back and then attached nipple clamps with small weights. She gasped as the wicked little jaws squeezed closed around her tender pink flesh and then moaned as the weight came onto them and the nipples stretched. I knew she would be sore after all the bouncing and indeed her eyes watered all the time she knelt by my chair during lunch and took her food from my hand. But she made no complaint.

      It was a fine afternoon so I decided to take some paperwork I had to attend to out onto the terrace, and I took the Brat with me.

      The terrace is a calm and tranquil place outside the dining room, it overlooks the rose garden and has a stone balustrade and ornamental steps leading down to it. Using Sonia as a model I had drilled holes for and embedded four eyebolts in the paving stones, they were designed to hold the Brat spreadeagled on the ground. At my order she had spread herself face down and was waiting for me to tie her, but I decided I'd like to give her a little freedom of movement. I don't know why, maybe it was because she'd behaved herself all morning, but anyway in the end I just padlocked a short loop of chain to one ring in order to hold her wrists which I left clipped together in front of her and left her to stretch out on the warm stone as she pleased. I sat in a chair nearby and concentrated on some reports and accounts, but managed to keep an eye on her nonetheless by glancing over the tops of the papers.

      At first she lay full length with her arms stretched out in front of her and seemed to be basking in the sun. I had leisure to appreciate the long, graceful contours of her back and the way her buttocks mounded up so smoothly before curving back down to the smooth skinned thighs. At her chest her breasts pushed out sideways where they were pressed to the stone. I would have her, I would have her this very day, I told myself, and I settled back to finish my work, savouring the pleasure of self-denial.

      When at last I laid it aside and looked at her again I saw she was staring up at me steadily from over one arm. I rose and stretched before going to stand over her.

      "Turn over Brat." I told her. She rolled onto her back and grimaced slightly as her various bruises and hurts came into contact with the stone. As her arms were pulled up above her head her breasts formed smooth mounds which jutted up at me. Unusually for such full breasts, they didn't slip sideways on her ribs very much but retained their shape quite beautifully. I had removed the nipple clamps before laying her down but as I glanced at them I saw they were standing up hard and flushing a darker red than normal. She saw the direction of my gaze but made no move to try and look away from me. I undid my trousers and freed my erect member. It was absolutely rigid at the prospect of penetrating and enjoying the body which lay helpless in front of it.

      But I wanted to remind her of our last meeting in similar circumstances.

      "If you're very good Brat, I might let you have a fuck." I told her.

      She remembered. I saw the white of her perfect teeth appear as she smiled and then she brought her knees up and let them fall open. I moved back a little to get a good view up along her body while I took my shirt off. Her labia were perfectly formed, soft and full, I knelt down and parted them to run my fingers over the little bud of her clitoris which was already hard and pushing up from its hood. As soon as I touched the rosy pink flesh of her sex I could feel the moisture and as I ran my fingers down to find her entrance she lifted her hips to offer it to me. Her vagina was flooding and the scent of her excitement reached me as I opened her and pushed my fingers up.

       I worked them inside her tight little channel for a moment and heard the sucking noises they made as they stirred the juice. She began to undulate and rotate her hips in a languid rhythm and groaned, I pulled my fingers out and ran them across her breasts where they left glistening trails behind them and then I leaned over and lowered my weight onto her. She cried out as her back and buttocks were pressed to the hard stone but by then I was far too busy enjoying the feel of her soft breasts under me to care much, and anyway it seemed to spur her on if anything. She opened her legs wider still and gripped her thighs around my waist. She was so slick that my member simply glided into her and I found her channel was every bit as welcoming as I'd always thought it would be. I could feel it grip me and draw me in, wanting me to sound her depths, to ream her out utterly. Her strong body began to buck and writhe under me as I began to thrust in and withdraw. After each thrust I pulled out until only the head was inside her and I could feel the lips quivering against it as they tried to hold me in. The Brat whimpered each time and then sighed in relief as I plunged back in. Her arms twisted and tugged at her chain frustrated by not being able to hold me in, her back arched up to push her breasts towards me and I let my tongue rove from one swollen taut nipple to the other. Her movements became more urgent, she was ignoring the pain and grinding her buttocks into the stone to feel every inch of my shaft inside her. I started really pumping so that she jerked under each impact, knowing that I would be increasing her discomfort, but she just rolled her head from side to side in pleasure and matched me thrust for thrust. At last I was ramming her so hard I could hear my pelvis slapping against her and she started to come. She unwrapped her legs from around me and braced her feet on the stone to lift me bodily as she yelled and moaned. I could feel the spasms running through her and at last I felt the tides of my own climax begin to flow. I gripped her shoulders and went for it. She opened her eyes and met mine in a stare of naked desire as she held her back arched and shouted "Yes!" each time I rammed in to the hilt. My seed spurted out into her and we held a long shuddering moment of pure sensual delight before she gave one last groan and collapsed.

      I rolled off her and watched as spasms ran through her from time to time until she eventually lay still and panting beside me.

      I got to my feet and looked down at her, her legs were still splayed wide open and between them her lips were swelled open, shining with juice. Already I could see my seed beginning to trickle out of her and run down between her buttocks. She made no attempt to hide herself from me.

      "You're a hot little slut as well as being a Brat aren't you?" I said.

      She smiled again, "Yes Sir."

      "Do you think that being horny's going to spare you any punishment?"

      She shook her head deliberately. "No Sir."

      "And does that frighten you?"

      "Yes Sir." The answer was immediate, her large grey eyes remained fixed on me; honest, challenging.

      We were making progress here but not as I had thought we would, she was all of a sudden about two weeks ahead of where I had thought she'd be. I looked at her, chained, splayed out, a metal collar padlocked to her neck, looking more beautiful than I had ever seen her. Suddenly an overwhelming urge to treat her as cruelly as I could devise swept over me. To hell with any bet; she was my prisoner, she didn't seem to want to fight me anymore. Now I just wanted to see that lovely body respond to any amount of pain or pleasure I chose to inflict.

      I went over to the table by which I had been working and selected a cigar. Her eyes had followed me and I let her watch as I took it out, struck a match and lit it. In the sunlight the match flame was pale but visible. I walked back to where she lay and stood over her again. Very deliberately I blew out the match and then dropped it into her belly button. Her stomach clenched as the hot wood landed on her. She closed her eyes and gasped, but made no attempt to twist and try to dislodge it. I watched her draw in her breath to absorb the pain, then it was past and she looked up at me again. Calm and unblinking.

      "I'm going to give you a real whipping tonight Brat. A thrashing, understand?"

      "Yes Sir."

      We were interrupted by a discreet cough and when I turned I saw Jim standing at the top of the steps.

      "Just thought I'd let you know I've finished the frame Sir. We can get her up tomorrow."

      "Perfect timing Jim, well done." An idea struck me. I could see his eyes were sliding past me to take in the sight of the Brat who still hadn't made any move to close her legs. Of course I hadn't told her she could, but was it obedience above and beyond the call of duty?

      "If you don't mind the fact that she's been used Jim, help yourself."

      He grinned at me and began to take off his shirt. "No Sir, I'll take her as she comes, so to speak."

      "Good lad. Anything you're not happy about, just let me know and I'll be happy to beat her for it." I gathered up my papers and went into the house without looking back.

10.

To say that I didn't look back is perfectly true. I wanted the Brat to feel that I had abandoned her to another man without a second thought. But I couldn't help being a little curious as to how she would perform under these circumstances, so I went up to one of the guest rooms from which one can look down onto the terrace.

      Jim's buttocks were going up and down at a frantic pace in between the Brat's wide spread thighs. As she had with me she was trying to brace her feet to get a good purchase so she could thrust up with her hips to meet him. Once again she didn't seem to care about the pain which was undoubtedly raging through her back and bottom. They were both moaning and gasping as their orgasms approached and I could tell from the expression of fierce concentration on her face that the Brat wasn't faking a thing. She was loving every second of it.

      I left them to it and went to reconsider my plans for her. I had always wanted to train her, but now I really wanted to own her, to experiment with her, to take her to depths and heights she had never dreamed of and watch as she suffered or enjoyed every second of it. And most of all to have her acknowledge me as Master and confess herself to be my willing slave.

      And to judge by this afternoon, maybe that was what she wanted too? Or was it? Her conversion was very sudden. There was only one thing to do,  follow my desires with her and see how she went. If there was anything phoney about her, I'd find out soon enough; I intended to take her to her limits, and then go beyond them. To regions where there could be no pretence.

      I was sitting in the drawing room when Jim came in, looking a little flushed.

      "Ah Jim. Any complaints?" I asked.

      "None Sir. She's as hot as they make 'em."

      Well that was what we would find out.

      I left her out until nearly dusk. When I went to collect her I found she had dozed off, still lying on her back, but her body had half twisted, so that although her shoulders remained flat, she lay on one hip, and the flawlessly graceful dip and rise of waist to hip was breathtaking. I nudged her in the ribs with one foot and she woke. She blinked a bit and then smiled up at me, like the cat who'd got the cream. She'd been staked out and had by two men and was well pleased with it. I watched while she stretched, bowing up again off the stone.

      Whatever my uncertainties about her motives, I couldn't let them show so I fastened her wrists behind her as usual and had her kneel beside me while Reece served the supper. Some of her food I gave her from my hand, but quite a lot of it I let fall to the carpet and made her bend down to pick it up with her teeth. It was while she was eating a chunk of Mrs Jenkins' delicious lamb which she had just picked up that I told her what I had planned for that night. I reached down and ran a hand over the broad curves at the tops of her breasts and told her I was going to whip them later. She stopped eating and looked up at me. There was fear in that look alright. She swallowed and then looked down again.

      "Yes Sir." She said quietly.

      "Before that you can have a bath." She'd been in the stable for a few nights now and hadn't had a wash of any kind. That news certainly registered with her, she looked up again with a real sparkle in her eyes.

      "Yes Sir." She said it with feeling this time. I threw another titbit down for her and she bent to pick it up immediately, as if she'd always been fed that way. And I think it was the ease with which she did it that decided me on taking a chance.

      When we had both finished I unlocked her wrists and told her to take the plates out to Mrs Jenkins in the kitchen. She flexed her wrists, it was virtually the first time they had been free since I had taken her prisoner and it must have felt odd. She looked at me in surprise when the import of the order sank in, she would be free for as long as it took to go from here to the kitchen and return. I searched her face for signs of excitement but she only turned her attention to cleaning and stacking the plates. When she had picked them up and left the room I went to the control console hidden under my chair arm and locked all the doors and windows. A few minutes went by and I became alarmed, as calmly as I could I made my way to the kitchen, hoping I hadn't made the first serious miscalculation.

      But I needn't have worried.

      When I entered the room I found the Brat leaning forward over the big table while Mrs Jenkins applied witch hazel to her backside. She was working it in vigorously and the Brat's bottom was quivering and swaying delightfully under her strong hands.

      "It's a pretty bottom isn't it Mrs Jenkins?" I observed, as soon as relief had washed over me. The Brat glanced round over her shoulder and gave me an unreadable look. Did she know I had been concerned? Was this some kind of victory for her - by not even attempting to escape did she consider that she had wrong footed me for the first time?

      Mrs Jenkins interrupted my thoughts. "Reminds me of myself in my prime Sir. Many's the time I had to rub this stuff in after Mr Jenkins had had a good night out."

      Well, well; you can never tell can you? I glanced over at Reece who was polishing a glass ready for my after dinner drink. I surprised him looking avidly at the shapely buttocks in front of him and I had an inspiration. But meanwhile Mrs Jenkins was warming to her theme as she worked on the Brat. "At least Mr Jenkins always came home; he knew what he had to look forward to, and I reckoned it was a small price to pay. Remember that my girl," she addressed the Brat directly, "it's better to have a sore bottom than to have no man at all. 'Course it's different nowadays, there's not many men you can trust to know when enough's enough." Again the Brat turned to look at me and this time she was blushing and looked away hastily when she saw me watching her. "My old gran used to say that a good woman needs a good man with a firm hand, and a bad woman needs a good man with an even firmer hand." She finished her ministrations and gave the Brat a resounding smack. "Stand up girl. That'll do you. You'll be ready for anything in the morning."

      "Thank you Mrs Jenkins." The Brat said quietly and stood up, running her hands over her buttocks.

      "Discipline suits her doesn't it Reece?" I asked.

      "The young lady's manners seem much improved Sir," he replied. I watched her closely as I told them about the idea I had just had. From now on I proposed to allow the Brat to work in whatever part of the house required work, and she would be subject to any discipline they thought necessary. Reece and Mrs Jenkins both agreed that this would be excellent training for her and the Brat herself made no protest. In fact I couldn't see any reaction at all.

      "Now you can come upstairs for a bath before I enjoy myself with you in the punishment room."

      "Yes Sir." Again nothing but calm acceptance. She even turned and held her hands out behind her to have her wrists fastened.

      With a touch of deliberate cruelty I took her up to the room in which I had lodged her as a guest and in which I had seen her at her worst. There were still marks on the inside of the door from where she had hurled every breakable object she could lay hands on after me. When we entered I saw her once again blush very prettily. Very difficult to fake shame and embarrassment like that I reflected.

      I freed her hands and she made to rush off towards the bathroom.

      "I didn't tell you to move." I reminded her.

      "No Sir. I'm sorry."

      "No problem Brat. Tonight's whipping is purely for pleasure, I'll punish you in the morning. Now go and wash."

      She made no attempt to close the door while she ran a bath and used the toilet. I reminded her that it would be her last chance until the morning and God help her if she soiled the sheets in her cell then I settled back on the bed and listened to her blissfully splashing about in a really deep tub of hot and perfumed water. When at last she came out, she had dried herself and didn't try to wrap the towel around her, in fact she entered the room quite naked and calmly she went straight to the dressing table and got down to work.

      I love watching women like this, taking their time to present themselves at their best for their men. And the view from behind a particularly beautiful one like the Brat was entrancing. She sat on the stool in front of the mirror, her buttocks and hips swelling out where she sat and her arms, raised to direct the hair dryer emphasising the long, slender waist. She began to brush out the tangles in her hair, grimacing when they caught but persevering until she was able to run even a comb through quite smoothly and a shimmering blonde mane once again framed her face. Then she started on her make-up. Sonia had taken her things out of her bag and left them for her. She leaned close to the glass and applied lipstick and lip gloss, a little blusher and some eye liner. I came to stand behind her. She knew where she was going from here but it didn't seem to matter, she genuinely wanted to look her best for the punishment room. That thought gave me a furious erection as I studied her reflection.

      "Put some rouge on your nipples," I told her, "and on your other lips."

      She actually smiled and then did as she was told. I watched as she looked down with intent concentration and began to colour the pink nipples until they were a deep red and standing out nice and hard. For her labia she stood up and spread her legs, tilting her hips forward to give herself a good look at what she was doing in the mirror.

      At last she turned around and posed for inspection with her hands obediently behind her, her shoulders squared and her breasts pushed out. All of a sudden it was back. For the first time since she had been a captive the full blast of her sexuality hit me, she had turned it on again. She looked magnificent and knew it, she wore her nakedness like very few other women I've ever met and she simply oozed sex.

      "Right," I said, determined not to let my desire for her divert me from whipping her first. "Down to the punishment room."

      She again turned and held out her wrists which I clipped together and then she walked ahead of me. As we passed the bed she stopped and looked at it. I thought she was longing to be able to sleep freely in it again, but I was wrong. And I don't like being wrong.

      "Sir?" she asked, "tomorrow you'll wake me at the usual time won't you?"

      I told her I would.

      "Then you'll give me the morning punishment, then there'll be breakfast. After that I'll work till lunch?"

      "Or I might take you to the gym if you finish your work."

      "In the afternoon you'll do what you want to with me. And in the evening there'll be the punishment room again?"

      "Possibly."

      "Then you'll chain me for the night at the same time. And that will be my routine from now on won't it?"

      "Until I decide otherwise Brat, yes."

      She nodded as if she'd just understood something but then resumed walking meekly ahead of me. She held herself proudly erect as she headed for where she was to be whipped for my pleasure. Her steps never faltered as we approached the room, she knelt calmly when I her told to, with her back to the bar. She held her arms out for tying along it without a struggle and made no protest when I tied her ankles down to ring bolts set in the floor behind the bar. I only hit trouble when I showed her a leather strap I was going to use as a gag. I wasn't bothered about her screaming, I just wanted her head pulled back to push her breasts out as far as possible and keep her hair out of the way. To this end I didn't want to tie it at the back of her head but to pull it down to the bar and tie the ends to that so that her head was wrenched sharply back and she stared at the ceiling.

      But to my surprise, after all her recent subservience, she began to fight like a wildcat, twisting her head frantically away from the strap and clenching her teeth tight against it. I resisted the impulse to deliver a stinging slap to her face and instead gripped my hand in her hair and and wrenched her head back so that she had to stare up at me. I could see a fury of defiance in her eyes and my own temper blazed up in response. So she had only been trying to lull me into complacency by being so damn submissive all of a sudden!

      "Listen you stupid bitch!" I yelled at her. "I don't want your hair getting in the way while I whip your tits! Understand!?"

      "They're my tits and I want to watch you whip them you bastard.......Sir!" She yelled right back at me.

      I stared at her so dumbfounded that for a moment even I didn't notice how her magnificent chest was heaving. Her grey eyes were steely with anger and determination. For a long moment our gazes remained locked and then she spoke again. Quietly but still staring me in the eyes.

      "You want to be my Master right? Then you can damn well have your slave watch you while you're whipping her. Unless you're scared of course.........Sir!" She spat out the last word through clenched teeth, but gave me a tight, fierce smile. She'd got one over on me this time right enough. And she knew it.

      "All right Brat." I conceded. "I'll let you watch, but I'm still going to tie your hair back."

      "No! That's my problem! If I let it get in the way, add it to my morning punishment."

      "Well, well. So you reckon you can take me on at my own game," I said and squatted down so that our faces were level. "Be more submissive than I can be dominant? Is that your tactic now? Well Brat, I was going to enjoy a little light breast whipping tonight. But now I'm going to lay it on hard. Let's see how much you can take once I really dish it out."

      She grinned again. "Yeah let's see. You Limey shit.......Sir!" Again she loaded the last word with every ounce of venom she could get into it. She really was literally asking for it. I let her hair go, stood up and let the braided lash of the whip I'd selected uncoil. She tossed her hair back proudly and gritted her teeth.

      She made the most beautiful target. Of course punishing a good sized pair of breasts is always an especial pleasure but the position I had the Brat in, her arms wrenched back and out, her thighs spread, her whole stomach and rib cage exposed, her breasts pulled taut but still so prominent made an exquisite picture. Initially I had only intended to add to the charms of those breasts with ten or so judiciously laid on lashes; just enough to make her feel as though she had had a good thrashing. But now the gloves were off and she was in for a proper, full frontal going-over.

      I stood off to one side, swept my arm back and laid on the first one. I curled the whip expertly across her waist. She had watched the thong right until it was on its way, then screwed her eyes tight shut. Now they opened wide with shock and she let out an "Oof!" noise as the wind was knocked out of her and her stomach heaved and clenched.

      Again.

      Ssshwack!

      It was into her stomach again and she jerked so hard that her knees left the floor for a second. She put her head back and yelled at that one.

      Ssswack!

      Across her pubic mound and her head came forward helplessly as her body instinctively convulsed away from the scalding lash. Some of her thick mane of hair fell forward to lie on her collar bones. I gave her a moment's respite and she raised her face, her eyes glistening but alert enough to see that my gaze was now fixed on the twin targets of her rouged nipples. She gave me another tight defiant smile as the whip began its descent.

      Ssshwack!

      The leather bit down across the wide upper swells of her breasts. Momentarily it bit in deeply before falling away to let the soft mounds bounce back up. Brat's head arched back so sharply that every muscle in her neck stood out like cord and she shrieked.

      Sshwack!

      A stroke which drove straight in at her and landed across her areolae. It was a hard lash and rippled the breast flesh back towards her ribs. Brat went rigid for a second, her feet pushing her knees clear of the floor and bending her back in a trembling arc before the scream broke from her lips.

      I gave her a break again and shifted my grip on the whip handle. She collapsed back onto her knees, her head drooping as she panted and gasped. Slowly a tress of hair slid forward off her shoulder and trailed down to lie across her left breast. I reached down and tucked it back behind her neck.

      "That's one for tomorrow Brat." I told her.

      She looked up again, sharply, still panting. Angry? Excited? Excited, it had to be. Her nipples were hard, dark red peaks throbbing against the striped breasts.

      "Yeah......I guess." She gasped. "You ready to go again........Sir?" Again that insolent sneer on the last word.

      Ssshwack!

      A lower sweep this time so that the flesh rippled upwards as the whip bit into the under curves. Her head twisted desperately to the right and she screamed again. A second tress of hair strayed into the target area.

      "That's two." I told her, tucking it back.

      "I know." She gasped, and managed to look up at the whip as it sliced in again. Her eyes screwed closed only at the last moment, just before the leather smacked down on the inviting mounds of breast flesh again. Her head twisted to the left this time, and I saw her lips form a silent "Oooh!" shape, but she bit back on the scream.

      Three more lashes in quick succession had her arching up off the floor again and shrieking at the top of her lungs. But after them she slumped again, and hanks of sweat drenched hair fell in curtains round her face. I cleared them again and waited until she could look up again, groggily now. Sweat was trickling down her sides and in between her breasts.

      "How are you doing Brat?" I asked. And I wasn't gloating. I knew how hard I'd laid those lashes on. Even Sonia would have been coming in floods by then, and Brat was only a beginner at taking the whip.

      "Good......." She panted. "Guess I've got another real flogging coming tomorrow."

      "Guess you have Brat.......and it's Sir. Remember?"

      She gave a strained grunt which may have been an attempt at a laugh. But there was no defiance now.

      I moderated the force of the lashes from then on, but laid on another fifteen or so, very slowly, spreading them across her stomach and thighs as well as her breasts. She twisted and bucked and screamed but held on. And for the first time I felt genuine respect for her. She was tougher than I'd given her credit for. She had challenged me and certainly I had beaten the defiance out of her, but she had taken a true thrashing with determination and guts.

      Progress indeed.

      But the moment of truth came at the end. She slumped totally exhausted and sobbing when I told her it was over. I bent forward and dug three fingers of my right hand unceremoniously up into her vagina. And although she moaned at the abrupt intrusion, the fingers sank into a flooding tunnel of female arousal. I worked at her for a few moments, stretching, clenching, twisting the fingers, enjoying her helpless response, until she finally threw her head back once more and cried out as the juices squelched while I churned them. Urgent by now, I pulled my hand out of her, undid my flies and spread my legs so that my pounding erection was directly in front of her face.

      "Yeah," She whispered. "If I'm gonna be a slave...........gotta have good master." And then those soft lips whose caresses on my shaft I'd dreamed of, began to enfold my helm and her tongue explored the eye of the urethra. I wasn't disappointed. She was gentle and sensitive, giving me plenty of time to enjoy every second of her clever little tongue playing at the slit then slowly taking me down and letting me feel the channel of her mouth and throat caress the length of my shaft. I pulled her head closer onto me, I wanted to go deeper and I was amazed at how much of me she managed to get in. Sonia had always been the best I'd ever had for oral, but the Brat left her standing. She could tell by the rock hard state of the member that it was going to erupt pretty soon and carefully avoided over stimulating me until at last I had no choice and felt the irresistible surge of the approaching orgasm. She felt it too, ducking her head even farther down onto me. I pressed her head hard against me now and rammed my pelvis at her, she didn't try and ride those thrusts but let me go in as deep as I liked, it didn't bother her in the slightest and she swallowed every morsel of every spurt I pumped into her.

      She spent a long time afterwards letting those soft lips kiss me again and again while her tongue went on lapping to make sure she had left nothing of me behind. And when I finally slid out and tucked the rapidly shrinking sex back into my clothes she looked up at me with undisguised pride.

      "Was that alright Sir?"

      "Yes. Quite alright." I managed.

After I had chained her for the night I spent some time running my hands over her body, just enjoying my possession of it. And she moaned and writhed under the touches, trying to tempt me to enjoy her again, I was sure. But she had to learn; pleasure only when I wanted to give it, not when she wanted to receive it. But nonetheless it was a wrench to deny myself. I pulled the quilt over her and left, with as much reserved severity as I could muster.

      I went straight to the office and turned on the monitor. As I had thought, the quilt was moving as she began to play with herself, her long legs pushed the cover aside and I got the full view of both hands working feverishly at her sex, one holding the lips open, the other rubbing, stroking and penetrating until she gave a throaty cry and came to a shuddering climax. I turned off the screen.

      The Brat was coming on a treat. She was definitely submissive material,  but when she was fully submissive, and she still had a way to go; the masturbation would have to be only for when I wanted a display. But how could she be mine? I had made a deal to return her to Sam once she was a full slave.

11.

When I went to wake her in the morning, the Brat scuttled for the bathroom as soon as I had unlocked her collar. She just made it and when she had finished she got up stiffly and approached me. She knew she had challenged me the day before and now had to suffer the consequences.

      I gave her ten with the cane, bent over the bar. And despite her fortitude under the whip when applied to her breasts, she still made heavy weather of the cane. She yelled and groaned and jiggled up and down so much that I had to hold her with one hand on the small of her back to get any accuracy, but as some compensation the generous proportions of her hips and the firm flesh of her buttocks made an enjoyable sight as they wriggled and bucked under the strokes. Mrs Jenkins plonked the bottle of witch hazel down in front of her when she made her way, still sniffing and wiping her eyes, into the kitchen.

      "Rub it on girl before you serve your master's breakfast."

      Before I left I unlocked her metal collar and replaced it with the leather one, which looked much nicer and then I went to read the papers in the dining room. Some time later there was a knock at the door and at my instruction to enter, the Brat came in. She approached the dining table, where I was sitting, carefully carrying a tray. I don't know whether it was because I had put the leather collar back on or because she was being allowed to move freely, but that extraordinary allure was operating on full power again. She took long confident strides which made her hips and her breasts sway as she approached me. She set the tray down, laid out the crockery and left to bring in the food and the tea. All the time she was doing this, there had been a heavy leather belt lying beside my place. She had seen it and not batted an eyelid. When she returned and served me with the food I would share with her, I drew her attention to it.

      She stood beside me with her hands clasped in front of her. "It's a very nice belt Sir," was her only response. I could detect no irony.

      "You will observe that it is made of thick leather and yet is very supple. What would you expect of a beating with it Brat?"

      "It would hurt a lot and leave marks Sir."

      "I daresay. Well we'll no doubt find out soon enough. You will wear it buckled tightly around your waist. If anyone wishes to punish you, you will take it off and give it to them. Understand?"

      "Yes Sir." She reached out with a steady hand and took it up to buckle round her. It looked very fetching indeed, despite the tightness with which she fastened it, the heavy buckle pulled it down towards her delta in front and drew the eye to it. Now with leather constricting her waist, and leather at her neck and wrists, she looked quite superb. And I use the word advisedly, there really did seem to be pride in her bearing now, a gracefulness which was new to her.

      She knelt down beside me to receive her food and looked so meek and docile I just had to do more, so I emptied some milk into a bowl, set it on the carpet and made her drink from it. She made quite a mess, much to my delight and I was able to use the belt on her immediately afterwards. I made her lie over the seat of a chair and set about her. It was more of an experiment really, I just wanted to see how quickly she marked up under it so that Reece and Mrs Jenkins would know how much they could deliver without spoiling any pleasure I might want to take with her. Mind you, I thought while I let the leather smack down for the fourth time and watched her hips writhe and wriggle, there was no reason why they should confine themselves to buttocks. I would have the Brat tell them herself that they could strap her on shoulders, back or buttocks. With that question happily resolved I laid on another two with enthusiasm. She gritted her teeth and tried not to scream but failed and bounced up and down to try and distract herself from the stinging lashes.

      When she had stood up and finished rubbing her bottom I presented her with the belt again. This time I held it taut between my hands.

      "Kiss it and thank me." I told her. To be honest I thought that I would have a struggle over that one. I envisaged a few days chained up back in the stall as being necessary, but to my amazement she bent and put her lips to the leather in a lingering kiss quite beyond the call of duty and then thanked me. I hid my surprise and watched as she buckled it on again, then I told her the message she was to give to Reece and Mrs Jenkins. She listened carefully, repeated it word for word and then cleared away the breakfast things. I watched the glowing and striped buttocks sway as she carried out the tray and carefully closed the door behind her.

      In the office I rang Sonia to find out how things were going and spent some time giving her instructions, so it was mid morning before I saw the Brat again. She was busy dusting the bannisters of the main stairs as I came down. When she saw me she stopped what she was doing and stood to one side respectfully.

      "What did Mrs Jenkins and Reece say when you gave them the message?" I asked. I still wasn't convinced that she would have had the courage to transmit it.

      But she smiled and said, "Mrs Jenkins told me," and here she did a passable imitation of a Suffolk lilt, " 'The flat of my hand on the bare will do you fine my girl, believe me.' "

      I really had to laugh and the Brat seemed pleased that she had amused me. "And what did Reece say?"

      Here she made a very sombre face and had a galant attempt at his serious manner. " 'I will be happy to avail myself of the offer if the occasion arises.' " She giggled and again I had to smile.

      But immediately I resumed my mantle of authority and gave her permission to carry on and, as she turned and bent to her work again I reached down and ran a hand over the reddened patches on her backside. She squirmed deliciously at my touch. At the foot of the stairs I turned and told her that all the doors and windows were locked. I couldn't relax yet.

      "I know Sir." She replied calmly without looking up from her work. She was kept at it all morning and it was only as I was returning from a visit to Jim and passing through the kitchen just before lunch that I saw how she was getting on.

      Poor Brat, she wasn't used to cooking and Mrs Jenkins was a perfectionist. Also, all the years of work had hardened her hands into fearsome weapons. Apparently the Brat had been told to keep an eye on something simmering and had let it boil. As I passed through, Mrs Jenkins was sitting in her chair and the Brat was just lowering herself onto her lap. I told her not to mind me and to carry on. With effortless strength she shifted the Brat so that neither her hands nor her feet touched the floor, then she set about making sure the girl wouldn't make that mistake again. Her hand came down with a crack! that would have done a riding crop justice. The Brat's head jerked up and she howled as her bottom got its third beating of the day. Her arms and legs flailed helplessly but Mrs Jenkins was remorseless. I counted a dozen before the Brat was allowed up to stand wiping her tears with one hand and rubbing with the other at buttocks which must have been white hot by then.

      By the time she served my lunch she had regained some of her composure but when she knelt beside me she lowered herself back onto her heels very gingerly.

      All that afternoon Jim and I worked on getting the new frame up. It was to stand in a corner of the kitchen. I sent the Brat to work with Reece upstairs. It was an odd looking contrivance, even I had to admit, but it would come into its own when the Brat graced it with her body, I was sure.

      We had to drill into the walls to mount a couple of parts to take the strain but by supper time it was ready. Mrs Jenkins was grumbling as she'd had to use one of the pantries to prepare a salad because of the mess Jim and I had to make, but by the time I sat down in the dining room, freshly showered and looking forward to the evening, everything was ready. The Brat entered followed by Reece. Evidently she had worked well enough that afternoon because there were no fresh marks on her. But as soon as she began to serve me she got into trouble.

      "On the left girl! You serve from the left!" Reece barked at her.

      "Sorry Mr Reece."

      "And don't lean over so close, you should keep a respectful distance!"

      "Sorry Mr Reece."

      "And what on earth are you doing with that serviette? It should be folded neatly over your left arm, not dumped on the table. Well never mind now, just get on with it or Mr Masterson won't get his supper until breakfast time. And don't forget the wine! Not a thimbleful girl, pour it properly. . . !"

      And so it went on. Poor Brat was trembling so badly that she spilled some wine, only a little but it was enough to break Reece's patience. From then on I had a most enjoyable meal. I sat back and enjoyed an excellent glass of Roussillon Villages while Reece made sure the Brat absorbed her lesson.

      At the other end of the table he pulled out one of the chairs and made her bend over it, her head towards its back and her back towards me. This left me a perfect view and I was treated to the spectacle of my butler dispensing instructions in a manner which even Sonia would have respected.

      He raised the belt high over his shoulder before swinging it hard down onto her back.

      Smack!

      "Ow!"

      "Which side do you serve from?"

      "The left Mr Reece!"

      Smack!

      "Ow!"

      "How do you stand over a guest?"

      "I keep a respectful distance Mr Reece."

      Smack!

      "Aah!"

      "If I give you a serviette, what do you do with it?"

      "I. . . can't remember. . ."

      Smack!

      "Aagh! I keep it folded neatly over my left arm Mr Reece!"

      Smack!

      Smack!

      "Aagh! Oh God!"

      "Tell me again!"

      "I keep it neatly folded over my left arm Mr Reece!" She shrieked.

      And so it went on until he was satisfied that she had been well and truly initiated into the arts of serving at table. When he had finished he handed her the belt.

      Very deliberately the Brat glanced along the table towards me as she accepted it, lifted it to her lips and kissed it before thanking Reece and putting it back on. When she came to stand beside me and had her wrists fastened I let her kneel as usual and then fed her. I got the distinct impression that after the previous night, when I had taken her in the mouth, she spent a little longer than usual feeling for the food with her lips which tickled the palm of my hand. And by the end of the meal she was openly licking as well.

      "No punishment room tonight." I told her, watching closely for a reaction.

      She looked up sharply and I saw alarm there but also perhaps just a touch of disappointment.

      "No you're going on the frame tonight Brat," I reached down and stroked her hair. "I think you'll like it." She must have seen it when she was getting ready to serve the supper.

      "Yes Sir." She said with a quaver in her voice. I followed her out to the kitchen when she cleared away and sat chatting with Mrs Jenkins, Reece and Jim while she washed up. Mrs Jenkins didn't hold with dishwashers, well not the mechanical variety. For the first time the Brat put on ankle restraints and then went to stand fearfully in front of the frame.

       Its main component was a single pole placed two feet out from the corner, it was a sturdy one about four inches round and we had braced this to ceiling and floor. Behind it, towards the top and at right angles to it, another stout timber ran into the corner and was braced there, from this there hung a short chain. Across the front of the pole and again braced to it, but to the walls either side of the corner as well, a good thick piece of dowling ran. But I could see what occupied the Brat's attention, from the main pole a carved wooden dildo jutted out. Jim had done a splendid job on it and it looked very lifelike. Eventually we were planning on replacing it with a battery powered vibrator, but this would do to see how she got on.

      I had her turn her back to this contraption and stretch her arms out to either side. She was biting her lips with fear by now. Jim and I fastened her wrists to the rings at either end of the dowling rod and then we lifted her legs. She cried out as her weight came onto her arms but we ignored her and with one hand each under her pelvis manoeuvred her body up and back so that the dildo pushed into her between her legs which went round either side of the main pole. She gasped as it pushed into her and we pressed her back until it was fully inserted, then we lifted her legs and fastened each ankle to the chain hanging from the beam coming out from behind the pole and running to the corner. Then we stood back and admired our handiwork. It looked rather as if the Brat was flying out into the room. Her arms were spread out, her body was nearly parallel with the floor and behind the main pole her legs were bent up at the knee and hung by the ankles. Her head fell forwards though and you couldn't see her face. But I solved that by fetching the gagging strap I'd  wanted to use on her the night before and tying her head back to the dowling rod, and then she was perfect. Perfectly agonised to judge by her muffled cries. I went to stand close beside her and held her by the waist, then began to move her body gently backwards and forwards on the dildo. She shook her head desperately and the muffled cries redoubled but I kept up a steady rhythm and soon the cries were not purely of pain, there was a softer groaning sound coming from her too. And the more I moved her on the shaft, the more she groaned until at last I felt her stomach muscles contract and she tried to move herself but was helpless and could only rely on me to move her. I kept it up until I heard the groans become really urgent and she was trying to tilt and buck her hips. Then I stopped.

      The four of us sat and chatted for a while until Reece and Mrs Jenkins went to their rooms and Jim reluctantly went home, but I promised he could have her the next day. I poured myself another brandy and went to stand in front of the agonised Brat, she was stretched so tight that even her wonderful breasts were pulled nearly flat. I decided that I couldn't have that and fetched the weighted nipple clamps. Muffled screams came from behind the gag as her nipples were squeezed and stretched, but her breasts now pulled down into pleasingly stressed peaks. She was suffering, and she was also frustrated, above her gag her eyes pleaded with me to either bring her to a climax or take her down.

      "Remember what a prick teaser you were Brat?" I asked her.

      She closed her eyes and groaned again. She remembered, and now she knew what was coming, and it wasn't going to be her, not for a long time yet.

      "Well this is what it feels like."

      I gripped her waist and began to move her again, again I waited until she was desperately trying to grip the dildo with her vagina, I ran a finger over her clitoris and it was hard. She wanted to come alright. But I stopped again. For an hour or so I played with her, almost taking her the whole way and then stopping. Tears of pain and frustration were flooding over her cheeks. She couldn't be suspended much longer so at the end I took her the whole way and kept my hands around her waist while she spasmed again and again, shaking in her bonds and moaning into her gag.

      I let her ankles down first, then lifted her clear of the dildo, which was shiny now and then finally released her arms. She collapsed and for some minutes I rubbed her wrists and ankles to restore the circulation. Eventually she was able to get up as far as all fours and the first thing she did was thank me. I looked down in surprise.

      "What exactly are you thanking me for Brat?"

      "For letting me come Sir." She crawled forward a few inches and planted a kiss on each of my shoes.

      "Anything else?"

      "The punishment. I deserved it Sir."

      I bent down and pulled her head back by grabbing a handful of hair. Her exhausted face stared up at me but as I looked into her grey eyes I could see nothing but sincerity.

      "You're welcome Brat. Of course now the frame's there I'll be using it pretty frequently."

      "Yes Sir."

      "Well clean up the dildo and then I'll put you to bed."

      She got slowly to her feet and stood a little shakily in front of me, still rubbing her arms. Then she turned and saw the wood of the dildo, still shiny. Painfully she limped over and lowered her mouth onto it to lick it clean of her juice.

      In the early hours of the morning I woke for a little while and realised, just before turning over and sleeping again, that I had chained her and plugged her backside for the night but forgotten to let her use the toilet. Poor Brat, I thought happily and dozed off

12.

I rubbed her nose in her soiled bedding the next morning before sending her off to wash and then taking her to the punishment room and re-introducing her to the delights of the riding crop.

      I picked a nicely whippy one and swished it in the air in front of her as she stood in the middle of the room. More and more she was adopting a hands behind the back posture as a matter of routine, but this time she hung her head in shame for having wet the bed, as well she might!

      "I can either tie you Brat or you can bend over and take four well deserved ones."

      "I'll bend over Sir."

      And bend over she did, every bit as obediently as Sonia, and making an even prettier view. She opened her legs and grasped her ankles so that the only instruction I needed to give was to tell her to raise her head and look straight ahead. It was how I liked to beat Sonia but just as I was about to tell her, I thought it might be nice if she was able to look back through her legs and see the blows coming. Her blonde hair was falling around her and touching the floor. Even upside down I could read the look of nervous anticipation on her face as she peered at me between her swaying breasts which hung heavily down. I pushed the shaft of the crop through the arch of her legs and waggled it to make them sway even more and told her to count the strokes.

      She yelped at each of the four lashes but counted them dutifully and had four scarlet tracks running in parallel across her bottom at the end. I had anticipated being able to give her two more, but when I let her straighten up she thanked me and deprived me of that pleasure. I hid my disappointment by telling her to replace the crop in its proper place and then, after she had buckled on her belt and collected the bedclothes for washing we went upstairs to begin the day.

      She served my breakfast under Reece's watchful eye and did well enough to escape any more punishment. Then while I went to the office and phoned Sonia, she was put to work. This time she was allowed to report to me mid-morning having finished her work around the house. The four stripes from this morning were now overlaid by red patches from Mrs Jenkins' hand. She admitted that she had required some instruction in how to launder sheets, but added with a strange little smile that she would do better next time. Was she expecting to be put in a position again where she had no choice but to wet the bed? If she was, then I was quite happy to oblige. There's nothing like whistling the crop in across a female backside first thing in the morning to set a man up for the day. The only trouble was that it left me with an almost overwhelming urge to take her there and then. Of course I could and was pretty sure now that she wanted me to, but it compromised my control of her if I gave in to my desire for her. I was her trainer after all, I reminded myself, she would have to be given back at the end of the experiment. Increasingly I was not looking forward to that, even if it did earn me vast amounts of money.

      While all these thoughts ran through my mind, the Brat was still standing patiently in front of my desk, her back towards me, displaying her marks. Oh well, I decided I could reasonably claim that making her kneel and suck me was good training. I came round the desk and leaned against the front of it.

      "Turn round and come here Brat," I told her. She came to stand directly in front of me and I could see that her downcast eyes were focusing on the bulge my erection was making. "Kneel down."

      She was every bit as good as she had been the other night and I felt relaxed and happy as I led her to Jim's workshop. I had fastened her wrists behind her and clipped a lead to her collar. She followed me a few feet behind and although I held the lead only very casually she made no attempt to run for it. It was the first time I had taken her into the grounds but she knew her way to the main drive, only a quarter of a mile down which lay the main road. Admittedly with her hands trapped behind her I would have caught her but she could have made the point that she was an unwilling captive still. Instead she caught me unawares in a totally different way.

      We had just crossed the kitchen garden and were setting out into the parkland when she spoke.

      "Sir?"

      I stopped and turned. The Brat stood with her shoulders hunched up, her legs pressed together and her aura of sexuality utterly extinguished. I noticed that her eyes were fixed on my hand; the one which was holding her lead. I had its leather loop just round the forefinger.

      "Yes?" I asked. And suddenly realised that although the day was warm she was shivering slightly.

      "Please could you hold my lead a little tighter?"

      I stared at her. I had almost been challenging her to make a break for it, to prove to me that she wasn't yet subdued. And yet here she was asking me to hold her lead more tightly. Once again I was stumped and had to ask a question.

      "Why?"

      She shrugged; an attractive gesture given her nakedness. "I guess I'd feel safer."

      Some light began to dawn. She was a naked woman in open parkland and she needed the security of a firm hand to comfort her. Even if that hand was the one which almost constantly beat her. But the idea of escape must actually frighten her now. I stored this away for later. For the moment I put the loop right round my whole hand and tautened the chain a little.

      "Better?"

      She smiled. "Yes Sir. Thank you."

      We walked on, with myself deep in thought. From time to time I would turn and jerk her chain a little, and each time she smiled at me.

      Eventually we reached Jim's workshop. It is a large shed really where he garages the mowers, brews up his tea and performs all the mysterious rites of gardeners everywhere. He wasn't there though. However I could hear one of the mowers going and tied the Brat to the shed while I went to fetch him. I made her face the outside wall and found a nail sticking out around which to tie her lead. I tied it good and tight so that when I told her I was leaving her and that Jim would be along presently, she didn't look too frightened.

      It took me about a quarter of an hour to find him and tell him I had left the Brat tied up for him, and then I strolled back to the house, wondering if the Brat would see what Jim was working on for her.

      He returned her in time to serve lunch, but he must have had to hurry because there were still leaves and grass in her hair, as well as grass stains on her back and buttocks. These last had been overlaid once again by the marks of Mrs Jenkins' hands.

      "I was late back Sir." She told me when I enquired. "And once I've cleared away and washed up she's going to give me some more. She ran out of time."

      I went to the kitchen to watch and once she had finished her duties the Brat came to stand beside Mrs Jenkins' chair.

      "Over you go my dear. You must tell Jim to return you in good time in future."

      I raised my eyebrows, Mrs Jenkins calling the Brat  'my dear'?

      Anyway, over she went and Mrs Jenkins set about her once again, and once again the Brat howled and wriggled under the fusillade of fleshy smacks which rained down on her abused bottom. I watched Reece for a moment and reckoned that the Brat would be very lucky indeed if she didn't get a strapping at supper.

      In the afternoon I played with her in the gym again. She ran four miles on the treadmill machine, I kept the pace not much above jogging and she coped pretty well, even nipple clamped. But then I put her on the rowing machine.

      Sonia had had Jim place a double dildo on the seat. Very gingerly she squatted down and squirmed until both shafts impaled her fully. She bit her lip as they sank into her and let out a lttle cry of mingled distress and disbelief as, for the first time, she was doubly penetrated. I had investigated her rectum a couple of times and knew she was nearly stretched well enough but she obviously found it very strange to be stuffed front and rear at the same time. I clipped her wrist restraints to the oars and stood back with the belt in my hand. The Brat looked up at me and understood. She gasped as she pushed the oars away from her and slid the seat forward. Immediately she felt the change in her body's attitude bring the shafts of the dildos into contact with different parts of her internal anatomy. But when she was at the fullest extent of her forward push, her knees up under her chin and her back fully stretched in front of me, I cracked the belt down across it. She cried out and straightened, pushing back with her feet. Again she gasped as her body moved on the dildos, but her convulsive jerk as she had been whipped propelled her back until she was nearly stretched out fully, arms up by her shoulders and breasts exposed. She saw the belt coming this time and only had time for a squeak of protest before it swept across her breasts. Instinctively she pushed the oars forward again so that she could curl up to shield them. She did it so hard that she rammed the seat against the end of its run and groaned at the thump it transmitted into her through the dildos. Another crack of the strap to her shoulders and back she came, to get another across the breasts. After three or four slides forward and back the double shafting she was getting began to take its toll, the rigid didos pushing alternately at front and back vaginal walls. Quite helplessly she was becoming aroused and she began to row more quickly, and get more of the strap. I kept her at it until she was crying out in wild abandon and fiercely pushing herself to go faster and faster. At last she broke and stretched back at the full extent of a pull on the oars and stayed there, locked rigid. I let her have a short break and then whipped her up again. I couldn't pretend that she was coming under the whip, not yet, but it was a step along the way. She rowed her way to another climax and by then was so eager for more that I could leave her to it and go and phone Sonia.

      I found that a couple of faxes had come through when I got to the office and I had to respond to them before I called Sonia so it was some time before I got back to the gym.

      She had had enough sense to know that I had expected her to keep going. She was utterly exhausted and moaning as she slowly pushed herself backwards and forwards, quite beyond any more orgasms.

      "Had enough exercise?" I asked.

      "Yes thank you Sir," she panted.  I unclipped her wrists and lifted her off the dildos. She was unable to stand and I held her for a while until she could. I could feel her heart pounding.

      "Christ!........didn't know.....anyone could come that much!" She gasped, standing shakily upright at last and cupping her hands between her legs. I left her on her knees, licking the twin shafts clean, and she set about it with as much enthusiasm and gratitude as she would have done with real phalluses fresh from ejaculating inside her. I told her to rejoin me downstairs.

      I was well pleased, the whole house was turning into one huge torture chamber for her. In the basement she had her own punishment room. In the kitchen there was the frame, as well as Mrs Jenkins and Reece. Up here was the gym, and almost everywhere there was me.

Two days later Sonia came back.

      I heard her car crunch on the gravel and sent the Brat to open the door for her. By now I was quite sure that whatever was going on in that beautiful head, thoughts of escape played no part in it. I went into the hall and the look of surprise on Sonia's face was almost comic as she entered and was attended to by a naked and willing Brat, free of any restraints.

      She served our dinner perfectly with Reece keeping an eye on her from a distance and then I ordered her to her knees beside Sonia who fed her. Then, when she had cleared the table and gone to the kitchen to wash up I filled Sonia in on the Brat's progress. She returned to serve us our brandy in the drawing room and as she bent down to offer the tray to Sonia I watched as Sonia's hand slid up the firm pillars of her thighs and buried itself in the slit of her sex. The Brat made a small mewing noise as she was penetrated but managed to adjust her position to allow full access and stayed where she was until Sonia withdrew her fingers. She held them up and I could see that they were glistening with the Brat's juices. Sonia held them to the Brat's lips and she licked them clean before coming to offer me my drink. I repeated the exercise and found her lips were softly open and moist for me. I rubbed and stroked the jutting clitoris until she was moaning and I could see her legs trembling, then I pushed my fingers up into her depths and worked them until with a sob the Brat's self control broke and she had to steady herself by putting a hand on the arm of my chair as a series of spasms ran through her. When she had finished I waved her away to stand in a corner until she was needed again.

      "She has come on wonderfully Sir," Sonia said, "I can't wait to try her out on the frame or in the punishment room."

      "I think she has done well enough to receive the parcel you've brought Miss Jacobson," I agreed. I told the Brat to go and fetch the parcel which was lying on the dining table then to bring it to us and open it. Her face was a picture of mingled excitement and fear as she tore at the wrapping. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was for her and that had meant an instrument of correction in the past. But the gift wrapping obviously puzzled her and she tore impatiently at it until at last she found its contents.

      I think that was one of the most bizarre sights I've ever witnessed. What Sonia had bought, on my instructions, was a little maid's costume. It was in black satin with a pretty white apron. It was also very short and with a very low neckline, and it must have cost no more than thirty or forty pounds. But here was a young woman who could have bought most of Suffolk out of loose change, holding it up against herself and crowing with delight. Sonia laughed and told her to go upstairs and change into it, she had left out the strappy high heeled shoes the Brat had been wearing when we had captured her.

      "Oh yes Miss. Thank you!" The Brat whispered and scurried off.

      Sonia looked questioningly at where the control console was hidden. But I shook my head,

      "I don't think it's needed anymore. The Brat is nearly fully trained now."

      And when she came back in to stand in front of us, she made a very pretty picture indeed. The tiny skirt flared out around her hips and hardly covered her sex while she had had to unlace part of the bodice to allow for her full breasts which thrust out most appealingly but were constricted enough to emphasise her cleavage. But it was Sonia who pointed out that the short zip at the back could very easily be undone and the bodice slid down off the shoulders to reveal the back for a strapping. The Brat demonstrated with her back towards us and slid the little puffed sleeves down until her white shoulders and the whole length of her graceful back were indeed revealed. And they made a lovely contrast with the short black skirt just hiding the tops of her long legs which her heels were emphasising beautifully. Sonia made a growling noise in her throat and the Brat turned to smile shyly at her over one shoulder. It was a display that invited the strap immediately. But then I realised that in her excitement she had forgotten to buckle her strap around her waist.

      "Go and fetch the belt Brat."

      "Yes Sir. I'm sorry."

      She slid the dress up again and went to fetch it. In the meantime I did a deal with Sonia, I would strap her and then Sonia could play with her on the frame. As soon as the Brat came back it was plain that she knew what she was in for. Without having to be told she took it off and handed it to me. Then she repeated the erotic procedure of sliding the dress down until only the little skirt hid her bottom. I made her stand, legs straddled, in the middle of the floor with her arms raised straight above her head as if she was chained. I brushed her hair forward off her shoulders and began. Even with her legs braced she staggered a little under the impact. I had a much heavier hand than Reece and even at the first smack of leather on her wide shoulders, she yelped. Sonia kept count as I worked steadily down her back and the Brat squealed and moaned as each Crack! across the pale flesh left a wide red mark. When Sonia had got to fifteen I stopped and let the shuddering Brat get her breath back before telling her to pull her dress back up and serve us again. Obediently she kissed the belt before fastening it once again.

       I could tell by the way Sonia was squirming in her seat that she was aching to get her hands on the Brat and so we took our drinks into the kitchen. I sat back and watched as the Brat undressed and laid her uniform carefully over a chair before Sonia mounted her. She was moaning into her gag almost immediately after her ankles were hung and she was impaled fully on the shaft of the wooden phallus. Sonia was much crueller than I had been and spent a long time bringing the Brat time and again to the quivering threshold of orgasm but never letting her cross it. She was right at the end of her tether before she was finally allowed to explode into shuddering ecstasy.

      Sonia, as always was fully turned on by her own cruelty and was in desperate need of some herself, so after we'd chained the exhausted Brat for the night I had her spread eagled on my bed and lashed her with the riding crop. She came after only six stokes across her bottom, writhing and moaning as she struggled to raise herself to meet each biting cut. I didn't want to disappoint her though and gave her another six before I took her in the rear. But after a week away, she was not so easily satisfied. After I had pumped myself dry deep in her stomach and slid down to lie beside her, I knew I would only be allowed a doze before she would need taking again. Sure enough I had only just drifted off when I felt her hard little nipples slowly move down across my chest and then my member was gently pressed between her breasts until it began to stir. Her tongue began to lap at it while her nipples tickled my thighs. Perhaps I had been a little harsh in my judgement of her oral abilities in her absence, because she certainly performed well. Her fingers played gently with my scrotum while her lips and tongue kissed and licked at every inch of my shaft.

       How she loved tasting a penis that had just been rammed into her backside right up to the hilt! And I made a mental note to test the Brat out similarly.

      I didn't think of her again until I had finished shafting Sonia and she had arched up under me, bucking frantically with her hips and lifting me bodily off the bed at her climax. As we lay together afterwards I told her that we had chained the Brat up again without letting her use the toilet first.

      Sonia laughed sleepily and I knew that the Brat was in for a good thrashing the next morning.

      Sure enough, the next day I watched as Sonia rubbed her nose in the soiled sheets and then led her off for punishment. Once again she bent over and stayed down for four good cuts of the crop before gathering up her bedding to launder after breakfast. And once again Mrs Jenkins found her abilities in this activity to be sadly lacking and over her lap she went again. This time her striped bottom looked even more pretty with the little black skirt easily flicked up to reveal it for beating. She endured the spanking very well, not beginning to howl until the fourth or fifth thunderous smack.

      And so we passed a pleasant weekend with an increasingly amenable Brat being passed amongst the members of our little community for pleasure or punishment, or both. And each time she emerged from the punishment room or from Jim's shed or from under Mrs Jenkins' fearsome hands she seemed to positively glow, and the more beautiful she looked the more cruelly she was treated, and so on.

      Unfortunately as the Brat flourished under the regime we had set up for her, my own difficulties increased. I was now quite certain that I didn't just want to train her up and then sell her to Sam, which was what the deal with him came down to. I wanted to own her. On Sunday I confided my thoughts to Sonia, of course I had no plans to replace her with the Brat, I just wanted to add her to our household and workforce. Sonia was delighted. The prospect of having a fully submissive Brat to play with on a permanent basis thrilled her. Neither of us knew exactly how we were going to accomplish this but we both began to think long and hard.

      Once I had made the decision that quite definitely, somehow or other I was going to be her Master, I gave in to my desire for her, and so did Sonia. That evening after dinner I told the Brat to leave the dinner things on the table and to come and join us in the drawing room. She looked horrified.

      "But Sir!" She protested, " Mrs Jenkins and Mr Reece will be expecting me to clear away and wash up!"

      "Do it tomorrow. A strapping and a beating shouldn't bother you by now." I told her, quite certain that I was condemning her to both. She sighed a little but went to get our drinks and then served us in the drawing room.

      Sonia had dressed in a simple scarlet dress which wrapped round her at the waist and only required the undoing of a thin belt to fall open. When the Brat had served us and was standing nervously in front of us, not knowing what was coming next she stood up and told her to unfasten it. With trembling fingers the Brat did as she was told. The dress fell open and Sonia shrugged it off her shoulders to let it fall at her feet. Under it she wore the basque she had worn on the first night of the Brat's imprisonment. It mounded and displayed her breasts superbly; I saw the Brat swallow as she took in the sight before her and let her gaze travel downwards to Sonia's naked sex and the white thighs emphasised by the black stockings.

      "Undress yourself Brat," Sonia ordered. I watched the Brat closely as she slowly unzipped her little uniform and stepped out of it. Her face was flushed but when she stood naked apart from her high heels I could see that the blush extended down to her chest and that her nipples were hard.

      "Now come here and kneel down." Sonia's voice was husky with excitement and I could get a faint scent of female arousal. Reece had laid a fire, although it was still summer a big old house can get chilly in the evenings, and I reached out to dim the lights. The Brat's body gleamed palely as she did as she was told. Sonia reached down to hold her head and then pressed it against the dark bush of pubic hair. I saw her tongue come out and hesitantly begin to lick, Sonia shifted her stance to open her legs more and the Brat's head tilted to one side a little so that she could lick further in between the lips of her sex. Sonia moaned in delight when the questing tongue made contact with her clitoris, she bent her knees to open herself still further and the Brat ducked her head again to get even further in.

      I settled back happily to watch, aware of a throbbing erection but knowing that it would be taken care of in due course, and that it was very unlikely to be the last stand of the evening.

      The Brat's tongue was now flicking urgently at Sonia, lapping and swirling at the clitoris and then probing up into her depths. Sonia was moaning continually and beginning to tremble. At last her eyes closed, her head went back and she let out a deep sigh of contentment as she subsided to her knees and embraced the Brat. She didn't need to tell her to undress her, the Brat herself was urgent now. Soon I was watching two bodies writhe and entwine on the rug in front of the fire, while shadows flickered over the curves and mounds of female flesh. Long thighs intertwined, fingers rubbed and squeezed quivering breasts or delved into the secret darkness between legs and buttocks. Dark hair and blonde intermingled as they kissed and fondled each other. But always it seemed that the Brat was attending to Sonia, I saw her fingers working busily at Sonia's nipples, gently at first but then, in response to a throaty command, harder and harder until she was crying out and pressing the hands to her breasts. Meanwhile the Brat's face was moving down the heaving body under her and while her hands stayed at Sonia's breasts her tongue began once again to work between her legs. Sonia's hips lifted and her legs spread wide apart as the Brat buried her face in the moist sex pushed up for her. Soon though she released the breasts and used her hands as well while Sonia's cries of ecstasy became more and more urgent. At last I saw the Brat's fingers begin to sink into Sonia between lips that were glistening and peeled well open. First two fingers went in, then a third. Moist sucking noises came from Sonia's vagina as it responded to the stimulation. Finally all four fingers were inside her and then I looked on in surprise as the Brat thrust her whole hand in and Sonia's lips spread wide apart around it. Sonia herself was writhing helplessly by now, arched right up off the floor so that only her neck and her heels were on it, her face was a contorted rictus in advance of the approaching sensual storm. Her hands reached down between her legs and held the Brat's hand deep inside her while she bucked and twisted on it until she went into a series of spasms which left her without the breath to cry out. I could see the tremors running through her body as her sex contracted around the hand inside it and set off explosions of joy, she stared blindly up at me, lost in her own delight, her mouth open in a soundless cry of joy.

      And even when the storm passed the Brat licked fondly at her while I took the opportunity to undress and stand over them both with the belt in my hand.

      Sonia had roused herself by now and was kneeling on all fours over the Brat. Her head was down and she was sucking at her upthrust nipples. I swung the belt down and cracked it across Sonia's shoulders, she didn't miss a beat except to wiggle her hips a little. But the Brat's eyes which had been closed flew wide open at the noise and she stared up at me in shock as I cracked the belt down again.

      "Sonia may be your mistress Brat, but she's also my willing slave." I told her.

      Sonia's agreement with this statement was illustrated by her moving down the Brat's body and starting to work on her with her mouth. Putting her shoulders under the Brat's thighs, she lifted them up and then used her hands to hold her lovely soft sex lips wide open so that I got a full view of the shiny pink flesh in between them and the folds of her inner lips, from which her engorged clitoris was thrusting up. At the same time of course this raised her own rump perfectly and I started on that with the belt. At each Crack! Sonia jerked forward, her tongue and fingers going deeper into both of Brat's entrances, in her turn she arched her back and reached down to grab Sonia's hair and press her head against herself.

       In the end Brat came to a shattering climax, twisting and yelling out in her ecstasy, pulling fiercely at Sonia's hair and shuddering all over. Sonia's legs were straightening out behind her at each lash as she rose to meet it and I could see that she herself was approaching a second orgasm. And as the Brat looked on Sonia's head came up and she could see the gathering delight as the belt cracked across her buttocks again and again, until she was groaning and writhing in pleasure. The Brat reached up and pulled Sonia's head down to her breast while I drove her the last few lashes to her climax.

      I took them both to bed in the room which had been the Brat's guest room.

      What a change from the last time I had been with her in that bed! As soon as she was on her back the Brat was reaching for me and holding the shaft of my sex tightly with both hands. Her legs were wide open and the blonde fleece on those perfect lips was beckoning. I went straight in and she was moist but just pleasingly tight. Behind me Sonia began to lick at my balls as I rammed into the Brat. She put her hands up above her head as if she was tied, and then pushed her magnificent breasts up for me. I didn't know if she was being deliberately provocative and I didn't care. All I wanted was to possess her and I rammed myself in as hard as I could. She jerked and cried out at every slap of my pelvis against her, but kept her hands up and offered me the whole expanse of her body. When I came it felt as though her vagina was sucking every last drop of liquid out of my body, I pumped and pumped while she made wild, animal cries and thrashed about under me. At last I lay beside her and as her breathing steadied, I felt her hand find its way down my side until it came to my now flaccid member which was slick with mine and her juices. Her fingers held it and stroked it softly, but then she gave a moan of despair.

      I raised my head and saw that Sonia was back between her legs and licking at where my semen was beginning to trickle out of her. Half heartedly she asked for mercy, but knew there was none and I listened while she was remorselessly driven towards another orgasm by Sonia's tongue.

      The writhings of the superb body lying next to me had their inevitable effect and eventually I moved to kneel behind Sonia. From there I drove into her while watching the Brat's increasingly frantic responses to her mistress's attentions. Just as Sonia was about to climax herself I saw her hand reach under the Brat and watched as she lifted off the bed when Sonia's finger went deep into her anus. From then on there was simply a feast of breasts and buttocks, of nearly delirious female moanings, of vaginas practically drowning in their own juices, of tongues lapping at sensitive places and the tastes and scents of furious arousal.

      But at one point I was aware that at last, while I held onto Brat's hips and Sonia's tongue lapped at my own back entrance, I got my full length up her narrow little tunnel and I heard her cry of joy as I spurted my seed deep into her innermost places.

      It was a long time before we fell into an exhausted sleep, and when I woke I found that Sonia's arm was draped over me from behind, while in front of me the Brat's golden hair covered the pillow. I watched as she stirred, woke and then smiled at me.

      "I didn't do it last night, so I can't have my nose rubbed in it." She said proudly.

13.

I wasn't sorry to go back to London the next day. I wanted to get my feelings about the Brat clear in my own mind. The more I controlled her, the more I became fond of her and therefore the more influence she exerted on me.

      This was not a state of affairs to which I was accustomed. But ever since Laura Andreotti had entered my life, she had continually introduced me to states of mind I was not accustomed to.

       I had planned to stay in Suffolk for another week but there were a couple of people passing through town who I needed to see and Sonia had said that there had been a few rather odd calls from people wanting to speak to Sam. I didn't like the sound of that and just had a feeling that I ought to be back in the office for a couple of days. For my return journey I'd booked myself into The Lodge for a night, and had reserved my little Marietta. I felt that some uncomplicated pleasure was called for.

      It might have been what I needed, but I didn't get it.

      The day started well enough. As the Brat hadn't cleared the dining table from last night we breakfasted in the kitchen while she brought the dishes through and began to wash up. As I left she was lowering herself over Mrs Jenkins' lap to receive her punishment for not having washed up the previous night. Reece stood ready to apply the strap for not clearing the table, once Mrs Jenkins had finished. The Brat looked up at me as I left and seemed quite happy at the unfairness of it all.

      As I checked my briefcase in the hall I could hear the echoing smacks issuing from the kitchen. I remarked to Sonia that she was getting pretty good at coping with punishment, she didn't make a murmur despite the force with which Mrs Jenkins was applying her hand to her bottom.

      "I'll make her squeal later on Sir, believe me." Sonia told me. I believed her right enough and was sure that an even more submissive Brat would greet me on my return.

      After an uneventful drive I arrived at the office to find that the interchangeable Tina and Trudi under the watchful eye of Julie seemed to have everything well under control. Nevertheless I spent some time reviewing the communications of the last few days and it was while I was doing that the phone call came. Julie put it through to me in the office. The voice on the other end was a gravelly American one.

      "Mr Masterson," it growled, "you're a hard man to track down." I didn't like the sound of that and some of my hackles began to rise.

      "I wasn't trying to be," I said. "But now that you have  'tracked me down', how can I help you Mr. . . ?"

      "I'm looking for Sam. I know you were with him a couple of weeks back." My ploy to ascertain my caller's name failed miserably. "I need to speak to him urgently."

      I replied that I had no idea where Sam was.

      "You had business with him, you must know where he is now."

      There was something unpleasantly threatening in his manner and I was pleased to be able to repeat that I had no idea where he was. Abruptly the caller hung up.

      The conversation left a bad taste in my mouth and I prowled round the office for a while, unable to settle down to any work. It was getting late and presently Julie popped her head round the door to say that she'd let the other girls go. I recalled that Sonia had said that she was ready now to start rendering me the particular kind of secretarial service I require. Apparently her boyfriend found the traces that Sonia's style of management left on her body very exciting and he and Sonia were in regular contact over how to get the best out of her. It occurred to me that now would be a good time to put her to the test.

      "I will require you to work late tonight Julie. If you need to make a phone call to anyone then do so now please and report back to me."

      In a couple of minutes she was back, looking a little flushed and excited.

      "Darren, that's my boyfriend, says I'm to work as late as required Sir, and I'm to be sure to do whatever I'm told."

      He was a good lad this Darren, I decided I would have to meet him one day. In fact I met him about forty eight hours later.

      "Get undressed then." I told her, and watched as she obeyed me. I was very pleased to note that she wore no knickers and told her so.

      "Darren says I'm not to wear anything which will prevent me from doing whatever you or Miss Jacobson want Sir," she told me as she stood before me naked apart from her high heels, and I hadn't even had to tell her to keep them on. Sonia's teaching was very thorough.

      Julie held herself well despite her nakedness. She made no attempt to hide her breasts or her sex and kept her hands at her sides with her shoulders square. Although she was about twenty she still had a pleasing touch of puppy fat about her which gave her slender figure an intriguing voluptuousness. She wasn't built on the scale of the Brat or Sonia but her petiteness had a charm all of its own, and besides she was pretty in a timid kind of way, with large brown eyes which were staring at me now and waiting for another command.

      "I think you know what to do." I told her.

      "Yes Sir," she replied. And moving with confidence she came to the desk and picked up the next sheaf of papers which needed my attention. She came to stand beside my chair and handed them to me. Obviously Sonia had been training her intensively over the last week or so. I settled back in my chair to read and held up my left hand, my elbow resting on the arm of the chair. Immediately she reached down, grasped it and, straddling her legs guided it to her sex. She had remarkably soft pubic hair and I let my fingers play through it for a while before pushing them between her lips.

      Sonia really was a superb trainer of office staff.

      Julie was moist and open, and once she had guided my hand to its target she had released it and put her hands behind her back to prevent herself from interfering with my pleasure. And so I was able to concentrate on my work while my fingers enjoyed exploring the familiar, yet individual, contours of a sex which was still fairly new to them. She tried very hard not to let her sighs and shivers distract me as I played with the hard little nub of her clitoris or pushed a couple of fingers up into the contracting warmth of her vagina. Her self control was remarkable and she managed to reach whatever I asked for, twisting and turning her body on my penetrating fingers without ever letting her approaching crisis prevent her.

      At last I decided that the demands of the rigid erection which her obedience had caused just had to be attended to so I concentrated for a moment on rubbing with my thumb at her pleasure bud whilst keeping two fingers pushed deep up into her channel. Even then she tried to hold out but at last had to break and hold onto the desk while her body shivered and spasmed and she moaned helplessly. Once she had finished I withdrew my fingers and held them up to my nose to catch that lovely aroma of female excitement, then I ran them over her breasts, leaving glistening trails of vaginal fluid across the smooth flesh. She looked down at herself and smiled.

      "Has Miss Jacobson ever taken you upstairs Julie?" I asked.

      "No Sir!" she breathed, quite unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

      "You know what's up there don't you?"

      "Oh yes Sir!. . . Miss Jacobson says that's where you. . . "

      "Go on."

      "That's where you beat her Sir."

      "I'm going to do the same to you Julie."

      Her eyes simply sparkled with pleasure, Darren would be delighted at the compliment. She gathered up her clothes and clutching them to her she preceded me to the lift. And when I stood close beside her in the small space she lifted her face with such evident passion and her soft little mouth was so openly lascivious that I just had to bend and kiss her. Not good for office discipline, but her lips were every bit as soft as those lips I had already felt and her tongue darted eagerly into my mouth.

      Once a woman enters my flat, she is left in no doubt as to what my tastes run to. She can either return to the lift, and one or two have done so, or she can walk down the corridor which is lined with a collection of prints of which I am proud. They all depict women in various submissive poses and most of them depict flagellation. Sonia and I pride ourselves on having tried most of the positions and certainly all the whips depicted. Julie walked along quite fearlessly and examined them all with nothing but mounting excitement, until she reached the door of the white room. I opened it for her and she gasped as she entered. I had the floor stripped and varnished when I first bought the flat and had the walls painted plain white. It's a big room and is furnished solely with chains, restraints and bars and items of equipment whose only purpose is to display submissive bodies for the inflicting of punishment and to allow those bodies every opportunity to work their secret chemistry which transforms pain into pleasure. In effect it looked like a small gymnasium designed for some very particular types of workout.

      Julie's heels clicked on the bare floor as she entered and gazed round in wide eyed wonder. I was in something of a hurry by now however and ordered her to drop her clothes and to come to me. I told her to keep her heels on though, I love the way they elongate the legs and make the sight of a willingly tied and helpless woman so much more exciting. I had her spread her legs while I fastened a spreader bar between her ankles to keep them open, then I fastened wrist restraints onto her, they were leather ones and were stained dark by Sonia's sweating and straining under many punishments. I clipped the restraints onto chains which hung from pulleys in the ceiling, these I cranked up tight so that she was up on tiptoe with both her arms and legs spread. Her breasts jutted out invitingly and her round little buttocks beckoned to the whip. And I showed her which whip I was going to use. It was a long one with a heavy, braided lash; a bull whip. I flicked it out and let it trail across the floor in front of her, she bit her lip nervously as I pointed out how, at the tip, the strips of leather had been left unbraided and then cut along their length so that they formed a kind of tassle of thin lashes. I wasn't ready to start yet however and first I fastened weighted nipple clamps to her, she sucked in her breath and whimpered a little as the clips bit into the hard pink flesh of the nipples and began to stretch them. She had good firm breasts though which kept their shape well despite the tension and I spent some time playing with them. I squeezed and pressed them until she had to cry out and then I let my fingers stroke the tawny areolae which strained out and down to the bases of the weighted nipples which must have been throbbing nicely by then. At that point I told her I wanted to ring Darren and borrow her for the night. To her credit she didn't flinch but simply told me his number while I dialled it on the cordless.

      Darren had a firm manly voice, as I thought he would, and was well-spoken. He was delighted to lend me Julie, and was sure that she would be as flattered as he was. He went on to add that he would be very interested to read what I had written about her; this was the code he and Sonia had set up and meant the marks of her beatings. I told him I was about to start making my report and he laughed. I liked him, and decided that lending him Sonia in return was the least I could do.

      But now it was time to turn my attention to the writhing figure in front of me. I strolled around behind her and stood a long way back to get the range and examine the target carefully. The trick was to deliver cuts whilst standing at just the right distance so that the frayed tip and the lightest part of the lash cracked home. After hours of practice on Sonia I was something of an artist and knew I could prolong a beating as long as I liked, even on Julie's girlish body.

      I got my eye in by flicking in several lashes to her shoulders in quick succession. She had got herself so worked up that she shrieked and twisted hysterically at the first Crack! of the whip. Mainly of course it was caused by the lash itself cracking in the air some way behind her and only the very end actually caught her. But once she realised that the pain was not as devastating as her imagination had led her to believe, she settled down. She still jerked at each impact and a red flare appeared almost instantly on her skin. You could see how the individual strips of leather had fanned out on impact so that instead of the more usual stripes a whip leaves, she gradually developed a sort of patchwork of weals. I got into a steady rhythm of Swish! and Crack!, the length of the whip making it a slow one. For quite a long time after that first lash she made no noise apart from strained little grunts as she jerked but eventually I swapped the weights on her nipples for heavier ones and then began to allow slightly more of the whip to land on her middle back. Very soon after that she was crying out nicely, so I decided to stop and have a well earned drink.

      I closed the door behind me so I couldn't be disturbed by any noise Julie might make and sat down for a moment. As I swirled my brandy in its glass I wondered what my dear Brat was undergoing at this moment. I could no longer hide from myself the fact that I now thought of her as  'my dear Brat' and passed a pleasant couple of minutes picturing her superb body writhing under Sonia's discipline. And of course she would know that it was administered in my name, even if it wasn't convenient for me to administer it in person.

      When I returned to Julie she was in serious discomfort, her breath was coming in sobs and she was constantly twisting and tugging at her chains to try and relieve the stress. I went to stand in front of her and she looked pleadingly at me, but I put a hand between her legs. She stopped writhing as soon as she felt the touch and closed her eyes as my fingers slid up into her. She was wet, warm and welcoming, and I looked forward to giving her tight little channel a good reaming out in due course. But there was still some business to attend to.

      "I'm going to work over your buttocks now Julie," I told her.

      As my fingers were still working deep inside her she was unable to reply and could only nod her consent.

      Her bottom was so pert and well rounded that I couldn't help laying into it a little harder still, allowing the tip of the whip to wrap round her hip and bite into her stomach, then her pubis as I worked lower. At first it knocked the wind out of her and she couldn't scream but once she got it back she really howled, and by the time I'd finished she had a lovely array of parallel red stripes across her buttocks.

      When I took her down she could only kneel on all fours for some time, her chest heaving and her breasts swaying under her as I hadn't taken off the weights. But once she had calmed a little I had her kneel up and took them off causing her to cry out again as the blood rushed back into the nipples which were now of a very attractive length. I had her crawl after me into the lounge where I used her as a footstool while I enjoyed a nightcap before taking her to bed. And as she slid in beside me she whispered her thanks for the pain and humiliation. I lay back and let her small mouth find its way slowly down across my chest and stomach until it encountered the rigid and urgent shaft of my sex. Then I lifted the quilt and watched. Once again, even though the fully engorged head of my sex seemed to dwarf her face she opened wide and I slid delightfully into the warmth of her mouth while her clever little tongue lapped and licked skilfully and eagerly. But I pulled her away after a few minutes, I didn't want to let her finish me in there just yet. Obediently she slipped up the bed again and lay on her back with her legs wide apart. I rolled onto her and went straight for her vagina and just as the lips of her mouth had opened for me, so now her sex lips did too. They parted smoothly and allowed me to slip deep into her channel which had obviously been waiting eagerly for penetration and gripped my shaft along its length as I drove in to the hilt. She wrapped her arms tightly around my back and gripped my thighs with her legs as I began to withdraw and then thrust again in an increasingly urgent rhythm. My fingers dug hard into her bottom as I began to ram myself into her and she urged me on with throaty cries of "Christ! Yes! Oh please, harder!" as we raced towards an orgasm which left us both limp and satisfied.

      She fell asleep in my arms immediately, smiling proudly and probably dreaming of how proud Darren would be. But sometime in the night I woke to find my sex being gently encouraged back into wakefulness by a foraging tongue which gently licked at my scrotum until it began to tighten and the shaft above it to throb and harden. Again I threw back the quilt and enjoyed in the dim light the sight of so much of me disappearing into so small and eager a mouth. This time I let her have her fill and only stirred to press her head down when I felt the pulses of my climax begin, and she did well enough, riding my thrusts and swallowing quickly enough to get every spurt down her. But I couldn't help being reminded of how the Brat's throat had let me ram myself in as deep as I wanted without her head having moved at all.

      Julie had a bit of a scramble to get down to the office the next morning before Tina and Trudi arrived but when I strolled down a little later she was doing a good job of looking as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The only tell-tale sign was that she wasn't wearing a bra, obviously her nipples were still a bit sore. I raised an eyebrow when I spotted this and she blushed prettily while giving me a secretive little smile.

      I spent most of the day in several different meetings and only returned at about four o'clock. There was a man waiting for me when I got back. He was sitting in reception and from the tight lipped look on Julie's face, she hadn't enjoyed him being there, but because I don't hold with mobile phones she'd had to put up with him.

      He rose as I entered.

      "Mr Masterson?" I recognised the gravelly voice of my caller from yesterday. "I really need to speak Sam Andreotti," he went on. This was getting out of hand and my temper began to flare up.

      "I've told you once! I don't know where he is, now leave my office please!"

      "We'll find him Mr Masterson," he continued, quite unpeturbed. "And when our business with him is complete, it'd be better if we thought of you as a friend." He was a big man, at least my own height and broader. As he spoke he contrived to flex his shoulders.

      "Thank you for your threat. Now don't let me keep you any longer. . .and have a nice day." I held the door for him and he left. I marched into my office and slammed the door as soon as he had gone. What the hell was Sam mixed up in? And how did it affect our business? I had a couple of numbers which he had left with me but I hesitated to call. My visitor didn't look the sort to worry unduly about phone tapping. In fact that was probably why he'd provoked me by coming here.

      I sat and thought long and hard but couldn't see any rhyme or reason to whatever was going on. Sam was widely respected and enormously wealthy, so why the sudden interest from so unsavoury a character? I was still pondering this when Julie looked in, a little nervously, to say she was going.

      "Tell Darren from me that you're a credit to him. And tell him I owe him a favour." Her face lit up and she practically danced out.

      That evening I dined at the little restaurant where the Brat had embarrassed me so badly all those weeks ago, I had some business with Henri. The following day was thankfully uneventful and by late afternoon I was relaxing in the swimming pool of The Lodge, and looking forward to a night with Marietta to get me in the mood for returning to the Brat.

       In fact I was thinking about the Brat as I had dinner, and the next device Jim was working on, when I suddenly realised that a stranger had had the nerve to sit himself down opposite me at my table. He was a smooth looking young man who had  'American' and  'lawyer' written all over him. He gave me a bland smile and began talking before I could protest at his manners. It was forbidden in the club rules to interrupt another member while dining. There is often very sensitve business discussed quietly, and all the guests respected each others' privacy - at least up until now.

      "Mr Masterson, may I apologise for disturbing you, and may I also apologise for my associate, who I believe came to your office yesterday. He can be a little heavy handed."

      Just plain heavy, I thought. But I let him talk on while I considered how best to get rid of these wretched people.

      "I realise you've been asked about the whereabouts of Sam Andreotti but the person we're really interested in is his step-daughter Laura. And we think you know where she is."

      I kept a poker face while I assessed this. But I immediately saw a way I could turn defence into attack and I let him carry on for a moment.

      "You were seen together while Sam was over here, and he flew back to the States on his own. If you don't know where Sam is, we believe you know where Laura is. And it's in their interests that you tell us. Believe me!"

      I added the words  'Damn liar' to those I already saw written on him. But I was able to reply with almost complete honesty that I had no idea where Laura Andreotti was. I knew where the Brat was alright, but she was no longer Laura, of that I was quite certain. I put on my most irritatingly smug and patronising manner.

      "My dear sir. I have no knowledge at all of where that young lady is. . . . "

      "I think you do." He interrupted, he really was making this very easy.

      "I can assure you. . . . "

      "Cut the crap and tell us where she is!"

      "I really don't know. So are you calling me a liar?"

      "You were seen with her. . . "

      It was time to attack. "Are you calling me a liar?" I insisted. Whatever his reasons for wanting Laura they were pretty urgent because I could see he was getting flustered and angry.

      "Look Masterson. . . "

      "Are you calling me a liar?!" I raised my voice enough this time to stop conversations and turn heads. From the corner of my eye I saw one of the girls dart away to get help.

      "You know!" He shouted.

      "If you think I'm lying then say so!" I shouted back.

      He was caught. His eyes flickered from side to side and he saw that he was the centre of attention. He made his decision.

      "Yes, Goddamit! You're a liar Masterson!"

      I was ready for it and my glass of wine went straight in his face. He sprang up in shock and fury but after only a split second he came for me. I was ready for that too and was on my feet and waiting. But fortunately Yuri and Ivan the two mute Russians who help Madame Stalevsky run The Lodge appeared between us; and there is no arguing with them. Had it come to a fight I think we were evenly matched but it would have ruined everyone else's dinner. But my old friend John Carpenter - one of the owners, also appeared. I explained the breach of club rules which had been committed as well as the insult and finished by challenging the man to a wager.

      There was a stir of excitement round the room at this.

      It was a system which John himself had introduced for settling differences between members, it was much more discreet than allowing the members themselves to do violence to one another. After all there was no need because the girls were there.

      John explained the rules to us in his office. Obviously I knew them well but my opponent whose name turned out to be Hoffmeyer, needed them outlining to him.

      "The girls you have chosen for the night will represent you tomorrow. It is as good a way as any of ensuring a random selection. They will be held in isolation for the night so that neither of you can contact them. The winner will be decided over three events. Pony racing, flogging under weights and wrestling. I am setting the prize money at £50,000; the loser to make a full public apology as well as paying the victor and paying the girls £10,000 to be divided in the proportion of three quarters to the winner, one quarter to the loser Agreed?"

      It was fine by me, and Hoffmeyer, looking pale and furious had no option but to agree as well. We shook hands on it and I retired to the lounge to consider my next move.

      I still had no idea why all these questionable types were so keen to talk to Sam and Laura but I knew Sam would be in touch soon and I'd find out then. In the meantime my priority was to put this Hoffmeyer in his place. I knew Marietta was a tough girl, she didn't carry any spare weight and was sinewy - she should win the pony racing easily enough - but I felt that a little extra encouragement might be in order for the other two events. And here I had several advantages. For Hoffmeyer £60,000 was probably petty cash, and it wasn't much more for me. But I knew the girls all sent money home and I knew that I could get a message to Marietta.

      Irena hadn't been booked by anyone and she served me in the lounge, so I gave her my room disc and waited until all the other guests had gone up to their own rooms, most of them stopping by to wish me luck on their way. I called her over and told her to go downstairs and fetch me a crop to use on her. Now I knew that the crops and whips were kept next to the punishment cells where Marietta and her opponent would be locked up for the night, also I knew that Irena was a friend of Marietta's. I told her to whisper to her, very carefully, that if she won I would give her the entire prize money. For her family back home this would be a fortune beyond imagining and she would fight for it with every ounce of her strength.

      Half an hour later Irena arrived at my room to report that her mission had been accomplished, the sparkle in her eye suggested that Marietta had cut her in for a share of the winnings. She had risked serious punishment to carry the message after all.

      I spent a pleasant night tumbling her, she was always soft and willing, but I didn't beat her too much. I needed a good night's sleep and I was going to need a strong whip arm for the next day. Irena was rather put out; the girls at the Lodge always feel insulted if they aren't properly thrashed by whichever member books them for a night.

14.

At about 10.30 the next morning, after a leisurely breakfast we all assembled in the stableyard. I think every guest was there, a wager always makes a good spectacle and side bets are usually placed. All the girls who weren't on duty elsewhere were also there, and in the middle of the crowd stood Marietta and her opponent; Olga. She was a bigger girl than Marietta and carried more weight. That was fine for the first event but I felt that Marietta would need all the incentive I had given her to win one of the two events after the racing. That was all she had to do, win two of the three and it was all over. They were both harnessed and ready to go, their feet squarely on the start line. Hoffmeyer swung himself straight into his seat and took the crop which the groom handed him. As we were racing we would both have long whippy crops which would spur the girls on far more than the usual whips. I checked Marietta's harness first and she gave me a look which clearly told  me she'd received and understood my message. Satisfied I climbed up and John stood forward with the starting pistol. He outlined the course for us.

      Out of the yard and turn left, down the road for about a quarter of a mile and then left again along a track which crossed the golf course - and formed a hazard on the ninth and eleventh holes - then out onto the main drive and back up to the house. This last part was uphill, and it was here I decided that the race would be won and lost. Hoffmeyer was no featherweight and Olga's own weight would also tell against her.

      John held up the pistol and there was a dry Crack! as he fired it. We were off. And immediately Hoffmeyer went for the whip, cracking it across Olga's shoulders and upper back, she responded and surged ahead of us. More for the sake of appearances than anything else I gave Marietta a couple of taps and she settled in behind Olga at an easy trot, which was exactly where I wanted her. I settled back and watched her naked back flex and her muscles slide under the smooth skin.

      When we turned onto the track we were still well in touch with Hoffmeyer and Olga, although, because of the fact that there were only two wheel ruts for the traps to follow, there was no chance of overtaking. Hoffmeyer spotted this and turned to grin at me over his shoulder. I waved back, and waved at those guests who had walked down to cheer us on. Marietta was still trotting easily and hadn't even broken into a sweat yet. I felt quite confident, but then Hoffmeyer began to whip Olga up again. He must have thought that here was his chance to put a distance between us. I counted six cracks of the crop. Perfect, that would weaken her for later on. I contented myself with two light taps just to urge Marietta to keep on their heels, which she did - again without obvious strain.

      "Just keep them where we want them my dear!" I urged her.

      Hoffmeyer heard me and turned again, this time not so happy as he saw that he had failed to open up a gap, but had marked his pony up in the attempt.

      As soon as we hit the ashphalt of the drive, I gave Marietta the first serious lash and she responded immediately by leaning strongly into the incline and beginning to really dig in. I steered her slightly wide of Hoffmeyer and we came abreast.

      From here on in it was a simple test of strength. Up ahead I could see everyone gathered at the finish line and hear the cheering. I cut at Marietta again with the crop, she had a couple of red stripes to show for it now but I could see that Olga's shoulders were much more badly marked. Marietta began to dig into her reserves of strength, I could see her body straining and the sweat begin to start out on her. Slowly we began to edge ahead, I glanced over at Olga and saw she was beginning to breathe heavily. Hoffmeyer rose in his seat and lashed at her. Again and again I saw the crop bite across her straining back, and it had some effect. She found some more reserves and fought back to level pegging. There were barely fifty yards to go now and Olga, despite her obvious tiredness still had something left. Regretfully I decided that the spur needed to be applied to Marietta as well. I too stood and let fly with the crop. I saw her head come up as the first really hard lash cracked down on her and sure enough she too found that she still had something in reserve.

      Again we began to pull ahead and this time when I glanced over at Olga I saw that she was beginning to foam around her bit and I knew we had them. Hoffmeyer kept up the thrashing he was giving her, even though it was plainly doing no good. And while I lashed at Marietta just enough to keep her at full stretch we crossed the finish line about half a length clear.

      The crowd cheered wildly, the guests were definitely on my side and Marietta was popular amongst the girls. Both traps reined in outside the house's front door and the grooms came to attend to the girls. As I stepped down I could see money changing hands already, whatever the personal feelings they didn't get in the way of a good bet, but my main concern was Marietta. I helped the groom unshackle her wrists from the shafts of the trap and began to unbuckle her bridle while he fetched her some water. She had worked up a good sweat and he didn't allow her much; she still had some hard work ahead of her. However he did empty a bucket over her head to cool her down and I towelled her off while her breathing began to settle down. Olga got the same treatment from her groom but I noticed that Hoffmeyer stood to one side with a face like thunder. More fool him. The girls will always obey their masters and do their best for money, but they'll always go the extra mile if they like you as well.

      John gave the girls ten minutes to recover before the next event, by which time I reckoned that Marietta was in as good shape as possible, she certainly carried fewer marks on her body and that could prove crucial, although Olga's sturdier build could give her an edge. Everyone trooped round to the stableyard once more and arranged themselves in a circle around two parallel white lines about three feet long and one foot apart which had been chalked on the cobbles. Beside these lines there was a bar with weights on which had been borrowed from the gymnasium.

      "Each girl will be handed the bar which she must hold over her head with her arms straight while receiving as many lashes to her back as her opponent can deliver in one minute!" John called out the rules. "The lashes are to be delivered between shoulders and buttocks - no lower! The girls may not step forward beyond the second line, they may not bend their arms and they may not touch the ground with a knee!" To do any of these would give victory to the opponent. A coin was tossed and as winner of the first event I was allowed to call. I called tails and won, I put Olga in first.

      She stepped forward and raised her arms so that the groom could hand her the weighted bar. It wasn't that heavy but under the frenzied thrashing which would follow, it would become heavy enough. We all watched as Olga settled her grip and her feet - well apart - while Marietta hefted the whip and settled her own grip. The crowd fell silent; John lifted his stopwatch and then fired the pistol again. Immediately there was a roar of encouragement from those who were backing me and Marietta swung into action. As we had all seen, Olga's back was well marked even at the start, but it was a broad, strong back. Marietta swung all her weight behind the lashes. She was wielding a heavy thonged scourge, and the idea was to bludgeon the other girl into stepping forward or writhing to the point where one of her arms gave way. To begin with Marietta did as I had hoped she would, she overlaid the marks of Hoffmeyer's crop with the broad swathes of the thongs. Small grunts of effort escaped her as she swung again and again with all her strength. But Olga, although jerking and flinching under the barrage, held her silence - and stood her ground.

      "Thirty seconds!" John called.

      There was a renewed roar from both sets of supporters. Marietta was sweating freely now and desperately trying to keep her arm moving as fast and as hard as she could, but still Olga refused to react apart from matching Marietta's grunts of effort with her own grunts of pain. Her shoulders and upper back were a flaming mass of weals by now. But in despair Marietta moved her target. Instead of carrying on the weakening she tried lashing her buttocks. At first Olga flinched and twisted in shock but then immediately settled herself again and easily rode out the remainder of her minute, her broad hips and powerful thighs holding her steady. Even as I faced the prospect of Marietta losing this round and having to win the wrestling, I made a mental note to book Olga the next time I stayed. She could take a lot of flogging.

      John called the minute, and while Olga rejoiced, Marietta let the whip fall from her exhausted hand and looked nervously at me. The best she could hope for now was a draw. But draw or lose, she was going to have to wrestle Olga and win.

      Olga was given a few minutes to recover and then Marietta was positioned for her flogging. I knew she was in trouble the moment Olga picked up the whip. She had taken a sound cropping while losing the racing, she had taken everything that Marietta could throw at her and now it was her chance to regain the initiative. If she could hammer Marietta into defeat now, she would go into the final event with a demoralised and weakened opponent, and she was bigger and stronger than Marietta. She could win. I saw her sizing up her opponent's slender back and loosening up her whip arm while she waited for the starting pistol. The groom put the bar in Marietta's hands and I saw her tensing herself for the forthcoming onslaught. The pistol cracked and with another roar of encouragement the second round of flogging began.

      A minute may not sound long, but with a scourge a determined flogger can land a lot of blows, not well aimed or careful but nonetheless a fearsome barrage of flailing leather for a back already under tension from the weights.

      I had never seen such a frenzied lashing as Marietta was then subjected to. Olga's right arm swept down and back at a frightening rate, clubbing, heavy blows from the thongs battered at her so fast that hardly had she cried out in shock at the force of one lash than the next was on  her and the next. In addition, Olga had the sense to keep the full force of the blows targeted at the upper back and shoulders, to get Marietta twisting and writhing, until finally, inevitably she would lose balance and stagger forwards.

      From the very first blow, she was gasping and crying out and after about fifteen seconds she was screaming at the almost incessant smack of leather lashes across her skin. Her hands began to fidget on the bar, her feet shifted their ground.

      "Thirty seconds!" John called again.

      I was not allowed to shout any advice or encouragement and could only pray that Marietta would see the sense in surrendering this round and saving herself the pounding she was taking. There would be no penalty flogging for not having tried - that was reserved for an obvious attempt to 'throw' the round. But her pride wouldn't let her. She shook and shuddered under the relentless round house swings of Olga's arm which showed no signs of tiredness as it rained down lash after lash on her shoulders. And at last, with a despairing scream Marietta staggered forwards and dropped to her knees, leaving a victorious Olga to acknowledge the cheers of her supporters.

      It was one event each, and in the wrestling there could be no draw. Marietta had to win or I would have to apologise to Hoffmeyer, pay him and reveal the Brat's whereabouts.

      The groom and I hurried over to where Marietta was on all fours, panting and gasping in the aftermath of her flogging. We sponged her down and I tried to tell her to fight the next round with intelligence rather than brawn, but she was too furious with herself and with Olga to listen. And in the end I had to admit that maybe fury was her best weapon against a bigger and more powerful opponent. At least by the end of the ten minutes her breathing had calmed and as we made our way to the wrestling ring, her face was set and grimly determined.

      The ring had been set up at the side of the second fairway on the golf course. A stream runs across it and at one side it widens out into a pond some four feet deep. The real horses which The Lodge keeps are often watered there and so, even in Summer the ground is churned up and muddy around it. A simple, single rope circle had been established which encompassed some grass but mainly enclosed the mud on one bank and about half of the pond. The groom who was to referee was wisely wearing knee high boots. In this arena the girls would fight the best of two falls, two submissions or a knockout. Kicking was not allowed but otherwise anything went, and it was certainly going to today. As he called out the rules the groom had to hold the girls apart. He had a hand on each of their chests, between their breasts but even so they tried to claw at each other around him. Both girls were soaked in sweat and water, their hair hung in rats' tails over their faces and they were both well whipped and furious. Whatever the outcome, I thought, the crowd was in for a good show.

      The instant the referee ducked out from between them the girls slammed together with a resounding Smack! as naked female flesh met female flesh. But I had no time to enjoy the spectacle of juddering breasts and buttocks. Instead I watched with increasing gloom as fingers entwined in hair and clawed at whip marks. Olga was just too strong for Marietta to fight like that, face to face.

      And sure enough she was forced back, her feet struggling for purchase and her body arching as her head was yanked back by the hair. Then suddenly Olga got her other hand under Marietta's chin and heaved. Marietta went sprawling backwards and Olga threw herself onto her. But Marietta was just fast enough to roll away in time and Olga landed heavily on the turf, winding herself for a few, vital seconds. Marietta surged to her feet, dragged Olga up screaming by her hair and swung her down the slope towards the pond. Olga careered helplessly forwards into the mud and went down face first into the rich brown ooze. Marietta regained her balance and followed her, but not before Olga had got up onto all fours, just her back and buttocks were flesh coloured; the rest of her was coated in shiny mud. Marietta threw herself onto her back like an avenging angel and immediately forced her back down. Olga struggled valiantly but Marietta didn't let the slime bother her as it sprayed up onto her and her legs sank into it. She squatted across Olga's shoulders and putting her hands down by her crotch got a two handed grip on Olga's hair. This enabled her to get her whole bodyweight bearing down on Olga's face, ramming it into the mud and whatever the horses had left behind. Olga's legs thrashed helplessly, giving us all a splendid view of mud covered female pudenda, but she couldn't get up. The groom leaped in and yanked Marietta off by her own hair, sending her too sprawling in the mud. And while Olga rose spluttering and spitting out mud and worse, and wiping it from her eyes, Marietta cast me a triumphant look before getting back to the job in hand.

      The groom declared the first fall to Marietta and I began to relax a little.

      When they were waved together again it was really only their different builds which distinguished them, they were both coated so thoroughly with filth. Slithering and stumbling they crashed together again, the chocolate coloured breasts coming quivering together at the charge. Again they clawed and beat at one another whilst trying to retain their footing. One of Marietta's feet slid sideways from under her and for a second she was stranded with her legs wide open. Instantly Olga saw her chance and landed an uppercut blow right into Marietta's crotch. She shrieked and collapsed into the mud, curling herself into a foetal position with her hands between her legs. Olga fell on top of her and began to rain in blows on her back and side, sending up brown spray each time, but while Marietta was lying on one side, she couldn't pin her. Realising this she reached round and fumbled through the slippery ooze till she found a nipple and twisted it hard. Marietta shrieked again and stretched out face down in an instinctive attempt to shield herself. That was all Olga needed and she slipped and slithered her way onto Marietta's back, pressing her face down hard, just as Marietta had done to her. Again the groom raced in and declared one fall each.

      Hoffmeyer grinned at me from across the ring.

      The brown, dripping harridans faced each other again. They both stood with legs wide apart now, it was the only way they could remain upright. But Marietta still looked shaky after the blow to her sex, and in a calculated show of contempt Olga wiped some of the filth from her own crotch and flung it into Marietta's face just as the groom waved them together again. Marietta stumbled backwards as the lump of mud hit her and Olga tried to charge in for the kill. But all that happened was that Marietta sat down splay legged as her feet slipped out from under her, her buttocks squelching as they sank deep into the mud, while Olga fell too and ended up face down with her head between Marietta's open thighs. She took full advantage of the opportunity by leaning forward and heaving her by the hair further into the V of her crotch and then slipping her arms under Olga's upper arms, gripping her hands together and pulling up. Olga gave out a mud-muffled squeal as her face was forced down into Marietta's crotch and the filth once more while she tried to raise her backside to relieve the pressure on her shoulders.

      "Lick me you bitch!" Marietta shouted in triumph as Olga's feet desperately sought some purchase and she screamed again as Marietta leaned even further back to hurt her shoulders even more.

      From where I stood I could see Olga's thighs and buttocks desperately straining as her feet dug ever deeper into the treacherous mud. Her slime encrusted sex and anus were perfectly displayed between the chocolate swells of her quivering buttocks. For a second there was silence as both girls strained. Then Marietta laughed.

      "Yes, you cow! Get that tongue in deep!" She said.

      There was a cheer as everyone realised that Olga had finally given in and was now licking the filth out of Marietta's sex.

      As a final gesture Marietta gave one last heave on Olga's shoulders, but this gave her just enough of a downward angle for her feet to gain purchase. Her legs straightened and she performed a kind of twisting somersault which left her lying on her back over Marietta's left thigh. Marietta was knocked back by Olga's twisting body and her grip was broken. But it was still Olga who was the more dazed. Marietta heaved herself up onto her left elbow and brought her right fist over and down, hammering it between Olga's splayed legs. There was a sympathetic gasp from the crowd as Olga leaped and twisted like a landed fish, coming down with her hands between her legs and her bottom in the air. Marietta launched herself once more and managed to kneel up on her opponent's head while landing resounding smacks on her buttocks, and once again sprays of mud splatted out from ooze-coated female flesh. It was all over, but the groom was a sensible lad and let the crowd savour the sight for a moment before hauling Marietta off. And while she waded into the pond to sluice herself off, he hauled Olga up, the mud sucking noisily at her as she emerged. The applause for Marietta now became a sympathetic hand for the loser. And I joined in; Olga had been a worthy opponent.

      Marietta and I exchanged grins as she and Olga were hurried away by Madame. I would be in her bad books now as she would have to alter duty rosters until both girls were fully recovered. Then John summoned Hoffmeyer and myself to his office.

      There I gracefully received Hoffmeyer's apology and watched as he transferred money to pay his debts. I added £2,500 to Olga's money, she had earned it.

      His membership was revoked, both because he'd interrupted another member's dinner and insulted him, and also because he had obtained membership under false pretences as John had discovered.

      And once that was all done, I went on the run.

15.

My thinking ran like this: Sam was enormously wealthy, but whoever was after him and Laura was plainly prepared to get pretty heavy. That meant that they were probably even wealthier and even more powerful. Therefore they were liable to stick at nothing, so I had to assume that I would be followed from now on.

      On my way back to London I stopped at a public phone and left a message on Julie's answer phone at her home number. I had decided that I wouldn't head for Suffolk until I was sure I had lost anyone tailing me.

      I left the Bentley in a multi - storey in Knightsbridge, and then used buses and tubes until I could be fairly sure that I was on my own. I used every trick I could think of, getting out of tube trains just as the doors were closing and seeing if anyone got off with me, going round the Circle line twice and watching the people around me to see if one face remained constant. And then sitting in a cafe for an hour and watching the street outside. At last I felt I had done all I could and walked to where I had arranged to meet Julie.

      She and Darren were waiting for me outside a pub in North London. He was a tall, good looking lad - as I'd thought he would be. His handshake was firm and we appraised each other, knowing we had a lot in common; mainly Julie, who stood blushing beside us. They gave me the keys to his car and took the one I'd asked them to hire. But just as they were about to drive off I had an idea.

      "Darren, take these," I said, giving him the keys to my flat. "Julie'll show you where everything is."

      He grinned broadly at me. "Thanks Mr Masterson. I'll take care of everything for you."

      "Just take care of Julie," I told him.

      He laughed and drove off while I climbed into his little car and set off myself, happy in the knowledge that the white room would be put to good use in my absence.

      Even after all my precautions I took a pretty roundabout route back to Suffolk and watched my rearview mirror closely.

      As a consequence it was late when I finally arrived and the house was dark and silent. I parked the little car which had jolted me all the way from London and let myself in quietly. I went straight to the office, unable to hide from myself the fact that I was eager to see the Brat again. I sat in front of the console and switched on the monitor for her cell. There she was, fast asleep on her narrow bed, her collar chained to the wall, her hands clipped together in front of her but chained to the wall separately so she couldn't undo the collar.

      She lay with her legs wide splayed, the quilt only half covering her and the perfect mounds of her breasts rising and falling with her breathing. One long, satin skinned leg was exposed in the moonlight from her small window, and as I watched she stirred in her sleep. Her body heaved and turned restlessly, her covered leg irritably kicked the quilt away and her imprisoned hands began to grope their way down towards the shadows at her open sex where they began a slow, sensuous rubbing and circling motion. A soft groan escaped her and the pace of the stroking became more urgent, her hands plunged more deeply between her legs. Dimly I could make out the fingers of one push apart those soft, full labia I remembered so well, while the fingers of the other pushed up into the moist warmth of her vagina. Her stomach clenched and her hips began to buck, then her eyes flickered open and I watched them focus directly on the tiny lens of the camera which was watching her. She gave another groan and shifted slightly so that she was exhibiting herself directly at me, an expression of deep longing on her face. I was entranced, she was voluntarily displaying herself, hoping that I was watching.

      "She's missed you Sir." I jumped at the sound of Mrs Jenkins' voice. I'd thought that everyone was asleep but she was just on her way to bed.. She watched the writhing shape on the monitor.

      "She's come on ever so well. D'you know I haven't had to beat her for days now.  Mr Reece neither."

      I didn't like the sound of that at all but she went off to bed and I returned my attention to the Brat who was now approaching her climax. Her long thigh muscles were taut as she levered herself up to meet the thrusts and caresses of her fingers. Her breasts shook and trembled as her stomach tensed and she bore down on her hands. At last her head went back, her back arched and her groans became cries of ecstasy and longing while repeated spasms locked her whole body rigid time and again until she collapsed back onto the bed to lie quiet and exhausted for a moment before turning on her side to sleep again. I just had time to note that her graceful buttocks and long back were completely unmarked before a soft rustling at the door distracted me. It was Sonia.

      She was wearing the long filmy nightdress which I sometimes permitted her when she was sleeping in her basket rather than in my bed. Her eyes were large and sleepy, as well as being fixed on the pale and inert figure on the monitor.

      "Sonia, I can't see the marks of even one beating on her." I said angrily.

      "She's very beautiful isn't she?" Sonia said dreamily.

      I slapped the console hard and she snapped awake.

      "Miss Jacobson! I leave you in charge for a few days and when I return I find that everything is in utter chaos!"

      She looked at me in alarm, suddenly aware that this wasn't one of our little scenarios which we played out in the office. I was furious and she was in trouble. The Brat had worked her spell on everyone and it was time for some firm action.

      "I left you in charge of training a slave and when I come back I find she's practically running the household!"

      "I. . . . I'm sorry Sir!" She stammered. "But she is so lovely and so eager to please!"

      I could hear the desire in these last words and realised that the Brat had spent long hours pleasing her mistress and escaping punishment. She had been using her very submissiveness as a weapon and had everyone eating out of her hand. And how close she had come to working her spell on me!

      There was no doubt that she loved what was done to her here but she had set the limits! Oh No! She wasn't going to get away with that. I had determined some time ago that I would be the one who'd find her limits and take her beyond them. Well it was going to start tomorrow! I would make her submit to things she couldn't even dream of yet.

      But for tonight; there was Sonia to deal with. I was going to punish her - properly, and she knew it. She was looking at me nervously, awaiting her sentence.

      "Into my room! Now!"

      She walked ahead of me and stopped in the middle of the floor when I had closed the door, her back still towards me. I told her to strip and she let the thin straps off her shoulders so that the gauzy material fell to the floor round her feet, and still she kept her back to me. I knew what she was doing, she was offering it to me in the hopes I would punish her there. But I had already done that to one girl today, and been unable to assuage the ramrod erection it had left me with. In addition I had watched two naked women battle and batter at each other very entertainingly.

      Sonia was in for some serious punishment.

      "Fetch me the breast cane." I told her.

      Slowly she dropped to her hands and knees as always when ordered to fetch the instrument of her coming punishment. "Oh God!. . . . Please Sir!" She whimpered, even though she knew that any begging would only count against her. I tapped my foot impatiently and she got the message, scurrying to a wardrobe and bringing back the cane, held between her teeth.

      I took it from her and swished it a couple of times. Normally I use whips when thrashing my women's breasts and stomachs, they follow the contours of the body much better than the more rigid crops and canes. But this was the exception, it was so delightfully whippy that it left much longer weals than other canes because it bit more deeply into the soft flesh. Sonia, in common with all the other women I had used it on, feared it and loved it in equal measure.

      I tied her to the posts at the foot of my bed, facing away from it, her arms and legs spread out. She knew it was useless to beg but couldn't help groaning quietly while she was shackled. When I had finished, her large breasts were pulled taut by her raised arms and I spent a little time teasing the nipples into erection so that they would act as targets. It didn't take much, they filled out and hardened yearningly almost at the first touch, she knew exactly what she was in for. I picked up the cane and  before I started, made her kiss its tip, the very part which would crack down on her with maximum force.

      She would scream the house down at every lash but thank me with complete sincerity when it was all over. The thought of her screams made me think of my staff trying to sleep, so I found the knickers she'd been wearing that day, balled them up and stuffed them into her mouth.   I stood almost alongside her to make sure the shaft made contact right across her, settled myself and began.

      The cane made a whooshing noise in the air and and then a satisfying Thwack! as it landed across her upper breasts. Sonia jerked as if I'd stuck the cattle prod up her and  a muffled scream came from behind her improvised gag. I worked my way slowly down across breasts and stomach until I came to the bush of hair where her legs were pulled wide apart. By then she was shaking and sweating, but I could see her nipples standing rigidly out from the midst of the network of livid lines the cane had traced. I paused for a moment and put my hand between her thighs. As I'd thought she had already come at least once, but the gag and her desperate writhings had made the orgasm undetectable. Her labia were engorged and soaking in the juice of excitement. I pushed four of my fingers up into her roughly, deliberately stretching her lips wide and immediately triggered another climax. She shook even more and yelled into her gag, her hips rocked frantically forwards, trying to draw my hand in even deeper, and I felt her vagina spasm desperately as it sought to grip the fingers which penetrated it. I let her shudder her way through it until she was hanging limp in her chains and then lifted her face. Her eyes were half closed, a deep flush spread right down across her chest. I removed the gag and let her gasp for air for a moment.

      "You're good for one more yet." I told her.

      She knew I wasn't referring to lashes and looked pleadingly at me, but I just stuffed the knickers back into her mouth and carried on. First I ran my hands lovingly over her body, enjoying the feel of the raised lines of fire which striped her. There were six of them across her breasts alone, at least two had crossed the areolae themselves, they would have triggered her first orgasm I reckoned. Her ribs and stomach had taken another six, I had had to slow those down to avoid her passing out, but by doing so I had been able to watch her pull despairingly at her bonds as she tried to twist away, her stomach clenching as it tried to shrink back from the next Thwack! of the cane. Her head had shaken violently from side to side, either to deny the reality of the approaching burst of agony or her approaching orgasm at the cruelty of her punishment. Now I was going to take her to one more climax under a flogging.

      I strolled back to the wardrobe, replaced the cane and took out a whip. It didn't look as fearsome as some I had, it sported twenty or more soft leather lashes about a foot and a half long. A flogging with this one was a long drawn out affair, no one blow driving the submissive victim to the pinnacles of pain and pleasure, just a slow build up of bruising impacts which would eventually reach the white heat of ecstasy they craved.

      I stood in front of Sonia and let her get a good look at the whip. She groaned again and I went back to work, swinging the whip up in short arcs so that it slapped hard against the open lips of her sex. Some of the lashes, I knew, would inevitably find their way directly onto the tender pink flesh of her inner lips and clitoris. After only two lashes her eyes were bulging and her cheeks were puffing out with the effort of trying to scream around the ball of cotton in her mouth. She began a frenzied jigging up and down as the total mounted to four but as the fifth slapped in I saw the change. Her head came forward, a kind of strange muffled growling started in her throat and she looked hungrily at the whip as I swung it back and I knew her eyes were following its trajectory as it curled up between her thighs to trace the bruised groove of her sex and then crack hard against the tight bud of her anal opening. I risked the noise and took her gag out. From then on each lash was received with a hoarse shout, as her body went rigid with the spasms of her pleasure and her hips bucked forward to meet the incoming whip and welcome its devastating impact on her tenderest parts. Four full blooded uppercuts it took until, with one final shudder she hung limply in her chains again, only the little mewing noises she made told me she hadn't passed out.

      I undressed quickly and freed her ankles, then picked her legs up to wrap them around my waist and thrust in for her bruised lips. As I had thought, they were swollen both with excitement and the whip, slippery with juice and avid to peel aside for penetration. I rocked my pelvis as hard as I could, ramming up into her soaking channel while she bounced urgently up and down on my shaft, ignoring the pain in her arms. My own explosion set hers off and she shouted incoherently as I shot spurt after spurt into her.

      I left her to hang there for the night and fell into bed. It was the final part of her punishment, not being left tied to the foot of my bed, but being tied so that she couldn't see me while she suffered. Being able to watch me sleeping comfortably while she hung at the ends of her chains always rounded off a good thrashing for her, and to deprive her of that final humiliation would devastate her. It had been a long day and Sonia's uncomfortable writhings didn't disturb me at all. As I fell asleep I was thinking of the Brat. Time was getting short, I knew that, and she was only tamed up to a point. Tomorrow I would take her way beyond that point.

16.

The next morning was fine and I enjoyed it to the full, riding in my grounds with a fine pony pulling me. The Brat.

      Lounging back on my seat in the brand new trap which Jim had just finished converting for her, I watched her back muscles working and her glowing buttocks jiggling prettily as she trotted. I began to feel that after all I might have her trained properly before whatever was going to happen with Sam, happened. I flicked the buggy whip idly at her shoulders and instantly she leaned harder into her work.

      She'd already had one beating, as soon as I had woken her I had taken to her punishment room, bent her over the whipping bench and given her a sound thrashing with a crop. She needed to know that her master was back and so I had led her straight from her bed and beaten her until her shrieks and sobs resounded and echoed off the stone walls, and her bottom was a fiery crimson. As I had not allowed her any time between waking and punishment, I thought she might wet herself under the flogging but she had managed to hold on. And when I had finished I led her by her leash out through the kitchen and stableyard into the woods again, where I let her squat and relieve herself at last. She barely made it and was sobbing with that discomfort as well as the pain of her whipping. When she had stood up and wiped herself I had her bend over once more and stroked her buttocks with a switch of stinging nettles again, just to add to the pain already there, and I reminded her that any extra lashes she incurred would be painful indeed now.

      She was dishevelled and snivelling while she served my breakfast, naked apart from her belt. A far cry from the languid, smiling girl who had greeted me when I had stalked into her cell earlier. To add to her distress I had Sonia standing beside my place at the dining table. She was naked as well and stood with her legs spread and her hands behind her head so that she could display her marks to full advantage, and I saw the Brat's terrified glance take in the ravages of the previous night's beating.

      I had led her out to Jim's shed straight after breakfast to take her for her first run in harness. She followed me on the end of her leash, pale and silent, her hands clipped together behind her back. Once at the shed I wound her leash round the usual nail on the wall while she knelt beneath it.

      Jim, I was delighted to find hadn't been infected by the mood of gentleness which seemed to have engulfed everyone else. He informed me cheerfully that he had made regular use of her mouth and gave me a graphic account of how she had refined her technique until she now gave the best blow jobs he had ever had. We were standing beside her as we spoke but she wisely kept her gaze locked on something in the middle distance and did as a good slave should; become invisible when not being used. He went on to tell me that although I hadn't given him permission to beat her, he had nonetheless found a way to impress her lowly status on her. I listened in disbelief and looked at the Brat as he spoke. Despite what he was telling me, she never batted an eyelid.

      "Jim, I'm glad to find someone who hasn't fallen under her spell." I said when he'd finished.  "But tell me, did she take this 'extra' willingly?"

      "Oh yes Sir. Never hesitated."

      "Well if I wasn't running her this morning I'd ask for a demonstration!"

      "Oh quite right Sir," he agreed gravely, "you don't want all that interfering with her while she's trotting for you."

      I immediately granted him the right to beat her whenever he felt it necessary and we proceeded to try on her harness. It all fitted perfectly and he had made a really skilled job of the stitching. When all the buckles were adjusted her head was firmly encircled by the bridle, the bit fitted snugly into her mouth and the reins clipped neatly onto the rings which joined it to the rest of the bridle at either end of it. Apart from the bridle Jim had also fashioned a lighter collar with straps leading from it, halter-neck style, to two loops of leather which buckled snugly around the bases of her breasts and constricted them enough to make them spectacularly prominent. From the bottom of each loop a thin strap ran down to her crotch and these we fed along the slit of the sex, parting her soft labia so that the leather pressed closely to her even softer inner tissues. The two straps then fastened to the base of a butt plug which I pushed up into her without bothering with a lubricant; she was wide enough now. The plug was held in place by two further thin straps which came off rings at its base and led to her wrist restraints. She stood quite docilely still while we fitted her, opening her legs when told to and only making a tight "Mmmph!" noise round her bit when the butt plug was stuffed fully into her.

      And so we were jingling along gaily, for the moment running on grass, but this was only a trial run, while I tested the reins and the bit, pulling her to left and then right, whipping her up to a fast trot and then reining her in. At last I was quite satisfied and guided her back to the shed for the finishing touch to be applied.. I wanted her blinkered; completely. She was running in bare feet to make her feel vulnerable and now I was going to blindfold her.

      When I dismounted back at the shed it was obvious that the straps and plug had worked perfectly. She had lathered up nicely and was drooling from round her bit. Even when she was standing still I could see little tremors running through her every now and then as the aftershocks of the rasping and rubbing at her sex and the shifting plug continued to tease and excite her. But as soon as she realised what we were doing she twisted and tossed her head desperately, trying to protest from behind her bit, but two stern cracks of the whip across her stomach settled her down. And with her blindfold buckled tightly at the back of her head, I whipped her up for her first proper run in harness.

      At first she was so terrified that she would only put one faltering foot out in front of herself at a time, and then use that to feel about with, to see if she was safe. If she was going to trot at all she was going to have to throw herself utterly into my hands. It was just as well that I had prepared her bottom so well. I yanked on her reins hard enough to make her toss her head and then held her still while I delivered three resounding cracks of the whip across her livid buttocks. She shifted and pranced between the shafts but was held by the reins. Then I got down and walked round to stand close beside her. She was shivering with fear and pain, but a quick wipe of my fingers between her legs found the straps soaking in her juices and I whispered in her ear, "Listen you stupid bitch, either you pull for all your miserable worth or I'll flay the skin off your back where you stand! Get it!?" She managed a nod and I climbed back into my seat. All she needed now I reckoned was a little taste of just how serious I was so once again I held back with the reins and cracked five across her shoulders, before finally letting her move off. And she did; I had broken her.

      She was lost in utter darkness; naked, bare footed, constantly excited and constantly at the mercy of the whip, being driven wherever I wanted. Into obstacles, across gravel, she had no idea where I was taking her, but my whip drove her from behind into overcoming her fear. She had no choice but to throw herself forward and trust me.

      It was truly thrilling to steer so beautiful and blind a pony, to enjoy the absolute control and the total submission.

      Eventually I steered her off the turf and onto the tarmac of the drive. She panicked a little when she first felt the ground change under her, but again a tap with the whip quietened her. Here and there on the tarmac small stones lay scattered and occasionally one would bite into the sole of her foot, she would flinch and stumble, but always it took just a quick lash and she was back pulling strongly. I had a definite destination in mind and steered her along the beech avenue, where the sun struck through the great trees in golden bars. I leaned back and enjoyed the scene, made all the sweeter by the knowledge that the Brat was locked in her own personal darkness until I chose to release her.

      After a hundred yards or so I pulled her to the right and we were back on grass, heading along a track which runs between rhododendron bushes and which eventually comes to a charming little arbour. And it was here that I intended to continue the morning's work.

      When we reached the clearing with its stone bench and sundial, I reined her in. She was sweating a little by now and relaxed visibly when I unclipped her wrists and led her by her reins over to stand in front of the bench, on which I then sat. I watched her fidget with her bit and flex her shoulders now they were free of the weight of the shafts, quite like a real pony. As I always did I took the opportunity to run my eyes over her body, but told myself sternly that I had business with it, before I took pleasure with it.

      I pulled her reins downwards sharply and she groped her way onto hands and knees. Then I sat back on the sun warmed stone of the bench and put my feet up on her back; immediately she hollowed it to accommodate me better and I left her there for another few moments while I ran the tip of the whip up over her buttocks, across her shoulders and then lightly traced the profile of her right breast which hung pale and ripe beneath her . At last I leaned forward, unbuckled the bridle and eased the bit free of her mouth before finally taking off her blinkers. I let her eyes accustom themselves to the light and her tongue and lips work the stiffness of constraint away while I took off the rest of her harness. Then I told her that before I'd gone away I'd been thinking of letting her have her name back.

      She glanced up at me in obvious horror. "No Sir! Please! I don't want to be Laura anymore." She said.

      "Why not?" I asked. I'd had a feeling that she'd react in this way, but not so strongly and I'd been a little taken aback at the dismay in her huge grey eyes.

      "Because everyone used Laura, but no-one paid her any attention. . . . No-one liked her." She said hesitantly.

      "She wasn't very likable."

      "No Sir."

      "But people like the Brat?"

      "Yes Sir." She said with sudden enthusiasm. "Mrs Jenkins is going to let me do some real cooking soon. And Mr Reece says I'm getting really good at serving table." The pride in her voice was plain to hear.

      "And Miss Jacobson?" I asked. She had the grace to blush.

      "She says I'm very good. . . . . And I have tried to be good Sir. . . . . I've never had rules before, so I've never been able to be good. I know what's expected of me here. I've got rules now."

      "And you've enjoyed winning the respect of people here?"

      "Oh yes Sir!" There was a childlike note of unreserved enthusiasm in her voice. But I was resolute now. I understood her at last. The most important rule she had, but she hadn't been able to say it, was that I would always be there to drive her to heights and depths she couldn't imagine.

      I leaned forward to grab a handful of her glorious mane of blonde hair and pulled to bring her face up to mine.

      "But you're not here to enjoy yourself." I told her quietly. "You might have found your true name, but I think you haven't yet discovered mine. Now I'm going to thrash you like you've never been thrashed before."

      I could see the fear in her eyes but even as she trembled she kept looking steadily at me. I let her go and stood up. I was satisfied, she had been terrified of running blindfold but was proud of having been made to do it. Now she was terrified again but wanted to see where I would drive her this time.

      "Lie down on your back and spread yourself." I told her.

      On my instructions Jim had put a small bag of implements in the trap and I went to fetch them. When I returned, the Brat was lying obediently on her back, staring nervously up at the sky with her arms and legs spread wide on the grass. To her credit she didn't flinch when she heard the clink of metal as I emptied the bag and began to hammer tent pegs into the ground at her wrists and ankles. Using leather straps I bound them to the pegs and then stood astride her waist holding the buggy whip. I could see from her breathing that she was desperately frightened and she couldn't meet my eyes now. Her breasts were perfectly mounded up from her heaving ribs and excitement had overridden terror to harden the nipples to tight dark red nubs. I went to stand between her opened legs and looked at where her thighs joined, her deliciously soft sex lips were displayed, the fear of her forthcoming thrashing had shrivelled and dried them. But each dusty blonde hair on them was perfectly visible and after I had thrashed her I knew they would be open and glistening with juice. This time she was going to come under the whip. Her total helplessness would excite her and join with the masochism her upbringing had left her with to produce a real explosion. She had undoubtedly enjoyed her previous beatings to some degree, but she had never been taken far enough to abandon herself utterly. Today she would. The Brat needed to be punished for having been Laura. Each beating made her more Brat and less Laura, the worse the beating the farther away from Laura she went. And she needed me to drive her.

      The length and flexibility of the buggy whip made administering a good flogging to a girl tied flat on the ground quite possible and at the very first lash she jerked up against her bonds. I watched for a moment as the white line across her breasts filled and darkened. It was a good long one and thin enough to leave plenty of room for more. Very slowly I laid more lashes on, waiting patiently after each one so I could pick my target for the next. Her postion made it very easy to target places like the tender flesh under the breasts, and she screamed and twisted at each blow, bowing her back and twisting her pelvis as much as she could. But although she looked up at me between lashes panting and gasping, she didn't beg for mercy. We understood each other perfectly at last. I was going to drive her to begging, she was going to see how far she could go. I'd laid on a good dozen and left a pretty array of zig zagging crimson lines across breasts, ribs and stomach before I returned to the breasts and began a little question and answer session as I worked.

      Sshwack!

      "What's your name?" I asked as the soft flesh rippled under the impact and her shoulders heaved and twisted.

      "Brat Sir!" She'd gasp when she had breath.

      Sshwack!

      "What's my name?" The thin lash snaked down across one areola and then the underside of her other breast. Again the soft mounds juddered, again she shrieked and tried to lift herself off the ground.

      "Sir!" She managed after a few moments.

      Sshwack!

      "Wrong! We'll start again!"

      Sshwack!

      "Master!" She yelled even as the whip descended, but it was too late and another livid stripe ran across her chest.

      "That's better," I conceded, "but you had to think. We'll carry on a bit longer." She whimpered but didn't beg. I paused for a moment to go round and stamp on the pegs where her desperate tugging had loosened them. Then I went back to work, starting on her ribs and stomach this time.

      Sshwack!

      "What's my name Brat?"

      "Master! For God's sake please!" She broke at last and craned her head up to look down the soft expanse of her belly which was going to bruise terribly, whether she clenched the strong muscles there or not.

      "Getting better but I'm going to make quite sure you've learned."

      Sshwack!

      "Aargh! My name's Brat and you're my Master! Mercy please!" She gabbled frantically. But I added five more, working down towards her opened legs and letting her squeal, blurt out her catechism and then beg in vain. I must admit I felt those blows myself, she was so totally exposed and helpless, but her writhing, wriggling and screaming were very exciting.

      Sonia arrived dead on time, just as I had reached her pubis and was considering whether or not to allow the sweating and trembling Brat to have a rest. I decided I would but before I turned my attention to Sonia I crouched down and put my fingers up between her labia, as I had suspected they were slick with moisture. My fingers slid easily up into the hungry channel of her vagina which made lewd squelching noises as the juice was stirred. The Brat's moans turned more throaty and her pelvis bucked up towards me to offer the opening more fully.

      "Who am I Brat?" I asked softly as I worked my fingers insistently inside her and began to rub at her clitoris with the ball of my thumb.

      Her hips were gyrating now and her voice was a hoarse whisper, " My Master, Sir."

      "Good girl. We'll continue the lesson in a few minutes." I withdrew my hand and stood up. The Brat went into paroxysms of frustrated groans but I ignored her; there was still plenty coming her way.

      Meanwhile I looked hard at Sonia, she had dressed as I had told her and joined us when she had been told to. She was moving very gingerly, holding herself carefully erect and her eyes were large with pain. And no wonder. She had laced herself tightly into a leather basque I had had made especially for her. Instead of decorative metal studs on the outside, they were on the inside and I could imagine how they would be digging into the bruises she carried from the previous night. But her obvious discomfort made her very attractive, quite apart from the creamy pillows of flesh where her breasts were pushed up by the half cups and showed off the yellowing bruises striping them. She also wore stockings and very high heels. I held up the fingers which had been inside the Brat and she came forward carefully to lick them clean.

      "And that from a slave you thought was fully trained." I said as she took in the sight of the Brat's excited wrigglings and her lividly marked body.

      "In a minute I'm going to show you just how far she can be driven."

      "Oh God!" There was a moan, half of despair, half of urgent desire from the staked out Brat.

      "Now, kneel down!" I ordered Sonia, and she did so with all the eagerness of a girl still feeling the after effects of a thorough whipping. Quickly she freed the throbbing rod of my erection from my clothes and plunged it into her mouth. And although she went so far down on me that I could feel her throat around the engorged head, I didn't let her take me all the way. I still had work to do, but it was always good for Brat to see her mistress on her knees to me.

      Once I had pushed her away I had her help me untie Brat's ankles and then bend her legs back up over her shoulders and re-tie them to the same pegs which held her wrists. She groaned all the time we worked  until she was bent double and utterly displayed. Her legs were spread, her buttocks pulled as taut as they could go and her sex raised and exposed. I could see that Sonia's paleness had vanished to be replaced by a flush of excitement as she anticipated watching the Brat lashed in this position. I stood astride the Brat's head and she stared up, wide eyed at the buggy whip from between her thighs. I decided to begin from this position but would move round slowly, a body as beautiful as hers displayed like that just had to be appreciated from all angles.

      I slowly lowered the whip until it stroked the lips of her sex. She gasped in expectation of the lash which didn't come. Instead I asked her, "Now tell me why you're going to enjoy this Brat?"

      There was a second when she tried to speak but found her mouth had gone dry and had to lick her lips. "Because Laura deserved it . . . . .and Brat has a master strict enough to inflict it." She managed to croak at last. I nodded my approval and then began with two flicks carefully aimed to land just either side of her lips. And they were flicks rather than full blooded lashes but the effect was electric. She managed to raise herself slightly even in that impossible position, her shoulders pushing her up and her neck arching back as she screamed. I waited a full minute before repeating the treatment, still not striking along the groove of her sex which was now opening  even more as her helplessness in the face of my cruelty increased her excitement, at the same time as the pain mounted.

      Then I let her wait again and moved round to her side to leather her stretched buttocks, the lash cracking home this time across her sex. She nearly passed out and I left a full two minutes before doing it again from the other side. Every tendon in her neck stood out as she shrieked and her hands scrabbled wildly in an instinctive attempt to try to reach and shield her most private and tender parts from the outrage being forced on them. The last two lashes I put in from behind her upthrust bottom, where even the tight little bud of her anus was displayed for me. These were the lashes she had been fearing the most, they cracked down straight along her crease which was now blatantly open and shiny. They drove her over the edge and she came in a shattering series of spasms while I watched her lips twitch and flutter as they vainly sought for something to hold and she cried and shrieked in an ecstasy of mingled agony and joy. We let her shudders and moans subside before releasing her ankles, but I only let her legs down till the backs of her thighs rested against my shoulders as I knelt, ready to relieve the urgent erection which was tormenting me now.

      The Brat's bruised sex lips were so open that I could clearly see the coral pink flesh in between them, gleaming with juices for me. I rammed myself deep into her as soon as I had her positioned and Sonia knelt across her face. I thrust every inch of myself into her welcoming channel and felt it grip me eagerly along my whole length, while her tongue flicked out to lick at her mistress's sex poised temptingly over her mouth. I saw her neck strain to lick more deeply even as I felt her hips working to try and get every last centimetre of me into her. She came again almost immediately driving herself nearly hysterical in her attempts to pleasure us both, but when that orgasm subsided she found we were still there. Sonia lowered herself right down onto her face and worked herself backwards and forwards over her mouth while I set up a steady rhythm of thrust and withdrawal in the churning moistness of her vagina. She was so sated with pain and pleasure that she was really only a passive receptacle now, groaning up into Sonia's wide open sex moving over her mouth as Sonia's hands gripped and massaged her breasts. My thrusts became more urgent as I felt the tides of my own orgasm approaching and then I was carried on the crest as I rammed in one last time and felt the hot seed spurt into her helpless body. She felt it too and her vagina spasmed, her back arched once more and a final shuddering climax rippled through her and left her utterly limp at last.

      I stood up and surveyed her as she lay gasping and sobbing on the turf in front of me, she wasn't really Brat or Laura anymore, she was purely a female body, so awash with repeated detonations of sensual bombshells that she was clinging on to the very edge of consciousness. But still I hadn't finished with her.

      Even before Jim had told me how he had been using her, I had decided that Sonia should demonstrate once and for all how lowly her status really was.

      For that reason Sonia was now looking eagerly up at me but I told her to wait until the Brat had recovered a little. She raised herself till she was squatting just a little beyond the Brat's face and waited. Eventually the Brat's breathing calmed and she managed to crane her head up and look round her again.

      "Now then Brat," I told her, "we've come to the last part of your lesson. You've seen how I punish your mistress, and you know what I can, and will do to you. But you have to realise that even though I discipline the both of you, you are far below Miss Jacobson. You are the lowest of the low. And to prove it you will perform the service she requires of you now."

      The Brat tilted her head back and looked at how Sonia was placed. She knew then what was coming and opened her mouth wide to receive the perfectly aimed stream of amber liquid which squirted from her.Although she tried hard to receive it all, some splashed over her face and hair, but I have to give it to her, she tried. Sonia gazed down delightedly as the Brat struggled to perform the service which marked her irrevocably as Brat; willing slave to myself and through me to Sonia.

17.

      It was Sonia who pulled the trap back to the stableyard, where it would be kept from now on, while the exhausted Brat staggered behind with her wrists tied to the back of my seat. I allowed Sonia to shower and bathe her and to administer whatever creams she could to reduce bruising. I intended her to suffer more or less the same treatment for the next two days until I was quite certain that Laura had been well and truly buried and that Brat was now my slave. But already I began to think of her as 'Brat' rather than 'the Brat', a name rather than a title. However, now that Sonia had been brought back to her senses I intended to leave the final reinforcement to her and Jim. It would fix in Brat's mind that her master didn't always need to administer discipline himself and for her to suffer at the hands of his servants was heaping humiliations on her head which would keep even her appetite for them satisfied. Besides I had Sam to worry about. He had to ring soon.

      I spent the next day and a half pacing about waiting for the phone to ring. But at the end of that time Sonia brought Brat to me. She was in a pitiful state. She was crawling on hands and knees being led by her leash, her hair was dank and matted - I knew very well what with - and her body was more weal than clear skin. Even the soles of her feet had been lacerated by her having been run on tarmac and probably gravel.

      Sonia brought her to a halt just in front of me, where she stayed just panting, her head hanging down.

      "One more time and we're there I think." I told her. "Now, who are you?"

      "Brat Sir." She whispered.

      "Who is Laura?"

      "Don't know Sir."

      "Who am I?"

      She managed to look up then. Lank strands of once-blonde hair hanging across her face, "You're Brat's Master. Sir."

      "Good. And what should a bitch do when she is brought before her master on her lead?"

      Without a word she bent her head to lick and kiss my shoes.

      She was fully tamed at last. I was sure of it now. She would trust her master to always be there to dominate and humiliate her; and to keep Laura buried safely in her past. It was ironic to think that the bitch we had at first thought of as 'the Brat' was really Laura, and the beautiful woman under the bitchiness was the real Brat.

      I told Sonia to take her away, clean her up and prepare her to serve my supper, but just as they were leaving I called out, "Oh and Miss Jacobson. She can sleep in your basket tonight."

      Sonia gave me her best smile because that meant that she would sleep in my bed. She'd take a beating first of course, but it meant that she was forgiven. As if to prove that she'd learned how cruelly Brat needed to be treated she tugged harshly at her lead as she led her away. In fact I was still watching Brat's delicious but bruised buttocks hurry out of the door when the phone rang. It was Sam.

      "Hi Al!" He drawled, sounding infuriatingly laid back.

      "Sam!? What the hell's going on?" I asked immediately.

      "How d'you mean?"

      I told him.

      "Oh those guys! Don't worry about them! They're strictly small time - I've got everything under control. How's Laura coming along?"

      "Fine. Just fine." I told him. But I didn't tell him that her submission was now totally fixed on me.

      "I'll be up there in three weeks Al. And if you've done the business; you're a rich man. And don't worry about the goons. I'll take care of 'em." And he hung up. I went back to pacing for a while. Sam had sounded very relaxed, too relaxed; as if he had wanted to convince me that he was. I didn't trust it, Hoffmeyer and his cronies didn't come across as small time. Membership of the Lodge cost a small fortune and to put Hoffmeyer there just to get to me meant someone was very determined.

      But I had time to finish the job anyway. Brat was mine now, I had reduced her to nothing, and now I had time to rebuild her the way I wanted her.

      I had already laid some plans.

      Since returning from London I had asked Jim to put the word out locally that I wanted to know if any strangers were seen hanging around or if anyone were asking for directions to the house. It's a small village and Jim knew most people. I had accompanied him down to the local pub on several occasions and bought a few pints to convince people that it would be worth their while to let me know. It was a friendly little place run by a huge man called Phil with a pretty and buxom wife called Ruth.

      Jim's mates were a motley crew, all well set up agricultural types, but good company in a noisy, boisterous way, especially once a few free pints had gone down. It was after having spent the evening there with Jim one day that I put my idea of testing Brat out to him. To my surprise he roared with laughter and told me that that was the reason he had introduced me to the pub. There was more to our village and the surrounding ones than met the eye, he told me. All I had to do was name a date and Phil would do the rest.

       Now that Brat was ready, I went to find Jim and fix up a day.

      As it turned out, Phil needed some days' notice and anyway Brat needed time to recover. I wanted her unmarked for her first public appearance. So Sonia worked at rubbing witch hazel on her while I, for the first time, enjoyed her. I couldn't beat her so I took her at every available opportunity. Previously I had only had her whenever it had suited my purposes as trainer to do so. But now I was her master and entirely free to use her without risking any loss of status in her eyes, quite the reverse.

      At last I became intimately acquainted with her wonderful body. I took both her and Sonia to bed each night, and would often let Sonia sit astride me raising and lowering herself carefully and languidly over my shaft which was more rigid than I could ever remember because Brat's clever little tongue was swirling around my scrotum while her long fingers stroked and delved at my back passage. And no sooner had I spent myself, grasping Sonia's breasts so tightly that she cried out in pleasure while I was ramming up into her, than Brat would be licking at her sex while she lay spread out beside me. And I would listen as Sonia's breathing changed from the relaxed satisfaction  which comes after a good orgasm, to the quickening rhythm of a woman beginning the long climb to another. Often I propped myself up on one elbow and watched as Brat made her tongue lap deep into Sonia's wide open and soaking entrance. She would run it lingeringly over the glistening pink of her inner lips and the hard nub of her clitoris, then push up to get the taste of my semen as it trickled out from her hole, or lap slowly at her buttock crease to get at the trails of seed which ran into it. Sonia would slowly begin to respond, her hips beginning to tilt forward to meet the insistent tongue and then her stomach clenching as she bucked whenever Brat licked long and hard at her clitoris. Eventually Sonia would reach down and bury her hands in Brat's mane of hair and press her face close to her while she thrust up to get that maddening tongue as deep into her as she could while Brat's fingers would probe deep into her anus to encourage her upwards thrusts. And by the time Sonia was panting in the wake of her second orgasm, I would have a rock hard erection again.

      Usually I tugged Brat up by her hair, pushed her down on her back and buried my hand in the welcoming warmth between her long and wide spread thighs. Her full lips parted so effortlessly that I lingered there just playing with her, teasing her hard little button with a finger tip until she whimpered with frustration, and letting my mouth move from breast to breast, feeling the hardened nipples throb and jut out yearningly. But at last the need to plunder her depths would become too great and I would ram myself into her as roughly as I could and make her gasp with shock as I drove in to my fullest extent and felt her eager channel contract hungrily around me. Then I would set about really fucking her, not making love, I wasn't interested in that and neither was she. She needed to be taken and possessed by her master. I rammed myself into her violently and she pushed back with her hips till we were slapping hard against each other, Brat would cry out hoarsely at each impact and beg me to go harder. Then suddenly Sonia's hand would be on my back, feeling its way down to my anus before her fingers pushed their way in and drove me ever more fiercely into Brat until at last I felt myself begin to pump so hard it was as if I was emptying my whole body into hers. She would arch up into me, frozen  rigid on a peak of ecstasy as my seed splashed out in her very depths. Then for a moment we would all three lie gasping in the wake of the orgasms before I would send Brat off to curl up in Sonia's huge basket or sometimes I would tie Sonia up to the posts at the foot of the bed and leave her there while I took Brat again, usually from the rear, and listened to her frustrated moaning as Brat writhed and shook under the assaults of my rod going deep into her stomach this time.

      By day Brat wore her maid's costume again and her pride and new-found security in her identity was clearly visible in the way she held herself and the care with which she served me. I began to count the days before I could beat her again, her whole demeanour invited it. At each meal I would run my hands up the smooth pillars of her thighs as she stood beside me, and lift the tiny skirt to fondle the perfect globes of her buttocks. Sometimes I would eat with one hand while with the other I would penetrate her with one finger, then two and work them inside her until a third finger could slide up. All the time I would talk to Sonia about this and that, casually withdraw the fingers while Brat sobbed with disappointment, and when I was ready, start again. If I was in a good mood I would work at her until she came and had to hold onto my chair to steady herself, before licking my fingers clean, but more often I let her suffer until I had finished my meal. Then I would order her to her knees and let her take me in her mouth while Sonia and I commented on her performance. We assessed how well or otherwise her lips opened and ran lovingly down my shaft, how carefully her tongue lapped across the slit at its tip and how many inches she got into her throat before she swallowed every drop of my emission after she had settled down to the slow nodding rhythm which inevitably produced it. If Sonia felt she didn't perform up to scratch she noted it down for punishment once she was ready for beating again.

      After what seemed like weeks the day of her first public test arrived. Sonia had been shopping and bought her a dress which Brat was dying to see, let alone wear. I had her strip after breakfast that day and looked critically at her, she was ready alright, there wasn't a mark on her anywhere. I had her turn slowly around in front of me and admired the smooth clearness of her skin, not a trace of a bruise left on her. Brat smiled broadly as we shamelessly admired her.

      "You're ready to take a good thrashing again Brat." I told her.

      "Yes Sir." She replied quite calmly.

      "And you'll get one today. But it won't be from me."

      She was facing me, the sunlight flooding across her from the morning-room window, the perfection of her nakedness and her quiet acceptance of her next bout of punishment all contrived to make her utterly desirable. But now she shifted a little, putting her hands behind her back and lowering her eyes respectfully.

      "May I ask who's going to do it Sir?"  I heard Sonia's breath drawn in sharply at this impertinence.

      "That's none of your business Brat." I reminded her. "Put her down for ten strokes of the cane Miss Jacobson, as soon as she's ready for them." I saw Brat's head drop, either in shame or despair. "However, if you accept double the punishment; I'll tell you," I said. Poor Brat, she was desperate to know who was going to beat her today, but should she settle for ten strokes and stay in suspense or take twenty and find out? We could see her struggling with herself, but suddenly she looked up, bold and flushed.

      "If I take double, will you administer them Sir?"

      I had to laugh. She'd turned it beautifully. She knew I couldn't resist beating her, and she wanted me to. This way she got some of her own terms.

      "All right, I'll beat you." I said. "But the truth is I don't know who's going to beat you today. They're total strangers."

      She laughed in her turn. I hadn't told her anything, and it had cost her a serious punishment to find out that much. But twenty strokes of the cane would be a long session, and we both knew we were looking forward to it.

      Jim wouldn't tell me what Phil had arranged, or what he himself had told anyone about Brat and what I did to her. All I knew was that Phil was closing the pub that afternoon except for a few 'guests'. He more or less opened and closed when he felt like it so no-one commented.

      All morning Brat was on tenterhooks. She was desperate to get dressed. The maid's costume was all she'd worn for weeks and now she couldn't wait to wear normal clothes again and go out. And go out with me for the first time as Brat.

      Finally Sonia took her upstairs to get ready and I waited impatiently for them both to come down. After nearly an hour Sonia returned grinning widely and ushered in Brat.

      She looked devastating in a short red sundress. It had a halter neck and the lycra in the material made it cling to every curve of her breasts and lovingly outline her nipples, while her broad shoulders were left bare. The short skirt was pleated like a tennis skirt, the sort that looks stunning on long legged girls. On her feet she wore matching red, strappy sandals with thin four inch heels. Sonia gestured for her to turn, and I couldn't help giving a long low whistle of appreciation as she did so. It was virtually backless, the front of the dress swooped down at her sides to nothing more than a  band of material above the back of the skirt. A band which was tight enough to emphasise the flare of her hips. Above it her long muscular back was exposed while below it her buttocks pushed at the pleats of the skirt and invited a hand to press and feel their firmness. She laughed in pure delight when she heard my reaction and gave me a flirtatious twirl which spun the skirt up enough for me to see that of course she was naked underneath. I had to make a real effort not to start in on her myself, there and then.

      It was strange to think that I knew every inch of that body by now, either to stroke, to penetrate or to beat. And yet cover it up just a little, and I was desperate to go exploring all over again.

When we arrived at the pub, Jim was waiting for us. His eyes devoured Brat as she climbed out of the car, and although she lowered her eyes, she didn't flinch from his gaze although she must have known he was going to be one of the main players in whatever the afternoon held for her. Oddly enough despite the cruelty with which he had treated her, he held the door open politely and respectfully for her. Inside the pleasantly furnished lounge bar there was a group of men all sitting round a table, and Phil was behind the bar. They were not all Jim's mates, or at least ones I'd met, and there were about ten of them. Our entrance was greeted with silence and all eyes tracked Brat as we walked to the bar stools which Jim pointed to. They were positioned so that the men were behind us as we took our seats. And I couldn't help noticing on my left, as Brat settled herself, that she managed to flick her skirt out behind her so that her naked buttocks were in contact with the stool and the skirt fell prettily behind her. It was done very neatly but the men behind her must have caught a fleeting glimpse of what was on offer. I smiled proudly at her and remembered how Laura would have done something like that only to tease. But Brat would follow through. She smiled back at me and I realised that she had turned 'it' on again. Suddenly she was radiating rampant sexuality from every pore of her skin. Even a careless gesture to toss her hair back behind her shoulders had my pulse racing. In front of me I could see that Phil was feeling the effects. But what she was doing to the men behind was anybody's guess, they had a full view of her almost naked back and the smooth swell of her hips. Jim leaned against the bar beside us and looked at his mates with a 'told you so' grin.

      Phil asked us what we would like to drink, I had a pint and I ordered an orange juice for Brat. She hadn't had any alcohol for weeks and I didn't want her getting drunk now. Relaxed conversation started up again behind us while Phil served us and then he stood directly in front of Brat, his huge hands splayed on the bar while he stared thoughtfully at her

      "So this is the young lady who's entertaining us eh?"

      "And she's not the first by a long chalk neither," Jim added.

      "That's right," Phil agreed. "There's quite a few of us round here that likes things the way Jim says you've got 'em set up at the house Mr Masterson."

      "I'm delighted to hear it." I replied, "and it explains Jim's aptitude in certain areas."

      That got a laugh from behind us, and a deep blush from Brat. Jim slapped her playfully on the back.

      "Don't look so bashful girl. You're one of the best! And I 've told 'em so."

      "What exactly have you got planned Phil?" I asked.

      "Well now, you want to see if you've got your girl here trained up right, yes?"

      I nodded.

      "Right, well we've got a special function room upstairs. Specially for when we have one of our gatherings. Now if you want her to go through with it, I'll have Ruth take your girl up there and get her ready."

      I glanced across at Brat who was sitting perfectly still, looking down at her hands which were clasped in her lap     . Ruth had come in and was standing beside Phil. In this company I noted she had her hands behind her back and her eyes were lowered.

      "Brat, go with Ruth and do exactly what you're told." I said.

      It seemed to me as though there was some relief in the way she looked up and said "Yes Sir!" Whatever was going to happen to her was going to happen soon, and she was glad that things were at last getting under way. She slipped off her stool and again managed to make the skirt ride up behind her as she did so. Again there was a glimpse for the men behind her. So like and yet so unlike Laura.

      Ruth came round from behind the bar and the two women left, Brat following and I think every man's eyes were on her swaying buttocks and long thighs as she walked out.

      "Believe me lads, she's every bit as good as she looks!" Jim said at last to general laughter.

       I was introduced to everyone and then after a few minutes chatting, Phil said it was time to make our way upstairs.

      The special function room was built over the old stables and wooden pillars and beams supported the roof. It was a long room at the far end of which was the bar, in front of it trestle tables and benches stood here and there, and in the centre of the room was a large square of vinyl flooring. Phil informed me that this was where they held the mud wrestling tournaments. But I had little time to take all this in because Ruth had been busy. She herself had stripped to just a skimpy little thong which set off her well rounded figure and framed a lovely pair of plump buttocks. But it was Brat who captured eveyone's attention. She too was naked and Ruth had mounted her on a bar stool. Her wrists were tied together and her arms were pulled up above her by a chain which hung from one of the beams. Her legs hung down either side of the seat and as I approached I saw that the seat itself was oval, the long sides had had half moon shaped indentations cut in them to accommodate her thighs. But there were two other oddities which set the stool apart from normal ones. Firstly it had no cross members between the legs for Brat to rest her feet on and secondly, when I looked more closely still I could see that she was impaled on a dildo which jutted up from the seat and in front of it the wood had been carved into little ridges and bumps which were obviously designed to stimulate the clitoris.

      We could all see the way in which her labia had been peeled apart by the shaft which looked to be of impressive proportions and sure enough the pink of her inner lips was being pulled down onto the clit ticklers by her own weight. The men immediately gathered around her and began stroking the prominent globes of her breasts, running their hands over her buttocks and some bent down to push her sex lips apart even further to examine her more intimately. But Phil still had something else in store for her.

      "Now I know we're all keen to get going so I propose we use these." He said, and bent down to lift something up from behind the bar. A roar of approval met the objects which he thumped down onto the counter. They were old fashioned cast iron weights with leather straps tied to the rings at their tops. Up till then Brat had been silent but as soon as she saw them she began moaning, "Oh sweet Jesus no not that!"

      Phil just laughed and went over to her carrying them. "Oh yes my pretty. They'll get you nicely warmed up." He told her, and then bent to tie the weights around her ankles. I was most impressed, I really hadn't expected such ingenuity, but then of course Jim was involved and I was learning to respect him quite a lot. As Phil straightened up he reached under the seat and must have flicked some kind of switch because immediately there was a buzzing noise. I was delighted. Brat was impaled on a huge vibrator onto which her own weight as well as those attached to her ankles were pulling her. She began moaning almost straightaway while Ruth began pouring drinks and we settled down to watch. The only way Brat could relieve the pressure was by hauling herself up by her arms and we saw them tense as she lifted herself. But of course she couldn't hold out for long and had to sink back, thus sliding the length of her vagina up and down the shaft of the vibrator. The result was inevitable. Again and again we watched her haul herself up and sink back, each time her moans became more and more desperate as the vibrator churned away, and something that size had to be stuffing her right up to the neck of her womb. When she rose off it I could see the girth of the thing, now gleaming with the juices of the sex which was contracting hungrily around it. Her arms were beginning to tremble with the strain but her urgency wouldn't let her stop. She was almost shouting as the ecstasy gathered, her head rolling from side to side and at last she came in a huge shuddering spasm which for a moment left her exhausted.

      "We'll let her have a couple more and then move on," Phil told me. Brat must have heard because she tried to raise her head and say something, but the vibrator was remorseless and her clitoris was still jammed down onto the nubs of wood. All that came from her was a groan and then she was off again. This time she started by grinding her hips down fiercely, rubbing herself hard against the ticklers but soon she was back to bouncing up and down on the shaft. The men shouted encouragement and cheered when she broke for the second time, her shouts and cries echoing round the room. She stayed still for much longer after the second orgasm and managed a desperate plea for mercy before the machine inside her, still buzzing away relentlessly, began to have its inevitable effect. This last time she made a valiant effort to lift herself right off the shaft and was cheered on, but when at last she had to fall back, the depth of the penetration knocked the wind out of her. At the same time though it set her off again and she writhed and wriggled her way to a devastating crescendo which left her barely conscious and clearly at the end of her tether. In fact when Phil lifted her off the stool at last she could hardly stand and reeled drunkenly into the waiting arms of the man behind her. But of course there was no relief there and I saw his hand plunge in between the gaping lips of her still spasming sex and begin to work at her. With his other hand he had to hold her upright while he did so.

      All Brat could do was whimper quietly.

      "Give her a couple of minutes and then we'll really get her fired up," Phil said. I was consumed with curiosity, if Brat wasn't already 'fired up' in their eyes, what on earth did they have in store for her next?

      I would never have guessed. They gave her nearly ten minutes to recover, passing her around but not really testing her, then Phil brought her over to stand at the bar. She was pretty dishevelled by now but could at least walk again. He turned her so that her back was to the counter and told her to spread her legs. She gave a small groan of despair but then caught my eye and did as she was told. Phil anchored her with straps, mounted in the wood, at ankles and mid-thigh, holding her legs tight against the front of the bar, her feet spread about a yard apart. Then he had her bend forward and clipped her wrists to a chain which ran through a pulley mounted on a beam and which hung down behind her. At his order Ruth tightened this by pulling down on the end which hung down beside her. Brat was forced even further forward, bending sharply over at the waist, her arms held painfully up behind her. I always enjoyed the sight of Brat bending over but just couldn't see what Phil had in mind. So while Ruth anchored the chain behind the bar I strolled over to have a look at what Phil was doing. He was squatting down and examining something between her legs when I joined him. Brat was bent sharply over at right angles, so that the entrances to her sex and her anus were pushed hard against the front of the bar. Phil reached between her legs and pushed the little bush of her pubes out of his way. And once he had done so I could see that two holes had been cut in the wood, right behind her entrances.

      "Ruth!" He shouted, "pull us a pint!" All the beer pumps were of the proper hand pull variety and as Ruth pulled one back, two steel rods moved forwards out of the holes and went straight into Brat. She yelped as they rammed into both her passages but couldn't move. Each time Ruth let the pump handle up the rods retreated, and each time she pulled it back they speared out again. Brat wriggled frantically but was pinned against the bar and utterly helpless. I was most impressed, and immediately ordered myself a pint, which Ruth began to pull while giving me a broad smile.

      "There's more yet!" she told me and yanked hard on the handle so that it reached the bottom of its arc. A loud scream came from Brat and for a second she went rigid then she was begging desperately for mercy. She babbled away incoherently and I was puzzled until Jim told me that he had rigged things so that every time the pump handles were pulled right down they completed a circuit and electrified the rods inside her.

      As a way of persuading punters to consume beer, it was the best I'd ever seen.

      "Ruth here passed out four times before I got the current adjusted right." He informed me proudly. He was having to speak quite loudly now to make himself heard over Brat's shrieks every time someone ordered a pint and then her outraged scream whenever Ruth pulled hard on the pumps. Of course she never knew when that would be and tried in vain to crane her head round to see it coming. But the men had other ideas, the sight of her long legs spread out so invitingly and her body bent so conveniently forward to bring her mouth to waist height, was just too good to resist. One after the other they opened their trousers and freed their rigid members. And I watched as time after time thick rods of flesh were pushed between her lips for her to suck at while the steel rods pistoned in and out of her other entrances. I noticed Ruth was careful not to give her a shock until whichever man she was pleasuring had finished with her. And just as she was struggling to swallow the last of his emission and getting her breath back, a jolt would send her rigid once again. I counted six times she opened her mouth obediently and took in her usual impressive amount of rampant cock. Every now and then her eyes would bulge and her cheeks puff out round the shaft in her mouth as the rods invaded her from behind. After that it became impossible to tell whether or not her writhings, screams and moans were of pain or pleasure, but in any case it didn't matter because she passed out. And as Phil lowered her limp form to the floor she got a generous round of applause which I acknowledged on her behalf.

      Meanwhile Ruth had placed on the bar counter a fine array of whips and crops.

      "She's a strong girl," she told me, "they don't usually last that long."

      I was pleased at the compliment but before I could reply Phil came and chased her round to my side of the counter with a resounding smack on her backside. "Where's your manners girl? Ask Mr Masterson which one he wants to use on you!"

      Now the sight of Brat being so unusually tested coupled with the sight of Ruth's ample breasts swaying and moving as she served beer, had given me an erection of monumental hardness. So as she came round the bar I pulled her to me to cup and fondle a luxuriant mound of breast. She leaned against me to make it easier for me to pull and tweak at her rock hard nipple, and must have felt the bulge in my trousers because she went onto tip toe and whispered in my ear.

      "My master would be very offended if you didn't help yourself Sir."

      Only a fool would risk offending a man of Phil's proportions, so I had her wriggle out of her thong and bend over one of the more conventional stools. It was immediately apparent that she too had enjoyed Brat's torment, from the hollow at the top of her thighs a pair of thoroughly engorged and plumply open labia invited me. I slid three fingers of one hand in between them and found them to be every bit as moist and soft as they had looked. Her clitoris was rigidly erect and protruding from its protective hood of pink inner lips, while the channel of her vagina was flooding with the juices of excitement and impatience. I released my imprisoned member and with a sigh of contentment sank it into her. She began to gyrate her hips and grind them against me but I made no move in return, happy enough for the moment to enjoy the gentle yet insistent movement along the length of my shaft. However, I soon became aware that there were others who needed similar relief and obligingly I began thrusting myself in and out, waiting for the irresistible spasms to begin building right at the very roots of my sex. And by the time they did Ruth was moaning and hanging on to the front legs of the stool to thrust herself back at me. I went at it harder until I was slapping against her and she was answering each impact with a cry of abandoned joy, and at the last she  locked into a trembling spasm as I erupted deep inside her and held her by her hips till I was completely emptied.

      For the next half hour or so Ruth did a sterling job of standing in for Brat. Most of the men were still in urgent need and she stayed bent over her stool while she took them one after the other until she could hardly register an orgasm anymore, just jerk and shudder under the continual assaults of the steel hard erections pushed carelessly into whichever entrance took their owners' fancy. Her arms and head hung down limply and swung like those of an unstrung puppet while the soft pillows of her buttocks rippled in response to the repeated thrusts of the men behind her. Once they had finished taking her, I was asked to give her the crop and I did so gladly, making the full mounds of buttock flesh quiver and tremble again until she achieved one more devastating climax.

      At last we were all sated, at least for the moment, and she was able to pull herself up and go to attend to Brat who was beginning to stir. I was impressed by Ruth's ability to recover so quickly from a serial shagging of such epic proportions plus a dozen or so lashes from the crop. As I watched her walk over to Brat I could see gleaming trails of semen streaking her thighs and her well-whipped bottom.

      Phil was watching her proudly. "She can take it all night that one. Whip or prick, don't make no odds to her."

      It certainly didn't seem to. She helped Brat up and Phil gave them both a stiff shot of scotch while our libidos began to rev up again. Various whips were swished and cracked in  the air and we discussed our preferences for the speed or slowness with which they marked the recipient.

      Phil and his friends approached delivering a flogging with the same inventiveness they had displayed all afternoon. When we were all ready to start again they had the girls form what they called 'The Mirror'. They were chained together, spread-eagled and face to face between two of the pillars while from behind each girl a man wielded a whip, turn and turn about. This had the delightful effect of increasing the excitement each girl derived from the whipping as her opposite number's body was pushed against her own at each lash. Quite soon we were treated to a fine sight of female sexual frenzy as they tried to grind their hips together and rub their breasts across each others' to heighten the stimulation being provided by the whips cracking over their backs and shoulders. They moaned and cried out continually, a sharp gasp as the whip smacked down, followed by groans and grunts of frustrated desire as they tried to press against each other harder and harder. I counted at least forty lashes for each girl before Phil gave me a knowing wink and ordered them taken down. Once they were free of their restraints the girls went at it in earnest, writhing and entwining on the carpet, hands delving between legs, mouths seeking out nipples and breasts, until at last they lay head to toe, Brat on top, and brought each other to frantic climaxes with their tongues and fingers.

      By that time of course, every man in the room was up for it again. Ruth was laid out on her back on a table and I was fortunate enough to be standing at her head. It hung down over the edge and in an instant I had my shaft sunk deep into her throat while at her other end Jim was plunging himself into her sex. Between us her body writhed and shook in answer to the two rhythms which pounded at her, neither wanting subtlety, just release. We achieved it about the same time and so did Ruth, her back arched as her hips rocked and she gave a muffled groan around the rod of muscle which stuffed her mouth and which was pumping seed right into her throat. She spluttered on some of it and as I withdrew I left streaks on her face and finished by wiping myself dry in her hair.

      Over on my right, Brat was bent over, her legs spread wide apart and her mouth full of Phil. No mean feat that, I could see the size of him as he went in and out. He held her arms stretched out to either side of her while her bottom was being steadily caned by another man. And I was pleased to note that she kept her legs straight and even rose onto tiptoe to meet the cane as it swished down. Somehow she was still managing little whimpers and gasps around the monstrous shaft in her mouth as the cane sliced into her, leaving neat stripes at each lash.

      We all put in a good afternoon's work that day, leaving Brat and Ruth vividly striped and utterly exhausted. When we called a halt they were stretched out on the floor, both of them limp and motionless, sticky trails of semen seeping out of every orifice. The last I had seen of Brat being taken, she had three up at once. She was riding a man who lay beneath her, while a second man knelt behind and was penetrating her anus, while a third was using her mouth. Phil surveyed the wrecked girls,

      "She's a good'un Mr Masterson," he said, to universal agreement. "I'd say you've got her well trained up."

      He hauled Ruth to her feet and told her to take Brat to their own quarters and shower. We would wait for them downstairs.

      By now it was almost time for Phil to open up for the regular, and more usual, customers, but there was still enough time left to talk over the afternoon and for me to buy drinks all round while I was congratulated on Brat's performance. I was cordially invited to bring her along to their next gathering - Jim would tell me when it was to be - there was mud wrestling on the agenda and everyone, me included, wanted to see how Brat measured up to the local talent.

      But before the doors opened, Phil had one more trick up his sleeve. He picked up a remote control unit and flicked on the television, which I had thought was there purely for things like football matches, but to my delight it showed Ruth and Brat in the shower. There was a raucous cheer as we all saw that they hadn't been quite as exhausted as we'd thought. In fact they were taking full advantage of the opportunity to continue their acquaintance - and become more intimate.

      "Sorry there's a slight flicker on the picture Mr Masterson, but Jim and I had to mount the camera behind the vent fan. Even Ruth don't know it's there."

      We spent a happy time watching them both embracing and enjoying each other, as well as offering helpful advice on how they could do things better. Although to judge by the noises Ruth made when Brat knelt down in front of her and began to use her tongue between her legs, she was doing all right anyway. There was a groan of disappointment when Ruth reluctantly shepherded Brat out of the shower to dress.

      The television went off and I was sworn to secrecy while we waited for the girls to come down, Phil opened the pub and the evening customers began to drift in.

      When at last Brat and Ruth did appear, perhaps walking a little carefully, but otherwise looking very flushed and happy, I saw that Ruth had lent Brat a blazer which just fitted her and which hid the stripes on her back. So we were able to stay for a while and enjoy the company. I even let Brat have a brandy and soda and she conducted herself with becoming modesty until it was time for us to go and address Mrs Jenkins' supper.

      I let Brat link my arm as we strolled to the car, and as soon as I had handed her in and was settling myself behind the wheel, she flung her arms round my neck. She buried her face against my shoulder and filled my nostrils with the perfume of her hair while she pressed herself against me. I was frankly shocked at this behaviour but she only gave a throaty little chuckle when I remonstrated.

      "I've got twenty with the cane coming, perhaps you'd better add some more on."

      "I'll be glad to." I told her.

      She laughed again and kissed me, her soft lips pressing against mine and her tongue playing along the insides of them before delving into my mouth quite shamelessly until I pulled away, startled at this wanton passion. Her bewitching grey eyes stared straight into mine and she smiled. "You know the only thing I didn't love about today?" She asked.

      "Tell me."

      "They don't use the whip as hard as you do Sir."

      However she did it, she had turned 'it' on again, my heart skipped a beat as I caught the full blast of her sexuality from point blank range. And I had to struggle for a moment before I could reply evenly, " then we'll double up again to forty. You can take it over two days."

      "Yes Sir!" She said with unabashed eagerness.

      Suddenly it was very urgent that I got her home.

18.

Over dinner that night I gave Sonia a graphic account of how Brat had performed and although she listened carefully and smiled warmly at Brat as she served us, there was a quietness about her.

      To my cost I ignored it.

      Later that night I got a phone call from London and events were put in train which would alter the lives of all three of us for ever.

      I knew that Brat was mine, heart, soul, and most importantly, body. And that would have been fine but for this deal with Sam. I knew that when he tried to reclaim her there would be appeals to Laura. And before I felt safe putting her to that trial I felt that Brat herself needed a way of finally burying Laura. Therefore it had to be something she herself volunteered for; it couldn't be a command from me.

      The following day I summoned her to the lounge and she appeared in her maid's uniform, wiping her hands on a cloth and explaining that Mrs Jenkins was teaching her to make pastry. I burst out laughing at the thought of Laura Andreotti up to her elbows in flour, and being proud of it. She snorted and giggled herself before coming to kneel beside me and listen to what I had to tell her. For some seconds after I had finished speaking she looked down, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully, before looking up again, quiet and determined.

      "I need to do it don't I Sir?"

      "I can't answer that directly Brat," I said, letting my fingers trail over the mounds of her breasts where the bodice of the little dress pushed them up. "But I will say that I have no desire to be Laura's master; only Brat's. And I'm afraid that this one last time Brat will have to make a decision. After that you have my word that I will decide everything for Brat. Laura will finally have gone."

      I hated myself for doing this to her but I had to be sure, and she had to face down Laura once and for all. She took my hand and kissed it. I had seen the look of bitter regret that had crossed her face when I told her that her caning would have to wait, but that she would get it eventually, and now she was kissing the hand which would wield the cane, then and for ever after.

      "I'll take that as a 'yes'," I said.

      Sonia looked on gravely and said nothing.

      Two days later the three of us pulled into a small yard in Soho. I was taking a risk coming back to London but I still had Darren's car which I was sure hadn't been spotted, I had booked us into a small anonymous hotel and we would be back in Suffolk the following morning with no-one being the wiser.

      That was my plan.

      We had come to the restaurant in which Laura had so comprehensively embarrassed me all those weeks ago. Henri and I had arranged that it should be closed that night, only the staff would be there plus a few others. And these other guests were some of the young men whose pricks Laura had teased so mercilessly, and Henri had even traced the elderly attendant at the waxworks who Laura had so grossly insulted that day. Brat was going to make a public apology for having ever been Laura and accept whatever punishment was due. I was certain it would enable Brat draw a line under her past.

      She was dressed in a simple midnight blue, wrap-around dress. Under it her only clothing was hold up stockings and the elegance of her legs was set off by four inch heeled court shoes. She had pleaded for a blindfold, at least until they got started on her. But I ruled that she had to face everyone from the start. Her wrists were clipped together by restraints behind her back and I led her by a leash attached to her collar. Our guests awaited us in the smaller dining room, the one Henri only opened for private parties. They sat at tables ranged round the walls, bottles of wine were already opened and several were already empty. Mostly there were men but some of the waitresses were there, and I was sure they would be the harshest. A woman of Brat's beauty and wealth frequently provokes envy and resentment among her own sex, especially when she behaves as Laura had.

      Conversations stopped as we entered and all eyes turned on Brat who looked down hastily but nevertheless squared her shoulders and stood quietly when I brought her to a halt in the middle of the room.

      "This wretch, who was a disgrace to her sex, has something to say to you all," I announced.

      I freed her wrists and stood back. For some time she rubbed at them absently, still looking down, but at last she faced the room.

      "I insulted everyone here. I was rude, arrogant and cowardly. I took advantage of my position and I'm sorry. I know better now and only wish to make amends in any way you please." She glanced over at me and continued,"in any way at all. I am at your disposal."

      Henri was the first to break the silence. "There are glasses waiting to be filled girl. So fill them."

      And so it began.

      I took a seat and watched as Brat took everything that Laura had earned. For some time they kept her scurrying to and fro pouring wine but once Henri had run his hand up her thigh and under her dress as she bent over to refill his glass, the flood gates were down. In a matter of minutes she had been ordered to strip and had done so. Now she was yanked here and there by her leash, and at every table hands roved up between her legs and over her breasts. Enough wine had gone down to make some of the waitresses angry at the men's admiration of Brat and several blouses were undone and men invited to; 'have a feel of that then! She's not so special!'

      Henri let things go on until the second man had bent Brat over a table and rammed himself into her. Then he stood up and called for quiet.

      "Ladies and Gentlemen!" He called. "Let us not forget that the lady is here not only to give pleasure but to receive punishment."

      Brat had straightened up once the man had finished with her and now that Henri had said his piece she knew what she had to do. Slowly she made her way over to him and took the strap he was holding out to her. She let it drape across her palms and returned to the centre of the room, naked apart from the dark stockings and her collar and restraints. Slowly she turned to face each table holding out the strap. At first there was an embarrassed silence at this blatant invitation to thrash her, but then a chair scraped back and the elderly gentleman from the waxworks stood up and came forward. He calmly took the strap from her, wound it once round his right fist and ordered her to bend over. She turned away from him, obediently spread her legs and bent right over until she could grasp her ankles, her hair falling onto the floor.

      "When I grew up young lady, we knew what to expect for conduct like yours."

      And with no further word he gave her six resounding lashes. There were little shrieks, half of excitement and half of horror from some of the women as the strap whistled down and smacked across Brat's taut buttocks. But from Brat there was silence, although I could see her gritting her teeth at each lash. Small waves ran through the soft flesh as the strap left its fiery swathes on the pale skin. But Brat never flinched and accepted each loud Whack! as no more than was due her. When he had finished the man laid the strap along her back so that it dangled down between her wide open legs, the leather just tickling the lips of her sex which were oozing semen. In silence he collected his coat and left. Brat remained where she was; no-one had told her to move.

      I looked around in amusement at the expressions of lust, horror and curiosity on people's faces. But soon enough one young man stood up and picked up the strap. Brat took another six and this time there was enthusiastic counting, and finally a cheer when her control broke and she let out choked off gasps as the last three cracked across already inflamed skin. I noted that all the women were by now riveted by the spectacle.

      When she had taken twelve she was allowed up and resumed her waitressing. But now she was slowed down by the men at each table wanting to take their pleasure with her. She would fill a glass and then have to go down on her knees to suck at an erect sex which was in urgent need of relief after the sight of her willing submission to punishment. She knew that others would get impatient and I could see her head going up and down rapidly as she tried to encourage a discharge as fast as possible. But however hard she tried the impatience grew and so did the severity of the demands on her. Soon she was being laid on her back on the tables while she took one man in her mouth and another thrust into her sex. All the men were astonished and delighted to find her labia peeled wide open for them and her vagina moist and willing. The realisation that she had enjoyed her thrashing inevitably drove them on.

      "Hold her arms!" one cried once one pair had finished pumping their seed into her at both ends.

      "I'll get her legs!" another volunteered. And in a few seconds they had Brat stretched tight between them while a third man swished the strap over her.

      "Let's see if she likes this!" He said and let fly. Brat grunted as it cracked down across her stomach and tried to writhe but they pulled harder and she couldn't. Of course once the man with the strap had experienced the thrill of beating the lovely body stretched out for him, there was no stopping him. And inevitably the smooth hills of her breasts rising from her ribs attracted his attention.

      Crack! Crack! Crack! In swift succession the blows rained down on her, the width of the strap ensuring that her erect nipples caught the full impact. I saw her back bow up off the table and freeze fior a second before the first scream escaped her. This delighted the men.

      Crack! Crack! Crack!  Brat gave herself up to shrieks as more blows crashed across her making the breasts judder and shake.

      One of the men watching suggested she might need cooling down and poured some wine onto her, which ran off the slopes in shining trails. But the man wielding the strap wasn't finished and delivered three more. This time the strap smacked down wetly and threw up a fine mist. Then Henri intervened to say that others were waiting, so reluctantly they allowed Brat up and she staggered off to attend to another group. The men, and one woman, at this table thought she might be thirsty, pushed her down on her back again and while one man lifted her legs high in the air, the woman emptied a bottle of wine into her vagina. When they stood her upright again inevitably it poured out of her.

      "Ungrateful cow! Bend her over the table lads and give her some more strap!" the woman called.

      Once again the strap swished through the air and made resounding contact with Brat, but this time it was on the backs of her thighs, right up at the join with her buttocks and aimed to land across the lips which were trickling wine and semen mixed. Again a fine spray went up at each impact. And even though they had her firmly pinned down on the table I saw Brat doing a frenzied little jig to try and diffuse the pain. I could almost feel how it would be building up in her, blinding her, filling her until finally she would break and it would consume her in a flood of ecstasy.

      The air was getting thick with smoke, some of the waitresses were now half naked themselves and writhing in embraces with men who were probably total strangers. Brat's abused buttocks were glowing under the continual rain of blows and finally she stopped jigging and went rigid. Her screams turned suddenly to moans, the women in the room watched in amazement as a spasm ran through the whole of her body and she gasped in pure joy as the pain and pleasure of submission reached their peak and toppled her into devastating orgasm.

      Calmly, Henri moved her on to another group and I decided to take some air. Everything was going to plan. Brat would be satisfied that the people here were punishing her enough for her offences as Laura and she would be happy to live as Brat in the security of her slavery from now on. I opened the front door and stepped out onto the cool street. At first I didn't realise why that was odd, but then it struck me; the restaurant was closed, so why was the front door open. As this thought occurred to me I stopped in my tracks and it was probably all that saved both me and Brat. Because from just ahead of me, in another doorway came the sound of Sonia's voice. She was talking into a mobile phone and reporting our exact whereabouts.

       "Yes," she said finally, "I'll wait right here for you Mr Hoffmeyer."

      How could I have been that stupid?

      Easy. It was the same reason I hadn't noticed her slip away from me upstairs.

      I was so bound up in Brat.

      Of course Sonia wasn't about to share me with Brat. She knew there was no way I would let her dominate Brat as much as she wanted. I wanted Brat too much for myself, she had become a threat to her. And she knew all about my deal with Sam as well as the fact that others were after Brat now. She was removing the threat to the lifestyle she enjoyed.

      Very quietly I slipped back to the restaurant door, eased it open and then bolted it from the inside again. It wasn't much but it would hold for a minute. Back upstairs there was an orgy on a Roman scale in progress.

      I looked around desperately for Brat, but at first couldn't see her. At last I spotted her legs with their tattered remains of stockings, I went closer and found that she was lying on her back under a naked woman who was sitting on her face and rubbing herself backwards and forwards. She was heavily built with big, low-slung breasts. And as she moved on Brat's face she made them swing and joggle. A man was holding Brat's legs raised and spread while another was lashing her open crotch with the strap. I could see her stomach writhe at each slap of leather on her flesh and her hips buck and rotate to invite the next one. Her hands roved over the folds of the woman's body as she ground her sex down onto her mouth.

      "Whip her faster!" the woman gasped. "She loves it!"

      The man with the strap really laid into Brat then and both she and the woman locked into orgasm at the same time. Fortunately the two men wanted to take the woman next rather than Brat, and while the threesome set about finding a way for one man to penetrate her anally while the other had her from the front. Brat managed to regain her feet. I had to allow myself a second to stare at her. She was completely transported. Her body shone with sweat, semen, wine and vaginal fluid. Fresh weals fanned out from between her open legs to cross with others striping her hips, buttocks and breasts, but she was eagerly scanning the room to find someone who hadn't punished or enjoyed her; or both.

      She was Brat rampant. Free at last; free to go wherever her master's hand guided her and to explore every experience he could expose her to. She looked magnificent; no-holds- barred-sex personified.

      Without even realising she was doing it while she looked round, she raised one hand to her soaking chin, wiped it and sucked her fingers, while her other hand made its way to her crotch and began to rub urgently at her clitoris.

      I could have watched her all night but I had to get us both away. There was no time for her to clean herself up, I just dragged her by the arm, grabbed her dress on the way out and dived for the back stairs, up which we had entered. Thankfully everyone was so fully engaged that no-one saw us go. And as we pounded downstairs I even heard the strap start cracking down on someone again.

      Down in the yard I only gave her time to wrap the dress round herself before I bundled her into the car and pulled out into the London traffic heading for home.

      As soon as Brat had any breath she immediately wanted to know what was going on and I thought about telling her. But it occurred to me that she would find out next morning anyway, and she could hear it from the horse's mouth. It couldn't be any longer than that now. When Hoffmeyer showed up at the restaurant and he and Sonia found us gone, there was only one place we could be, and I had faith now that it was the right time for Brat to hear everything. The willingness with which she had accepted Laura's punishments told me everything. There were just one or two emergency arrangements to make.

      Brat slept most of the way, quite happy to leave everything in my hands. And although it was late when we finally arrived home I raced for the phone and got a rather befuddled Jim out of bed. But a few minutes talking had him alert enough and at last I allowed myself to sleep next to Brat in my bed. The next day would bring what it would, I had made all the preparations that could be made. From here on it was up to Brat herself. I knew I had promised her no more decisions but there was no help for it now.

      They arrived at about ten the next morning. I had sent Brat up to the office and ushered my guests into the lounge. Sam was there, looking rather sheepish and accompanied by two very heavy looking types who stuck close to him. Hoffmeyer was there and the man who had tried to accost me at the office, plus one or two others who all looked as though they'd been chiselled out of the same block of granite. But thank God Sonia wasn't with them.

      As I sat down in my chair I activated the control under its arm which would allow Brat to see and hear everything from the office.

      I won't bore you with a full account of that meeting. It was bad tempered and abusive at times. The main thing to come out of it was why everyone was so keen on finding Laura. It turned out that when Sam had married her mother, who was very rich, he was in dire financial straits, she had lent him money and it had been returned to her estate in due course. However since they divorced and she had died Laura was the sole beneficiary of her will and Sam was once again in financial trouble. He was a wizard at juggling the books to make himself appear much more wealthy than he really was. The only way he could pay Hoffmeyer and Co. off was to get Laura to sign her inheritance over to him. Hence he had asked me to make her obedient, it was a last desperate gamble.

      I knew Brat would be watching and listening in horror to the story of how she'd been bought and sold, so I decided it was time I told her how I felt.

      "Things have changed Sam," I said, "Brat. . . I mean Laura, stays here now of her own free will. I admit we had a deal but now I don't choose to honour it. My feelings have changed towards her Sam. And I would have said the same, even had things turned out as we planned and I knew nothing of what you've just told me."

      There was disbelief and uproar until eventually I made them see that the only thing to do was to ask Laura herself whether she wished to stay with me or go with Sam and do as he wanted her to.

      They searched the house from top to bottom. They searched the grounds inch by inch but there was no sign of Brat. I'd prepared an option for her and she'd taken it. I knew she would be feeling betrayed and devastated, but at least I had put her own future in her own hands. And it was obvious to everyone that this time I really did have no idea where Brat was.

      All I could do was wait. It was all any of us could do.

      Two long and miserable weeks passed. Reece and Mrs Jenkins conducted a war of silent retribution. They had been fond of her and let me know it. I even wandered down to the pub and asked Phil if he'd seen Jim. I'd had Jim waiting out at the back of the house, the morning of the meeting,  in case Brat wanted to escape. She obviously had and he was doing a good job of keeping her hidden. But if I could just talk to her. . . . I had never been reduced to such a position of weakness; and by a woman!

      Phil merely told me that Jim was on holiday and let his eyes slide to his right. I ordered a drink and unobtrusively looked in the direction he was indicating. A lone drinker sat with a newspaper. He was a stranger, and he was wearing a suit.

      I just had to wait.

      At long last I got a curious phone call from John at the Lodge. They were having an auction, he said, and I really should be there. Now I knew that every now and then one or two of the girls were sold on after they'd served a couple of years, but I didn't feel in the mood for looking at other girls. Even the thought of Marietta herself couldn't stir me. But John persisted until at last I caved in and said I'd attend. He laughed and assured me I wouldn't regret it before hanging up.

      The first people I saw when I rolled up at The Lodge were Sam and Sonia. She was hanging on his arm and smiling broadly at me. There was something triumphant in that smile and that worried me. Then I saw Hoffmeyer and his whole crew plus one or two real members of The Lodge. What was going on? No-one seemed to know; except possibly Sonia.

      We were shown into the room out at the back of the house where auctions normally take place and took our seats. Sonia couldn't resist turning and grinning at me again before John came onto the small stage and addressed us.

      "We have an unusual auction today. The merchandise herself has arranged it and will go to the highest bidder. I have my instructions as to what the asking price is and will conclude the auction when the right bid is received. You will be allowed, as normal, to see what you are bidding for. Then we will start the auction."

      There were confused murmurings and then the lights went down except for a spotlight and Ravel's Bolero began to play. Then the merchandise appeared.

      It was Laura.

      It wasn't Brat; it was Laura. I had thought she had finally gone for good, but she stood before us now. She was power dressed, just as I had first seen her, in a tailored suit and blouse. The short, tight skirt revealed a lot of the superb thighs and left you desperate to see more. Slowly, teasingly, eyeing her audience distainfully she sauntered towards the front of the stage, and began to strip.

      To spellbound silence from the audience, her jacket was eased off her shoulders and shed with a sensuous shrug of her shoulders. And as soon as it was flung clear of her arms we could all see that one wrist was handcuffed, the open cuff dangling free. Her skirt went next with blatant wrigglings of her gorgeous hips it slid slowly down the long legs and revealed that she was wearing a filmy pair of knickers which just covered her spectacular buttocks. The blouse and bra went, one by one until her breasts swung free and proud.

      And suddenly Brat was back.

      Wearing only knickers and high heels she spun and strutted, no longer distainful but oozing that kind of wild 'do anything you want with me' kind of sexual appetite I had seen in the restaurant. As the music moved towards its climax, she turned her back to us and eased the knickers down inch by inch until she was bending right over and displaying herself fully. Only then did she kick them away, straighten up and turn around, just as the music thundered to its peak and stopped. She stood with her legs wide apart while the spotlights played across her body and then, when there was complete silence, she brought her hands together in front of her open crotch and snapped the free handcuff closed around her other wrist.

      The message couldn't have been clearer. Here was the most exquisite of slaves; and she was looking for an owner.

      My mind raced as I looked around me. Hoffmeyer would bid, for her fortune and for her body. Sam would bid; for control of her. The other Lodge members would bid simply for possession. And I would bid because I had to have her. But surely I couldn't match bids with Hoffmeyer, or even Sam in reduced circumstances. My thoughts were confirmed when Sonia turned once more and grinned again. She must have known, but how?

      The bidding began. John started at one million dollars and within seconds he was up to three million. Sam and Hoffmeyer were bidding frantically against each other and by four million they were the only two in it. I hadn't raised my hand yet. I was thinking hard and desperately fast. Even if I sold everything I owned they could still outbid me. Brat must have known that, she'd been with Sam when he first thought about buying me out. What was she doing? Getting revenge on me for having done the deal about her with Sam?

      Possible, but more like Laura than Brat.

      Testing then; was that it? She'd heard me say that my feelings had changed for her, and now she wanted me to prove it, to prove that I had meant it? After all she had been betrayed by all of us, except me if I truly had meant what I had said. But still, how could I compete with Sam and Hoffmeyer, what did I have that they didn't?

      And then I laughed. I knew suddenly what I had. Clever Brat. She'd pushed me into a corner where I had to say what she wanted to hear. I had tamed her all right, better than I had realised. But still Brat could use her submissiveness as a weapon, just as Laura had used her femininity. Before she relinquished all control to me, she was going to force me to jump through one hoop for her.

      I raised my hand and shouted; "I bid nothing!"

      There was a shocked silence.

      John turned to the motionless figure of Brat. Was there just the faintest hint of a nod?

      "Can the gentleman explain that bid?" he asked.

      "Certainly," I said, standing up. "I bid nothing for this merchandise. Nothing but a life of utter slavery, nothing but living by her master's word. No choices, no freedom. Nothing but rules and punishments. Nothing but the security of knowing that her master will always be there to reward her or punish her. I bid nothing but that."

      She wanted a public admission from me that I wanted her.

      John looked across at Brat again and in the complete silence I saw Sonia gazing at me in horror. She understood.

      John turned back to the audience and banged his gavel. "Sold to the gentleman who  bid nothing."

      I ignored the outcry around me and walked to stand in front of the stage. Brat had still not moved and looked calmly down at me.

      "Just wait till I get you home!" I said.

      She smiled and held her arms out for me to lift her down. "Yes Sir," she whispered as I held her close.

19.

The next day, at my solicitor's office Brat signed over enough to get Sam off the hook and allow him to continue in business - albeit in a smaller way. It still left her enormously wealthy.

      And then we went back to Suffolk. While we drove in the Bentley she filled in the last two and a half weeks. As I'd thought, she had been devastated by what she'd overheard and hadn't known whether or not I was telling the truth. So she'd chosen to go with Jim while she sorted her thoughts out. He'd hidden her at a friend's house and pointed out to her that I wouldn't have made an escape route for her if I hadn't meant what I'd said. But she'd needed more reassurance after all that had happened and had come up with the auction idea. Eventually she had plucked up courage and rung Sonia to help her plan it, not letting on what the winning bid would be. That had encouraged Sonia to believe that she would be sold to Hoffmeyer and from there go out of my life and so she had helped her to set up the Lodge.

      Now, she told me, she was tired and just wanted to get back to being Brat.

      "Don't forget I still owe you a caning." I reminded her.

      She laughed. "I've been dreaming about it for weeks."

      Caning her made a splendid welcome home present. On the first day she took no less than twenty on her buttocks and thighs whilst tied down on her whipping bench. She came repeatedly and I took the greatest pleasure in shafting her tight little back passage afterwards, while her hips wriggled and writhed against me. Mrs Jenkins spent a happy half hour or so rubbing her ointment into the weals while Brat lay over her lap, before she stood up, smoothed down her little maid's skirt and served my supper. Reece felt he ought to enter into the spirit of things and concocted an excuse to make her pull her dress off her shoulders and take a thorough strapping. She held her tongue throughout but it was lovely to see her jerk forwards at each Whack! across the smooth expanse of her back.

      "Welcome home Miss." He said gravely when he was finished.

      I hung her on her frame later and played with her for a long time before making her sleep in her cell that night shackled at collar and wrists.

      The following morning, being a fine Autumn one, I chained her by her collar out in the yard while I leaned a big old door against the back wall of the house, and nailed four leather straps to it. Spread eagled against this I gave her another twenty across shoulders, back and buttocks. Again she came repeatedly and it made for a very slow beating. But by lunch time she made a very pretty picture, spread out and lividly marked, one cheek rested against the sun-warmed wood and allowed me to see the expression of utter contentment on her face as she contemplated her future, secure at last in the knowledge that it would contain  whippings, canings, croppings and bondage aplenty, all administered by her Master's hand.

      Julie now runs the London office very efficiently and Darren keeps an eye on things as well. I am thinking of making him General Manager as he is a very able lad. Tina and Trudi have been intrduced to the delights of the white room and Darren and I frequently spend pleasant evenings there.

      Sonia I believe is happy in America, where she went with Sam.

      I commute between Suffolk and London but increasingly I spend more time in Suffolk.

      Brat has developed into a very gracious hostess and frequently holds superb dinner parties for our friends at which everyone who shares our tastes is well catered for. On top of that she has turned out to be no mean mud wrestler.