Midnight Hunting

Josh rammed his cock as far as it would go, until her nose was buried in her pubic hair, and held it there. Forthright put a hand on his shoulder. "Hold her," he said.

She started squirming, making muffled gulping sounds, unable to breathe. Her eyes regarded him desperately. "Hold her," Forthright said.

"Urmmmmmff," she pleaded.

"Hold her," said Forthright.

Her face was turning red. Josh feared that in a moment she'd turn blue.

"Release," said Forthright.

He pulled out. Amy gasped frantically for breath, her bare breasts heaving as she sucked in air.

"Again," said Forthright.

He slammed his cock back into place. Amy squeaked piteously.

This time Forthright made him wait even longer, until Amy's face was soaked with sweat and tears, her wrists red from straining against her bonds, and Josh feared she was about to lose consciousness.

"Release," said Forthright.

He pulled out. Amy sucked in air greedily.

"Finish on her face," said Forthright.

Josh only needed a moment of jerking off, with Amy's pretty face watching him, mouth half-open. Jizz gushed out of him, soaking her face and hair.

"Good girl, Amy," said Forthright. "Lick up as much as you can."

She obeyed, her little tongue flicking out of her mouth, gathering cum as it oozed down her face. Josh leaned back against the wall, panting.

"Well done, Joshua," said Forthright. "Enjoy your evening. Tomorrow will be a day off work; I'm going to show you some of the methods we use on girls like Amy. She'll be spending the night with you; feel free to make further use of her, if you like."

Forthright put a ballgag in Amy's mouth and left.

When Josh's evening meal arrived, he ate a few guilty bites, then brought it around the bed and crouched in front of Amy. He fumbled with the ballgag and pulled it out.

"Um," he said. "Sorry about that."

She looked at him tearfully, her face streaked with drying jizz.

"Do you want some?" he said, holding up a piece of pork. She nodded emphatically, biting her lip.

He fed her half his food, and even a sip of his precious evening coffee, most of which ended dribbling down her chin.

"Thank you," she whispered when he was done.

"Do you actually get to eat?" he asked.

"Just slop," she whispered, glancing fearfully towards the door. "And cum."

Not very nutritious, Josh thought, though she still looked pretty good.

"I'd untie you," he said, "but I'm worried I'll get in trouble."

"It's okay," she said.

He went to sleep. In the middle of the night he woke up with a raging erection, feeling incredibly horny. He glanced at the foot of the bed at Amy's red hair and her raw, red wrists.

No, he thought, no.

He eventually got back to sleep.

The next day was an unusual one. Firstly, he was given a fresh set of clothes, consisting of jeans and a black button-up. It was the first time he'd been dressed since his arrival at the manor.

"You want to know why you're being clothed, I'm sure," said Forthright, eyeing him critically.

"Yes, Sir," said Josh dutifully, buttoning up the shirt.

"You're about to visit our girls," said Forthright, "and it's important that we establish your relative superiority over them. Their style of dress is either non-existent, or so humiliating as to be essentially worse than nakedness. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," said Josh. He was once again overtaken by the sense that he was stumbling towards his own doom.

Josh was led down into the under-warrens of the manor, through twisting, starkly-lit concrete halls, into a room that resembled a gymnasium.

There were four girls in the room, and one man. The man, Josh knew, was Mr Pelt, a brawny man with an intimidating quantity of facial hair. One of the girls was Zoe. Josh felt a shock course through him as he scanned the line for Claire.

She wasn't there.

All four girls were naked, kneeling on the cold floor with their legs spread and their hands clasped behind their downcast heads. Mr Pelt walked up and down the line, idly swinging a riding crop. He nodded briefly to Mr Forthright.

"Right, girls," said Mr Pelt. "We have special guests today, so I hope you'll all be on your best behaviour as we put you through your paces. Now what shall we get up to?"

Nobody replied. Mr Pelt grinned. "Right," he said. "Let's see. Zoe and Leah, stand up."

Zoe and a petite brunette stood up immediately, their hands still clasped behind their head. Mr Pelt indicated a point on the floor with his crop. "There," he said, and the two girls immediately scampered to that point.

"Now," he said, "how about you two put on a show? If our guests like it, I'll exclude you from the painful part of today's lesson."

The two girls looked at each other briefly, and then Zoe grabbed the petite girl's waist, pulled her close, and kissed her on the lips. Leah only needed a moment to get into it; she started kissing back. Mr Pelt swished the crop.

"Use those hands, girls," he said. "Don't let the audience get bored."

They grasped each others' faces, kissing more deeply, with a desperate aura of fake passion.

"Get closer together," said Mr Pelt impatiently. "Move a little. It's not complicated, girls."

They started grinding against each other, their breasts pressed together, their bare legs intertwining. "Good," said Mr Pelt. "Emma, Annie, get over here."

The remaining two girls hastened to stand in front of Mr Pelt. "Bring me those two," he ordered, pointing to two metal contraptions off to one side of the room. They consisted of a set of metal bars, arranged in a pattern that Josh couldn't quite make sense of. The girls hastened to drag the two contraptions over to Mr Pelt.

Pelt pushed Emma, a lithe redhead, towards one of the contraptions, and proceeded to shackle her limbs to the bars. She ended upside-down, her hair brushing the floor, her arms pinned at her sides, her legs spread and bent, her smooth pussy and ass exposed. It took only a moment to lock Annie, a slim blonde, into the other contraption, with similar results. He concluded by ball-gagging them both.

Mr Pelt went to a chest off to one side of the room, and, opening it, produced a set of four fat black plugs, each with a tiny motor attached.

"Ready, girls?" he said.

They whimpered, squirming helplessly. Zoe and Leah were still furiously necking nearby.

Forthright turned to Josh. "Do you understand the purpose of this, Joshua?" he said.

Josh started. He'd been mesmerized by the display, and was unused to questions being asked of him, rather than orders given. "Um," he said. "I don't think so, Sir."

"Really?" said Forthright. "I should say it's quite clear." Pelt was slowly pressing one of the plugs into Emma's exposed pussy, while she moaned piteously through her gag. "The purpose," Forthright went on, "is to emphasize to these girls that they are helpless objects of pleasure; that their own desires are immaterial; that their masters delight in their vulnerability and in their suffering. All this to prepare them for what's to come."

Josh, silently, watched Pelt slide the next plug into Annie's pussy. "You have questions," said Forthright, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Go ahead, ask them."

"What *is* to come, Sir?" Josh asked hesitantly.

Forthright patted him on the back. "Good question," he said. "I think you can probably guess. Later, of course, you'll see for yourself."

Pelt was pressing the tip of one of the plugs against Emma's tight little asshole, smiling as he listened to her muffled squeals. He pressed it in, slowly, to its full length, drawing out a series of choked sobs from the helpless girl. Then he went to Annie and patted her ass.

"Ready, darling?" he said.

"Mfff," Annie moaned.

Once the final plug was in, Pelt produced a remote from his pocket. "We'll begin on a low setting," he said, "only because you girls have been so good."

He pressed a button. The plugs began to audibly vibrate. Emma and Annie moaned and writhed, helplessly, in their miniature prisons.

"Don't flag, girls," said Pelt, turning to Zoe and Leah, "or you'll get the same treatment."

Leah and Zoe began to kiss with newfound vigour.

"Follow me," said Forthright to Josh. "I have one more thing to show you."

They left the room and started down a hall. On their way they passed at least six other rooms, all much like the first; in each, groups of four to six girls were enduring similar treatment. Eventually they reached a heavy steel door, which Forthright unlocked, and proceeded down a long flight of steps into a cold sub-basement.

Forthright flipped a switch. The small room was starkly illuminated by a single light.

At the centre of the room was Claire. She was naked, of course, kneeling on the floor, her hair falling over her face. Her wrists were bound, and her arms held above her head by a long cord attached to a winch in the ceiling. She looked up forlornly as the light came on. She was gagged, her face streaked with tears. A flicker of light came to her eyes when she saw Josh.

"This young girl has been problematic," said Forthright, giving the last word an ominous resonance. "Disobedience, disrespect - the nature of her crime doesn't concern you. She's been sentenced to six days of punishment; this is her third. Three times a day, a special attendant administers her punishment. Through a special dispensation, we will be taking the place of that attendant's second shift today."

Josh stared at Claire, various conflicting emotions surging within.

"I expect you to help me today, Joshua," said Forthright. "As a test of your willingness to serve. Watch."

Forthright pressed a button on the wall. The winch engaged, the rope tightened, and Claire was dragged up limply by the wrists until her toes left the floor, and she hung two inches from the ground. Josh, overwhelmed by horror and longing, stared at her slender, naked form - her skin was crisscrossed with cruel red welts.

Mr Forthright was holding a whip.

"Fifteen lashes," he said, "three times a day."

He swung the whip. Claire screamed through the gag, her body twisting helplessly as the whip lashed across her naked breasts. Then again, and again, and again, and again.

Forthright stopped and held the whip out to Josh.

"Ten more," he said. "Show me what you can do."

His hand trembling, Josh took the whip.

He looked at Claire. She looked at him, her eyes welling with tears. They were filled with pleading.

*I'm sorry,* he tried to say with his eyes, and swung the whip.

"GARDEN PARTY"

It was nearly a month afterward that Josh looked in the mirror and realized how well his body had adjusted. All the excess fat was gone; he was firm, muscular, taut from head to toe. Not long after he'd participated in Claire's punishment, his daily brick-hauling sessions had been altered. Instead, he was given access to a gym that occupied a large part of one wing of the manor. It was superbly well-equipped, and the imposing Mr Forthright was replaced with a far less authoritarian gym assistant.

Once a week, Josh was still stripped naked and brought to the yard, where Forthright reminded him - with the help of the crop on his balls - who owned him. Josh had begun to take those sessions in stride. The horror of his situation had declined, replaced by a sort of dull acceptance. He'd even begun to find certain bright points in his life. On certain days, girls were brought to his room - nubile, helpless girls, girls Forthright commanded he defile in various inventive ways. Some of them Josh had recognized. He'd come on Leah's face, in Emma's ass, in Trish's pussy; Zoe had licked his jizz off the floor. His discomfort at these assignments gradually faded. He remembered (as if recalling another life) how Zoe had sneered at him when they first met. Watching her bare ass wriggle as she eagerly lapped his cum from the floor, he felt a certain amount of satisfaction.

Now, regarding his firm body in the mirror, he allowed himself to smile.

That day, on his way to the gym, he was intercepted by Mr Forthright. "Joshua," he said. "Come with me. We have a special programme for you today."

"Yes, Sir," said Joshua, feeling a twinge of excitement mixed with fear. He followed Forthright out into the garden. Trish was there, naked and handcuffed, with a bit-gag in her mouth and high heels on her feet. Mr Pelt was holding her by the hair, forcing her to bend at the waste, while another girl Josh didn't recognize stood behind her. The other girl was wearing heels, fishnet stockings, and a collar; she was holding a butt plug with a rather gaudy tail attached to it. The plug was in the process of entering Trish's ass. Trish was squealing and wriggling.

"Again, she learns her place," said Forthright coolly. "We will be meeting a client today, Joshua, and it's important that we're all on our best behaviour."

"Oh," said Josh.

He noticed, for the first time, a sort of small cart or chariot sitting on the lawn. It had two wheels and a harness in front. Having jammed the plug into Trish's ass, the other girl was now strapping Trish into the harness.

"Good morning, sir," said Forthright.

Josh turned to see who Forthright was speaking to. It was Bleakenham, who Josh hadn't seen since his very first day at the manor. Bleakenham was looking terribly austere and imposing in his three-piece suit and jacket; he barely glanced at Josh, pausing only to nod to Forthright.

"Our client will be here soon, I think," he said. "He'll be meeting us here. Is everything ready?"

"It is, sir," said Mr Pelt. "Bring out the girl, Lu."

The unfamiliar girl (who Josh gathered was called Lu) hurried indoors, returning a moment later. She was leading Zoe on a leash. Zoe had been dressed up, Josh could only assume, for the special occasion: she was wearing stiletto heels and white thigh-high stockings, and a plaid skirt that barely brushed her thighs, hinting deliciously at the bare skin beneath. She was ballgagged, and each of her bare breasts had a tiny bell clamped to the nipple. The bells jingled lightly as she teetered along after Lu, who tugged impatiently on the leash.

"Good," said Bleakenham, regarding Zoe impassively. "Now let's go meet our client. Forthright, you're bringing the boy?"

Forthright nodded. Mr Pelt climbed into the cart and, producing a short whip, laid a sharp lash across Trish's bare bottom. She yelped and started to trot, dragging the cart along behind her in a fairly humiliating fashion. Mr Pelt settled back contentedly, taking the reigns and yanking them to the left. Bleakenham, Forthright and Josh ambled along behind.

Trish trotted all the way to the front of the manor, where a long driveway led into the unseen depths of the wood. Josh, unrestrained in any way, was suddenly siezed by a thought: that he could simply sprint off into the forest and escape. It was the first time he'd dared to think about it.

Of course, he realized, the most likely outcome was that he'd get lost in the woods, and be rediscovered by Bleakenham, and probably suffer severely for his mistake.

A car rumbled up the driveway - a candy-red convertible with the top down. It pulled up in front of the manor, screeched to a halt. The driver stepped out. It was a man in a casual blazer and jeans, with a knot of thinning grey hair on his head; he was rotund and beaming, with a slightly oily expression on his face. A woman stepped out of the passenger seat, causing Josh to catch his breath for a moment; she was stunningly beautiful, tall, black-haired and dark-eyed. Her dress was slit up above the thigh, exposing her beautiful, cream-pale leg; it was also astonishingly backless, curved to reveal a hint of breast at the side, the cut stopping just short of revealing her ass. There was a fashionable black collar around her neck. She took the rotund man's arm.

"Good morning, Mr Beringford," said Bleakenham, smiling and offering a handshake.

"Morning, morning," Beringford said, in a slightly nasally whine. "You must be Mr Bleakenham. Such a pleasure. This is my wife, Delilah."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Beringford," said Bleakenham, smiling. "I'm pleased to welcome you both to Morningford Manor. If you'll both step this way, we can go straight to the garden and discuss business."

"Certainly, absolutely." Beringford huffed and looked at Josh and Forthright. "These your associates?"

"Yes," said Bleakenham, "this is Mr Forthright, one of our foremost trainers, and Joshua, our ward. If you'd like, Mr Beringford, we'd like to offer you some amusement as we travel to the garden - this chariot."

He indicated the chariot to which Trish was attached, which Mr Pelt had now vacated. Beringford burst into snuffling laughter. "Isn't that something, Delilah!" he snorted. "Isn't that something! She pulls the cart herself, does she?"

"Certainly," said Bleakenham, smiling faintly.

"Well, I'll give it a try! Give me an arm up, sir," he said to Mr Pelt, who obliged, helping the man heave his bulk into the chariot. Mr Pelt handed him the whip.

"I just use this to say 'go,' do I?" said Beringford.

"Yes, sir," said Pelt.

Beringford giggled like a child and struck the whip, hard, to Trish's bare bottom. She yelped in pain and resumed trotting.

Bleakenham led the way back to the rear garden, where Lu and another girl were busy laying out tea on coffee on one of the outdoor tables. Beringford licked his lips as he admired the girls' naked forms. "Good thing you've got going here, Mr Bleakenham," he said. "Very impressed."

"I'm glad you think so, Mr Beringford," said Bleakenham.

"Please, call me Phil," said Beringford.

"As you wish. Won't you have a seat?"

"Absolutely." Beringford lowered himself, puffing, from the cart, and took one of the chairs. "Tea or coffee, Sir?" said Lu.

His eyes roved up and down her bare figure. "Coffee, dear," he said, "black." She poured the coffee; his gaze followed the curve of her back as she leaned over. "Delightful," he mumbled, "delightful. Eh, Delilah? Wonderful!"

Delilah stood behind her husband's chair, silent. Forthright and Bleakenham sat. Josh remained standing, awkwardly, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

Beringford sipped his coffee. "Well," he said, "haha, not to seem impatient, but, well, uh - which one's mine?"

He grinned. Bleakenham smiled. "Of course," he said. "Lu, bring out the girl."

Lu disappeared, and once again Zoe was trotted out. Beringford was nearly slobbering as he looked her up and down.

"Delicious," he said, "delicious. May I, uh?" He waggled his fingers.

"Certainly," said Bleakenham. "Zoe, approach the gentleman."

Zoe teetered over to Beringford, a frightened look in her eyes. He ran one trembling finger down her belly. "Smooth," he whispered, "so smooth. She's perfect. Perfect! Yes, yes."

"You'll find her quite docile and subservient," said Bleakenham. "Her record here at Morningford is exquisite; she took to her place almost immediately, and with hardly any hard discipline required."

"I'm sure she'll be quite, um, satisfactory," said Beringford, slavering. He slid a hand under Zoe's skirt. She jumped, but remained in place, as his sweaty hands groped clumsily at her bare pussy. "Ah, beautiful," he moaned. "Wonderful. The, uh, payment was discussed previously, I think?"

Bleakenham smiled. "Yes, we forwarded the amount to you," he said. "You've brought it in cash, I hope."

"Of course, of course." Beringford set his briefcase on the table. "It's all here."

Bleakenham opened the briefcase. Josh's eyes widened - he'd never seen so much cash in one place; he had no idea how much it could possibly be - at least a million dollars. Bleakenham and Forthright counted it rapidly, and then Bleakenham produced a sheet of paper, handing it to Beringford.

"If you'll just sign here, and here," she said, "the process will be complete."