Wine, Sodomy and the Lash

'Slut!' Came one slap, and 'Whore!' another, peppered with far cruder words and muttered things too quiet for Vivienne to hear as she ever-so-slowly tried to drag out the process of the dusting down of the bedside tables. The slightest sound alerted her to the door, and she turned only to see the Housekeeper peering in for a brief moment before shutting it. It was a frequent event on days when the Mistress of the House asked for Melissa by name - the weeping elf, shying away from each slap before presenting herself anew for further abuse, was of a fragile temperament and prone to breaking down if Bliss pushed her too far, too hard. Not a fortnight earlier she had spent a morning sobbing at the awful things Bliss had called her, and perhaps that was why the cruel mistress had resorted to these crude slaps and smacks over her preferred hour or so of verbal and emotional torture.

Vivienne's attention returned to the display - that, and the vital work of attending to the draperies of the poster bed, laying them down on the bed to brush over with only half as much care as the job really warranted, brush irregular in its strokes and meandering across the fabric. No doubt it would need to be done again later, but that seemed a small price to pay for the privilege of the sight - just in time to see Bliss seize a fistful of Melissa's hair and march her over to the armchair beside the window overlooking the garden, sliding down into it and yanking the housemaid down with her onto her knees between her thick thighs, glaring at her.

"Now, Melissa, why don't you put those pouty little lips of yours to proper use." Vivienne's heart pounded in her chest and she stood transfixed with voyeuristic delight, her work now suddenly and entirely forgotten, the brush dangling idle in her fingers at the sight. She knew - they all did - that sometimes Bliss made such openly sexual use of her near doppelganger among the servants, but she had never witnessed it, never seen the way the Mistress's delicate fingers weaved into hair to pull Melissa's face between her legs and against her bare mons, the way she sighed with evident pleasure at the mere exercise of the authority before there was even a touch of Melissa's lips to her Mistress's vulva.

But then heat turned to ice in her veins as she realized her mistake, her obvious staring - and the way that the Mistress was staring right back at her, suddenly made aware of her presence by the slip of the brush from her fingers to thump down onto the bed. Like a rabbit, she was transfixed, her heart pounding harder with every moment and with the way Bliss's lips curled again in that infuriatingly callous smile - charming in its own dominant way - that the Family often offered when about to make some petty abuse. Heat blossomed in her belly, curling from her sex to bloom in her body anew, only for her stomach to give way when lips parted to speak.

"That will be all, Vivienne. Tell Kayla to send someone to finish making up the room in an hour or so."

With scarlet cheeks, she managed a stumbling nod and a vague verbal acknowledgment before she turned and left, brush in hand. The rest of her work passed in a fair daze, though there was but little of it on her roster today - the advantage of the close work in the spanking room was that much of the hardest work of the morning passed whoever had it for the day by. Another bedroom before the time finally came for breakfast and she retreated downstairs, sliding into her place at the long table of the servant's hall, quietly taking her meal from the hall 'boy'. Melissa's predicament filled her thoughts as she absentmindedly ate, barely noticing what was on her plate - and when the curvy blonde finally reappeared from her ordeal upstairs, face blotchy from tears and her breasts exposed and covered in vivid red marks, the faint beginnings of bruises and even a few bite marks, she rose to meet her with a gentle embrace and a kiss.

"It was so awful..." Melissa whispered in her ear, pressing against her. "This place is... It's horrible..." Each word was accompanied by a little sniffle, face buried in Vivienne's shoulder. But between them, where no one else could see, the blonde's nipples remained frustratingly erect - and not from the slight chill of the winter air, and when Vivienne's hand strayed up to gently touch a bruise on a breast, Melissa shivered with a mixture of pain and erotic delight at her own abuse.

It had taken time to figure it out, and as usual it had been the Housekeeper who had first realized, but just like her cruel mistress upstairs, Melissa was a rare specimen, an emotional masochist as aroused by misery as by physical pleasures. But unlike almost every masochist who passed through the servant's hall, she denied any desire to wear a collar like the Housekeeper, to enter into the true service of slavery - and at moments like this, with Melissa a tearful wreck filled with self-loathing arousal in her arms, Vivienne always wondered. Did she really not desire it? Or did she find the idea of being so close to a life of the kind of torment that set her loins aflame without ever being admitted to it so powerful that she denied it to herself?

It was impossible to tell, and Vivienne contented herself with offering another kiss to Melissa's cheek before leading her to the table to take her breakfast. Her own day beckoned on, and she departed again for the cleaning duties of the remaining bedrooms. In the House, some few of the bedrooms could be permitted to wait until after breakfast, as their occupants rarely if ever made use of them in the day. Others needed to be changed before, for the good chance they might be called into service well before nightfall for one use or another in just one more peculiarity of the Family. It was not difficult work as a rule, nor especially interesting, but it took an eye for detail and a degree of patience that nonetheless rewarded diligence and hard work.

Melissa joined her shortly after, breasts still exposed, and it transpired as they worked at the young Lady Illythia's rooms (taking great care not to disturb any of her arcane formulas and powders on the small writing desk beside the window) that that had been the order that had turned the blonde so very pale - she had been forbidden to cover herself or deny anyone in the House 'a turn' with her breasts if they desired one. They parted again shortly after their lunch, taken as the Family took theirs in the dining room, with Melissa granted some true time off to recuperate by Kayla (the Housekeeper was always attentive to the emotional needs of her wards here; a fully owned slave herself, she was well aware of the emotional toll of being so cruelly used) and Vivienne given a unique assignment.

Just as the genteel spanking room was a unique fixture of this particular Great House - at least so far as Vivienne knew, and she had trouble even conceiving that any other family at all would be both so fixated upon their fetishism and lavish with their money towards it as to build a room for no other purpose than to be birched and beaten in - the rather grand library in the western wing of the House held within its embrace a seperate library hidden away behind a discreet door and antechamber.

The walls within were filled with stacks of what might be generously called erotic literature and photography, but which was in all honesty nothing more and nothing less than one of the largest - if not the largest - collections of smut in the continent. Much of it was produced by the Lady Bliss's production company, of which she herself regularly took a starring role, and others by smaller establishments and artists and novelists. The crowning glory of this grand collection was the private screening room, for the invention of an affordable, Human-produced film projector had opened up a lucrative and surprisingly popular side business in mail ordered films. It was a point of scandal quietly overlooked by society for fear of the family's criminal ties and influence - and for the fact that of the aristocracy, few wished to admit they had seen the films at all lest they be accused of purchasing them for their own prurient purposes. The flagrancy of it astonished Vivienne on a daily basis, but it was the same sort of bald-faced double standard that permitted fine noblemen who would never rub shoulders with a criminal to attend balls at the House, who would never break the law to quietly arrange at those same balls to have certain goods smuggled in free of import tarrifs for their personal use, or for certain 'problems' to go away.

The end result of it all, of this grand pornographic empire, was the collection Vivienne now stood amongst. The work there was actually far less exciting than it might have been - every volume had its own discreet covers, its own way of avoiding attention. The only obviously pornographic works were of statuary and framed photography, and those were of true artistic value. Even the private screening room was an almost disappointingly mundane place with no film rolling, she thought - indistinguishable from any other small film room, with furniture needing dusting and care and carpets to sweep and beat out from dust. There were more unusual stains here and there to deal with, but those could only be addressed with the weekly 'turning out', and this was simply the daily maintenance.

Her vague boredom with the work (shelf after shelf of volumes, carefully dusted, offered but little stimulation) came to swift and unexpected end when she opened the door to one of the two private reading rooms without knocking in a move of carelessness that might, in any other house, have seen her employment come to a swift end. Sitting there, naked other than a silk dressing gown loosely pooled around her waist, was the young Lady Celeste - cock in hand and a centerfold of her own mother the Lady Bliss open on the angled reading desk. A blush instantly came to Vivienne's cheek, and she moved to close the door, stammering and not quite able to voice apology.

"Don't." Celeste replied to the wordless noises, looking up from the magazine and casually sitting up straighter in her seat. Her ruby red lips parted in a little grin, and she beckoned for Vivienne to join her instead. Of all the young Ladies of the House, Celeste was the most open, the most flagrant and blatant and outrageous in her sexuality even by the standards of the Starshadows. She alone devoted herself almost entirely to the act and the art of pleasure, to the refinement of sexuality in all its sundry forms - and almost never declined an offer from anyone, man, woman, or beast. "Come here... Vivienne? Vivienne. Come here and join me - I was just getting bored of my hand." Her voice was honeyed and lilting, but she expected to be obeyed in the order and there was a tone of authority beneath the dulcet salted caramel tone of her voice, and Vivienne silently obliged her, stepping in and letting the door click shut behind her.

"I don't think we'll need the uniform, so go ahead and take it off." Celeste's attention returned to the magazine as she spoke, to the double page image of her mother being fucked by some anonymous woman with a strap-on. These moments made Vivienne empathize with Melissa so much more deeply - the sense of humiliation at being treated as an agentless object, a sex toy with a pulse, was infuriating and intoxicating alike. But she obeyed, both out of duty and with a deeper sense of delight at the opportunity. Just as Celeste never refused an offer, few she made one to did either. She was a creature of the rarest kind of sensuality, full-figured with light olive skin and dark honey blonde hair that spilled down her breast, bearing the marks of both her parents - Lady Bliss, who had sired her in a moment of adulterous passion, and Letalya, the human woman who retained her own private apartments in the House and who stood the only equal to Bliss in curves and the only superior to her young daughters in sensuality, the indisputed ruler of voluptuous appetites among the Family.

Celeste was neither fat nor thin, but a pleasing mixture of both - full breasted, broad hipped, with a waist narrow but not slender and instead bearing a soft roundness to her belly. Between her inviting thighs pulsed one of the smallest cocks among the Family, one that anywhere else would have been only unremarkable but here was seen as almost shamefully undersized. The sight of Celeste's hand moving smoothly along it, slick with the lube she was using for her pleasure, made Vivienne lick her lips slightly - she'd experienced Celeste's skill more than once before, and any size suitably used was quite acceptable to her tastes.

One advantage of the simple maid's dress was the ease with which it might be removed - a feature normally intended for emergency changes from spills and dirt, and not for such salacious purposes. A few buttons, a shrug from the arms, and it slipped down her body to pool at Vivienne's feet, leaving her in her slip and her stockings, held up by a garter. She wore no panties (they were the only undergarment not issued by the House save by special instruction or for the monthlies; that realization was usually when new girls began to take the idea that their fine silks were provided not for their own comfort but for the pleasure of the employers seriously, and many never broke with the habit, buying their own from their modest wages or sewing them from cloth bought in bulk lots together), and when she let her slip fall free as well, she was naked and unashamed.

Vivienne was no great rarity like Celeste or Melissa or Bliss, but her body was far from displeasing. Work and diet conspired to leave her well formed and shapely, and youth blessed her with delicate breasts that sat high on her chest, a modest handful with sweet dark nipples that crinkled in with anticipation nicely. Between her legs she took care to be neat and well groomed, but left much of her hair to blossom on her mons, straight and dark - a feature the elves adored, so rare among their own kind, exotic to them in the way their ears and eyes were to her. Humiliation throbbed in her pussy as she stood there, open and waiting and even eager to be exploited while Celeste quite simply ignored her for a long minute more before finally returning her eyes to roam over her body.

"I think I'll have your ass today, Victoria." Celeste had already forgotten her name again, and that sensation of being nothing more than an object returned tenfold in Vivienne. It took an effort not to show it, to show the way anger mingled with a humiliated pleasure, and despite herself a tinge of pink crept into Vivienne's cheeks and ears as she nodded, breathing deeply and turning around, bending herself over with her hands on the reading table. The touch of a slick finger between her cheeks made her shiver with relief - Celeste was among the more considerate members of the Family, even if today she seemed to be extending less an offer of the untold pleasures she bestowed on those who took her fancy as much as merely making use of a much more interesting option to masturbate with.

The lube tingled slightly on her puckering hole, and she was silently grateful for the efforts of Shalrissa, the still-room maid who oversaw the creation of the many oils and lotions and lubricants needed in the House. It would have taken her far longer to relax naturally, but the gentle touch of the magic impregnated in the oils opened her smoothly and with a queer pleasure that made her hole twitch and flex, heat blossoming in the muscle and nerves suddenly finding only pleasure. Far nicer than the cruelties some of the others enjoyed - not enough lube (if any at all, sometimes) or lube impregnated with chillis or other awful things that made it painful even if it was perfectly easy going. It was such an effective little piece of magic that when Celeste entered her, Vivienne nearly came on the spot, moaning loud and sudden and holding to the table as the half-elf pushed into her until her balls slapped against her pussy with one smooth motion.

It was slow and sensuous and delicious in its pleasure, but there were other degradations to endure than oils here. Vivienne knew she was right - that today Celeste saw her only as a warm hole to fuck for her own climax's sake - when Celeste took hold of her pony tail and used it to pull her head away from the table, pushing it back down in a different spot purely so that she was no longer obstructing the view of the Wallflower issue that so commanded her attention. She even paused in thrusting to turn the page to the next, her desires fixated on the sight of Bliss's own violation on the matte finished pages. That moment of realization brought Vivienne to the edge, and with the next deep smooth thrust into her tingling rectum, she shuddered and came.

Only in this House had she ever managed such things, and only with the aid of Shalrissa's lubricants. Even the best prepared sodomy in her past life had been a pleasant distraction for her, a delightful experience of queer pleasure, degradation, and a certain degree of the denial of pleasure that thrilled her inner masochist. But here, as with so many other things about her sexuality, they were slowly rewiring her to crave it, to delight in it with or without the oils and with or without orgasm - just like once the idea of being just a hole to use while mere pornography provided the real excitement might have seen her turn around and slap the woman with her cock rooted in her throbbing asshole but now reduced her to a trembling, sweating puddle.

Disappointment followed. Used only for pleasure as she was, Celeste made no effort to last, to bring Vivienne to further climaxes, and on the very verge of a second orgasm for the human servant squeezing down on her cock she came, sighing her pleasure out and pulling back to rest in her chair, grinning dopily. It made a nice change from her usual exertions, the near marathon of sex she might usually indulge in - a quickie, and substantially more fun than one with her hand at that. "Victoria? Wake up and clean me up." She said, idly poking at her still erect but already sagging member. Vivienne's cheeks burned as she turned and sank to her knees to obey, clenching her puffy anus to try and keep the semen from leaking onto the carpets (more cleaning if it did!), silently thankful that her morning routine included an enema as a matter of course when she met only the faint taste of her own ass mixed in with the cum and the lube and the slight floral notes of Celeste's preferred bath oils.

When she was done, she excused herself politely and slipped into the watercloset of the private library to empty herself, holding her head in her hands and rubbing at her cheeks with frustration. By the time she emerged, Celeste was gone again, whistling her way through the main library with her silk gown loosely knotted at the waist. She cleaned up after them both in the small reading room, and made a note to ask Shalrissa for more of the lube for the room as the bottle was now more than half empty. The rest of her day was unexciting by prospect - but no amount of cleaning, especially rote cleaning, could compare to the erotic thrill of being so callously used by the beautiful young libertine. She passed it in a dream. She was sure she made idle conversation at dinner, and vaguely recalled staring at the plain steel hoop that was permanently welded shut around Kayla's neck with envy, but by the time she drifted back into herself she couldn't recall much else - or even that she'd retired to bed, though she found herself there beneath the covers.

The candle in their small bedroom was burning low, sputtering lightly, with the scent of the melting and burning wax rich in the air, as strangely soothing and calming as ever. Melissa was still up, attending to her nightly routine in the mirror, delicately massaging her sore breasts with creams and oils to keep them shapely, soft, welcoming and full. It was an erotic sight in its own right, the way the light softly gleamed on those broad expanses of soft pale skin, the sight of hands moving over them and the way Melissa shivered lightly from the stimulation, but Vivienne - even as frustrated as she'd been being left on the verge of her second orgasm - tonight felt no desire stir in her belly. That was normal for her - for both of them, really. Use by one of their employers left them strangely satisfied as well as dissatisfied, and though sometimes it led them to frantic attempts to masturbate together or to try and pleasure each other, more and more they reserved their affections for nights when neither had seen use in the day. But tonight, Vivienne did feel something else stir, and she sat up in bed to watch closer, propping her head up on her hand.