Mellory Jones stood at her bedroom window. She watched the Royal Mail van as it carefully made it’s way up the long drive that led from the road towards Llandegley Farm, the bright red of the van contrasting starkly with the pristine white of the fall of overnight snow. It was the first weekend in December and, standing just over a thousand feet above sea level the farm was forecast to receive considerably more than the inch or so that had already fallen. She made her way down to the front door and greeted Mel the postman with her usual bright manner as he handed over the parcel in exchange for her hastily scrawled signature. Opening the box revealed the brand new electric cattle prod. She plugged in the more substantial handle part into the mains to give it the initial charge and examined the two metal prongs at the business end. She had the image in her mind of them snuggling up to Hugh Llewelyn’s neatly shaved scrotum, making two neat dents in his soft flesh as her gloved finger hovered over the firing button ready to send the high voltage shock that would elicit the wildest of screams, sending his desperate pleas for mercy, something that he knew would not come, ringing around the walls of his subterranean prison. The old cellar beneath the farmhouse where her uncle had stored all manner of junk had been carefully converted by her friend Rhiannon into a very close working replica of a medieval dungeon and torture chamber.
The heels of Mellory’s brand new handmade black leather riding boots clicked softly on the stone flagged kitchen floor as she crossed to the Aga to pour herself another coffee. She had decided to wear them around the house for a bit until they were properly broken in. She looked up, her attention caught by the sound of the front door opening. Rhiannon walked through into the kitchen, sitting down at the long oak refectory table. Mellory poured her friend a coffee. “The first snow of winter” Rhiannon observed, “We usually get it well before Christmas here.” She picked up and examined the bright yellow lance of the cattle prod. “Ah, a new toy ?” Mellory smiled. “Yes I thought it might add an interesting new area of play to our sessions, according to the blurb it packs quite a punch, might persuade him to do a little dance for our amusement.” Rhiannon chuckled. “If what I have read about these is even half true he will doing more than just a dance.”
She placed the prod back on the kitchen table.”I had a text from Megan Pendry last night, the racing chariot is finished, she said we can collect it whenever we like.” Mellory looked out of the window. The snow was falling more heavily now, the large flakes forming a thick white curtain that obscured the trees at the end of the drive. “We can use the Toyota pick up to collect it, it’s four wheel drive so the snow should not be a problem.” Rhiannon agreed. “Maybe we can drive over in the morning after the slave has finished his rounds.” Mellory checked on the battery that was charging. She picked it up and screwed it into the lance, her new toy was now ready for use. She held it out before her, the two metal prongs projecting menacingly as she winked at her friend. “I have a feeling that I am going to enjoy using this.”
Rhiannon took out her mobile phone. “I’ll send the slave a text and tell him to bring the pick up over when he comes for his weekly assessment. We’ll put him in the dungeon while we go over to Chepstow then deal with him when we get back.” Mellory agreed. “Yes, a good spell down there will soften him up nicely. After contemplating what he has coming his way he should be good and ready for us by the time we get back.”
It was just before midday on Sunday when they set out. The snow had stopped now. A deep accumulation had built up along the roads and the stiff north westerly wind had filled all the ditches so that it stood level with the surrounding fields, a thick, white all encompassing blanket that removed every feature. ” I put the heater on in the dungeon” said Mellory. “We don’t want to get home and find him frozen solid, the only things he is wearing are his chastity cage and a pair of nipple clamps, neither of which will keep him very warm.”
His mistress had strapped his wrists tightly behind his back before putting him into the wrought iron corner cage and slipping the padlock onto the door. It was a tight fit and his nipples, prominent in the cool of the dungeon were pushed up hard against the cold vertical steel bars. She took the pair of spring loaded clover clamps from the rack, placing the hard rubber tips over the nub of flesh of his left nipple, slowly releasing her grip and allowing it to bite down hard. She swung the steel connecting chain through the bar and placed the second clamp over his right nipple before releasing the pressure until it too had a good purchase, watching his face contort as the bite of the clamps intensified. “Enjoy your day slave.” Her words had drifted back to Hugh as the sound of his cruel owner’s boots receded up the steps back into the house leaving him with only the darkness and the gnawing pain of the clamps. It was a pain that would endure and increase throughout the day until her return, whenever that might be. He knew that what he could look forward to then was the removal of the clamps and the intense peak of agony that would come with that. He began to sob softly in the darkness, his only consolation was that his pain and suffering would provide such good satisfaction for his owner.
The roads were empty and despite the still deepening snow they made quite good time. Chepstow, sitting low on the banks of The Severn was entirely free of snow. Megan Pendry greeted them on their arrival and together they made their way across the courtyard to the workshop. The new chariot stood just inside the double doors. Resplendent in gleaming black paint with chrome spoked bicycle style wheels it was a nevertheless a somewhat spartan vehicle, designed primarily for racing with lightness and manoeuvrability in mind The driver’s position was standing on a metal footplate behind a curved screen of polished aluminium that rose from the metal footplate, rising almost to waist height.
“You decided not to bring your pony?” Mellory shook her head. ” No, we’ve had a big fall of snow up our way. We brought the pick up in case it gets worse.” John Pendry loaded the chariot into the back of the Toyota and roped it down securely for safe transit. Back in the house Megan placed a cardboard box on the scrubbed pine kitchen table. It contained a set of leather reins and all the necessary tack required to harness the human pony securely to the chariot. “Have you given any consideration as to whether you are going to use it just for fun or to take part in for competitive racing?” Asked Megan. Mellory considered the question. “Well I suppose that it would be a shame to have a pony and not to use him, especially as he is so fit and strong.” Megan smiled her approval. “We have had some really good days out at these events, there is invariably a good atmosphere and the racing can get quite exciting, I will mail the details to your address then you can take a look and decide if you think it’s your kind of thing.” The two women finished their coffee and climbed back into the pick up for the return journey.
The journey back to Llandegley took almost three hours. The snow had stopped now but stood almost a foot deep at the farm. Mellory got out of the pick up. ” I will release the slave so that he can attend to the sheep but order him back later this evening for his weekly assessment, this weather has rather upset our schedule.” Hugh heard the bolt being drawn on the heavy timber door at the top of the steps. The sliver of light that penetrated the silent darkness became wider as the door opened, quickly followed by the sound of Mellory’s boots descending the steps. Then she was before him, her green eyes boring into him as her gloved hand extended towards the nipple clamps. He took in her inscrutable features and the severe look on her immaculately made up face framed by her neat auburn bob. Her hair was shaved close to the neck in the unusual style that lent Mellory this unique look of severity, albeit tempered somewhat with her prettiness and femininity. With one clamp beneath each index finger and thumb she slowly took up the pressure until the clamps came free of the two tortured nubs of flesh, his skin deeply pocked by the pressure of the hard rubber pimples that covered the jaws of the clamps.
His anguished cry of pain filled the dungeon as the removal of the clamps allowed the blood to flow back into the tortured flesh, her slave’s face contorting as the crescendo of pain registered in his brain. Just for good measure she pinched his right nipple, giving it an extra little twist, savouring the series of low sobs that this action produced. She slipped the key into the padlock and opened the metal barred door before motioning the slave to step out. Mel picked up a short leather leash and clipped it to the D ring at the front of his collar before leading him from the dungeon up into the sitting room and placing him on his knees before the now revived log fire whose flames threw long dancing shadows along the walls.
Rhiannon now stepped forward and stood before him, her legs set wide apart, both hands in fists resting on her hips as she looked down upon his head, bowed in submission. Hugh raised his face as she spoke to him. From his kneeling position the reflection of the flames was constantly changing as they flickered along the polished black leather shafts of her riding boots. Her voice was calm and clear fell upon his ears. “We don’t want you to think that we don’t value all your hard work on the farm over the past couple of months…however you must appreciate that we do need to maintain a strict discipline over you and your owner Mistress Mellory does so especially enjoy this part of this relationship. So we wouldn’t want you to draw any inference from your continued punishments that we are in any way dissatisfied with you…..however.”
She briefly turned away, facing towards the window. Snow flurries were being blown on the stiffening breeze as dusk began to fall outside but the pristine thick white blanket that now covered everything as far as the eye could see ensured that the most was made of the remaining light. Mellory walked through from the kitchen, a stainless steel feeding bowl in her hand. She placed it on the floor before Hugh and unstrapped his arms from behind his back to allow him to get down on all fours and eat. When he was at the house it was the rule that he ate as if he was a dog, lowering himself towards the bowl and using his mouth only. The two of them regarded him as he ate, the humiliation of this bizarre treatment was now easily outweighed by his hunger. Mellory waited until he had almost finished before placing her boot on the back of his neck, forcing his face down into the remaining food in the bowl. He knew better than to try to fight the will of his mistress. “You can get dressed and go and do your work and return here just as soon as you have finished. I will deal with you properly this evening ” She said.
It was almost eight o clock when Hugh returned from his farm duties. He removed his snowy clothes.”Would you be kind enough to take him down and secure him tightly to the punishment bench.” She tasked Rhiannon. Adding as an afterthought “I think that it may be a good to use a gag too..oh and put a humbler on him..you will need this.” She passed her friend the key to Hugh’s chastity lock. The Humbler consisted of a pair of shaped pieces of wood that fitted neatly behind the thighs of the male wearer. Clamped together by screws and butterfly nuts at either end The Humbler pulled the scrotum back exposing the testicles in a painfully tight bunch between the upper thighs just beneath the buttocks while the penis shaft extended downwards, trapped on the other side of the aperture. It was aptly named. The Humbler did nothing if not providing the ultimate in humiliation to it’s wearer. Once locked into place any man fitted with this device was forced to adopt an undignified crouching position. Every chimp like step was excruciatingly painful and difficult for any man who was restrained by this cruel device although of course the main aim was to present his delicate parts for the attentions of his sadistic tormentor.
Rhiannon ordered him to position his body across the leather upholstered punishment bench. She began to systematically tighten down each of the heavy leather straps that restrained all four of his limbs. Finely engineered steel rollers ensured that the buckles slipped smoothly into place, the straps allowing for no movement whatsoever. He was soon secured tightly by eight sturdy saddle leather straps. She fitted the waist belt and tightened down the three buckles that held the six inch wide leather in place. Finally she crossed to the wall rack and took a hood of fine black leather and a head harness from where they hung on their pegs. His head was soon encased inside the neat leather bag that Rhiannon laced into place. She forced the hard rubber ball of the gag between Hugh’s teeth before strapping the head harness around his neck and drawing the last remaining strap across the top of his skull and securing it.
The dungeon door opened and Mellory descended the steps, the bright yellow electric prod was in her right hand. She regarded Hugh’s prone, vulnerable body strapped across the bench smiling her approval at Rhiannon as she now approached her helpless victim. Her eyes fell on his testicles trapped between the hard wooden jaws of the humbler. They were crushed into a purplish-red ball of flesh that now hung exposed between his thighs. Her friend watched in fascination as Mellory slowly raised the lance of the prod until the two metal prongs touched his scrotum. She saw his body tense as he felt the contact, unsure as to what the cold feel of the metal represented. Mellory withdrew the prod and waited for several seconds, allowing the tension and fear to build in his dark and silent world. Returning the prod to between his legs her finger hovered briefly above the red button on the handle. There was an audible crackle as several thousand volts instantly coursed from the terminals of the prod. Despite the gag a muffled scream came from her victim. His body fought desperately but hopelessly against the heavy restraints before collapsing back into supine submission.
Mellory waited for the slave to recover from her first assault before replacing the prod against his balls. He began to panic, pulling at his straps, a strangled scream gurgling in his throat but eventually the helplessness of his situation saw the fight drain from him. It was at this point that the prod once more emitted it’s diabolical crackle. A smile of satisfaction spread across her features as he fought his bonds, her control over him now total and complete. But the prod provided merely the opener to her play. She moved over towards the rack of canes and whips, carefully weighing her many options. She took her time deciding. She felt the hard, inflexibility of the rattans, the pliable twist of the snake like single tails and the only slightly flexible stiffness of the weighty sjambok.
One by one she calculated carefully the potential of each for inflicting the pain that would give her the thrill she sought. Eventually her gloved hand fell on the final whip in the rack. She removed it and felt the resistance of the long, thick handle. The whip had started life well over a century ago. It had originally been issued as part of his equipment to a young Hungarian cavalry officer. It’s path to where it hung now, on the wall of a Welsh dungeon half way across the continent, had been a long and tortuous one. It had finally ended on an online action site where it was being sold as an antique, little more than a curio that would not be expected to be put to any use other than to decorate the wall of some collector and form an interesting conversation piece.
At a over four feet in length some unknown craftsman had cut it from a single piece of thick hide. Now, probably a century after that man’s death the whip that he had created in some Central European workshop would be used for it’s intended purpose once again. The tail consisted of a single lash, a heavy tapered tip as thick as Mellory’s little finger. She teased it out, feeling with satisfaction it’s weight. This substantial heft of the whip would impart a lithe and deadly energy that would only be dispersed with quite spectacular effect on coming into contact with it’s victim’s body. She felt the potential contained within this weapon with a rising sense of excitement deep down inside her, her whole body tensioning as she imagined the sound of that first impact on her slave’s helplessly struggling tightly bound body and the strangled scream that it would elicit, escaping even from beneath the highly effective gag that filled his mouth like some kind of cruel hard rubber gobstopper fixed in place by the multiple sturdy buckles of the leather head harness.
Flexing the whip briefly she took her time to practicing a few strokes, curving the lash in an arc so that it produced a loud swishing sound as the tail rent the air harmlessly but with barely veiled threat to anyone hearing the sound of leather cutting through air. Rhiannon looked on, smiling at the enjoyment on the face of her friend as she prepared herself for what would surely be the hardest beating that her slave had yet been required to endure. She turned towards the bound form of her slave, the soft red light falling from the uplighters illuminating every ripple of his finely muscled body, developed over years of hard physical work. The tracks left by the sjambok on the previous weekend still showed quite clearly across his buttocks and upper thighs. She ran her gloved hand lightly across the slowly fading scars of her last assault on him, almost tender in it’s touch. Her smile was fading now, her face starting to harden into a mask of concentration as she prepared herself for what lay ahead.
Mellory positioned herself carefully standing alongside her victim. She moved her booted feet slightly further apart to give her the necessary stability to enable her to provide a good, hard swing. She laid the heavy leather tail of the lash on the crease that separated his buttocks from his thighs in preparation for the opening stroke of her assault. He struggled only briefly against his restraints, his strength to resist ebbing fast as he now resigned himself to his fate. Eventually a stillness came over him. Rhiannon watched the curve of Mellory’s slim, athletic body as her arm moved into a position high above her right shoulder. Now her strong muscles imparted motion to the long, heavy strip of leather as it moved through the air. 211
Mellory’s aim was almost perfect. The semi-second of whistle terminating in a loud Tthhwwaaacck! The blur of speeding whiplash was brought up sharply by it’s contact a mere inch above the line of buttock and thigh that she had used as an aiming point. For the briefest period of time that it took for the impact to register in the brain Hugh remained still. Then his whole body quaked, pulling against his restraints as his muffled scream of agony faded quickly to a low sob. A bright red line now showed where the heavy cavalry whip had found it’s target. The red quickly darkened to a deep purple-blue as the blood released by the traumatised blood vessel beneath the skin now found it’s way to just beneath surface, a thin line of tiny red spots lining the track of the whip as they were extruded through the skin. She paused briefly to examine the effects of her first stroke before resuming her position. Tthhwwaaacck! The second line, not quite parallel to the first but close enough to intersect on the buttock furthest from her was, if anything, slightly harder than her first. Again he attempted to cry out but with resistance fading now in the face of it’s impossible hopelessness he quickly succumbed to his inevitable fate, merciful endorphins were now starting to flow and, despite the fact that the pain would be undiminished, the slave’s perception of it would be altered by the strange alchemy of the chemicals.
When Mellory, her sadistic urges finally sated, eventually hung up the cavalry whip Hugh’s buttocks and thighs were a mass of wild deeply coloured criss crossed weals. One by one she released the straps that held him down to the punishment bench and finally unstrapped the head harness and removed the hood and gag. He sobbed softly, unable to move for a few minutes, such was the overpowering effect of the endorphins that still coursed through his body. She massaged his head and neck gently. “Good boy, you took your punishment well.” Eventually her slave whispered through his tears “Thank you Mistress, I am glad that I pleased you.”
Copyright DL Media – November 2019