Mellory Jones heard the bleep from her phone and glanced down at the incoming text message. She was loading her bags into the car in preparation for her trip to Wales. It said quite simply “I think you will be pleased with how things have gone, have a safe journey.” Her friend Rhiannon had kept her constantly updated over the past few weeks as to how the refurbishment of her inherited farmhouse was going and as she turned the key and heard the engine of the little silver Audi coupe burst into life she felt a little thrill go through her as she realised that a fresh chapter in her life was about to begin.
As she made her way carefully up the long drive tree lined drive and switched off the engine Rhiannon came out of the house to meet her. Llandegley House appeared substantially unchanged from the outside. The interior though was an entirely different story. Over the past six weeks Rhiannon had called in a couple of favours and the team of builders and decorators, under her at times somewhat bossy supervision, had worked overtime to get the work completed for Mellory’s arrival. The fine, sunny weather of late summer had lasted until the end of September but had disappeared now. A brisk wind carried the fallen leaves that danced and swirled in circular eddies around the front of the house as the banks of grey clouds gathered threateningly, the first raindrops starting to fall as dusk began to gather. This was the time that the French refer to as ” Between the dog and the wolf.”
Mellory stepped into the hall and placed her sports bag on the recently varnished parquet floor. She kissed Rhiannon on each cheek in the continental manner. Looking around at the freshly painted pale grey walls she murmured her approval at her friend’s choice of colour. “Very contemporary.” She observed. They moved through to the sitting room where the chill of approaching autumn was dispelled by the log fire that crackled happily in the grate of the big inglenook fireplace. This large room too had been freshly decorated. The two women sat side by side on the sofa and Rhiannon poured freshly made coffee into two cups. “You must be tired after the drive.” Mellory agreed that she was a little jaded. “Well, just come and look at this.”
“You’ve done really well Rhiannon.” Mellory Jones took in the expert refurbishment of the master bedroom. Her friend clearly had a natural talent when it came to interior design. “It’s just so much easier when you start with a blank canvas.” She explained. Mellory felt the weight of the new full length curtains. “Nevertheless you’ve done really well. I remember this room when it was my uncle’s bedroom, it was so dowdy then but you have completely transformed it.” She sat on the edge of the king size bed and felt the firmness of the brand new mattress. “Why not have a rest while I cook us something tasty? I have some entertainment sorted out for us later.” Mellory agreed and settled down for a restorative sleep after her long journey.
Mellory finished her dinner and placed her knife and fork back on her plate. “Well that was delicious, now give me a clue about this entertainment that you have planned, I’m intrigued.” Rhiannon smiled across the table. “Oh I am quite sure that you are going to enjoy it.” She stood and beckoned with her index finger for her friend to follow. They went upstairs and along the hallway to the bedroom at the far end of the house to the rear. Once inside Rhiannon opened the doors of a large wardrobe. “Want to play at dressing up?” She asked. Mellory peered inside. Various items of leather clothing were on hangers and beneath was a rack containing several pairs of shoes and boots. She reached inside and ran her hands along the smooth legs of a pair of slim cut black leather jeans. She took in the fineness of the leather as well as the heady aroma. Picking up a pair of laced knee length black leather boots she noted how the slim stiletto heel was angled so as to make the instep almost vertical. “Fantastic boots!” She commented.
Rhiannon stood back and took a few moments to admire the slim, elegant leather clad figure of her friend. Mellory had chosen a tailored short black leather jacket that emphasised the slimness of her waist to complement the leather jeans and the laced stiletto boots. The jacket lapels were set wide apart and displayed both the ridge of her prominent clavicles and the cleavage of her small but shapely breasts. A wide corset style belt encircled her slim waist and a black leather choker and gloves completed the outfit. Rhiannon had chosen for herself a form hugging halter necked black leather mini dress, the leather following every curve of her svelte figure. The black stilettos had high triple ankle straps and made her long shapely legs look even longer. “Follow me” she said.
They made their way back downstairs and Rhiannon headed straight for the heavy timber door that led off the hallway and down to the cellar. Mellory noticed that the steps had been cleaned and a coat of grey floor paint applied. It was a big contrast with the how the house had been on her last visit. As the two women descended into the cellar that lay directly below the large sitting room their eyes gradually became accustomed to the much lower level of light. At the base of the steps, as they entered the main body of the large rectangular chamber, four wall mounted medieval style cast iron sconces, two on either side of the long walls, cast a low, red tinted light upwards to reflect back from the ceiling, bathing the whole place in a soft, ruddy hue. The silence within the cellar was almost eerie.
It was only at this juncture that Mellory realised, with a slight gasp of surprise, that the small steel barred cage that stood before them on the floor directly beneath the first sconce on the left contained an occupant. The cage was quite small for one required to hold the body of a man. Barely a metre square, the door was secured by means of a hasp through which was threaded a small, bright steel padlock. As her eyes grew stronger in the low light Mellory could now make out the distinctive body shape of the male occupant crouching within this tiny iron prison, which, given it’s small dimensions would have been most restrictive, forcing him to draw his legs up towards his body in order to fit inside this severely constricting space.
As they drew closer Mellory took in the freshly shaven head of the cage’s occupant, which, even the cooler atmosphere of the cellar displayed beads of sweat that glistened in the light between the tracks of the raised veins that criss crossed his skull. Standing immediately beside the cage now Mellory could make out the darker symbols across his upper back. In letters several centimetres high the recently applied tattoo spelled out the word “S L A V E”. The small of his back displayed a rectangular panel that she recognised as an objectifying barcode. Now she realised that the dark, curly haired Hugh had, during the course of her absence been transformed into this pathetic shaven headed creature that cowered within the stark metal bars of the cage. Not only had Rhiannon used the power that she held over the man to turn back the clock two centuries to the days of slavery but, by having him tattooed with the barcode, had introduced a twenty first century touch in her quest to further dehumanise and humiliate him.
“Do you approve?” Asked Rhiannon smiling. Mellory slipped a leather gloved hand through the bars, spreading her fingers across his bare skull, taking it within her firm grip. “Oh Yes, I most definitely do approve.” She said. Her voice had taken on a low and slightly husky tone as for the first time she came appreciate the nature of what their evening’s entertainment might consist of. Her hand ran around the leather collar that he wore and gripped the attached leather leash firmly before tugging on the loop, bringing his face up hard against the metal bars. She studied his grimace of discomfort briefly before relinquishing her hold and allowing him to subside back towards the cage floor. “I approve most thoroughly” she said. There was an edge to her voice now, a hardness that expressed her inner feelings, a readiness to punish this dehumanised being in pursuit of pleasure. She now stood, her long booted legs set apart on the stone floor feeling the thrill of the power to do exactly as she pleased with the imprisoned slave. This emotion was already coursing through her brain like a turbulent and raging river in full flood. There was something about this current situation that had slipped the leash from her long latent sadism.
“Before we get down to business let me show you around the dungeon” said Rhiannon. Just beyond the cage a sturdy timber frame with an angled upholstered top was equipped with nine heavy saddle leather grade straps. “This is for when we need to administer any serious punishment” she explained. “Two pairs of straps for his ankles and thighs, two more pairs for wrists and arms. And if he still tries to move a nice wide one to hold him by the waist.” Mellory smiled. ” I don’t think he will be going anywhere do you?” Rhiannon laughed and motioned towards the wall rack that contained an array of vicious looking whips and canes. Mellory picked up a braided black leather bullwhip, feeling it’s satisfying heaviness briefly before replacing it.”I can assure you that when we get down to business with some of these he will certainly try.”
“This is my favourite though” Rhiannon walked to the far end of the dungeon where one of the original metal ceiling hooks had been strengthened and repositioned so that it now hung from the centre of the room. A wide, sturdy metal bar with rings was attached and a system of chains and pulleys allowed for the bar to be raised and lowered. She removed a pair of composite leather straps equipped with bright steel fittings from the wall rack. “These go round his ankles and he can then be suspended completely clear of the ground, add one of these…” she picked up a leather strap chest harness and showed it to Mellory. “…and there are cuffs so that his wrists can be neatly strapped away behind his back so that however severely we punish him there is nothing he can do to attempt to protect himself from the sting of the whip, all he can do is to hang there and take it. He can’t even protest if we also choose to use one of these.” She held up a leather head harness with a solid rubber gag fitting in the shape of a penis. ” Most humiliating for a straight guy.” She laughed.
Rhiannon walked across to a small table, her heels clicking loudly on the stone floor. She picked up a small silver key and returned to the cage, slipping it into the padlock. She opened the door and said simply “Out”. Mellory watched in fascination as the slave crawled meekly out of his steel barred prison and knelt obediently on the floor before Rhiannon. “Stand.” This command was equally curt and he stood immediately in response. His new mistress had clearly instilled a strong sense of discipline in her slave, he was well on the way to becoming the total supplicant that she had sought to make of him. She pointed a leather gloved finger to the spot where she wished him to stand and handed her friend the leather chest harness with cuffs attached. “Would you strap him into that?”
Rhiannon clipped the heavy leather ankle straps around his legs. The chains rattled as she lowered the bar to waist height and ordered the slave to sit on the floor. She attached both ankle straps to the steel suspension bar and began to raise the hoist. Slowly, inch by inch, his legs were raised into the air. Gradually his body followed, first his hips came clear of the dungeon floor then his body followed until eventually his head was lifted clear of the stone flags and finally he swung gently back and forth. Mellory took his wrists and strapped them into the cuffs of the chest harness, pulling hard on the buckles to ensure that he was tightly secured. Finally, placing a boot in the centre of his chest she gave him a push, setting him swinging more violently, she was clearly beginning to enjoy the feeling of total power that she held over him.
From his position, naked and suspended by his ankles from the ceiling of the dungeon Hugh felt the point of Mellory’s stiletto boot heel against his chest as she set him swinging. The feeling of vulnerability was now completely overwhelming. Over the past six weeks Rhiannon had imposed her will upon him totally. Initially his reason for signing the contract that she had presented to him had been the preservation of his job and his home. Since then however their relationship had changed somewhat as the beautiful woman who had featured in his fantasies for almost three decades had skilfully employed the power she held over him to dictate the terms of the contract in ways that he could never had imagined possible. First had come the shaving of his head, then the trip to the tattooist. Piece by piece he was falling deeper beneath her spell.
He had been aware of all the work going in at Llendegley Farm. For weeks builders and decorators had worked long hours, many of them had chatted with Hugh. “She’s a piece of work.” One of them had said, motioning towards Rhiannon as she had strutted through the house one day, her jeans worn inside her high heeled boots, coffee mug in her hand as she gestured with a long scarlet painted finger nail to something that she seemed dissatisfied with, a paint line not sufficiently straight or a skirting not fixed correctly. “I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of her.” The man had observed pointedly. Hugh realised that he was on the wrong side of her, but strangely it was becoming a position that he took pleasure in.
It was a fortnight earlier that Rhiannon had called him to the house and ordered him to strip. He was still struggling to understand their relationship. His only affair as such had been with Gwen, a straightforward one that involved Saturday night sex, often followed by Sunday morning sex. Rhiannon was different. Even as she cooly told him to remove his clothes he knew in his heart that this wasn’t going to end in sex. She stood before him in her usual pose, hands on hips, booted feet set apart and ordered him to his knees. “Kiss my boots Hugh.” This had become something of a habit with Rhiannon but tonight she had in her hand a small piece of metal that would transform his life.
Once the formalities of confirming his submission were completed Hugh was ordered to stand. He was semi erect after worshipping Rhiannon’s boots and she waited until he subsided before taking the steel chastity lock from it’s box. It had arrived in the post that morning. Deftly she slipped the steel restraining band around his scrotum, adjusting it so that it would be impossible to remove his testicles without access to the little Allen key that she now used to lock it firmly into place. The set of four concentric steel bands encircled his shaft and was secured by a second locking bolt. Rhiannon smiled as she stood back, slipping the key into the pocket of her skin tight black leather jeans, revelling in the power that she now held over him. There surely could be nothing more symbolic of it than this, to be able, on a whim, to either allow or deny him orgasm. It was now something entirely within her gift.
Tonight as he hung upside down from the ceiling of the dungeon, his legs forming a “V”, ankles bound into the heavy leather straps that in turn were clamped to the steel bar, Hugh’s cock was still inside the chastity lock as it had been for the last two weeks. This had been a sublime form of sexual torture. Within forty eight hours of Rhiannon locking the device around his genitals Hugh had started to feel the need for release. As hard as he tried it was impossible either to get out of the lock or to gain an orgasm with it in situ. His frustration had built over the past fortnight until today. It was earlier that afternoon that a text arrived from Rhiannon. “Report to the house at four and you may be permitted an orgasm.”
It was a great disappointment to him that the orgasm did not come immediately. Rhiannon had led him down to the cellar, ordered him to strip and placed him within the confines of the small steel barred holding cage where he had remained for what seemed an age until he heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps. The two women had then worked together to place him in the position he now found himself, helplessly suspended, wrists tightly strapped into the heavy leather cuffs of his chest harness holding them across his back, powerless and vulnerable to whatever they might choose to do to him.
Hugh watched in silence as his inverted world moved around him. First the laced leather boots then the elegant ankle strapped black stiletto shoes appeared before his eyes as the two women discussed the virtues of the various canes and whips in the rack before them. He heard Rhiannon’s mellifluous Welsh accented voice as she explained the differences to her friend, pointing out what each one was originally used for. Eventually she said “Is that the one that you would like to use?” Able only to hear their conversation he could but imagine what the implement of punishment looked like that Mellory now held in her black leather gloved hands.
The whip that most appealed to Mellory, and which she now examined carefully was one of antique braided hide. Dating from the late nineteenth century and crafted many thousand miles from it’s current home on a rack in a Welsh dungeon the whip bore a heavy patina, a testament to the age and quality of this weapon that had earlier in it’s long lifetime elicited many cries from men, and they had been exclusively men, who had suffered it’s stinging lash. In it’s earlier incarnation, wielded by those builders of empire, it had served to drive those whose backs it cut to still greater efforts on behalf of a queen they didn’t even know existed. Now, a century and a half on this piece of crafted animal hide would once again see service for that exact same purpose. Once more it would cut the flesh of a supine male, but this time it would be wielded by a female.
Mellory held the heavy handle in her right hand and twisted the shaft with her left. The diffused red light from the wall lamps fell upon and reflected from the black leather of her head to toe outfit. Only her face, neck and a degree of cleavage exposed by the cut of the short, tailored leather jacket contrasted with the skin tight clothing. Holding the whip changed something within her. The body of Hugh, suspended before her, helpless and bound certainly drove that change. She felt the emotional charge of the heightening of her power as she flexed the braided whip and felt it’s weight in her hands.
Rhiannon stood back a pace from her friend and nodded in the direction of Hugh in a clear invitation to Mellory to begin the session. The slim, athletic woman carefully positioned herself before his hanging body, teasing the split tail of the whip between leather clad fingers as she carefully gauged the distance. She moved her feet slightly further apart, the long, tapered heels of her laced boots now providing stability as she raised her right arm high above her shoulder.
That lash was destined to be the first that Mellory ever delivered, the first that Hugh had ever received. For both of them it would prove to be life changing.
The whip cut the air with a sound that would serve as a full stop to the first thirty eight years of her life. A fraction of a second later the leather tail landed diagonally across the buttocks of it’s target. It certainly wasn’t the hardest that she would ever whip him. Delivered with moderately hard force it provoked a shake of his body in it’s bonds followed by a cry of pain. Mellory stood for a few seconds as the profound nature of what she had just done provoked a feeling of power within her. Then the whip was high behind her again and a second, slightly harder stroke fell parallel to the first quickly followed by a third and a fourth each harder than it’s predecessor.
She stood back, watching in fascination as the strikes of her whip served to animate his body. It now jumped and bounced in it’s bonds as the pain of her whip hit home. His legs shook uncontrollably but were firmly anchored by the straps that encased his ankles, linking him firmly to the overhead steel bar. His screams filled the dungeon, echoing from the walls as four wild red diagonal stripes now appeared on his bruised flesh. Mellory took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. She took a couple of deep breaths, realising that they had become short and shallow and, raising her whip once more continued to punish Hugh. His cries mingled with the sounds of the leather lash cutting the air followed immediately by that of it’s impact on his bound body. Gradually his protests diminished as the surging endorphins lessened the effect of the whip strokes, a strange alchemy changing pain into a sensation that was curiously pleasurable.
Eventually Mellory laid down her whip. Hugh’s body was decorated with a criss cross of a couple of dozen or so heavy welts. She ran her fingers along the line of one of the heavier ones. It was already deepening to a darker purple-black hue and minute droplets of blood were forming along the track of the whip. A strange pleasure coursed through her brain as well as her body. It certainly wasn’t sexual she knew that, but it was something every bit as strong and if she knew one thing for sure it was this. Having now experienced the sensations that accompanied this total domination of her male slave, she wanted more.
Copyright DL Media – October 2019