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Authors: Amanita Virosa

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Rectory of Correction (29 page)

BOOK: Rectory of Correction
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Lord Alex raised his head and suddenly her gaze was caught in his. He winked. ‘Don't worry,' he said with a chuckle, ‘I'll give you something to cry about forthwith.'

 

He pulled the thick bundle of nettles slowly across the girl's right breast, then her left. Katriona Macleash opened her powerful lungs and shrieked with pain. The sound echoed around the dungeon walls. He inclined his head and enjoyed the splendid sound until it had subsided to mere sobbing.

‘I'm most disappointed, child.' Minister Peebles shook his bald head sadly as he lowered the nettles to inspect his work.

A bloom of tiny white blisters had risen on the surface of his captive's breasts. Katriona was a handsome girl of twenty, possessed of a fine mane of glossy dark brown hair. She had a shapely figure, with large firm breasts and big nipples. These, if pressed, the minister might have admitted were amongst his favourites. They stuck out now like throbbing red thimbles, almost begging him to bend his head and chew...

That pleasure would have to wait, however, for he had the Lord's work to do with Katriona and her companion in sinfulness, Fiona Breineag.

These two were not the only of their ilk to defy him and refuse to forswear allegiance to that hellion, Kirsty MacSlat. But he would make an example of them. He stepped back and looked around the torture chamber. The young women were chained against the stone walls. Arranged almost opposite one another, their bodies were stretched into taut X shapes, backs against the cold stone walls of the dungeon. Ancient and ominous equipment was spaced out on the stone floor. There was nothing to be seen in the place that had not been designed for the purposes of punishment.

The big fire in the centre of the chamber made it warm, and produced a flickering light that lit the naked bodies of the minister's moaning captives.

‘Take these, Marie, and put them to work on Katriona's wicked thighs.' He handed the bundle of nettles to a girl who stood waiting by his side. Marie Nip reached out a gloved hand and took the stems with barely concealed relish.

‘Aye, sir, I'll make the stubborn wee bitch sing,' she murmured.

It was hot in the chamber, and Marie had stripped to her rough plaid skirt. The leather glove on her right hand was the only garment on her upper body. The minister felt a renewed stirring in his crotch as he watched Marie's firm young breasts move. She swung the nettles experimentally, with a pleased expression. The minx had been amongst the first to rally to his cause. Marie's malice was famed in the glen, yet she was a virtuous girl. For had she not leaped at the opportunity to assist his righteous work of persuading those foolish enough to express loyalty to Kirsty? Virtue, he thought, as he watched her, has its own rewards.

Peebles' thin hand hesitated over the implements he had set out before him. Settling on a little whip that had half-a-dozen tails of thinnest cord, he walked over to Fiona.

An agonised shriek from Katriona eclipsed Fiona's frightened sobbing, but Peebles resisted the temptation to turn from his target to watch his assistant work. Instead, he took careful stock of the trembling girl before him.

Fiona was a tall, powerfully built young woman with red-gold hair and a pubic bush that glinted as the light caught it. Her body stiffened as he approached, causing her manacles to clink as she struggled against the unyielding bonds. Peebles stood a few feet away, swishing the whip through the air and enjoying the way her form trembled in response to the sound. The firelight played over her body, making the pale skin glow rose and emphasising her womanly curves, throwing moving shadows that seemed almost to caress her rounded form.

He stepped closer and ran his hand over the warm flesh of her belly. Fiona whimpered at his touch. Katriona gave another squeal as Marie worked away with the nettles. Peebles felt his cock stiffen in response to Katriona's cries. He would, he knew, have another use for Marie very soon.

There were plenty of others who needed to be taught harsh lessons, but they could wait. For these girls had had the gall to deny his right to rule. It was nothing less than his bounden duty to bring them to the path of righteousness. He raised the whip. Fiona shrank away, but could not escape him. Dr Peebles smiled, glad that he was not a man to shirk his duty.

 

‘Damn, I'm going to miss the festivities,' Lord Alex said with a grunt. One hand held a hank of Faith's hair. With the other he had opened his fob watch to check the time. Faith heard the case snap shut as she continued to fellate him.

Her naked buttocks throbbed, for Lord Alex had laid six blistering strokes across them with the camel whip. It had not been a prolonged flogging, however, for whilst her bottom had still been blazing, he had hauled her by the ear from the desk she'd been bent over and forced her to her knees in front of him.

Faith had been the Reverend Dawes' maid long enough to know what her employer's friend expected. Blinking away tears, she unbuttoned his lordship's flies and took out his stiff member.

She had been trained well. She licked the shaft, teasing his heavy testicles with her hand as she did so. Aware of the whip that he had thrown down on the floor beside her, she did her very best to please her temporary master.

To her surprise, however, his climax did not come quickly. She took the swollen glans in her mouth, running her tongue along its rim and pumping the shaft with her hand as she did so. Lord Alex groaned and grunted and shouted, ‘That's it, you little slut!' His cock twitched a little, but still he showed no real sign of imminent climax.

Faith was getting desperate now. He must have come recently; perhaps he had poked one of the Hope Hall maids after the ceremony. She sucked away and tried to think what to do. It made no difference, she knew; only one person would get the blame if she could not bring him off quickly. If only her poor bottom did not throb quite so distractingly, she might be able to concentrate...

Sensing he was getting impatient, and desperate to avoid another skirmish with the camel whip, Faith resolved to take a chance and stopped sucking.

‘What...?'

She had to fight against the pressure of his hand on her head. It was impertinent but could not be helped if she were to achieve her purpose. Faith took hold of her nipples between thumb and forefinger. They had become sufficiently engorged during the whipping for her to get a good grip of the stiff little nubs of flesh. Then she shuffled closer on her knees. Lord Alex, realising her intentions, stopped protesting.

‘I see... oh yes, you little monkey, not a bad idea.'

Faith used her grip on her nipples to pull her breasts inwards, enclosing the shaft of his cock. Then she pumped her back, pressing her chin down on her chest and catching his glans with her tongue tip as his manhood emerged from its fleshy prison. Lord Alex began swearing and pulling at her ears. Faith ignored the pain this caused, as well as the ache in her bottom, and did her best to concentrate on the task between her breasts.

She did not have to do so for very long. Suddenly Lord Alex gave a loud groan and his cock twitched violently. A hot stream of come squirted, without further warning, straight into Faith's face.

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

Amelia put down her piece of wedding cake and clapped with sheer delight. A prettier sight, she thought, could never have been set before a happy couple.

Three trestles had been put out in a line facing the top table of the banquet. The three bridesmaids stood nervously behind these.

Bella, being the tallest, had been placed in the centre. Like the others, her arms had been secured behind her back, wrist cuffs affixed to leather bands above her elbows. A collar of black leather had been locked around her slender neck and a leash of chain attached this to the side of the trestle.

Linnet stood, looking down and blushing slightly, to Bella's left. Charlotte, on the right, looked at the floor with an expression suggesting that she might be chewing worms.

‘Well,' Lady Alicia said, drumming her fingers on the table impatiently, ‘perhaps we should get on with the entertainment...'

‘Shouldn't we wait for Alex?' the Reverend Dawes murmured through a mouthful of cake. ‘I mean, he was my best man, after all.'

‘Which is why he should be... ah, at last!' Lady Alicia shook her head despairingly as her husband hurried up, ruefully adjusting his dress.

‘Sorry, Alicia, m'dear. Bit of urgent business...'

‘Yes, yes,' Lady Alicia said tartly, ‘we know, something just came up! I really think you could have exercised a little patience for once in your life, Alex.'

‘Sorry, light of my life.' Lord Alex winked at the bride and groom. ‘Don't you remember? Patience ran off with those nurses who did all that colonic irrigation. I had to exercise a little Faith instead.'

Amelia, watching Lady Alicia's darkening expression, wondered if she was about to see her aunt's famously ferocious temper unleashed. However, Lord Alex forestalled any such eventuality by standing and quieting the throng of guests by striking his wine goblet with a silver spoon.

‘Welcome, one and all, to this joyous occasion,' he boomed. ‘Plenty of you have been to a wedding reception at Hope Hall before, but a few of you may not know the drill. Suffice to say, we don't go in for speechifying and all that usual rot. As best man I'm supposed to thank the bish.' He nodded at the bishop, who was busy stuffing cake into his mouth. The bishop waved back gaily.

‘And, in all probability,' his lordship said, furrowing his brow, ‘I'm supposed to thank some other buggers, too – but bedamned to that!'

Amused, Amelia watched Lady Alicia's eyes narrow, but her uncle took not the least notice of his wife.

‘Instead, these lovely bridesmaids...' he swept an arm out to indicate the three trembling girls, to the accompaniment of much clapping and some ribald hooting from the wedding guests, ‘have volunteered to play the traditional nuptial games.'

He paused as the hall echoed with riotous applause.

He inclined his head towards the grim-looking, black-garbed woman who had taken up her station behind the tethered bridesmaids. ‘Miss Pritchard, I think it is time to begin.'

 

‘No more, sir. Have mercy, please.'

Ignoring her cries, Peebles brought the whip down again. Fiona shrieked, bucking violently within the narrow confines of her bonds. The manacles clanked in protest as she fought them, but she could do little more than shake her head from side to side and jiggle her splendid breasts.

Peebles reached forward and took her left breast in his hand. He could feel the heat the whipping had engendered. The pale flesh was scored by dozens of fine red welts. The girl's nipple felt as hard as a wine cork. The minister felt his cock, equally stiff, twitch eagerly as he fondled her.

‘Are you ready to recognise young Malcolm as your clan chief?' he asked pleasantly.

‘I suppose so,' she sobbed.

A tear fell from her hanging head and splashed on his hand. Minister Peebles paused in his fondling to lick the tear away, relishing the delicate salt taste.

‘Very well,' he said, ‘we can swear your allegiance later. Of course, you will still have to be punished...'

Fiona began crying piteously. Peebles patted her cheek fondly. ‘There, there, child,' he said kindly, ‘it is for the good of your soul...'

‘A pretty sight,' a female voice interrupted, ‘and it is so fitting to see this place used, once again, for its intended purpose.'

Peebles swung around in surprise. At the top of the stone stairway that led down to the floor of the dungeon stood a quite astonishing figure: Kirsty MacSlat, hands on hips, resplendent in a plaid of MacSlat hunting tartan. This was fixed into place by the clan chief's silver brooch, depicting a sea eagle. A black beret, pulled over her fiery locks, sported a crest of osprey feathers. For all the splendour of her chieftain's regalia, however, her limbs were bare, except for a spiral silver bracelet around her upper left arm that did nothing to disguise a set of well-honed muscles.

‘I did not give you permission to return,' Peebles spluttered. ‘Take off those clothes, you wicked girl. I shall have to punish you severely.' When he saw that she did not move to obey he began to bellow. ‘Angus! Fergus!'

Kirsty grinned. ‘Your bully boys have fled, Peebles. I have five hundred clansmen and women outside, shrieking for your blood.'

There was a silence. Suddenly, Peebles could hear them. What he had thought to be no more than the howling of the wind was the heart-stopping sound of human voices clamouring for blood. His blood.

‘I wanted to do this part on my own, however,' Kirsty said as she began walking down the steps.

‘Minister...' Marie's voice was hoarse with fear. ‘Is it true? What do we do?'

‘What you do, bitch,' Kirsty growled, ‘unless you wish to be given to the clan, is to unchain my friend Katriona.'

Peebles flicked his eyes over to his assistant and her victim. To his horror, the faithless slattern was obeying Kirsty.

‘All right, Katy?'

BOOK: Rectory of Correction
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