A Lady's Slave

Dramatis Persona

 

Lady Jane Templeton, a noble lady of extreme tastes

Lord Raymond Templeton, her cousin, a follow of St. Sebastian

The Marquissa Gabrielle of Rabelais, a woman with a penchant for inflicting pain

The Marquis of Rabelais, a follower of St. Sebastian and husband to Gabrielle

Duke George Blancbatton and Duchess Harriet Blancbatton, purveyors of sexual slavery and perversion, uncle and aunt to the Marquissa of Rabelais

Baron Edward Rumberford, a rake in love with the Marquissa of Rabelais

Lord and Lady Howard and Bessie Templeton, Jane’s parents

The turn of the century on an isolated island kingdom ruled by a wickedly delightful queen…

 

Chapter One

 

Lady Jane Templeton watched as her cousin Raymond fucked the servant boy in the ass. Servant boy might have been a misnomer, if not an insult. The servant was most assuredly a man, though younger than Raymond’s twenty one years. He was tall and blond and blue eyed and made the most delightful moaning sounds as Raymond fucked him slowly on Jane’s bed. She watched from across the room, sprawled in her dressing table’s chair, her thighs parted while her fingers explored the gooey depths of her cunt. The boy—Jane couldn’t remember his name at the moment—was up on his hands and knees with Raymond’s cock up his ass. The boy’s cock was fully erect due to the rough and loving treatment Raymond was giving it with his right hand while steadying himself on the boy’s rump with his left.

“You’re not going to make him cum too fast, are you, Raymie?” Jane asked her cousin when the boy let out a particularly loud and shuddering moan.

“Never,” Raymond answered as he continued moving his hips back and forth, plunging his cock up the boy’s ass. Raymond was a classic beauty himself: broad shoulders, dark curly hair, and slim hips. Jane loved watching his ass as he fucked other boys. It was a shame he was a follower of St. Sebastian for he was her second cousin, an acceptable match, she would have gladly married him, keeping titles and monetary fortunes within the family, if he didn’t have the inclination to suck men’s cocks. “He’ll cum first.”

“Maybe I’ll cum first,” she announced. Raymond just nodded but the servant boy looked over her way. That pleased her. She had loosed her chemise allowing her small breasts to spill out. Lady Jane liked to be looked at. He stared at her tits while she locked her eyes on his cock being massaged by Raymond’s hand. She didn’t know of the boy was a Sebastian like Raymond or had simply been brought to bed by the handsome young nobleman in hopes of earning some small favor. The way he gazed upon her body made Jane think that he preferred girls, but wasn’t averse to play with boys.

It was delightful to see two men playing on her canopied bed, the covers still warm from her body, the sheets still holding her scent. The hour was early for her, but Raymond had probably been up all night drinking and whoring, and had taken this boy to her bed as a finale to his celebrations. In the back of her mind Jane wondered what tasks the boy was being kept from, but it didn’t matter. This was more important. “Would you like to see me cum…?” Her question trailed off when she realized she didn’t know the boy’s name. Jane threw her head back and laughed. “What is your name, boy?”

“Jack, ma’am. I mean, It’s Jack, my lady.” He was flushed now, either with embarrassment or with lust; it didn’t matter. Jane just nodded and busied her fingers in her pussy. She would have liked to show him her cunt, wet and open, but she had left her knickers on and couldn’t be bothered to remove them at the moment. Keeping her sex a secret from Jack was probably more exciting to him than letting him see everything. Her fingers found her clit and her free hand pinched one of her nipples as a little keening cry of delight fled her lips, announcing her climax.

“Beautiful,” Raymond told her, but had barely given her a glance during her show.

“Liar,” she teased as she took to her feet and crossed over to them. She rested one hip on the edge of the bed to watch more closely as they fucked. Reaching out to Jack’s face, she ran her still wet fingers under his nose, sharing her scent with him. “Do you like boys or girls, Jack?”

“Uh…” He didn’t have an answer. Or he was distracted by Raymond’s cock in his ass. Or he wanted an answer that would please Lady Jane and he didn’t know what that answer would be. Or he was distracted by her scent and her bare tits. Or perhaps a combination of all those factors.

“Or do you like both?” she asked.

He just nodded dumbly.

She laughed at him. He obviously would say or do anything for her at the moment. “I want to see you cum,” she told him. “I want to see you shoot your spunk all over my bed.”

Those were the words he wanted—or needed—to hear. A second later his cock was jerking and spitting forth thick white ropes of cum, splashing down on her soft sheets, his red cock a barely controlled hose in Raymond’s hand.

“Damn your meddling, girl!” Raymond grunted as he plowed into the boy a few more times before cumming himself, emptying his cock inside the boy. Raymond took every opportunity to remind Jane that though by virtue of her parentage, she had inherited a higher title, but he was her elder by a month.

Jane laughed and kissed Jack’s forehead before collapsing with delight on the bed next to the two men. Raymond pulled his cock free of the boy’s ass and pushed him roughly to the side so that he could lay down next to his cousin.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Raymond asked.

“With you? Always.” Jane reached out and rested her hand on his cock. He didn’t shy away but she knew he touch no pleasure in his intimate touch. His engorged cock was sticky with both his spunk and the lotion he had come to her room to borrow, not wanting to bugger Jack without a bit of slippery assistance. Whether or not he had planned to fuck Jack in front of her she would never know. Raymond had always been a free spirit, unencumbered by society’s mores or expectations. He had been the man to take her virginity, though afterwards he claimed no true pleasure in the act, quickly confessing he preferred men in his bed. At first Jane had been offended at his admission and use of her body to fulfill a physical need when what he really wanted was a man, but only she was available. When Raymond became her partner in seducing boys and girls into a shared bed, she had quickly forgiven him. “What are we doing today?”

They were in her father’s house, but her parents were gone on another long vacation, touring the summer lands—again—and leaving her alone to prepare for the summer society balls.

Raymond glanced at Jack and barked out some orders. “Find the serving girl to bring us breakfast. And find a maid to clean up this mess.” He gestured to Jack’s leavings on the sheets. “And clean yourself up. And then get back to your job.”

Jack quickly grabbed his clothes, pulled them on, and disappeared from Jane’s bedchamber.

“I have a particularly dirty proposal for you,” Raymond purred in her ear.

“And what is that?” she asked.

Raymond paused, making sure that Jack had closed the door behind him, before telling her, “I have entre into the House of Blancbatton.”

She blinked. “What’s that?”

The moment she said the two words, she felt all the stupider for it. “I would have thought a libertine like you would be well familiar with the House of Blancbatton.”

Jane rolled her eyes and slapped at his cock, catching her cousin off guard. “Quit being coy and tell me. I’m looking for a new adventure, you know that.”

Raymond fake groaned, pretending her slap had permanently damaged his sensitive balls, before revealing, “It’s the only titled house in the kingdom that still maintains a full stable of slaves.” He grinned. “Slaves that are specially trained in all the entertaining arts.”

His words caught her interest. She raised her eyebrows. “Really? That seems unlikely. The House of Lords outlawed slavery a hundred years ago.”

Affecting a distant air, Raymond said, “Oh, technically they are indentured servants, but that doesn’t change what the House of Blancbatton will have them do for you.”

“And what will they do for me?”

“Anything you want. You can make love to a beautiful girl or boy. You can make love with both in a bath of wine. You can be ravaged by a dozen virile studs or you can watch while two men wrestle in oil for the privilege of kissing your cunt. The only limitations are your dreams and your desires.”

“Tell me more,” she sighed dreamily, half teasing her cousin.

“No pleasure is forbidden. You can beat a slave for your pleasure—or his. You can be beaten by a slave if you so desire it.”

“Can I make a dirty old lord spank my bare bottom and then bugger me like a boy?”

“Certainly, if that’s what you want.”

“Maybe I want something more. Maybe I want something more…salacious.”

Raymond grinned at her, rolled off the bed, and found his jacket that had been tossed aside before making love to the servant Jack. From an interior pocket he extracted a small book the size of a lady’s diary, but this was lovingly crafted and contained only short passages within. Each passage accompanied an illustration that depicted men and women in all manner of intimate situations. Every page was a new delight of debauchery.

“Where did you get this,” she marveled.

“From the House of Blancbatton, of course.” He flipped to the last page and indicated the house mark inscribed inside the back cover. “It’s not quite an advertisement, but they pass around these books to…encourage people to visit. Take a look,” he told her since she was already flipping through the pages. “Do you see anything you like?”

Everything Jane saw, she liked: the sex, the costumes, the strange practices. It seemed every perversion was on display in the little book. If she had to describe it, she would say that the pages contained every twisted desire that passed through her mind. She wanted to try them all. “I don’t think the artist knows exactly how a cunt is supposed to look,” she told Raymond. “He draws them all with a little gold ornament. Same for a lot of the cocks.”

Her cousin glanced at the pages she indicated. “Oh that. The slaves all have their sexes pierced. They all have to wear a ring to keep track of who’s who. It wouldn’t do to have a lady locked up in a cell and a slave enjoy a featherbed after an intense orgy.”

“They have their sexes pierced?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t that…hurt?”

Raymond’s lips twisted into half a smile. “I think that’s the point.”

Jane shivered and flipped through a few more pages. “It looks like the slaves get to have all the fun.” The idea of metal penetrating secret flesh was almost too much for her. She tried to distract herself.

“What? Getting tied up and beaten and forced to have sex?”

Her eyes glowed with desire. “Yes. That exactly.”

“You know they’re not real slaves, right?”

“Right, right. Indentured servants. Probably working off some debt they shouldn’t have gotten into in the first place.”

“They’re working,” he told her. “They have to do these things.”

“It still looks like fun.”

“Until they have to do it a hundred times.”

“How long may one stay at the House of Blancbatton?” she asked.

“For as long as one can afford. I don’t think the monthly allowance your parents give you would cover much more than a week’s fun and games.”

“Too short,” she muttered to herself, thinking and tapping her front incisor with her fingernail. “How long do the slaves stay there?”

“Indentured servants,” he gently reminded her. “Some serve several years. Some a much shorter period. It depends on their skills and beauty.”

She continued to tap her tooth before suddenly bursting out with, “If I told my parents I was taking a tour of the continent, do you think I could serve a few months there?”

Raymond was momentarily puzzled. “Fine young ladies don’t serve at House of Blancbatton, they partake of its joys.”

“But I don’t want to ‘partake of the joys.’ I want to be forced and subjected to them.” She grinned wickedly. “How else can a refined young lady debauch herself? We don’t all have access to the Cult of Sebastian to give in to our base desires.”

He shook his head at her. “You can’t do that,” he told her flatly.

“Of course I can. You’ll take me up north to the House of Blancbatton, sell me there as a slave because you need some extra coin, and then return in a few months to rescue me. It’s perfect.”

Naturally, Raymond took issue with her plan. “First, we are supposed to go there together, dear cousin, and debauch ourselves. Second, no one would believe for a moment that you are of common birth, let alone a slave. Third, you are insane if you think I’ll participate in this madness.”

“I’ll be a lady of noble birth fallen on hard times working off a debt,” she supplied to him.

“It won’t work. Besides, you don’t have the markings of a slave.”

Her expression soured. “I let Sir James tie me down to this very bed and fuck me until I was raw and pleading for him to stop. I can play the slave.”

A simple shake of his head told her she was wrong. “Not the mannerisms of a slave. The markings. You need your cunt pierced and a servitude tattoo placed. You don’t have those.”

Jane would not be dissuaded. “I can get those done. And you’ll help me.”

 

Every city had a seedy underbelly and Raymond was surprisingly familiar with Dyston’s criminal district. The small port city was only a half hour’s car trip from Lady Jane’s family home—barely twenty with the way Raymond drove his open topped vehicle—and featured plenty of pubs attached to businesses that offered services of the sort not normally sought out by people of Jane’s social class. Raymond knew right where to go and walked into the place of ill repute as if he owned it. Knowing the business dealings of his parents, it wouldn’t have surprised Jane if Raymond did own a part of the business.

“I’ve never been in a brothel before,” Jane commented to her cousin as they walked into the parlor. She peered around with great interest. It was supposed to be decorated in a manner of high opulence. To Jane’s eyes it looked like a cheap attempt of trying to emulate good taste with too little money. The walls were covered in a red fabric and bargain imitation artworks were placed on every available surface. The effect, Jane supposed, would work to those who didn’t know anything about fine living.

“Hush,” he cautioned her as they approached the table where an older woman sat with an account book in front of her. “You’re not my cousin. You’re a servant who needs to work off her debt as quickly as possible.” The story would explain why he told her to wear her oldest, cheapest, most casual clothes. She had put on an old tweed jacket over a dress she hadn’t worn in a year—it wasn’t ratty, just out of style and faded. It was something that would have gone to the Young Women’s Home, but hadn’t made it out of the closet yet.

The lighting was dim so Jane was surprised to discover that the woman at the table wasn’t a native, she had the honey complexion, jet-black hair, and angled eyes of an immigrant from the Far East. “Yes?” she asked in a light accent that was easy to comprehend and yet seemed completely in place for her ethnicity.

“I believe we have an appointment with Miss Cho,” Raymond said. The madame frowned and Raymond added, “The younger Miss Cho.”

The apparently elder Miss Cho gestured to a doorway. “You know the room,” she said softly.

Raymond grabbed Jane by the elbow and guided her down a long hallway. The brothel was surprisingly quiet. Maybe it was the time of day, maybe it was because the walls were well-padded to prevent sounds from seeping out. It turned out the Raymond did know his way which Jane found suspicious. They arrived at a door that was unmarked like all the rest in the long hallway; he knocked once and let himself in.

Inside Jane expected to find a prostitute’s lair. Instead she found a place that was almost like a doctor’s office. There was an enameled counter along one wall, steel chairs, metal cabinets with glass doors displaying all sorts of medical equipment. It was almost, but not quite, a doctor’s office. Something seemed just a little off to Jane and it wasn’t just the young Oriental woman seated in the chair with a look of expectation on her face.

“Miss Cho,” he said to her almost formally.

“Lord Raymond,” the woman said with a slight incline of her head. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You don’t have an accent,” Jane marveled. “That’s so wonderful.”

Miss Cho frowned. “Why would I have an accent?” she asked sharply. “My family has lived in the kingdom for three generations. Surely you’ve seen members of my race before?”

“Of course,” Jane said, slightly taken aback at the disapproving tone. “I was just—”

Miss Cho cut her off. “Get your servant undressed,” she said in the same clipped tone to Raymond. “This isn’t normally how we do things here. You know that. Why I put up with your behavior and demands is beyond me.”

“Of course,” Raymond said almost obsequiously. “There is just the matter of time.”

“Time is precious to us all,” Miss Cho said quickly. “Get undressed.”

Jane knew there would have to be some exposure of her body, and that she didn’t mind, but she had envisioned something more along the lines of raising her skirts for some privacy. Looking to Raymond for some support, he just grinned at her and helped her remove her tweed jacket. “It’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “You’ll work off your debt in no time at all.”

His words reminded Jane of the role she was supposed to be playing and she began unbuttoning her dress. For half a moment she had been waiting for servant to come in and undress her.

“You said a silver ring, yes?” Miss Cho asked Raymond.

“Yes. Better for her coloring, don’t you think? Pale skin and her dark hair.”

Miss Cho shrugged. “Your choice. It matters not to me. Gold is currently popular with most of the aristos, but it’s your money and her body. And will it be a branding or an inking? Branding is cheaper, you know that.”

“Money isn’t a problem,” Raymond said, feigning offence. “A good tattoo is worth the expense as long as you are doing it, my dear Miss Cho.”

The woman ignored the soft compliment and asked, “Do you have the design?”

Raymond reached into his inner jacket pocket and passed the young woman a folded piece of paper. When Miss Cho opened it, Jane recognized her family’s crest.

“I’m not familiar with this house,” Miss Cho said. “I thought I knew all the houses that still deal in slaves.”

“All noble houses had slave dealings in their history,” Raymond replied. “It’s true this family hasn’t for a few years, but they’re getting back into the old traditions.”

Once again Miss Cho gave her dismissive shrug. “Fine. None of my business.” She glanced over at Jane who had removed her dress and shoes and was standing barefoot in the middle of the room. “Undergarments as well, girl.”

At first Jane didn’t care for Miss Cho’s tone. And then she realized she was playing a servant and needed to play along. She was playing a game. Jane liked games. She pulled down her chemise and then her underpants to stand boldly naked in the room. She felt Raymond’s eyes rake over her. Miss Cho barely acknowledged her.

“On the table,” she ordered.

The table she indicated was metal framed but had a padded cushion on top. It was inclined and a tray holding some steel medical tools was attached to the base. Jane climbed up and assumed the position Miss Cho desired. “Open your legs, put your heels on the edge of the table, bring your bottom down to the edge of the cushion so I can see your cunt.”

The last word and the base language reminded Jane that while this might look like a doctor’s office, it wasn’t. It most assuredly wasn’t. Miss Cho moved a chair to the end of the table, sat down, and looked between Jane’s legs. For just an instant she had the desire to close her thighs and hide her sex, but then she remembered her place.

When the Oriental woman touched her pussy, she didn’t flinch. It wasn’t the first time a woman had touched her there. Miss Cho’s hands were cold which made Jane shiver; that was her only reaction. Her fingers manipulated the folds of Jane’s pussy and she relaxed with the sensations. Miss Cho was obviously experienced in this matter.

At the top of Jane’s slit Miss Cho inserted her finger and curled it upwards, pressing her nail against Jane’s little pleasure nub while at the same time hooking a piece of loose skin. “Excellent,” Miss Cho said. “You have good anatomy for the ring. Almost as if you were born to be a slave,” she smiled up at Jane, as if she knew some secret. “Do you believe in predestination? If you do you would believe that your body is this way because you are supposed to be a slave. A good thing, no?” Jane looked at her, barely comprehending. Miss Cho just shook her head and then changed the subject slightly. “Are you averse to pain?”

“No more so than anyone else, I suppose,” Jane replied, suddenly nervous.

“This is an easy piercing,” she said. “The needle goes effortlessly through the skin. It heals quickly. It is a mark of ownership and is easily visible.” She looked up from between Jane’s legs. “At least when you are unclothed.” She paused. “Prepare yourself. It is the anticipation that makes most women nervous.”

Jane heard herself asking, “Are we really going to do this?” The weight of the moment was suddenly upon her and she was having second thoughts.

“You don’t have a choice now,” Miss Cho told her as she arranged the tools on the tray. Jane saw a thin metal tube, a long and sharp needle, and the silver ring that Raymond had promised. “Don’t move,” she said. “When a girl jumps is when flesh tears.”

Raymond moved behind Miss Cho and grinned at his cousin. He was obviously enjoying the moment, seeing Jane’s discomfort and the frisson of fear on her face. “Hold still, dear. This will all be over in a moment.”

But it wouldn’t be over in a moment. In a moment it would be the beginning of her journey.

It felt much like a pinch from an angry little sister; a quick flash of pain followed by a dull throbbing. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she had imagined. There was some uncomfortable tugging and then Miss Cho announced, “Easily completed. You’ll experience some soreness in the next few days, but it will be fine.”

Jane looked down between her legs and saw the bright silver ring rising up from the top of her slit. The ring was vertically oriented, which seemed strange at first, but made perfect sense when Jane realized it lined up perfectly with her anatomy. The contrast of the bright metal against her soft flesh and black curls was scary—and beautiful.

“Oh,” she said softly. “That hardly hurt at all. Have you done this before for other women?”

“Other servants, other slaves you mean?” Miss Cho questioned her. “Yes, of course. Too many to count.”

That admission gave Jane a chill. How many secret slaves were there in her country—indentured servants who willingly went along with such treatment.

“Miss Cho is an expert at what she does,” Raymond intoned. “At everything she does.”

The black haired woman glared at him a moment and then said, “Put your underclothes back on. We have only the tattoo left to do.”

“Wait. Stop.” The sharpness of Raymond’s words stopped both women. “You can’t put it on her shoulder.”

“Why not?” Miss Cho questioned.

“It will show too easily. Some slaves will have a life after their period of servitude is over and they need to hide their slave marks.”

“Once a slave, always a slave,” Miss Cho said primly. “I’m not changing tradition now. It goes on the shoulder blade.” She had picked up a tattoo gun and turned it on, checking to see it was working correctly. The little belts on the machine spun and made the brass head vibrate as a needle flashed up and down.

Raymond stayed her hand. “No, it goes on her hip, here.” He poked Jane not so much on her hip as on the fleshy rise of her buttock. Under her clothes the tattoo would never be visible. If it had been placed on her shoulder blade it would have been easily seen when she wore most types of backless or shoulder baring dresses. Raymond obviously knew what he was doing.

Miss Cho glared at him, but finally relented with a nod. “Sit up,” she ordered Jane, and then dropped the table down flat. “Turn over, let me get at your…hip.” She obviously wanted to use a more vulgar term, but oddly did not.

“You’ll free hand the entire design?” Raymond asked.

“Yes. Of course. I am an artist, not some simpleton who merely copies lines.” Once again her snappish tone was in effect.

“Fine.” He turned to Jane. “This will hurt more than the piercing,” he told her. “When you’re done, it’ll feel like the spankings you received when you were eight and were a very bad girl.”

Jane smiled and remembered when she was a very bad girl. “Go ahead,” she said and laid her head down on the cushioned table.

“How long?” Raymond asked as he stepped back.

After a quick glance at the Templeton family crest design that was reproduced on the yellowed paper, Miss Cho said, “One hour. Longer if you want it larger than what you have here.”

“No, make it the same size. We don’t want it too large, but I do want it large enough to be obvious. I only have so much time today. Is that handsome devil Alfred still working for your establishment?” A smile tugged on the corners of Raymond’s mouth.

Miss Cho barely glanced his way. “Yes. Ask Mother if he is available. Don’t hurt him like last time.”

“When you’re as well-endowed as I am…” he said in half-explanation. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

True to his word Raymond returned an hour later. He saw Miss Cho dabbing away the last few drops of blood from the tattooing process. Jane was staring over her shoulder at her rump. What she saw was a piece of her anatomy that didn’t look so much as spanked but as if it had a sunburn. In the middle of the artificial burn was the familiar design of her family’s crest. Jane felt a mixture of pride and dread seeing the tattoo. There was truly no turning back now.

“Wonderful,” crowed Raymond. He had a jaunty spring in his step, his time with Alfred had obviously been productive.

“Get her dressed and take your slave home with you,” Miss Cho said flatly.

“I’m not taking her home,” Raymond corrected. “She’s being delivered to the House of Blancbatton for training and service.”

The Oriental woman glared at him. “You are obviously not telling me everything. It is not my business to know everything. But you are being deceptive. Do not come here again ready to lie so easily.”

“This young lady thanks you for your talents,” Raymond said.

Miss Cho frowned. “I doubt that.” She stood up and left the room. Raymond helped Jane dress and they left the bordello and walked to his automobile. It was the latest design, silver paint covered the long engine compartment with drive and passenger smushed in a tiny seat near the rear. The thin open wheels and low design gave it the appearance of the sort of vehicle used on the raceways when in fact it was intended for rich young men to drive around and impress their friends. On the journey to the city Jane had been exhilarated by the thrill of the drive, on the way home she was nearly in tears. The cushioning of the shocks and the padding of the seat weren’t nearly enough to compensate for the pain flaring through her hip.