Chapter One

 

The man in the dark suit beside the front door of Oakley Place wordlessly extended his hand. Jason Malliss dropped the ignition key of the Jaguar into the upturned palm. Behind him, the dark green bodywork of his car gleamed like polished ebony in the harsh monochromatic light of the security lamps, which illuminated the grounds around the house for a hundred yards in every direction. Malliss pushed the front door open and stepped onto the chequered marble floor of a vast hallway, excited as always by the prospect of the night ahead. A second man, also wearing a dark suit, sat on a chair at the base of a wide stone staircase. He rose as Malliss approached and walked forward to meet him. Above his head a chandelier cast shimmering ephemeral rainbows across the famous, and infamous, faces preserved in oils around the walls of the hall.

"Good evening, sir," the man said.

"Evening, Barton," Malliss replied.

The man returned to his chair and Malliss took the stairs two at a time. At the top, a long carpeted hallway led away in both directions. He turned to the right and made his way along to the end where a third man sat, similarly attired to the other two.

"Good evening, Mr Malliss," the man said. "Mr Black asked me to inform you that he would like the pleasure of your company before you leave this evening. He will be in his study at midnight."

Malliss nodded briefly, concealing his excitement at the news. Could this be acceptance at last? Full membership of the Brotherhood with all of its accompanying benefits? He opened the door beside the man and stepped into the room beyond.

Candlelight danced across oak panelling, casting shifting shadows over the thick dark pile of the carpet and exaggerating the soft curves of the two women who were there to await his arrival. Malliss recognised the faint strains of Mozart playing through hidden speakers and allowed the music and the gentle scent of sandalwood lacing the air to seep into his body and soothe the tension in his muscles.

To one side of where he stood a woman was kneeling, her hands folded in her lap, her face angled down to the floor. She was naked save for a wide steel band around her neck, which was fastened at the front with a tiny brass padlock. Beside her, folded neatly on the floor, was a black robe and beside that a thick-handled leather flogger. Her olive skin gleamed in the wavering glow of the candlelight. Malliss allowed his gaze to drift leisurely over the woman's body. On her left ankle the letter "K" had been tattooed, no larger than a ten pence piece. Her breasts were small and pointed and the nipples spread out in wide pools of dark chocolate. Her hair was black and long and had been tied back in a severe ponytail to accentuate the hard curves of her high cheekbones.

The other woman was also naked but, unlike her fellow slave, she was hanging from the ceiling by two chains fixed to thick leather manacles around her wrists. The chains pulled her arms up and apart, forcing her to the tips of her toes. Her breasts were large and round and milky white. They were striped with angry red weals where she had been whipped and similar weals decorated the soft pale smoothness of her belly and thighs. Her pubic region had been shaved and a steel ring gleamed in the shifting shadows there. Around her head a strip of black cloth had been tied to cover her eyes. Somebody had written on her stomach, in what appeared to be blood, the words "Hurt me".

Malliss quickly removed his clothes. As soon as he was naked the slave called K rose and opened out the black robe for him. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and tied the garment closed at the front with the belt. K turned and bent from the waist to reach the flogger. From behind, the dark splayed lips of her pussy were clearly exposed. She too wore a ring through the fleshy hood over her clitoris and from the ring a long thin strap dangled nearly to the floor. Malliss reached out and pushed two fingers inside her. Instantly she froze in position to make herself available for whatever he required. He pushed harder and her hands shot out in front to steady herself against the wall. Malliss frowned at her presumption and jammed his thumb into her anus, wriggling it up and down to lever past the tight pink ring of muscle.

K looked down at her feet and struggled to relax as Malliss' thick thumb invaded her, knowing that it would hurt more if her body was tense. His other hand came around and grasped her left breast, kneading it and tugging on the nipple, harder and harder, stretching and pinching, rolling the stiffening flesh between thumb and forefinger, making her gasp with pain. The pain spread out from her chest, seeping through her body, gathering in a tight ball in her stomach where slowly it transformed, as always, to lust, before it spread farther down to her loins. She found herself pushing back on the hand invading her twin holes and a moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Immediately the hand was withdrawn.

"Did I give you permission to enjoy this?" Malliss' voice was harsh and cruel.

K turned around quickly and fell to her knees at his feet, pressing her face to the floor.

"No Master. I am sorry. Master is so powerful and handsome that I could not help myself."

"Are you saying then, that some of the Masters here are not powerful and handsome?" Malliss demanded. He stared down at the back of the slave's head with an expression of cold fury but in reality he was pleased by what she had said.

"No Master. Oh please forgive me. I am just a stupid slave. Please forgive me."

"Get up and hand me the whip," he said. "Then we will see how sorry you really are."

K obeyed hurriedly.

"Now go and lie down on your back between the other slave's legs. You," he said, looking for the tattoo on the suspended girl's ankle, "L, spread yourself wide."

She obeyed as far as was possible, so that only the tips of her big toes now touched the carpet. Almost her entire weight was supported by her wrists and the tension in her chest pulled her breasts high and far apart. A single tear ran out from beneath the blindfold and trickled down her cheek. Malliss felt his cock growing beneath the folds of his robe.

K lay down where he had instructed. Malliss bent and took hold of the loose end of the thin leather strap tied to the ring between her legs. He pulled it up, tugging her fleshy hood taut before passing the strap through the ring in L's pussy and tying it off. L struggled to lower herself to relieve the pain but the chains binding her would not budge and the cuffs around her wrists could slide no further.

Malliss placed one bare foot on K's stomach to prevent her from arching her back and began to whip L across her breasts. The tails of the flogger were knotted at their ends and where they struck they left vicious red weals. As the leather bit into her nipples she screamed and began to twist and turn, hopping from foot to foot, confused by the agony that assaulted her from above and below. With every jerky movement her labia were stretched further and soon her screams turned to pleas for mercy.

"Please master, no more," she sobbed. "I beg you. I have been punished enough."

Malliss had no idea whether her claim was correct and would not have cared if it was. Slaves of the Brotherhood relinquished all rights to justice - their only purpose in life was to pleasure their masters and Malliss enjoyed her pleading all the more because of this. Smiling cruelly he switched his attentions to the slave girl at his feet, striking her face and chest, knowing that with the strap now binding the two women by their most sensitive parts, they would each share the pain of the other. The knotted leather of the whip sliced across her dark nipples, bruising them and beating them back into her tiny breasts. She opened her mouth to scream and Malliss brought the whip singing down through the air and smashing across her lips. Blood erupted from the split flesh and her scream died in a choking gurgle as she struggled to spit the hot, salty liquid from her mouth. For several minutes Malliss alternated between the two women, slashing first one and then the other, his swollen cock bouncing up and down against his belly while he worked and sweat pouring from his forehead.

Finally he dropped the whip and knelt down, his legs on either side of K's head, facing the suspended slave. The latter was beautifully striped now across her entire front and from her crotch the strap joining her to the woman beneath stretched her skin so tightly that it was translucent. Without a word he lowered his buttocks over K's face and was immediately rewarded with the hot probing sensation of her tongue licking around his anus. He reached forward and gently pulled the taut strap toward him. Tears ran from beneath L's blindfold in a steady stream and her mouth fell open in a long silent scream. The tongue beneath him jabbed upwards and entered his anus. He sighed contentedly. For a second he was tempted to direct L's hand to his pulsing cock but he decided to be patient, knowing that the night ahead would be a long one and so instead, after only a few minutes, he rose, untied the strap binding the two women by their pussy rings and left them. As he opened the door leading from the room into the Chamber he spoke without looking back.

"Make sure my suit is pressed and there's a clean shirt waiting for me at midnight."

Then he walked on through into the Chamber. Behind him K struggled stiffly to her feet and proceeded to release the sobbing L from her chains.

 

 

The BMW was almost completely hidden from the road by the dense brambles that overhung the end of the farm track. Sara Malliss studied the entrance to Oakley Place through binoculars, her lips pursed in anger. She had watched her husband's car turn off the quiet country lane and pass between the gates of the mansion about an hour earlier and since then had noted the registration number of every vehicle that had gone in or out. There had been many. Something was happening in there and it certainly wasn't the game of cards with a few friends that Jason had claimed when he'd begun these evening forays over six months before. Sceptical by nature, she had at first suspected him of having an affair, now she wasn't so sure. Not one of the cars entering or leaving had been driven by a woman. Of course it was possible he was having an affair with a man but Sara thought this highly unlikely, having spent the last two years of their marriage spurning his demands for increasingly aggressive and degrading sex.

She punched some numbers on her mobile phone. The voice of her PA answered promptly.

"Janet," Sara said. "I want to find out the names of some people from their car registration numbers. Can you get that kind of information?"

"It'll take about half an hour," Janet replied confidently. She prided herself on her ability to unearth almost any fact in a fraction of the time that it would take a professional investigator.

Sara read out the registration numbers and hung up. Knowing the time that he was accustomed to getting home after these weekly trips she estimated that Justin would not leave Oakley Place until after midnight. She wanted to see with whom he would leave, if anybody, and that meant that she had four hours to kill. She did not plan to spend that time sitting in the darkness in her car and so decided to find a local pub and sit out the evening in comfort. Somebody there might even know something about the goings-on at Oakley Place.

The BMW slipped out on to the lane and cruised away toward the village of Bartford, about three miles to the north. Sara drove fast through the clear night, angry with Jason for his duplicity and annoyed at the time she was being forced to waste checking up on him. She was a rich and powerful businesswoman who ran a successful software company during the week. She certainly did not plan to become a victim of her husband's deception at the weekend.

 

 

The Chamber was the largest of a suite of rooms occupying the entire first floor of the west wing of Oakley Place and it had been decorated with comfort and discretion equally in mind. Leather chesterfield sofas were arranged in groupings of three around low tables and the lighting was such that the faces of the occupants of these sofas were kept always in shadow. Sweet apple logs burned and crackled in four fireplaces, adding to the sense of peaceful tranquillity. A female slave was assigned to each table to bring drinks and food when required and to wait in silence when it was not. It was an unwritten rule of the Brotherhood that the slaves performing these functions were not to be whipped by members or taken from the Chamber to any of the many punishment rooms until the period of their service was complete. In this way everybody was kept properly refreshed and content whilst they enjoyed the ambience and conviviality of the room. It was also an unwritten rule that all punishments should be undertaken in the adjoining punishment rooms, which were soundproofed and well equipped. Wall lamps were fixed beside each door, appearing to be part of the Chamber's overall lighting but in fact were used to identify those rooms that were vacant and those that were not. A lit lamp signified that the punishment room was in use and that those inside did not wish to be disturbed.

The carpet was soft and silent beneath Malliss' feet as he entered the Chamber from the anteroom.

"Malliss!" a voice called across the room.

He recognised it as belonging to Jacob Bernstein, a diamond dealer who spent most of his life shuttling between Antwerp and London. Malliss waved and walked over to where Bernstein was sitting. Another man that Jason did not know lounged beside Bernstein. The pair were dressed identically in the black robes of the Brotherhood and they were examining a slave. Like K, she was naked save for a steel collar. Bernstein had made her bend over and she was holding her ankles so that they could more closely examine her anus.

"See what I mean," Bernstein was saying to his friend, pushing a thick finger between her buttocks. "A hole that size would positively circumcise a man." He laughed uproariously.

"Hardly something you would need to worry about," the other man replied dryly.

Malliss sat down and a dark-haired slave appeared in front of him and knelt at his feet. She wore a leather harness consisting of just two straps which formed a cross over her breastbone. One strap stretched down from the collar, passed between her legs, and continued back up to a D-ring on the rear of the collar. Woven through this strap, the second was wrapped tightly around her chest, like a tailor's measuring tape. This leather band, no more than an inch wide, almost covered her small perfectly round nipples and squashed her breasts back onto her ribcage so that the firm fleshy orbs were divided into bulging quadrants.

"Malliss, meet Frank Tomlinson," Bernstein said.

The two men shook hands.

"Frank has just been telling me about Black's latest toy. Sounds like quite a cracker and apparently tonight at last he has a victim worthy of it."

"Sounds fascinating," Malliss said, his eyes drifting over the naked buttocks of the slave that stood, still clutching her ankles and patiently awaiting further instructions. This one had been shaved too and her prominent pussy lips were clearly visible from where he sat.

He glanced down at the slave-girl in the harness at his feet. The only purpose of the leather straps was to identify the wearer as a Chamber servant and therefore as a slave not to be taken for punishment. Of course it would be a different matter if the girl was to misbehave in any way but while she performed her duties in the correct subservient and submissive way without any mistakes or any hints of subversion she was not to be beaten.

He reached down and tugged on the strap leading down from her collar. It was so tight that it seemed to burrow into her vulva and any extra tension had the effect of mashing her clitoris back onto the pubic bone. She looked up.

"Bring me a whisky and soda," Malliss said.

"Yes master," the girl rose gracefully to her feet and turned to do his bidding.

"What about this one?" He said, nodding at the other slave, "I don't recognise her. Is she new?"

"Fresh in this week," Bernstein said. "I was just explaining to Tomlinson here that she must still be a virgin." He chuckled, reaching out to finger her tight anus once more.

"Mind if I take a look?" Malliss said.

"Go ahead, old chap," Bernstein replied, slapping the girl's backside playfully.

"Come here," Malliss said softly.

Hesitatingly the girl straightened and turned toward him. He beckoned her impatiently. She was tall and lithe and extremely beautiful. Her breasts were smallish and firm and rode high on her chest with tight dark nipples that were solidly erect in their puckered aureoles. Long black hair hung loosely about her shoulders. She took two steps toward Malliss and then waited while he examined her. From his seated position he ran his hands down her flanks then turned her sideways and did the same to her stomach and back, feeling the strength and fluidity of the muscles. Her buttocks tightened beneath his touch and the skin grew faintly goose-bumped. A sweet heady perfume mixed in the air about her with a faint musk and Malliss noted the dampness around the silver ring piercing her labia.

"What is your name?" he said. The girl was silent.

"No English," Bernstein explained. "Not yet at least. Comes from somewhere in the Middle East, I believe. Her letter is X."

All of the girls were given a letter when they arrived at the Brotherhood. This letter was tattooed on their left ankle and as there were rarely more than twenty slaves in residence at one time, it was sufficient to identify each one.

The servant girl returned with Malliss' drink and as he took a sip, a faint buzzing sounded from hidden speakers set into the walls of the room. Bernstein rose immediately.

"That's the signal," he said, excitedly. "Let the games begin."

The three men followed the fifteen or so others filing through a doorway at one end of the Chamber into a larger space where chairs had been arranged in a semicircle around a raised dais. Malliss indicated to X that she should follow and when he took his place she knelt down between his feet, facing toward the stage.

"So, what is Black's new toy?" he asked Bernstein.

"Wait and see," the other man replied. "It's going to be great. A slave was spotted talking to a stranger in the pub at Bartley village. Some nosy woman asking questions about this place, I believe. Black has said that the slave did not reveal anything of our activities here but of course she must be taught a lesson all the same."

Malliss nodded in agreement.

"What was she doing in the damned pub in the first place?"

"Sent to fetch some Scotch, I believe. The landlord is a personal friend of Black's. He was the one that noticed the girl talking to this woman and raised the alarm." Bernstein was rubbing his hands together in excitement.

At that moment a girl was marched into the room by two masked men. The spectators ceased their talking and watched in silence. Both the masked men wore black capes and gloves. The slave was naked save for her steel collar and a velvet bag that had been placed over her head and drawn tightly closed at the neck. Her body was thin, too thin, Malliss thought, and her breasts were small and dominated by wide pale nipples. Prominently rounded, her shaved vulva was clearly silhouetted between the tops of her thighs as she came through the doorway. No fresh whip marks disrupted the alabaster of her flesh, suggesting that Black had restrained himself, ensuring that her tender body would be free of blemishes for its sacrifice on the altar of his new toy. Rope bound her wrists behind her back and two steel rings piercing her nipples glinted gold in the soft yellow light of the room.

On the dais there was a flat copper bar, about three feet long and six inches wide, which stood on two rubber mounts that raised it a foot off the floor. Six feet above this was another, identical bar, which hung from the ceiling by two chains that were clipped around rubber sleeves, which had been slid over the ends of the bar. Two thick bare electric cables hung loosely from the middle of this bar. Other cables snaked away from the ends of both of the copper bars, but these were insulated and led to a black box at the front of the stage.

The slave, blinded by her hood, was helped up onto the lower bar and while she stood there trembling with fear, one of the men hopped up next to her and fed the two bare wires through the rings in her nipples. Adeptly he bent back the loose ends and used a pair of pliers to close tiny steel clips over the wires close to the nipple rings, thus preventing them from sliding back out. Immediately there was a low hum and the chains bearing the upper bar began to recede smoothly into the ceiling. The slave's breasts were pulled up into two cones of pale flesh, her nipples stretched tautly until they had more than doubled in length before the hum ceased. The girl began to sob quietly. Malliss' cock was rock hard beneath his robe and he shuffled forward in his seat so that the warmth of X's back pressed against its throbbing head. She remained perfectly still. He rested his hands on her shoulders and dug his fingertips into the cavities beneath her collarbones, causing her to gasp in surprised pain. Her body remained motionless, however, and Malliss found himself intrigued by her control.

One of the masked men undid the drawstring at the base of the slave-girl's hood and slid the covering from her head. She blinked fearfully around the room, tears glistening on her cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffed and strands of damp blonde hair stuck to her face. There was a sigh of pleasure in the room as the waiting men took in her expression of terror.

Now the second masked man wordlessly crouched down beside the black box on the floor and flicked a switch. There was a loud click and another soft hum. The audience held their collective breath in anticipation. The man twisted a dial and the girl straightened like a puppet on a string. Her mouth opened in surprised pain as electricity began to tingle through her body, passing upward from her feet to her nipples where it escaped through the wires clipped to the rings. She rose up on her toes and hopped uselessly from foot to foot.

Malliss immediately realised the exquisite nature of the torture machine. When the voltage across the two bars became unbearably high the victim would be forced to step off the copper platform and thus suspend herself by her nipples, which would of course bring an entirely different but equally extreme agony. This in turn could only be relieved by stepping back onto the copper and exchanging one torment for another. Malliss' grip on X's shoulders increased in intensity and a faint moan of pain escaped her lips again. Still, though, she did not flinch.

The man beside the black box turned his masked face to the audience, holding his hand poised above the dial. A murmur rolled around the room as the men's excitement grew. The hand dipped and the dial revolved and the blonde girl screamed. Both of her feet came off the copper bar as she leapt upwards and suddenly the room was flooded with the smell of ozone and the crackle of electricity. Malliss leaned forward and placed the palm of his hand over X's mouth, trapping her head in the crook of his arm and holding it firmly against his tense stomach muscles. His other hand dipped and found her nipple, which he began to squeeze with all of his considerable strength. At last X moved. She came alive in his arms like a landed fish but his grip was unyielding and her yells of pain were silenced by the seal of his hand.