At His Pleasure

We were leaving London in a few days’ time; after my father’s adventures with the Monmouth Rebellion, my mother was uneasy with the political climate here. James II was passing more and more laws to support tolerance of all religions, but everyone understood that this was meant to give free reign to Catholics. Not that we were opposed to religious freedom, but once the Catholics regained their power we feared a repeat of horrors such as the Smithfield Fires. There was already talk of replacing James II with his estranged daughter Mary and her Protestant husband, William of Orange. My mother was very afraid that my father would become embroiled in another treasonous plot to unseat the king.

But once again, it was not court politics that possessed my thoughts these days. I had a hard time believing the events that occurred on the night of the treasure hunt in that portrait gallery actually took place, and were not the fantastic dream-like imaginings that they seemed to me almost a week later. Ever since my father’s rescue at the hands of Jago Trevellyn, my mother’s opinion of that gentleman had been rapidly improving. She didn’t realize, of course, that this man had subjugated her only daughter to rape, sodomy, and the most painful humiliations at the hands of strangers. She also had no knowledge of the fact that her daughter craved this treatment, indeed reveled in it.

My mother had gone out for the day with her sister and her husband for a boat ride up the Thames, and then they were stopping at one of the many coffee houses on their return. I feigned a lassitude I did not really feel, as I would not be good company with my mind in such turmoil. As I was fidgeting in my aunt and uncle’s drawing room, I heard a knock on the door. Shortly after, the butler appeared with a thick cream-colored envelope on his silver tray.

“For you, Miss Campion.”

I glanced at the handwriting on the outside of the envelope, which was unfamiliar to me, and then slit it open with my uncle’s letter opener. It was an invitation to dine from Mrs. Bishop at her townhouse near Whitehall. There was a small slip of paper folded inside the invitation. I carefully unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table. It read:

“My dearest Clarissa, I have loaned you to Mrs. Bishop for the afternoon. You

are to obey her as you would obey me. In pleasing her, you please me. She will

give me a full account of your behavior and actions, and I expect that you will

conduct yourself as my good and submissive slave.”

It was signed by Jago. I felt the familiar thrill of response. Would he be there? I didn’t fancy being subjected to Mrs. Bishop’s cruel whims, but if Jago were there, I would happily comply with her wishes. The butler was hovering in the entrance hall as he had been instructed to do, waiting for my reply. I scribbled a note of acceptance and handed it to him. Mrs. Bishop would be sending her phaeton for me in one hour’s time.

I changed from my morning dress to an afternoon tea gown, although I was fairly certain that I would not remain clothed for long. My mouth felt dry and my knees were slightly trembling as I awaited Mrs. Bishop’s transportation to her townhouse. I left my mother a note as to my whereabouts and swept out the front door to the waiting phaeton.

The ride was brief, as I was traveling from Hyde Park to St. James Park, and I was deposited in front of an elegant townhouse of recent construction. There was a small wrought-iron gate encircling the property and a neat garden with a small pear tree in the front. I rang the bell and a serving girl answered the door; she showed me into Mrs. Bishop’s drawing room, which was tastefully and expensively furnished. While I stood in the middle of the room uncertainly, Mrs. Bishop herself came into the room. She was beautifully and stylishly dressed, and I stared beyond her anxiously hoping to see Jago. She smiled slightly as if interpreting my glance.

“Your Master is not here, my dear. I fancied you so much the other night, however, he agreed to allow me to make use of you. He will be very pleased at your compliance; I, of course, will report everything to him. You are to obey me as your Mistress today and address me properly; do you understand?”

I cast my eyes downward and replied, “Yes, Mistress.” Oh, why wasn’t Jago here? I could endure anything if he were present, giving me his approval and wrapping me in his arms and taking me when everything was over. I was rather frightened to be alone with this woman.

“I’m going to turn you over to the ministrations of my own lady’s maid, Genevieve. She will transform you into my perfect pet.”

Was this to be a repetition of the preparation I had at Jago’s country estate? I would soon discover that it was, but worse and Mrs. Bishop was present during the entire toilette; her purpose seemed to be to enhance my humiliation.

First Genevieve bathed me in the tub; it was even more luxurious than the one Jago had for it was large and stood on claw feet. Mrs. Bishop stood to the side and directed Genevieve’s actions. She circled her lathered hands around my breasts, pinching my nipples between her thumb and forefinger as she did so. Once my nipples were erect and protruding, Mrs. Bishop had me spread my legs in the tub, and Genevieve ran her fingers down between the folds of my nether lips. She then placed first one and then a second finger inside my purse, moving them in and out while the palm of her hand pressed against my pearl. The familiar feelings overtook me as I pushed up against her hand.

Mrs. Bishop stopped Genevieve and told me, “You’ll find I’m not as sentimental as your Master; you must ask permission before reaching your climax. If you fail to do so, you’ll be severely punished. Do you understand?”

I gasped in frustration as Genevieve moved her hand, and I answered, “Yes, Mistress. May I please climax?”

She said shortly, “No. Now get on your hands and knees in the tub and turn your bottom toward Genevieve.”

At first she soaped up my bottom and ran her fingers down my crack; I waited for the inevitable finger in my hole, and Genevieve did not disappoint. I was growing accustomed to being invaded here and was beginning to enjoy the sensation. Genevieve managed to insert three fingers inside me and slowly prodded and stretched me out. I then heard a sucking sound in the water behind me, but dared not look around. Soon after I felt a hard rubber hose being inserted into my bottom. I jerked away in consternation and earned a sharp slap on my bottom cheek from Mrs. Bishop for my insubordination.

“Hold still, slut. You need to be thoroughly cleaned out for what I have planned for you.”

Genevieve placed a steadying hand on the small of my back as she continued to feed the hose into my bottom. Once she had it in place, she stepped back behind me and I heard a pumping sound. To my amazed horror, I felt water being pumped into bottom up to my bowels. I tried to squirm away again, and again Mrs. Bishop struck me once on each bottom cheek.

“Clench your muscles and hold the tube inside; do not release any of the water until I tell you to.”

I gritted my teeth and nodded my head. Finally Genevieve finished filling me up with water, and she stepped away leaving the hose dangling from my bottom. Mrs. Bishop then came around to the front of me and reached down and began playing with my button. It immediately swelled under her touch and she pinched it hard. Oh God, how did she expect me to hold that water inside when she was doing this to me? I tried to concentrate on the unpleasant pressure in my bowels instead of the very pleasant sensations between my legs. Mrs. Bishop could see my predicament. I longed to feel the release she was offering, but knew if I did, most likely I would lose my hold on the water that filled me up.

“I’m giving you permission to climax, slut. Go ahead. However, I don’t want to see one drop of water come out of your bottom.”

I squeezed my eyes closed and thought of the harsh punishment she would give me if I released the water. She finally relented and ended my torment by removing her fingers.

“Genevieve, bring the chamber pot and help her out of the tub.”

I was dreading relinquishing the water almost as much as I was anticipating it. I got out of the tub with some difficulty, even with Genevieve’s help, for my bowels felt cramped and it was hard for me to straighten my body.

“Now squat over the chamber pot and release when I tell you to.”

I was crimson with embarrassment, but I did as she asked. Once I was squatting over the chamber pot, she slapped both of my bottom cheeks and commanded, “Now!”

The water gushed down from my bowels out of my bottom hole, making a humiliating sound as it splashed into the blue porcelain pot.

Mrs. Bishop smiled approvingly, tauntingly, “Good girl. Now take her back to the tub, Genevieve, and clean off that mess she made on herself.”

I stepped back into the tub where Genevieve washed off my bottom and my thighs before pulling me out again. I was laid out on the bed, and Genevieve began shaving my mound. Mrs. Bishop then instructed me to lift my legs, bend my knees, and hook my arms underneath to hold myself in place. Genevieve then started shaving my outer lips and carefully around my now swollen bud. Mrs. Bishop pulled my lips this way and that, teasing me toward a climax I would not be allowed to reach. She then tipped me back even further so Genevieve could reach between my crack.

Mrs. Bishop sighed a little in disgust. “This area is always so hard to shave properly because the skin wrinkles a little. Let me help you, Genevieve.”

She went to a basket and pulled out a smooth wooden phallus-shaped object. She took a small bottle of scented oil and lubricated the tip and shaft of the phallus. Then she moved toward me in my vulnerable state and worked the phallus into my anus. I grunted a little as the object was larger than the one Jago had Molly insert into me, and it was also much larger than Sir Penrith’s cane and Genevieve’s three fingers. Thankfully, she didn’t shove it all the way in, and with my puckered hole now stretched out, Genevieve continued to shave me completely smooth and hairless.

She then rubbed the scented oil on my mound, down between my lips, and around the phallus still protruding from my bottom.

“Now, slave, keep your legs apart and reach down and finger yourself; play with that little swollen bud of yours and make it nice and hard. Don’t forget, I’ve seen for myself how huge it can get. And while you’re doing that, manipulate the phallus in and out of your bottom.”

Mrs. Bishop and Genevieve stood opposite my spread legs and stood watching as if waiting for a show. They were waiting for a show, and I was the entertainment.

I moved my fingers down slowly and began touching myself; I moved the phallus around, careful not to insert it any deeper in my tight anus.

“Oh I see what you’re doing; you’re not trying very hard are you? You’re afraid to get too aroused only to be denied your climax. You will suffer for that indiscretion. Shove your two fingers all the way into your love hole; wet them with your juices, and then suck your fingers clean.”

I didn’t know how she was going to make me suffer and tried not to think about that, as I followed her other command. My fingers were slick with my cream, and I put them in my mouth to suck them.

“Now it’s time to get ready for my guests.”

Guests? What was she talking about? She had people coming over, and they were going to see me naked? I fervently hoped one of them would be Jago.

She had me stand up in front of Genevieve, and the maid took a pot of rouge and began rubbing it on my nipples. They glowed a dark pink; next she rouged the lips of my cunny, running a finger up my slit. I then bent over and spread my legs while she encircled my bottom hole with the pink paint. She then took out a pair of clamps that I recognized immediately as being for my nipples. These clamps were smaller than the emeralds ones Jago had for me, and there were little bells attached to the ends. Every time my breast moved or bounced, it would be accompanied by this humiliating little tinkle of the bell. To emphasize that point, once Genevieve had the clamps attached to my nipples, Mrs. Bishop slapped them back and forth.

She then told me to get on my hands and knees.

“Get used to this position, slave, for you will be my pet today in every way.”

She went to her basket of toys again, and this time she withdrew a phallus similar to the one still sticking out of my hole but bigger and it had long horsehairs connected to the end, so that it formed a tail. I knew what was in store for me, and I instinctively clenched my muscles around the smaller phallus already invading me.

Mrs. Bishop sat on the edge of the bed and ordered me to crawl to her. This I did with the horrid little bells jangling on my nipples. She patted her lap, which I took to mean that’s where she wanted me, so I positioned myself across her knees.

“Spread your legs.”

She roughly pulled the phallus out of my anus, and it gaped open for a moment leaving me feeling horribly exposed and open. She then brought her hand down upon my bare bottom and spanked me over and over. I lost count, as she alternated between cheeks, making sure to land a few blows between my crack. My bottom was stinging and I could feel the red color spreading the heat across both cheeks.

“This is for not trying hard enough when I told you to play with yourself. And there’s a little more discomfort ahead for you as well.”

She took the larger phallus with the tale and spread some cream from a jar up and down its length. She then unceremoniously shoved this phallus deep into my hole, causing me to gasp with surprise and pain. The pain was replaced by an awful burning feeling inside my hole; whatever she put on the phallus was itching and burning me now, and I squirmed and wiggled on her lap trying to escape the sensation. She held onto the phallus and plunged it in and out of me, going deeper each time.

“The burning will go away shortly, but you need to learn to obey your Mistress. It pleases me so much to humiliate you, slut. You think you can steal Jago’s affections away from me? You’re simply a whore to be used, and he will realize that soon enough. Perhaps we will keep you as our little pet together. He can use you to suck on his manhood to prepare it for me; then you can be tied to the bedposts while you watch him make love to me. When he’s done satisfying me, you can clean my juices from his member with your tongue. We will make you perform degrading tricks for our friends, and then pass you around for their enjoyment while we watch. He’ll never want you for himself after that, but you will continue to serve him because you’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you? I saw the way you looked at him. That was a very foolish thing to do, girl; every woman who falls for Jago Trevellyn will be hurt in the end…except me. Perhaps when we’re done using you, we’ll sell you to the slave traders from Arabia.”

I listened to her words with mounting fear. Is this what Jago planned for me? She was right; I had fallen in love with him. He mustn’t care much for me if he would turn me over to this woman, his lover, to torture and humiliate me. But still I held out hope that he would be here today, and he would be pleased with me. Perhaps he would even kiss me again…

She abruptly slapped my burning derriere and shoved the phallus deep inside me. She then pushed me back down to my hands and knees.

“One final touch, and you will be ready for my guests.”

She brought out another clip and handed it to Genevieve, who had been standing placidly by throughout my ordeal. She bent down between my legs and fastened the clip to my swollen fleshy outer lip. I cried out in pain.

“Do you remember last time I told Jago he should have your nodule pierced and attach a leash to it? Well, we may do that in time, but for now the clamp will have to suffice.”

She then brought forth a jeweled leather leash, the type ladies of fashion fastened to their little dogs when they took them walking. Again she handed it to Genevieve who attached the clip on the end of the leash to the clamp on my nether lip. She really was going to treat me as her pet.

“Now sit back on your hind legs, little bitch, and wait for my summons. Don’t sit on your tail. I’ll send my maid, Colette, up to you when I’m ready for you. You will be required to relieve yourself in the chamber pot before you come down. I don’t want my pet to commit any embarrassing accidents in front of my guests. If you refuse Colette’s order, you’ll be wishing for my bare hand on your bottom again after you feel the tip of my whip lick at your pretty, pouting, roughed lips.

I felt like ripping all of her little “decorations” from my body and running from the house, but my one thought was still “Jago.” He would be disappointed if I failed to follow Mrs. Bishop’s commands. So I sat back and waited.

Presently, a young serving girl timidly entered the room. She stood and stared at me with wide eyes and open mouth.

“Oh my goodness, you really are Mrs. Bishop’s pet, aren’t you? Why are you letting her do this to you?”

I shook my head mutely.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell her you talked. She’s mean, and as soon as I can find me another position, I’m taking it and leaving here.”

I blushed and stuttered, “I’m doing it because my Master wishes me to.”

“Oh, you’re doing this to please a man?”

I nodded again.

“Mrs. Bishop told me that you did it because you liked it; she said it got you excited, you know, sexually.”

I had to admit to myself, as rough as Mrs. Bishop’s treatment was of me, there had been a building tension between my legs the entire time. The pinching pain I felt in my nipples and my cunny, the itching and burning I felt in my stretched out anus, the stinging, blazing heat I still felt on my bottom, and the humiliation of being leashed between my legs and treated like a pet all created an unbearable thrill of excitement for me. I knew I was wet and would let anyone relieve me in any way. How could I explain all that to this wide-eyed girl? I couldn’t even explain it to myself.

I hung my head in shame and admitted to her that it did arouse me.

She got a sly, knowing look in her eye, and said coyly, “I don’t believe you. Can I feel for myself? I’m supposed to report things to Mrs. Bishop about you, like if you don’t pee for me. I’ll tell her things if you don’t let me.”

I was even at the mercy of this little serving girl. I nodded my assent and spread my legs open for her. Carefully avoiding the clip on my outer lip, she hungrily dipped her middle finger into my love hole, scooped up the plentiful moisture there, and pulled it out, smearing it along my engorged bud as she did so. Feeling my protrusion, she looked in for a closer look. She seemed fascinated by my huge nub and quickly groped inside me with two fingers releasing still more moisture. She then took my bud between these two fingers and began rolling it around. I pushed against her, looking for that longed for relief. She stopped suddenly with a look of fear on her face, and I groaned and begged her to continue.

“Please, please don’t stop now.”

“Mrs. Bishop didn’t say nothing about me touching you. You’re going to get me in trouble. If she smells you on my fingers, I might get a whipping myself. Here, clean them off.”

She offered her two small grubby fingers for my cleansing, and I took them in my mouth and sucked them. She then played with the bells on my nipples for a little while until Mrs. Bishop herself came in.

“Has she been a good little pet, Colette?”

Colette gave me a sideways glance and nodded shyly.

“All right then, my pet, time to relieve yourself. Remember, I don’t want any accidents. Colette, take her leash and lead her to the chamber pot.”