Butler for Life -

Chapter 3 -- Daily Life and Torments

Within the first month, Lady Christina had changed his name to Bod. She expressed distaste that Corp sounded too much like a cadaver. It reassured him that his owner saw fit to disassociate him from his unfortunate forerunner, although it still seemed like a demotion from Servant. It also forced him to listen carefully when called, for Cock and Bod sounded similar coming from another part of the mansion, and Pauline refused to move from wherever she required them, standing legs apart, impatiently tapping her riding crop against her jodhpurs as she waited for whoever she had summonsed to appear.

He had received several punishments other than the morning maintenance session; two for forgetting cleaning tasks, which he was careful to remember from then on, so perhaps the system worked as training, he supposed. The other was for handling the ladies' underwear too long as he prepared the delicate garments for washing, and also for placing them all in the same wash load. They were meant to be gently soaked and then rinsed in tepid water and gently spun in the machine. He had not realised that he should do two separate loads. They were left to dry in one of the linen cupboards on the first floor.

George suspected that Miss Pauline had laid a trap for him, because he could not remember being instructed so, and he also realised she must have been watching him on the cameras, so he was relieved that he had not handled them inappropriately, although it had been quite tempting to bring them to his face and inhale the exotic aromas. He quickly got accustomed to having marks on his buttocks, and his ability to take the daily strokes without flinching got better and better.

In truth, his duties were not arduous. He was to run the house, including helping out Cock in the kitchen, and serving at the table at mealtimes. This meant menial tasks like tidying and cleaning the bedrooms and bathrooms each morning, as well as maintaining the public rooms. He also took care of the flower arrangements each Friday when the florist left the weekly order at the front stoop. He also had to manage Lady Christina's wine cellar, liaising with Cock as to which bottle to bring to the table each meal, and to deal with any maintenance issues in the house or around the estate under the supervision of her young assistant. Once he had finished with each morning's room cleaning, his next requirement was to spend an hour in the gymnasium, for the late morning was a time when the ladies did not visit the facility. Without any client lunches, nor alcohol apart from whatever Cock and he could snaffle from the last inches of the daily bottle, his physique was rapidly hardening and looking more buff.

After his gym session he and Cock got an early snack before serving lunch.

The next part of his day, although he would not have believed it back in his old life, became his favourite time, for it was then he moved outside to do general work on the estate. His function was the general tending of the gardens; the lawns were mowed by a contracting firm while the staff were out of sight. For this outdoor time, he was allowed a wide-brimmed straw hat, and leather sandals and gloves.

"If you are to continue giving me those excellent massages, I want your hands kept as soft as possible." Lady Christina had explained, after falling asleep twice during his ministrations. "So don't think I'm being soft. It's a personal investment."

Lady Christina essentially gave him free rein to decide what to work on, although he was often directed to items that she had noticed or that Pauline had calendarised. He could also advise the haughty assistant whether outside contractors, such as arborists or painters, were required, or if any replacement specimens were required for the gardens. He never went outside the estate's walls; these items were ordered by Pauline and delivered over by the stables.

Pauline also had responsibility for the stables, as her two horses were the only inhabitants, although she would co-opt him to do labouring work in there under her direction. Then she would stand beside him, impatiently tapping her riding crop on her jodhpurs, her black riding boots gleaming, her translucent blouse straining over her jutting breasts and puffy nipples. He knew she was looking for any excuse to place some cuts on his flesh, which gradually had the effect of making him quite subservient. It was several months into his tenure that he realised how he unconsciously cowered before her, expecting to be hit at any moment for the slightest infraction, for she always carried an instrument of punishment and used it often during each day.

General cleaning was in the hours before dinner, when the ladies were in their rooms, and also after the dinner table and kitchen had been cleared, when he and Cock shared the kitchen duties. His last duty was to attend to Madame; personal service that included her nightly foot massage and pedicure. When he had finished, her assistant Pauline waited while he abluted himself and found her, then fixed his member into a cramped metal cage which attached and locked to the cock-ring he wore permanently, preventing him from touching or arousing himself overnight. She evidently performed the same security on Cock.

Occasionally Lady Christina required a full massage, which was done with her Ladyship nude but covered with a luxurious towel, and he in the same chastity cage. These sessions were exquisite torment for him, having his hands run over that wonderful body while his florid captive cock tried to squeeze itself through the bars of the cage. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of her mound and plump crease, naked of all hair, as he shifted the towel in order to reach her upper thighs, which made it difficult to concentrate on what he was doing, but he had a routine and tried to keep to it.

Each day had a rhythm that hardly varied. But within it two special events always dominated the daily schedule. George had two appointments that occupied his thoughts all his waking hours. At 8.30am promptly, once breakfast had been cleared, but before the bedrooms were to be tidied, he had to present himself downstairs in the Correction Room where he had been interviewed, right at the end of the corridor.

Usually Madame would be waiting, wearing only her favourite black satin corset under her morning wrap, which served only to make her plump mound, her deep slit and her magnificent breasts more obvious, more blatant. In that room, bare stone walls without windows, he obediently bent himself over the whipping frame and submitted quietly while Madame fixed his slightly trembling wrists far down the posts, then spread his feet for her to attach his ankles widely apart. She would sometimes give his erect organ; for the anticipation of seeing her nakedness always aroused him, and her actual presence merely served to intensify that hardness, a not-gentle slap before moving away, as if to remind him, to force him to acknowledge, that this predicament aroused him even as he might fear what was to come next.

Unless he had accumulated a penalty chastisement during the previous twenty-four hours, the chastisement never varied; always five minutes of flogging, and then always ten strokes of the cane or whip. Whether with the cane or with the lash, it seemed to be random and depend on no particular thing. Madame had explained early in his tenure that the purpose of this daily chastisement was firstly because she enjoyed seeing her slaves marked and reddened, and indeed each morning session merely freshened the rosy flush of his cheeks and the wheals across his buttocks and topmost thighs from the day before. But she also liked to keep her skill level up, and was able to create a perfectly regular pattern of stripes over his cheeks, which no doubt gave her satisfaction when she spotted them during the daily schedule.

The next reason was that for the rest of the day, as he moved through his chores, whether bending or sitting, moving around the mansion, he would feel the presence of those marks even if he only caught a glimpse of them in a mirror as he passed, for he dared not linger considering himself in a corridor mirror nor personal chamber in case the cameras were being monitored.

What might vary each day was the force of the blows, or rather the pain he endured, for it also depended on what instrument Madame chose. Her final intention was to daily maintain her fitness and her own expertise with each instrument. This particular morning the blows seemed unremarkable, even if each cut took his breath away. She waited each time until he had regained his breathing and thanked her, before a swish announced the next blow. He had learnt to relax as far as possible; for clenching his buttocks in anticipation was far worse, and Madame made no allowance for his reaction. Instead he went as limp as he could until the sudden intense pain of a particular cut forced him to gasp inwards and jerk against his restraints. Slowly, his diaphragm would unclench by sheer willpower, then his buttocks, and he would slump forwards in anticipation of the next cut.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

When the ten stripes had been placed on his flesh, she turned away to hang the crop, for this morning she had used the slender shaft of a long dressage crop across his cheeks, then released his wrists and left the room without comment. He slowly lifted himself trembling from the stocks and undid his ankles, then set off gingerly for the first bedroom.

At 4pm the other daily appointment was in the drawing room facing the rear lawns, and over towards the windows where a wooden cock pillory permanently stood. The windows themselves were set in a small curved alcove, bounded by two columns, and the pillory stood to the side of one of them. From first seeing it, he had been haunted by the fact of it being separated from the rest of the kinky equipment downstairs; why was it different? It was in these sessions the answer lay, that the difference was about the setting and circumstances of the interaction.

He would be working out on the estate and his collar would suddenly give three long buzzes, making him jump with fearful anticipation. Since he had no concept of time while labouring, that signal warned him that he should pack up and return to the house. His orders were that by 4pm he must be stationed by the entrance to the drawing room, bathed and freshly shaven, waiting kneeling with his forehead on the corridor's parquet until Her Ladyship and Pauline arrived.

When they did, he was led inside and over to the pillory. While he obediently stood, his wrists were then drawn behind him and tethered by a short chain to the ring at the back of his collar by Her Ladyship's assistant, raising them high between his shoulder blades. Then he would move forwards to present himself for attachment on the pillory, once again trembling slightly at the inevitability of what was going to happen to him, and the awful ease of his submission.

The pillory was no cheap black aluminium stand such as sufficed for most professional dominatrixes. This item had obviously been bespoke-designed and constructed; it resembled more a church pew than the usual 'ironing board' frame. The heavy oaken base had sprung rollers beneath which could retract on springs, so that as soon as he stood on it, it became anchored in place. The actual pillory was a solid vertical plank of beautifully grained and polished wood, some eight inches wide, which slotted neatly into a larger hollow section below, allowing stability and vertical adjustment.

That lower section was in turn reinforced by another quite short, high panel running backwards in a "T" formation, which was topped with a shelf a couple of inches wide. The shelf was high enough that it almost reached his testicles when he straddled it, and acted as a saddle shelf. Lastly, at the rear of the saddle piece, there rose a thick column made of the same wood, with several attachment points at different heights. The whole pillory was therefore solid and heavy.

Upon his mounting of the structure, Pauline immediately fixed his collar to one of those vertical attachments, so now his arms were completely trapped behind him, pressed into the hardness of the column. At the top of the actual pillory, a wooden clamp could be screwed down, with matched curved recesses in the two surfaces creating a slight alleviation of the pressure on any male organ trapped in it. But those central recesses had carved grooves like a screw thread, so they allowed no chance of movement or escape.

Pauline would kneel to fix his legs into leather manacles at the base of the heavy stand. Unable from then to shift his feet, he would himself maintain the stand in place, his body's weight providing his own fixation. While Pauline did that, Her Ladyship drew his penis and scrotum forwards, after gripping him firmly around the wide metal ring he wore permanently, pulling him inevitably forwards under the clamp with her leather riding glove. Then, holding him firmly with the same hand, she screwed the clamp down until the rubber stops on each side contacted, squashing his testicles wide apart and leaving his flesh presented, pointing horizontally forwards and grotesquely exposed. It mattered not if he was erect; for this particular rendezvous, as she constantly reminded him, was to cure him of his priapic tendencies.

What perverse torture! For just her presence before him, again clothed only in the tight shiny corset but now in riding boots, would stick in his mind all through the day. Memories of her breasts glimpsed swaying against her chest, the fascinating way her slit opened slightly as she turned, were ingrained in his mind. When, working out in the grounds of the estate, his collar buzzed the fateful signal, his heart would speed up, his hands become clammy, and his cock would immediately start to enlarge within its cage, like a Pavlovian response. Then the base ring served to trap his engorgement and maintain it.

As much as he kept his hands from his cock in the shower - for that place was monitored by cameras - and anyway Pauline would often stand by keeping a close eye on him once she had released his organ from its metal confines, the erection would refuse to go away. When his vision finally caught another glimpse of Madame's naked pudenda as she entered the drawing room, hypnotically watching the particular way it moved in cadence with her high-heeled gait as she moved around him, the sight merely intensified the erotic picture of her that was becoming seared in his mind. In a truly perverse way, he was becoming conditioned to produce the same engorgement that he was being punished for.

Even Pauline, as much as he feared her errant cruelty, and as much as he realised that she detested him for some reason, provided an erotic distraction that he struggled to conceal, being nakedly aroused. Her breasts would be fully visible through the transparent blouses she favoured, and the curve of her mound evident within her tight cotton jodhpurs would have his poor cock commence its treacherous engorgement even if he had managed to maintain its propriety before reaching the room and seeing his Mistresses. Then, even their most casual of contacts, brushes of skin against skin, or the firmness of their grasp when handling him, especially when he was already immobilised or was in the process of surrendering his freedom to them, would have the same effect. He felt there was no way he could control those passions, yet her Ladyship had determined to correct that deficiency in him.

Today as usual, the act of being fixed into the pillory, or rather the anticipation of being fixed in the pillory and of seeing Madame's magnificent body displayed nonchalantly, had meant he was fully erect while kneeling, even before the women entered his sight. Pauline smirked and sniggered softly on seeing him; Her Ladyship did not respond. But she gripped his member tighter than usual, and gave the screws a tighter turn, causing his poor organ to grow even more under its duress, and to turn a dull grape colour.

Her Ladyship's voice showed no sign of irritation, nor anger, perhaps only resignation. "You have only two more weeks of this, Bod, and then my patience will be exhausted. If you have not responded by then, your organ will be permanently restrained. Not that you will escape these corrective sessions. They will not only continue, but will intensify."

She moved away and sat in an easy chair, crossing her legs and swinging one ankle, her arms crossed under her breasts, patiently regarding Pauline's final preparations. The pillory had two further adaptions. There was provision for the shelf between his legs to be set and adjusted so that it pressed firmly up into his perineum. Pauline had attached a rather large rubber cone to the shelf and was lubricating it. A simple sharp tap of his bottom with her crop indicated he should go on tip toes as far as possible. Then the lubricated tip was slid forwards under his anus, which was starting to become loose with the daily insult, and the entire cone pushed deep within him in one movement as she shifted the shelf upwards. Pauline liked to feel him start and tense up; if possible to make him moan. As she tightened the shelf in its new position, she called across the room.

"Lady Christina, I think this slut's arse is becoming too loose for this cone. We'll soon need a larger size; it goes in far too easily!"

He was shamed that she was quite right; his anus was becoming elastic, compliant; he could feel it in the way he walked, but also in that his rear passage was becoming a source of arousal that had never been uncovered before in his life, and in accepting the truth of that arousal he had also to accept Pauline's derogatory comment. His arse was becoming as sluttish as his cock.

The shelf clicked into place. If his legs now failed him, his anus would be distended further onto the wide base of the cone, for there was no apex, no narrow neck at the base, and each time it pressed harder into him, and stretched him to his limit, forcing him stand as high as possible. Inside him, its wide tip pressed insistently against his prostate, making him feel the need to relieve himself, even if he knew nothing would happen if he tried, so tightly was his urethra clamped. But he was petrified that he might shame himself on being released after his session, and would not only be further punished but would have to return to the room and clean his mess from the paved floor.

His response to the cone's distension was to try to bend slightly forwards over the pillory. If only it were that easy; he knew Pauline would soon take delight in tightening the cord from the same ring at the back of his collar where his wrists were affixed, to the pillar behind him, and with force, jerking his torso backwards and downwards as she tightened the cord, for she always chose a low location point, thus forcing his poor arse back down on the cone. Once he was fully fixed he had to strain and risk choking in order to look downwards to his entrapped cock.

But there was one final touch. Still smiling broadly, Pauline brought a massive soft foam ball to his face and waited silently until he acceded and opened his mouth wide. She stuffed the ball roughly in as deeply as it would go, and strapped the face harness tightly around his head, coming around and retightening the buckles for good measure. He snorted nervously through his nostrils like a horse before branding. Once Pauline had moved away to the side and nodded, still smirking slightly, Madame arose and came casually over to him, regarding his purple, but now sagging, erection with disdain.

She reached for her whisk, multiple slender canes bound into a handle, and brought it up before him so he could take in what she had in store for him. So at least he wasn't going to suffer the last adaption of the apparatus today. Beneath his cock, attached with brass hinges to the pillory column, was a narrow shelf that could be brought up and locked into place. His penis would then rest along it, and could be fixed with leather straps, after having been stretched to an outlandish length and its head clamped beneath another cruel curve of metal. Then both head and shaft would be fixed, immobilised, for any devilish amusement that her Ladyship might wish. He had not yet had that experience, but Pauline had once taken cruel pleasure in whispering the details of what she would like to do, as she immobilised him, and he had no doubt that when her Ladyship talked about intensification, that shelf would be involved.