Butler for Life -

Chapter 6 : Lady Katrina Goes on Holiday

One morning as he climbed the stairs from his morning beating, George realised that he carried no emotions regarding the stripes on his buttocks. He had come to accept all his treatments, he had come to accept orders without processing them at all, the beating has been merely something on his schedule, and now he had other tasks. Somewhere vague in his mind was the memory of Lady Katrina explaining how she liked to see the stripes, especially when he would be serving the ladies in the informal dining room, and furthermore how her servants would be aware of them throughout the day. As he passed a corridor mirror he automatically did a slow pirouette, taking in the florid wheals already fully decorating his cheeks, before proceeding. It would not do to be caught dallying by Miss Pauline.

Later that day, after his late-afternoon treatment in the salon, her Ladyship announced two pieces of news that rocked him. She had sat to one side, busy on her laptop, while Pauline created mischief on the pillory. She had taken to criss-crossing the elastic bands tightly along his erection, pressing the taper into his poor cock as far as it would go, fixing it in that position, and then paddling his shaft while it was restrained on the board. She did not stop until his cock was a sorry mess of bruises, and the impaler had tenderised his sensitive urethra internally with each blow. George was overwhelmed, not only by the intense pain, but also by the fact that all his struggles served merely to work the new cone buttplug deeper between his cheeks. It was considerably larger than the previous, and his anus now did not fully recover each day -- he was ashamed that while walking, small farts sometimes escaped without him being able to do anything about it. Once it had caused giggles from Pauline at the breakfast table, silenced quickly by a warning glance from Lady Katrina. Down in the punishment room after breakfast, his owner made sure to focus her attentions on his pathetic hole, ending with a heavy wooden baton that repeatedly landed smack on his rosebud while his legs flailed in useless protest. He was in agony for the rest of the day, despite furtively rubbing some soothing crème on it during a stolen free moment.

By dinner, the pain had subsided to an irritation as he walked. He had just placed the ladies' mains before them and stepped back, when Lady Katrina turned to him.

"Bod, I am shortly going on holiday for some weeks - a voyage overseas to visit some friends. In my absence Pauline will run the estate and you servants. Her orders are to be obeyed, and she has my authority to punish both you and Cock as she sees fit. I have told her that you are both to be....," she paused for a gentle smile, "......returned in reasonable condition. I shall be leaving in two weeks. Do you understand my instructions?"

George nodded mutely. No answer was necessary.

"Actually, I wish to hear an affirmation."

"Yes, your Ladyship, I understand that I must obey Miss Pauline at all times and accept all corrections."

"Excellent. Now, the other piece of news is that in several days we are all attending a party to be given by Baroness P at her estate. You and Cock will form part of the entertainment, and as it will be too cramped in the Mercedes, Pauline will take you across earlier in the horsebox. Then she can chauffeur me later. Pauline will manage your presentation and delivery."

She waved her hand in dismissal and joined Pauline to start on their course.

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The day of the party had arrived. Bod and Cock had been allowed only liquid food for breakfast, and had carried out gymnasium routines double what they usually did. Pauline had instructed them then to rest, and be showered and ready by 5pm. Fortunately the afternoon had been warm, so when Pauline led them out to the barn on leashes and waited while they walked up the ramp into the horsebox. It smelt strongly inside, almost intoxicating. Pauline clipped each of their chains to the front frame, gave them a warning stare, and closed the ramp door. Bod took a firm grip of the padded rail along the front, and waited. Then, with a modest jerk, they were off across the gravel. It took perhaps a half-hour to reach their destination, and for the most part, the two servant slaves were silent. But Bod became anxious as they travelled further.

"Cock, have you been to this place before? Will there just be the usual ladies we know, or will this be something grander?"

The boy stepped back and bent to stretch himself. "Yes, I have just once. It's a big place, much larger than our lady's. The dungeons are spacious too, and the best thing is they are kept quite cosy warm. There's nothing worse than being retrained and shivering cold."

"So will there be more people?" Not that it mattered if he was recognised. He knew intrinsically that he would not be returning to his old life -- ever - so what matter if someone recognised him and created gossip?

"Of course. The owners will bring all their slave team. It's like a ritual evening, kind of."

Bod's blood ran cold as he wondered whether this was where eliminations were carried out. But Cock pre-empted him from vocalising his question.

"This a party, so it's mostly going to be harmless fun. Uncomfortable for us; that's life. But sometimes there's punishments handed out."

Finally the vehicle slowed, turned carefully, and climbed gently on gravel. Bod had counted to 48 when the vehicle finally rolled to a stop. The rear opened and Pauline climbed the ramp, unfastening them so they could follow her inside through a door to the side of the main portico steps. The chequered tiles inside were cold; they were led deep into the mansion and deposited in a small room, which thankfully was thickly carpeted. Bod had caught sight of wide carpeted stairs leading upwards, but he presumed they would stay at this level. A dungeon in an attic would be just plain wrong!

He lost track of time, but his bladder was becoming urgent in its need when Pauline returned with another girl, each taking a chain, and they were led even further towards the rear of the chateau, for the structure was quite grand, with turrets at each corner, and at least four stories, so it looked just like a castle. To his surprise, the dungeon had French doors opening out onto a patio, a large swimming pool, lawns beyond, and as a backdrop, a forest of dense trees. The spacious room, almost a hall, had plush carpet in a dramatic colour of deep crimson, with imperial purple on the walls and gold fittings and curtains. The room was cluttered with bdsm furniture, and implements were stored along the walls. It all looked very ordered, and as Cock had said, it was being warmed by a large fireplace at the rear of the room, cracking and sparking as it got going.

"Do you need to toilet?" It was the girl from Baroness P's staff. Both nodded enthusiastically. "Over in the trees. I expect you to sprint there and back" She unlocked the doors and waited, hands on hips, while they nervously squatted and forced their bladders to release, then trotted back.

"Was that a sprint? Or are you both so geriatric that you can manage only a weak trot? That will be dealt with later!"

They were once again chained to a sidewall by their collars, and left in silence.

Bod gradually became aware of muffled noises from above. Guests were arriving. More slaves were brought to the room in small groups and arranged along the walls. Bod saw that there were chairs and couches arranged around the room, and he noticed a drinks cabinet over by the door, a full period credenza with curved gilded legs and an ornate mirror above. There were loudspeakers in the ceiling corners. It looked as though everything was set except the guests. Finally the walls were fully occupied, including a number of female slaves. There was no sign of Lorna, which perplexed Bod. Did that mean that Lorna was no longer in service? He dreaded to think of the implications of that. He consoled himself with hoping that Lorna's owner's contingent was merely tardy; and as if to reassure him, all the guests drifted into the room holding champagne stems and chatting. Leading them, familiar in her leather harness, was Lorna.

A very subdued Lorna, who stared fixedly at the ground. A brutally altered Lorna, who how sported nothing between her legs. Bod caught himself staring openly as he tried to comprehend how that must feel. Of course, Lorna had effectively made her full transition to female, except that Bod suspected there would have been no attempt to create a female vestibule, just an opening for peeing. So all her pleasure centres had been ablated. What a nightmare! To sport a black cock of that weight and girth all his/her life, then to have it stolen away without any say!

Gradually all the ladies seated themselves, with their hostess taking a large chair that looked almost like a throne. Someone started music playing softly in the background. The ladies were all dressed beautifully in fetish wear - latex and soft leather -- in all shades and colours. There were a lot of sharp heels. Their juniors had changed also, now sporting identical latex bodysuits. It seemed that Lorna had been reduced to waiter service, charged with keeping the owner's glasses filled.

Baroness P clapped her hands softly, and the hum of conversation died. "Welcome to my estate, everyone. Seeing as we are all assembled and settled, let us arrange our slaves as well."

A number of the slaves were released. The female slaves went and knelt beside their owners, together with two young feminine men hardly out of their teens. Most had marks of punishments on their skin. Cock and Bod remained on the wall. Bod was alert to each movement, each development, trying to read meaning into them, trying to work out what was happening. Well, Cock must be thinking he would never again be rogered by Lorna. Would he be thankful, or sad? Bod glanced across at Cock, but the youth was expressionless. Bod tried to catch his eye, but the youth was inert, as if switched off.

Bod wasn't to know, but he would play a central role in the evening's entertainment. For a while the ladies continued to drink and chatter, all the while toying casually with their slaves like pets. Then another male slave was released from the wall and soundly thrashed over a frame. Nibbles were brought in and created another diversion. Then Pauline and the other girl wheeled in a strange metal frame. While they were setting it up, Cock was released and also given a dozen strong stripes by Lady Katherine, before being re-installed on his hook.

The frame seemed complicated, reminding Bod of his pillory, but different. It was aluminium tubes, and had something like a pillory, but different somehow, with more fixtures. Then the two girls came to him and released his collar from the wall, leading him to the centre of the room. Pauline stepped back and waited for the partygoers to quieten, while the other girl held a finger firmly hooked through the ring in his collar. Not that he was going anywhere, but it kept him calm.

"So, under the direction of Lady Katherine, I have been trying to correct this useless slave and his tendency to engorge all the time, which shows a complete lack of respect to his owner. Of course, one logical course of action would be to place him on feminising hormones. But this is expensive in the long run, and the subject would be inclined to run to obesity, which is not aesthetically acceptable. Instead Lady Katherine has chosen more stringent measures. We have definitely beaten his organ regularly, as you can see, and we have recently changed to quite slender canes, whippy like fishing rods, which makes for quite nice marks."

Indeed, Bod's poor cock was these days permanently bruised and swollen stripes covered its entire length. "Another line of attention has been his arse, where we have managed to enlarge his anus, making it more difficult for him to create muscular clenching in the region. That has definitely stopped the irritating twitching that his organ used to do when aroused. Normally his arse would be distended with some kind of insertion, but we have other plans for it tonight. However, the treatment that has proved the most diverting for us has been to enlarge his pee hole, and while some of you have seen this creature being subjected to the treatment, tonight we have a novel endurance for your amusement."

Bod was presented to the frame and soon strapped in spread-eagled. He was blindfolded and gagged. While Pauline presented his poor cock into the vacuum tube, and made sure the silicone taper was well-located in his open hole at the far end of the tube, the other girl was inserting a cold metal bulb into his rear passage, followed by an inflatable plug, pumped up so large that he winced, that pinned the bulb against the front wall of his arse, right where his prostate was. Bod realised that the bulb had leads that dropped to where a control unit lay on the ground. Pauline gave the vacuum tube a couple of pumps to seal it against his belly, then passed the rubber pump bulb and connecting tube through his legs to the other girl, who fixed it between his buttocks and the frame.

Bod accepted all this attention passively, still wondering what they had in mind. Obviously he was going to impale himself on the taper; he was well used to that now from his afternoon sessions of treatment, but how?

The answer was cunning and fiendish. Pauline took up a remote for the electrical plug in his rectum, faced her amused audience, and announced, "I give you, Dancing Bod!"

With that there was a tremendous pain in deep inside him, causing him to clench and jerk. Another pulse came after a short pause, then another. Bod realised that each time he jerked in pain, he was pressing down on the vacuum pump bulb, and drawing himself into the tube tighter and tighter. Already his pee tunnel was stretched to the maximum around the taper and hurting quite a lot, but the impulses continued.

All his concentration went to keeping still, but as soon as he managed some degree of control of his position, the shocks increased in intensity. He sagged in his bonds, whimpering as his poor florid pumped cock shrieked in protest at this gross violation, for he was being raped. Worse, he was being forced to rape himself. And there was nothing he could do about it, nothing could be arrested or slowed. He would eventually lose himself in a red cloud of pain, and indeed he could feel that his nerve endings were reaching the limits of tolerance. Soon their sensory chorus would create enough neuro-transmitters that his climax mechanism would be activated, despite being a side-effect of the main show, and despite him being in agony right through his final undoing.

There it was. A familiar feeling spreading up through his nervous system, of having passed a point of no-return. He felt his urethra would split asunder, and each jolt of electricity took his breath away for several seconds before he gasped a breath. But on another plane his nervous system could take no more sensory overload, and already his innards were contracting and then he was trying to jam his cock on the taper in a fruitless search for release. His spurts were trapped inside by the tight fit of the taper, further torturing his poor body. Sobbing in pathetic surrender, he sagged completely in his restraints to general applause, not for him but for his tormentors.

The next morning the household was under orders to not stir until midday. Late that afternoon Pauline got the car out, Bod loaded a packed trunk with Lady Christina's suitcases, and the Mercedes cruised away through the main gates to the airport. Facing each other over an evening snack, waiting for Miss Pauline's return, both males pondered what ordeals lay ahead.