Mandy and Neil explore Neil's inheritance
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Author's notes:
1. This is a work of fiction. The activities and practices described in this story are not necessarily either condoned or recommended. If you choose to do anything described in real life with real people you do so at your own risk.
2. All characters are fictional and any likeness to any living person is purely coincidental. The story is purely imaginary and, to the author's knowledge, bears no relationship to any factual occurrence.
3. This story follows on from the Holiday Loving series. While it is not necessary for you to have read that series first, why wouldn't you want to?
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The building seemed massive, two floors high covering a huge area on the flat plain of the hundred-acre farm. It had originally been built as an elite school, one half of the building being a large hall with an elevated ceiling and the other half being service rooms and classrooms on the ground floor with dormitory above. Behind the building was a large pool, now empty, with lush vegetation surrounding it. However, it had failed as a school and had been sold as a white elephant, unused and possibly unusable.
On our first visit, just before our marriage, Neil and I had spent two days on the property with Neil's aging Uncle Joseph, discussing the place and what could be done with it. Joseph told them that the only contract the place had was for one weekend four times a year with a medieval club who would use the outside area for jousting and mock battles, in which men dressed in suits of heavy armour would wield broadswords at each other.
"This is a long-standing arrangement," Joseph had told the two lovers, "They also have indoor activities but I've never been game to investigate. They are well-attended and the dormitories are used to accommodate the guests. They arrange everything and pay well, so I just leave them be. For the remainder of the year it stands empty. I was going to build myself a cottage here but just never got around to it."
After we were married in a quiet ceremony with only close family present, we honeymooned in the Bahamas for two weeks and on our return were shocked to find that Uncle Joseph had died of a heart attack a few days earlier. We were home in time to attend the funeral and assumed life would continue as before, with us living in Neil's townhouse, now our house I guess, and continuing our normal work. Stan and Gloria had mentioned that they had some clients lined up for me but would give us a few days to settle in. I appreciated this as it's always good for newlyweds to have some time together before returning to work, especially when you work as a call girl and prostitute.
However, plans changed when we heard from a law firm in the city requesting an urgent meeting.
"Just before your Uncle Joseph passed away, he changed his Will, naming you as the inheritors of the farm. He was quite adamant that he'd explained what was involved with the property and seemed confident that you two knew what you were doing," explained the solemn-faced young attorney.
Neil and I looked at each other, wondering what we'd done to deserve such a millstone around our necks so soon into our marriage. However, there appeared to be no way out so we signed the land transfer deeds; suddenly we owned a farm and huge, multi-purpose building. As we returned home to our small townhouse we wondered what we'd do with this monstrosity. We both decided that we couldn't simply sell it; that would be very ungrateful to late Uncle Joseph. If he had decided that we were the people to inherit his pride and joy, then we had to at least try to establish it as a viable enterprise. Neil postponed all meetings for a few days and I told Gloria that I was unavailable for the week, then we packed a few things to allow us to at least camp in the building and drove out to our new property.
After we arrived mid-morning we began exploring the whole building. The dormitory area seemed to be almost as-new, each self-contained room having a large bed and an en-suite bathroom. We counted 25 such bedrooms plus a larger suite consisting of two bedrooms and all the normal facilities of a house. This was obviously set up as live-in quarters for the school principal or other supervisor but was such that we could use it as our home if we chose. We set up camp in this suite.
The main hall was huge both in area and height, the ceiling being at least twenty feet above the floor. It also had a mezzanine floor running around three sides, with safety rails, which would provide a great view of what was happening below, when anything actually did happen. Opening off the main hall was a large commercial kitchen for catering for the numbers the hall could accommodate, and several storage rooms, one of which was locked with a padlock. We wondered what would be so valuable that it had to be locked away and eventually found a jemmy and prised the lock open.
We walked into a room filled with a huge array of devices and structures, and stood in awe of what we saw. It was as though we had been transported back to a medieval torture chamber. We had both slaked our curiosity online on websites illustrating some of the devilish devices used to torture mainly women from those terrible times but we had never seen these devices in reality. Now we did. We recognized a rack, a wooden horse with its sharp triangular bloodstained edge waiting to cut into some poor woman's vulva, several sets of breast rippers, iron manacles and other devices whose use could only be guessed. Closer examination showed that many of them had been cunningly designed to give the impression of a torture device yet were in fact less able to inflict injury than the originals would have been. For example, the breast rippers had rubber teeth which could be painful but would be unlikely to break the skin. Neil picked up a pair and grinned at me.
"Let me try these on you please darling," he asked.
I felt the rubber teeth with my thumb and decided to humor him.
"Oh no, darling," I cried in mock fear, my voice rising an octave to let him know I was acting, "No, please don't use those on my tender breasts."
This, of course, only urged him onwards and in a few seconds I found myself stripped to the waist with my back against a wall as I acted the struggling maiden while he opened the devices and placed them around my breasts. They hurt a little, but the teeth bent rather than digging in and when he pulled them away, instead of tearing my flesh to shreds, the teeth simply bent and ran across my skin leaving dull red lines. I could see that in the right context these could be very effective at stirring all sorts of fear in a woman's heart.
We investigated further and found a wooden pole that was sharpened on one end. Neil recognized it immediately.
"How would you like to ride this?" he asked.
"No, definitely not," I replied, suspecting what it was. "Where do they use it?"
We looked in the main room and in a corner soon found a fitting on the floor that matched that on the end of the pole, noting that there were screw eyes in the walls higher up to hold the pole vertical. I imagined the agony of sitting naked on the top of the pole with the point in my pussy, held in place by ropes through the screw eyes. I shuddered and rubbed my hand over the pointed end, noticing that instead of hard wood it was reasonably soft rubber. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. I pointed this out to Neil and he turned and felt the supposedly sharp top edge of the wooden horse and found that it also was made of the same rubber.
"It seems they're not really interested in torturing or disfiguring people but only in the symbolism of the medieval period." He found another similar item like the wooden horse but with a flat top, which he felt with his hand. "This one is the male equivalent," he said, "A guy's balls would be tied back between his legs and he'd be dropped onto the wooden beam, except that this wooden beam is soft rubber. I guess it could still be painful and if a guy didn't know it was soft the terror as he awaited his fate would be very real."
We found many other items, some recognizable, others quite new to us. Many items had been modified slightly from the original so that it would still be painful but would not cause permanent damage to the victim. We also noticed that items of torture equipment we had seen on websites, which could not be easily modified to prevent death or permanent injury, were not present in this collection. Neil suggested I remove my skirt and sit in the torture chair, which looked horrendous with its sharp spikes but once I was seated the spikes on the seat, while uncomfortable, were not harmful as they also were hard rubber. However, the spikes on the back were real steel and it would have been very painful to have been tied tightly in the chair, pushed hard against the back. There was also a scold's bridle, a steel head fitting that could be locked on and, originally, had sharp steel spikes, but in this model these again were of rubber. It was still very uncomfortable even when unfastened.
On one wall was a rack of assorted beating devices, whips, floggers, canes, paddles and even a cat o' nine tails whip with each strand knotted at the end to do maximum damage. Neil opened a cupboard and turned to me with a grin, holding something in his hand.
