The Dominant Male

helped her off the horse, and Comfort needed help for her knees had gone to jelly. Not that she needed to stand up for long for she had then to get down on them and kiss Mr Ellington’s polished patent shoe, seeing for a moment the reflection of a red and tear-splashed face reflected up at her, before she put her lips to it. Then she had to kneel up and kiss the remnants of the birch. It was a stump of a thing compared to the bushy birch-rod she had fetched for him, and she kissed it with a heartfelt reverence as her bottom throbbed in witness to its efficacy.
    ‘There is something else for you to kiss, if you would be so kind?’ the young man said in a slightly strangulated voice, dropping the hand that held the rod to his side.
    Comfort missed his meaning for a moment, but the bulge in the front of his breeches was in front of her face. She licked her lips and took a deep breath before raising hands quivering hands up to his fly. Trembling, her hands were clumsy, and it took a while to unbutton him, long enough that it was Ellington’s turn to let out an anguished groan. But then she had it in her hands, hard and hot and as thick as one of Mr Blenkinsopp’s best cucumbers, though no cucumber ever had such a head or pulsating bluish veins along the shaft. She swallowed and began to lick it, feeling the thing kicking in her hot hands.
    ‘You girl, do you want this? Get on your knees if you do.’
    Comfort was confused for a minute but then realised that it was Hope that Mr Metcalf had addressed behind her. Soon there were male groans that did not come from Mr Ellington and sucking, slurping noises apart from the ones she made herself. For he had pushed the big head right into her mouth and he was thrusting it in and out, pushing his cock right in till it hit the back of Comfort’s throat.
    She was desperate now; the burning in her loins was greater by far than the heat in her bottom. There was an awful ache deep in the centre of her being. But she had just enough sense left not to touch herself without express permission. Strange noises came from directly behind her, and then, to her alarm, the big cock in her mouth twitched violently and something wet and sticky hit the back of Comfort’s throat.
    There seemed to be no end to it. He hosed his jism into her and Comfort swallowed eagerly, desperately, feverishly. Then suddenly she felt his shoe between her thighs and a brief, brusque contact of rough laces on her tenderest parts, was more than enough. Comfort pulled her head back and screamed in delight as the orgasm engulfed her. Collapsing on the floor, she thrashed and writhed like something quite demented, utterly oblivious to who she was or where.
    When she came to herself she was aghast. She was lying on the cold, tiled floor, her bare arms glistening with perspiration, semen bubbling from her still quietly-moaning lips. Hope was crooning to herself somewhere in the background. Mr Ellington was towering above her, looking down at his shoe with a vexed expression.
    ‘You will have to polish this, girl. Your cunt-juices have quite spoiled the shine.’
    With consciousness came shame. Comfort felt her face flame as she struggled to her knees. And with shame came trepidation. Her bottom was still throbbing and was sore enough to focus her attention on the mass of whips and canes still waiting in the rod room to be cleaned.
    ‘I suppose we should let these two get back to their work,’ said Algernon Metcalf as if reading her mind.
    Dismissed, the two maids picked up their drawers and their black silk dresses, carrying these to dress back in the rod room, Comfort aware that this exposed her naked and still-glowing bottom to the two men’s gaze. They had almost made it through the rod-room door when Mr Ellington spoke.
    ‘Stay! Stop there a moment!’
    The two girls froze. Comfort fancied she could feel their gaze on her martyred bottom and on the striped rear of Hope, trembling beside her. Now what? she wondered wildly.
    ‘It occurs to me, Algy. That our experiment was not entirely scientific.’
    ‘Really, Dickie, in what way was it deficient?’
    ‘Well, we don’t know which of these two trollops has the more robust constitution, resistance to pain, or what their preferences or weaknesses might be when it comes to flagellation.’
    ‘By Jove, you have a point, there. Well, there would seem to be only one way to resolve that.’
    What way? What could they mean? Comfort clutched her black silk skirts