The Dominant Male

come toward her.
    Chastity, tentatively but strangely compelled, did as she was bid until her own bridle rope was taut, and now the other girl’s knee came up between her legs and pressed against her swollen pussy. She let out a sound that could have been a groan or moan if it had not been muffled by the bit-gag.
    ‘Gu, gu goo,’ insistent, desperate-sounding despite the effects of the gag, Snowflake used her head to indicate Chastity’s knee. What could she mean? Then understanding dawned. Chastity raised her own leg and pressed the knee against her stall-companion’s shaven sex. Snowflake let out what might have been a moan of delight but in truth sounded not unlike a whinny. Both girls balanced on one foot and pressed and rubbed each other’s tender parts with their raised knees. It was madness but in this mad world she had been brought to it seemed to make a sort of delirious sense. Swaying, desperately trying to keep her balance, Chastity pressed on, not daring to stop pressing her knee into the other girl’s hot and slippery crotch in case Snowflake stopped reciprocating. Need was everything now, desperate, undeniable, unstoppable need. Somehow both girls retained their balance long enough until, at last, Snowflake began shrieking through her gag and the pressure on Chastity’s clit became jerky and much rougher. That was enough. An instant later Chastity herself was engulfed in a tidal wave of pleasure.
    It took her and it threw her onto the straw, she writhed and screamed as her body convulsed in spasm after spasm of delight. Vaguely she was aware that Snowflake had collapsed too and was thrashing about beside her in the coarse straw bedding. At last some sort of sense returned as the last ecstatic tremors died away. She became aware again of her extraordinary position. Her naked body was now glistening with sweat and her arms were aching in their bondage. Last of all she realised that they were no longer alone.
    First she saw a pair of riding boots standing in the entrance of the stall, then tweed breeches, maroon waistcoat, tweed hacking jacket. Finally she saw the brown, plaited-leather riding crop, the flat leather flap at its tip tapping against the top of his boot.
    ‘Extraordinary,’ said Lord Horace, looking down at her with an amused expression. ‘It didn’t take long for these fillies to come into season!’

The Mark of the Devil – Arbella Silkstone
    Hopelessly, helplessly, with increasing desperation but quite without success, Patience tried to will herself to sleep. The radiator gurgled so distractingly and the heat it pumped out made the tiny, cell-like room feel like a steam bath. It was the only thing in that stark chamber other than the hard and narrow bed and often it seemed to Patience more like some malevolent tormentor than inert, inanimate iron. Its constant clanks and groans seemed to be mocking at her, laughing in some guttural radiator tongue as she slowly writhed between the latex sheets, in her nightly bedtime bondage.
    There was a sound outside, barely audible over the radiator’s mutterings, a footfall in the hall. The rattling of keys in a lock? Patience froze and listened intently, the feeling coursing through her some strange distillate of fear ad-mixed with hope and something else, something that she blushed to name. Would she be visited tonight? She tried to push the thought away.
    What she needed was sleep. At five she would be woken by Mrs Cattermole, the housekeeper’s assistant, a big woman jangling an even bigger bunch of keys. And then, the chained girl’s stomach contracted at the thought of it, the dip . A great herd of forty or so naked, squealing maids run through the icy latrine block and made to jump into the giant sunken tank of freezing water, canes cracking enthusiastically on the bare flesh of the hesitant. Someone let out a little wail and Patience realised that it had been her. Of all the trials that this position entailed the cold baths were her personal Calvary.
    ‘Is this… usual ?’ she had gasped at Verity, a blowsy blonde, as they toweled themselves dry on the second day. ‘Can this be usual?’ For this was Patience’s first position in service and the severity of the regime had come as something of a shock.
    ‘Gossiping’ was frowned upon amongst the maids and that disapproval was expressed with the usual rigor, but Mrs Cattermole had made Amity bend over for some perceived infringement and was fully occupied in caning that