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The Dark Tales of HG – First lessons

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He watched her from across the room.  Her idiot brother was enjoying the fawning of his fans over his latest literary creation and she was circling the crowd with an air of superiority that made him grind his teeth.  He watched as she approached Vincent Crowley – about the only decent man in the room.  He was a stalwart of British values and a man amongst men.  He watched as they shared words and she said something that caused the slightest flush to colour the skin just above his collar.  Damn – the woman was a viper and a dangerous one at that if even Crowley fell to her charms.  She would need dealing with.  He continued to watch her as she tried to charm a pretty young thing that he had had his eye on himself.   The appearance of a young man confirmed his plans for her when, after brief words, she led the young man upstairs.  She returned a few minutes later wearing trousers, shirt and waistcoat.  He had to turn away to hide his disgusted sneer.  He needn’t have bothered of course, she was too wrapped up in herself to even look in his direction.  Yes – he would need to deal with her.

 

As a man of knowledge, he knew of the Warehouse, its aims and what it collected.  He had also been incredibly displeased to find out that they had engaged a woman to work there.  That’s what had first drawn his attention to her and after studying her for a few more weeks, her knew exactly how to get her.

 

The note was delivered to her home.  A few simple words. 

I have something that I believe you would call a curiosity. 

            Criterion Theatre, Piccadilly.  Noon tomorrow.

            Come alone.

            A friend.

 

The theatre was between shows and deserted for the time being.  She would follow the instructions to come alone.  He knew that the thought of acquiring a curiosity all by herself was an opportunity to good for her ego to ignore. 

 

And then there she was.  Stepping onto the stage.  He waited until she was standing exactly where he wanted before he lifted the lamp and shone a bright light towards the stage.

 

 

Helena shielded her eyes with her hand and squinted towards the balcony on her right.  ‘Is that really necessary?’ she asked with a sigh.

  ‘Helena Wells …’

The way he sneered her name made her lip curl with annoyance.  ‘And you are?’ she growled back, voice even more clipped than usual.

  ‘You will call me Master.’

She laughed harshly, lowering her hand, ‘No man is my master,’ she told him with a sneer and a wave at the stage, ‘Come down here and face me … let me show you.’

His returning laugh held no humour, just a dark anger.  And then suddenly, all the kempo in the world couldn't protect her from the way the world opened up and seemingly swallowed her.

 

*

 

She awoke with a start, lifting her head and quickly looking around, taking stock of her surroundings as she tried to piece together the memories of how she had got here.  She remembered the stage.  The light.  And then the floor disappeared.  Damn fool!  She hadn’t noticed the trapdoor.  She remembered landing heavily and not much after that.  The clinking of chains as she moved was an unpleasant sound to wake up to and she looked up.  Her hands were encased in thick iron cuffs above her head.  The chain that held them disappeared into the darkness above.  She looked down, ignoring her naked breasts and thighs for the moment, more interested in determining exactly what her situation was.  The iron cuffs around her ankles and the short chain that dragged her feet towards, but not quite touching, the floor was enough of a clue – she was in trouble.  A cold breeze rolled across her skin and she shivered involuntarily.

 

  ‘You scared, whore?’

The voice came from behind her and was followed by the sound of a door closing.

  ‘No.’ she growled, shaking her arms in defiance and setting the chains clinking, ‘but you should be.’

His face appeared before her – eyes dark with fury.  Even though she was hanging half a foot above the floor, his unusual height meant that she was forced to lift her eyes to meet his.  His lips were pulled back in an angry grimace as he eyes ran up and down her body.

  ‘You like what you see?’ she sneered.  She would have called him by name if she could remember it.  He was one of the men who hung around with Charles from time to time – she chose to have little to do with them.

His hand gripped her face, fingers digging painfully into her cheeks, ‘You will be quiet if you know what’s good for you.’

She yanked her head away but her grabbed her again, this time his other hand snaked round to twist her hair in his fist. 

He leant closer, eyes blazing, ‘You will obey me, whore.’

  ‘The hell I will,’ she snarled.

He let go of her and delivered a harsh slap to her cheek, forcing her head sideways.  Her head snapped back and she glared at him.  Another slap and then another made her cheek burn and her eyes sting.

  ‘Defiant whores must be punished,’ he told her and strolled into the shadows.  When he returned he carried a black leather flogger, the strips of leather twisting and curling as he waved it back and forth.  ‘We’ll start with one of the gentler whips … but I promise you, keep disobeying me and I will progress far more quickly, than intended, to the harsher one.’

She looked over her shoulder as he stood behind her.

  ‘Eyes to the front,’ he commanded and when she stayed, head twisted, he lifted the flogger to his opposite shoulder and brought it slicing across her buttocks.  ‘Eyes to the front!’ he yelled, moving to grab her hair and yank her head round.  ‘Look at me again, whore, and you will regret it.’

She kept her eyes forward. 

The flogger found her buttocks again and she gritted her teeth as her muscles clenched beneath the blow, tightening the smooth, reddened cheeks.  Unable to see what he was doing, she tried to listen for the blows that followed but the whip was quiet as it cut the air and each successive blow made her jolt with surprise.  She lost count of the blows that befell her backside and by the end was gritting her teeth to stop from crying out as the leather sliced against her bruised flesh.

She hung her head for a moment and heaved a breath as he moved to stand in front of her.  Satisfied that she had regained her composure, she looked up at him.

His eye twitched angrily as her gaze met his.  ‘Do not look me in the eye …’ he told her.  The flogger sliced across her breasts and she gasped loudly.  ‘… that is the first lesson to learn.’

  ‘Lesson?’ she laughed harshly, eyes lifting back to his.

The flogger found her breasts again, twice in quick succession.  She lowered her gaze.

  ‘A whore does not look their Master in the eye …’ he announced.

Her eyes slowly lifted, anger blazing across the darkness.  ‘I am not your whore …’ she told him coldly, ‘… and you are not my Master.’

His hands snatched out, gripping her throat, ‘You test me, whore!’

  ‘Good!’ she said hoarsely as his fingers tightened.

He leant closer, voice a furious growl, ‘You will call me Master - I promise you that.’  His eyes dropped to her chest and his hand followed.  Using both hands, he dragged his nails down her breasts and she hissed through her teeth as he gripped each nipple between thumb and forefinger.  He watched her, eyes narrowing as he pinched and twisted the buds that swelled at his touch.  Then he slowly twisted them and she gritted her teeth, closing her eyes.  Eventually he let go and she opened her eyes, gasping with relief. 

  ‘I have watched you,’ he told her, his lips curled in angry sneer, ‘parading around in men’s clothing, thinking you are a man’s equal it’s …’ his eyes looked her up and down, ‘… disgusting.’

She sneered back, ‘We have a woman on the throne of England – is she not better than any man.’

He snorted with derision and waved his hand dismissively, ‘She is nothing but a puppet for her male betters.’  He slowly circled her, eyes studying every inch of her flesh, ‘You have been whoring yourself all over London – using your body to turn men to your wickedness.  This will stop.’ 

He headed back into the shadows, returning with a thin cane – the likes of which adorned the wall of every schoolroom.  He was bending it between his fists and watching her carefully as he did.  The first blow found the front of her thighs, the pain of it catching her by surprise and making her cry out.  She quickly bit down on her lip to stop the sound.  His eyebrow lifted and the cane sliced just below and then just above where the first had landed.  She refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out and as he delivered three blows to the back of her thighs, she tasted blood on her tongue.

  ‘A Master likes to hear his whore …’ his voice echoed from behind her, ‘… a silent whore is not being struck hard enough.’

The cane sliced the air with a wicked whine and nothing could stop the cry as it landed centrally across her bruised buttocks.

  ‘Good …’ he announced, ‘… again!’

The whine was a precursor to her cry.

  ‘… and again!’

She felt tears rolling from the corners of her eyes as blow after blow drew a savage cry from her lips.  Sweat stood out in cold beads across her skin, making her quiver as the air quickly chilled them.

When he stood in front of her again his eyes were alight with lust.  He lifted the cane and tapped each of her nipples in turn, making her wince.  ‘You are strong … for a whore,’ he told her. 

He stepped back and to the side, lifting the cane.  She held her breath, the target of the blow clear.  And when it came, when it sliced across her nipples, the scream that tore from her throat was like no sound she had ever made before.  He lifted the cane and her tear-filled eyes widened with fear as she watched the cane slice round again.  Another blow to her nipples and another searing scream.  Her screams seemed endless as they echoed in the cavernous space.  After the sixth blow her scream morphed into words, unthought and unbidden, ‘No more!’  She swallowed, silently cursing her weakness but unable to bite back the words that the cane had wrenched from her.

  ‘The whore dares to make demands of her Master?’ he growled and brought the cane across her breasts with a vicious backhanded strike.  ‘You are slow to learn …’ he told her as he walked slowly into the shadows.  When he returned he was carrying a leather strap.  He set the cane on the floor and slipped the leather around her waist, fastening it with a buckle.  Two chains hung down from either side, cold against her thighs.  He studied her, eyes narrowed, ‘I am going to release your ankles … attempt to kick me and …’ his mouth went to her breast and he pinched her flesh between his teeth.  She gasped and then cried out as his teeth dug into her skin.

  ‘I won’t!  I won’t!’ she cried, struggling to be free of his loathsome mouth.

Satisfied, he knelt and released her ankles.  She didn’t kick out – the stinging of the bite enough of a warning.  He fastened a leather strap around each of her legs, just below the knee.  Then, by means of a small ring, he lifted each leg and clipped it to the short chain attached to the belt.  And so she was hung, legs bent and spread, her core exposed fully to his searching eyes.  She swallowed as he studied her centre, his tongue flicking slowly out and then back in.  Narrowing his eyes, he stepped forward and she gasped loudly as his fingers slid up the groove of her sex.  He lifted glistening fingers and studied them for a moment before grunting.  He wiped his fingers on his trousers and bent to lift the cane.

  ‘You will call me Master now …’ he told her calmly as he lifted the cane.

  ‘I will not,’ she replied defiantly.

  ‘Very well …’

The cane sliced both inner thighs in quick succession, the thin wood a blur of motion as he snapped it back and forth.  Her head tipped back as she cried out, body swinging and spinning but he just followed the movement with practiced ease.

  ‘You will call me Master now …’ he said again.

  ‘No …’ she whispered.

The cane tapped lightly against her exposed lips and her eyes widened. 

  ‘You will call me Master now …’

She shook her head, whispering, ‘No …’

The whine and snap was followed by a pitiful scream – the pain that sliced through her centre was like nothing she could ever have dared to imagine.  He struck her again, slicing between the lips, finding her most sensitive parts.

  ‘Please God!’ she screamed at the darkness above her, ‘Stop!’

He did, but only so he could adjust his position to deliver a diagonal strike across her lips.  She screamed, the echo still bouncing around her as he struck her again.  She swooned, her head falling forward as she whimpered. 

His fingers twisted in her raven hair and yanked her head up, ‘Stay with me, whore.’  He slipped the cane beneath her and pulled it up between her lips, sawing it back and forth and making her grimace in pain.  When he let go of her hair her head dropped again and she heaved for breath.  He tapped the cane against her inner thighs, using his wrist to flick intermittently between them.  ‘Lift your head, whore …’

She lifted her head, keeping her eyes downcast.

  ‘So, you can learn …’ he told her and nodded, ‘… a lesson learnt deserves a reward …’  He stepped between her legs, his hand moving so his fingers could stroke between her lips and over her clitoris.

Despite the stinging ache that still clung to her sensitive centre, she couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her as the tip of his finger rubbed at her bud.  Her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling against her arm as she stroked her.  His gentle strokes eased some of the discomfort and she could feel herself getting aroused. 

  ‘Now,’ he announced, lowering his hand, ‘call me Master.’ 

She opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to his.  The furious twist of his lips almost made it worthwhile.  An eternity of screaming later and she coughed against the rawness of her throat when he stepped back and studied her coldly. 

  ‘I would be impressed by your strength … if you weren’t such a filthy whore,’ he told her and tapped her nipples with the cane before strolling into the shadows. 

When he returned her was carrying a braided riding crop.  He stood behind her, stroking the leather tip across the small of her back.  The whine of the crop cutting the air made her tense.  The feel of it slicing across her lower back was agonising. 

  ‘I will strike you four more times …’ he told her, grunting at her whimper, ‘… you will call me Master and thank me when I am done.’

The crop found her back and she screamed and sobbed with each of the promised blows. 

She didn’t see him move but he was suddenly standing in front of her, the crop running a line down her inner thigh.  Even with her eyes downcast, she knew that he was watching her expectantly.

  ‘Something to say, whore?’

She swallowed and whimpered, her lips quivering.  ‘No …’ she whispered.

His yell of fury made her sob and close her eyes.  Pain seared her centre and she screamed pitifully before her throat constricted as her stomach rolled. 

Suddenly she sobbed breathlessly, ‘Please … Master ... please stop!

He used the end of the crop to lift her chin, nodding as she kept her eyes down.  ‘I will stop … and what do you say?’

She coughed, tears rolling down her cheeks, ‘Thank you, Master,’ she whispered.  She told herself it didn’t mean anything – it was just words. 

  ‘Good …’ he breathed, ‘… a good start.’

He stepped between her legs and this time slid a thick finger into her slick passage.  She groaned at the feel of it.  The pleasant friction was a distraction from the lingering pain that he had wrought upon her flesh.  He fingered her slowly – not enough to take any lasting pleasure but enough for a flush of arousal to creep up her neck.

  ‘You really are a filthy whore,’ he told her and slipped his finger free, lifting it to wipe it down her cheek.  ‘But even whores such as yourself have their uses …’ 

He stepped behind her and she heard the rustle of clothing. She heard him spit and then his hands spread her buttocks.  He pushed into her tighter passage with a violent thrust and she sobbed weakly, head falling back as she succumbed.  He started to fuck her, the pain of it rousing her with a whimpered cry.  His hand gripped her throat, held her head back as his tongue slid up her cheek.  His other hand reached round and down.  Fingers pressed at her centre.  She gasped a 'No ...' but the heat that suddenly filled her was undeniable and so terribly unstoppable.  His finger pressed tight against her sensitive bud and her thighs quivered.  She knew the sensation well – had become an expert of sorts in guiding others into making her feel it.  But not like this.  Not after everything he had done.  He rocked her body with his thrusts.  Breasts bouncing.  Nipples suddenly hard. He circled the finger pressed to her sensitive flesh and slid a digit into her.  She cried out, 'God! Please ..!'  But whether it was to beg him to stop or not was lost within her sudden cry and uncontrollable shaking as she came.

 

At some point her released her thighs from the straps and reattached her ankles to the chains fixed to the floor.  And that’s how he left her.  Hanging.  Shivering. 

 

When he returned hours later she was shocked by the warmth that spread through her at the sight of him.  He lifted a wooden cup to her lips and she drank the offered water hungrily, much of it spilling down her chin and chest.  As he removed the cup, keeping her eyes down, she whispered, ‘Thank you … Master.’

He nodded and set the cup on the floor before sliding his hand between her thighs.  She tried to open her legs for him but he seemed unconcerned when she failed to.  His fingers stroked pleasantly at her outer lips, thumb teasing her clit.  ‘You will finish only when I permit it … do you understand?’

She swallowed, nodded, whispered, ‘Yes …’

His eyes flicked up, his thumb and forefinger pinching her clit between his fingernails, ‘Yes … what?’

She closed her eyes, ‘Yes … Master …’

His nails released her sensitive flesh and he returned to his gentle stroking.  His other hand lifted to her breast and he tweaked her nipple, rolling it between his fingers.  He held her breast, lifting her flesh to his mouth and sucked her nipple.  She quivered at the sensation, holding her breath expectantly as he moved to the other breast.  His fingers started to rub harder, faster and she gritted her teeth.  And then two of his fingers were sliding into her and she was groaning deep in her throat.

  ‘Can’t you hold off, whore?’ he asked with a snarl, ‘Are you that weak?’

Her hands clenched into his fists, tremors shaking the chains that held her.  She gasped, over and over, tried to focus on the painful ache of her bruised flesh.  But the more she focused on it the more the ache became part of the pleasure and she gasped, shaking her head.  Sweat ran down the side of her face, between her breasts.  His fingers never stopped and she could feel her muscles tightening pleasantly.  She gasped suddenly, eyes widening.

  ‘Oh …’ she murmured, her body suddenly tensing.

Suddenly his fingers were gone from inside her and she shuddered with unspent desire while gasping with relief that she hadn’t disobeyed him.  Tiny quivers rippled her skin as she watched him slowly strip his clothes.  He was attractive, lean and smooth skinned.  She felt her breath catch in her throat as he turned, his cock hard and swollen.

  ‘I could slide this into you right now and make you finish with just a few strokes …’ he announced, his hand closing around his penis.  He started to moved his fist, grunting and closing his eyes.  The sound of him was strangely arousing and she felt her pussy getting even wetter at the sight and sound of him pleasuring himself.  She watched as he used his thumb to wipe a large drop of precum off the tip and lifted his hand.  He wiped the juice across her mouth, smearing it over and between her lips.  He grunted as he watched her slowly lick her lips and his hand started to move faster.  He moved behind her, the sounds of his grunt even more enticing now that she couldn’t see him.  She gasped suddenly when she felt hot juice splattering her lower back and she groaned at the sensations it caused.  He pressed against her back, hands reaching round to grab her breasts.  His teeth found her shoulder and he bit hard.  She cried out, shuddering with sudden delight.  His hands reached lower and played across her stomach, reaching to the side and gripping her buttocks.

She didn’t notice that he had moved until he appeared in front of her, flogger hanging from his fingers.  Slowly he turned the handle and pushed it between her legs, forcing it up and into her.  She gasped loudly, nodding with desperation as he slowly fucked her.  He studied her closely with every stroke, ensuring that he took her close to climax.  He had her panting and sighing, quivering uncontrollably before he suddenly yanked the handle free and moved to stand behind her.

The flogger strands sliced across her buttocks and she groaned loudly.  He leant closer, whispering into her sweat soaked hair, ‘You may finish now …’  He stepped back and delivered a harsh blow, making her sob.  He struck her hard and fast.  Lash after lash of the flogger rocking her body and quickly making her cry out.  Tears coursed down her cheeks as she sobbed beneath his cruelty.  Her climax still tightened her loins but with the flogger destroying her arse, there was no chance of finishing.  He continued to beat her and she almost sobbed for him to stop but suddenly a cold chill ran through her body, quickly followed by a heat that made her gasp with surprise.

  ‘No …’ she whispered fearfully as she felt her orgasm quickly building, ‘… oh God … please … no …’  Her heart hammered against her chest as fear and pain coursed through her in equal measure.  She couldn’t let herself to succumb to his brutal attentions.  But the pain at her buttocks was becoming so much more.  The heat from each blow spread lower, making her pussy contract.  She cried out and sobbed, head falling back. 

  ‘Yes …’ he snarled with a laugh, ‘… come on, whore, you know this is what you want … what you have always wanted …’

The flogger lashed her flesh and pain became indistinguishable from pleasure as she was swept up in the terrifying maelstrom of dark desires.  Her body spasmed and she cried out, over and over.  No longer able to fight, to resist, she succumbed to the collision of pleasure and pain.  The world became an explosion of light and sound.   She screamed, juices flowing down her thighs.

 

She didn’t know when he released her from the chains but she found herself laying on her back and he was moving between her legs and then into her.  The first touch of his cock made her sob with delight and she lifted her hips to meet his downward thrust, feet pushing into the floor.  His harsh hands pressed into her thighs, opening her wide and making her scream as she climaxed.  He fucked her brutally, nails clawing at her thighs and breasts as she wept and begged him to never stop.  When he pulled free to splash his seed across her breasts she finally succumbed to painful exhaustion.

 

*

 

She lifted herself painfully onto her hands and knees and crawled to where he had dropped her clothes.  She whimpered pitifully as she dressed, her clothes too tight, too rough on her bruised and scratched flesh. 

He appeared as she finished dressing, leaving the door open behind him.  His eyes were cold as he watched her approach.  She stood in front of him, eyes downcast.

  ‘I can make you feel pleasure you can not even imagine …’ he announced and she could not argue – he already had.  ‘… but you must earn it, do you understand?’

She nodded slowly.

  ‘Hold your hand out,’

She slowly lifted her hand and he slipped a thin, silver bangle around her wrist. 

  ‘You will wear this until I tire of you – as long as you wear it, you belong to me.’

Her eyes flicked up to his but then quickly dropped again.

  ‘And I will tire of you,’ he told her with a cold detachment that made her quiver, ‘… but until then …’  He left the sentence unfinished as he stepped sideways and waved for her to leave.