Victoriana (closed)

[dr_mabeuse]

What a strange sort of slave she is, he thinks as he watches her suck his massive tool, bobbing her head and groaning in her eagerness to please him. Obviously she has her own ideas as to what pleasing him entails, and, given some freedom, she falls to her task with a slave's anxious enthusiasm. But it is apparent to him now that she does not really want his kindness in return. Her pleasure is rather to feel her Master's wrath; his raw, dominating male power.

His thoughts are scattered by the deliciously obscene feel of her rosebud lips at his anus as she rims him with her little pink tongue. He knews how revolting she must find this. The fact that she would even do this--or that she even knows that this kind of thing is done--speaks to her need to please hum no matter what the cost to her own dignity. Yet if this is what it takes to build her ardor to the state he desires, he is happy to accomodate her.

Or has he misjudged her? Could it be that what she really seeks is only the stong of pain and thje constant degradation of the slave's lot? Perhaps he's entirely misjudged her capacity for pleasure. That would be unfortunate. But it would only mean that he would have to concentrate on satisfying himself, on using her own beauty and helplessness to build his own desire to the absolute heights.

H eheard her pleas and knelt down over her chest. As she held her large, firm breasts together, he slid his cock back and forth between her globes, enjoying the frantic way she tried to capture him in her mouth as his cock left trails of precum smeared across her throat and lips.

Finally he stood. He was close now. He would see how she enjoyed her own degradation.

" Get on your knees in front of me. I'm going to unload on you, and I want you to leave my come exactly where it lands on you." je said as he began to stroke his enormous rod.

"May I close my eyes please. Master?" she asked meekly.

"Yes. I've no wish to blind you, girl." he said.

She tilted her face up to reveive his ehaculate as his hand moved faster and faster on his swollen cock. He groaned with pleasure, then a deeper groan, then he cried out as he punched his hips forward, aimed his cock at her and spewed gout after gout of hot semen over her face and breasts, making her squeal with suppressed excitement as it rained over her, splashing onto her cheeks and lips, running down her face and dripping from her breasts.

He continued until the ejaculations lost force, then he pressed the tip iof his cock against her lips and let the remainder dribble over her mouth.

Without thinking she reached up and smeared some away from her face, immediately regrettiing it as she realized what she'd done.

"Oh Master! I'm so sorry! I forgot myself in my excitement! I didn't mean to disobey you..."

Still panting from the glorious exertion of his orgasm, her looked down at her with controlled fury as he tried to catch his breath. This wouldn't do. There was no place for mercy when a direct order had been disobeyed, no matter what the reason.

He stepped off the bed, pulled her arms back and reattched the clips to the thigh straps and pushed her over onto her stomach, smnearing his come all over her face. It was of no matter now. She had already destroyed thge pristinbe beauty of his semen on her.

With her wrists buckled to her thighs, her ass jutted lewdly up into the air. From beneath the bed her withdrew a si,ple leather strap which he wrapped around his right hand.

He reacherd out and felt the virgin smoothness of her tender ass, the marks from her previuoius whipping and spanking all but gone.

"You've disobeyed me Marie-Anne. You've disappointed me and made me unhappy. For that you must be punished. Since our relationship still is new, I will be kind. Four strokes shall serve to see that you don't make that mistabke again."

He saw her looking back at him, her eyes filled with tears of remorse, but they didn't sway him. He lifted the strap and brought it down with a sharp slap across the trembling moons of her ass and she screamed as her Master's fiery anger shot though her body.

"No screaming, Marie-Anne. Muffle your outbursts with the pillow, or I shall be forced to give you more."

She opened her mouth wide and bit down on the pillow as she leard the lash whistle through the air and land again with a painful crack like a pistol shot against her bottom, immdediately raising a welt.

She felt the last two through a haze of pain and tears as she sobbed into the bedclothes. Then he dropped the lash and unclipped her hands.

He took the sobbing girl in his arms and kissed her face tenderly. "There now. It is all over, and your Master loves you again. And you are sorry for your error, aren't you?"

She shook her head mutely.

The Doctor got up and slid into bed, adjusting the blankets around him.

"Because you have been a disobedient little slave, I cannot share my bed with you just yet. You may sleep at the foot of the bed like a dog, my dear, but no blankets. When I have fully forgiven you, then you may come sleep beside me. I will tell you when. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes, Master."

"Very well." he said. "Then good night to you my dear. Sleep well."

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He awoke from a deep and dreamless sleep with a start to fin her fearfully touching his shoulder, asking permission to use the toilet.

"What? What time is it?" he asked in confusion. "Of course, Marie-Anne, of course."

He was about to tell her that she needn't ask his permission for such a basic human need, but he reminded himself that in establishing discipline regardless of the context it was always best to demonstrate strictness first and then relax it than it was to start out lax and then attempt to impose tighter control, so he said nothing. He couldn't tell the time for his watch was on his beureau, but he certainly hadn't meant for her to sleep alone in the cold.

He sat up and stayed awake until she returned to the room, eyes downcast, and began to climb onto the foot of the bed.

"No, no, Marie-Anne." he said. "Your pennance has been served. Come beneath the covers where you can be near me now. Abd as for your disobecience, let us say no more about it."

He held the covers open for her as she slipped her chill body between the warm sheets, then he dropped the comforter about her and tucked her in as if she were a child. her face glowed as she drank up the delicious warmth of his body and his forgiveness, and he even teased her genatly about how cold her pretty feet were.

He held her close and pressed his face into her fragrant hair, then turned her face and gently kissed her mouth.

"Good night my love," he said. "Sleep well. You are safe here with me. Nothing will harm you."

Then, his arm around her possessively, he fell asleep.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

It is a terribly erotic dream in which he's stumbled into a harem of some sort, filled with beautiful women, all naked, all desperately aroused, all cavorting lewdly before him, trying to gain his attention. They stroke him, they fondle themselves, they call out to him. Some he recognizes as oast conquests, some he had only seen from afar. But he cannot bother with them now, for he is searching for something, going deeper and deeper into dark and filthy catacombs where the floor is thick with a loathsome ooze and the air is cold and foul. He must battle his fear and ignore the women's warnings not to go there, but he is driven on.

And then he sees her. It is Marie-Anne, glowing like a candle flame on the stygian darkness, as heart-rendingly beautiful in his dream as in real life, standing pure and clean amidst the foulness of that horrible place. He flies to her and gathers her into his arms as she collapses against his chest, asking only his love and his protection from the horrors around her. He feels his rage against those who have put her here disappear as she tells him just to take her from here; that revenge does not matter, and instantly they ascend through the solid rock of the dungeon.

"You must burn me clean." she tells him as she demurely parts her legs for him. She takes his cock in her hand and her touch is exquisite, like none he has ever known, sending shocks of pleasure through his body. "But if I take you, I will myself defile you." he says to her.

She gives him that look of innocent passion that he finds so terribly arousing, and he knows instantly that nothing can defile her, that she is nothing but love, as pure as crystal that everything shines through but nothing touches, and he gives himself over to her, sinks into her body just as her spirit sinks into his...

He awakens slowly, a bit confused. That beautiful sensations of physical love have not faded with his dream, and he opens his eyes to see Marie-Anne lying alonside him, sucking softly on his erect shaft, her fine hands dwarfed by its size.

He smiles at the sight of her, then laughs aloud and she looks up with sudden fear, his cock still inher mouth.

"Don't be afraid, my dear." he says. "What a lovely gift this is. But you're lucky I was up to use the toilet not long before. That's something I will have to tell you about. But this is a wonderful way to wake up, Marie-Anne. Please don't let me interupt."

He hikes himself up on his elbows so he can watch her ministrations. She is still curious about his instrument of pleasure, and after sucking it a few times she takes it from her mouth to inspect it as if it were a small animal, kissing its head and underside, petting it, taking not of his every sigh and moan as she works.

His size and virility thrill her, and the thought of holding his pleasure in her hand and mouth thrill her even more. It is so wonderful to give him pleasure like this, to make him moan and even cry out her own name. She feels his excitement immediately, and it's as if it was her own. The more excited he becomes, the more excited she becomes, and soon she is moaning along with him urging him on with abandon.

The sight of his big cock disappearing into her child-like face is almost more than he can stand, ands what she lacks in technical expertice she more than makes up for with her enthusiasm and excitement. He lets his head fall back and closes his eyes and lets her have her way with him.

She hears him groaning above her, sees his hard stomach clench into knots of muscle, and he begins to pump himself into her mouth with powerful thrusts, telling her he is close. She feels his thighs flex like iron bars as his cock grows in her mouth and she squeals with excitement.

"Oh yes, Marie-Anne! I'm going to come! I'm going to come in your mouth! Drink it, darling! Swallow it all!"

She moans as she feels his cock jump in her mouth like a living thing, then tastes his salty virility on the back of her tongue as he jets into her mouth: the very essence of his pleasure. He cries out with delicious relief as he pumps again and again into her, and she is startled again by the force of his ejaculation, so potent, so hot, so manly. What a virile beast her Master is, she thinks with pride as she swallows and swallows, not wanting to spill a drop.

Afterwards he pulls her up so that she lies on his chest while his big arm encircles her. She feels so safe when he holds her like this, so very protected, so blessed with his affection.

"Remember, Marie-Anne. We're to dine tonight with the Gattling-Fenns and the Farquahars. Ah, ah, ah" he soothes when he feels her stiffen in resistance. "I know you don't wish to go, and quite honestly I don't either. But these are very influiential people and they think very highly of me. I won't do to disappoint them. And I want to begin to introduce you to society, dear. I want to show them what a rare jewel I have found.
"We'll just do our social duty, and then we'll duck out as soon as possible and come back home.
"Now: the hairdresser is coming around noon, and your gown will be here shortly for a final fitting."
"There is the matter of your branding too." he said thoughtfully. "But I think this will wait until after our dinner."

 

[dr_mabeuse]

"Master? What is branding? And who are these people and what will you tell them I am?"

"Branding?" he asks, turning unusually serious. "Yes, I suppose we'd better discuss branding. I hadn't given it much thought at first, because I hadn't expected to be so dreadfully fond of you. But now that you've won my heart, I see that it's no trivial mattrer, my pet. Far from it."

He lloks into her deep green eyes, so innocent, so trusting, and he feels what has now become a familiar tug at his heart. He wonders where to start, because it's important that she understand.

"Marie-Anne, how many types of relation may there be between a man and a woman, outside of blood? Man and wife certainly, lovers, friends, teacher and student, no doubt many more. Some of these are formalized with a ceremony, and perhaps a symbol such as a ring, and exchange of gifts, the use of Christian names.
"Well there is another relationship recognized by some people, not all, by any means, but by some, and this relationship surpasses all others in depth of commitment, intimacy, and obligation. It is more permanent than marriage, more intimate than what is shared by lovers, and symbolizews a true joining of a man and a woman's spirits in a very special way. Some may call it a Master-slave relationship, but it is far more than that. For simplicity's sake, I and several people I kjnow who are engaged in such a relationship call it 'branding'.
"In essence, it consists of your taking my permamenet mark on your body, on your very flesh, saying that you are mine and none other's, for now and all times, and not even death shall part us. You are my property and my soul, and I am yours. In return for your commitment to me, to be mine, I commit to you, to protect and care for you always, to love you and cherish you; to train you and teach you. To make you the very centerpiece in the banquet of my life. One blood, one love, one soul, eternal."

He looked at her and smiled, trying to dispel some of the gravity of his talk. "Had you been nothing special to me, the branding would have meant nothing but that you were my property. A slave, just like a horse in a barn or cow in a field. But you are of course far more to me than that, so this branding will mean far much more.
"Therefore it is not something we want to run into on a lark. For as strongly as I feel for you, my darling, we have known each other for only a matter of days. One doesn't enter into such a relationship based on a few days' acquaintance. When the time is right, when we are both certain, then we will discuss it further."

He rolled from under her and turned to face her, prerssing his forehead to hers and fingering the velvet choker she wore. "For now, this is your engagement ring, as it were. When certain people see you wearing this, they will know what it means: that I love you very, very much. That I want to bind you to me."

He embraced her then, burying his face in her fragrant hair. Such a child. To effect him so deeply was quite disorienting. But as it was, he had to restrain himself from crushing her to him he loved her so. He was afraid he would squeeze the very life out of her if he gave rein to his passions. She was so small, so wonderfully delicate in his arms, such a flower of womanhood. He burned with love for her and turned his face into the pillow so she would not see the tears in his eyes.

"Now." he said when he had gained some control over himself. "As to tonight." he forced a laugh. "Realy, Darling, they are nothing to me, these people. Gattling-Fenn is an MP and fairly high in the Queens regard, but the man is an ass. However his brother is Lord Keith who provisions for the Royal Navy and he could throw quite a handsome piece of business my way. Her Majesty's ships all need tincture of opium, and someone has to supply it; why not me? It could be the first step to an honorarium.

"His wife, Lady Gattling-Fenn is quite a bit younger than he. In fact, their difference in age rather approximates our own, which is one of the reasons I want you to meet them. Lady G-F was at one time his ward as well, and they married when she reached her majority. It happens more often that you'd think.

"The Farquahars are the Dorset Farquahars. Perhaps you've heard of... No? Well, no matter. They're a decent sort for all the money they've got. Reggie stood for me at the Club, and Imogene just couldn't be nicer. They'll take to you immediately, I'm sure."

Seeing a look not unlike panic in her eyes, he gave in somewhat. "Now don't be frightened like that. I've already told them that I'll be bringing my ward, the daughter of a former business partner, which is very like the truth, and they're quite eager to meet you. All you have to do is look lovely and make your 'pleased-to-meet-you' and that will be an end to it. I've already told them you just got in and are still rather fagged, so they'll excuse us early."

She burrowed against him and he folded her into his arms.

"I need you to do this, Marie-Anne. We can't very well spend the rest of our lives in bed, as pleasant as that might sound. I am very proud of you and want to show you off. Just leave it all to me."

He could no longer resist her and he took her mouth with his. Her eager tongue teased at his lips, demanding to be let in to the place she loved so, and when he opened his teeth he was once again amazed at the level of her passion. She had him hard again in a matter of moments, and the urge to take her with his cock was almost overwheming.

He grabbed her firm buttock and rolled her over onto her back, making her gasp at his urgency.

"And when we're done I'll bring you back here and fuck you all night long, without stopping. I'll fuck you hard and I'll fuck you deep. I'll take your pussy and your ass and your mouth and every inch of you and show you things you've never even dreamed of. I'll teach you to be my whore and my lover and to give me everything you have without reservation. I'll teach you what love is, Marie-Anne, how deep it goes and how sweetly it hurts."

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He laughs with delight at her fearful earnestness. She is just so charming. "Forgive me, my pet. I talk too much I'm afraid. French, eh? Well, you have me there. A 'whore' is a putain. But it is a term of passion here for a woman who is a good lover, formidable.
"And hurting you? It is a manner of speaking, my sweet. It is not to be taken literally...er...seriously. It is love talk, little one.
"Never mind. I can see you are not one for bedroom talk.

"As for honorarium, it is like an award, an honneur. But don't you worry about that."

He lies back and puts her head down on his chest so he can stroke her wonderful hair, so very black, almost shockingly so, yet so vibrantly alive. It sets off her face like a frame, making her beauty that much more dramatic.

She relaxes against him, idly playing with the hair on his chest, and for a time they are lost in their separate thoughts. It is one of those silent moments that appear from time to time between lovers. One of those silent moments in which doubts sometimes grow.

How strange, he thinks. How much of what I tell her does she understand? How much have I even told her? How much is she capable of understanding, and how much does she even care about understanding?

Sexually I've never known a woman like her. She quite literally drives me mad with passion, and she gives me pleasure far beyond any that I've known with another women. But is that enough for me? Is that enough for her?

She says she only wants to please me, and yet is that so? Or does she just want to do what she thinks I want?

He could lie there and think these things forever, he realizes, and get nowhere. Meanwhile the day is passing. It is time to get up.

Just when he thinks this she turns her face and looks at him. Their eyes meet and lock, and in hers he sees a desperate need to be loved, to please him, to be protected. But he sees more as well. She doesn't know him and she's afraid. And yet, there with her fear is her smoldering sexuality, always near the surface, always capable of pulling him in into that mad passionate dance they've come to share. He wants her. Not just sexually, not just for pleasure. He wants her totally. He wants that fire in her eye to burn for him and him alone. He wants to be her all.

"Come." he says, shaking off these thoughts, ignoringthe feel of her bottom as he slaps her playfully. "Up you go. The hairdresser will be here any minute and you haven't even bathed yet."

 

[dr_mabeuse]

The hairdresser didn't cut her hair. Instead she pinned it up in an elegant sweep atop her head in order to show off her strikingly beautiful neck, upon which the Doctor's opal gleamed and flashed like a thing alive, dimming even the brilliance of the tiara she wore as was the fashion that season.

The dressmaker did a wonderful job, making the most of her striking decolletege, covering her ivory shoulders with a wisp of tulle.

With one thing an another, the Doctor didn't see her until it was almost time to leave, and when he did, he was struck momentarily speechless. The lovely ingenue had become a breathtaking beauty, absolutely radiant in her white gown and gloves. And when she saw she Doctor's reaction, she couldn't help but reflect his pleasure and pride and she began to shine like a veritable star.

Her beauty only made him more commanding as he helped her into her wrap, and in the coach he could scarce take his eyes off her. She herself felt almost overdressed, as if she didn't deserve the finery, as if it were a dream she was afraid she would soon awaken from. She just looked out the window, hoping she wouldn't.

The evening passed quickly for her. Her beauty and the Doctor's excuse spared her from having to take an active part in the conversation, and he'd been right: it was enough for her to sit there and be beautiful as the Doctor hovered protectively around her. Sir Gattling-Fenn tried to engage her in her native language, but his French was so heavily accented and clumsy that even the Doctor, who spoke no French at all, was embarrassed for him and quickly changed the subject.

Marie-Anne was embarrassed to be the center of such solicitous attention, though it made her swell with joy to see the look of unabashed pride on the Doctor's face whenever he looked at her. He too seemed to bask in her reflected glory, as if being with her made him more virile, more imposing and yet more courtly.

All in all the evening passed pleasantly enough. Lady Gattling-Fenn was most sympathetic to Marie-Anne and did everything to put her at ease, and Imogene Farquahar was likewise most companionable. The one thing that stuck in Marie-Anne's mind was when the ladies were admiring Lady G-F's new diamonds, and she noticed what she at first thought was a beauty mark on the older woman's breast. But she quickly saw that it was a small mark or tattoo. In fact, it was the Gattling-Fenn's coat-of-arms. That's all she could ascertain given the brief interval she had to surreptitiously inspect the curious mark, but the discovery sent a sudden thrill through her. She had understood enough of what the Doctor had told her to know what it meant. Lady Gattling-Fenn was branded.

Then they were saying their goodnights. When the Doctor helped her on with her wrap his fingers lingered on her shoulders, and on the stairs he impulsively kissed her on the cheek. They settled back in the coach with a charcoal warmer on the floor at their feet, and she was conscious of the Doctor looking at her with deep pleasure and something more. An animal hunger gleamed in his eyes, visible in the darkness of the coach.

She was somewhat dizzy with the excitement and the wine, and she felt like her high spirits might bubble out of her in some foolishness. But still, she could not keep still under his hot gaze.

"What is it, Master?" she asked cautiously. "My behavior, it was not good?"

"Your behavior was splendid." he said softly. "You are indescribably beautiful. Impossibly beautiful. When we get home I don't want you to do a thing. You will come to the bedroom just as you are. I want you just as you are."