Chapter 3

These men were sadists and the real incentive was to whip Tanya.

After flooding her body with semen, and coating her skin with their fluids, the serious stuff started. They’d insert a Ball-gag into her mouth and the men would take turns to kneel across the bed in such a way as to make a ‘horse’ for Tanya to stretch-over at right-angles. Then, they’d tie her hands and feet to the corners of the bed and start the thrashing.

Wet skin and leather make-for a painful, and noisy, combination because the seal between the flesh and the crop is devoid of air to cushion the blow and dampen the sound; but they couldn’t hear her screams, anyway, and they weren’t bothered about her tears. Of course, they could see her squirm and hear her muffled groans but that was part of their hedonistic pleasure.

There were junctures where the beatings would stop and they’d take refreshments when, in the interim, one-or-other would climb-on-and-in. One favourite was to mount her from behind and fuck her in the ass; nothing unusual, there, but the speciality was that all five of them would take turns to ride-the-pony; one-after-the-other.

These sessions followed a familiar pattern, including compulsory self-exposure, where, after receiving them, she’d reveal her breasts; sit on a settee; splay her legs; draw-up her dress over her waist to display her shaved-pussy; she’d pull-apart her lips and announce; “C’mon, boys, who’ll be first to take his pleasure?” A prelude to rabid-sex and a flogging that ended with Tanya in recovery; feeling raw, sore and sticky.

Even so, there were stark similarities when she went on to describe the approved procedure she had to follow when receiving her Master for their solo-sojourns; she was to stand, eyes-down, her breasts uncovered, and greet him with, “Welcome, Master”. Usually, he’d grunt and mumble, “Get on with it!” whence she’d kneel, fish-out his cock and blow him to kingdom-come. Sometimes, he’d adjust her head so he could deep-throat her, a move she found suffocating; interestingly, he’d always ejaculate: so private-value did exist, then he’d go to the bathroom while she prepared drinks; Scotch for him, white wine for her, and then she’d wait, and wait and…

Beyond the Group-sex, her Master allowed his designated ‘solo-guests’ to visit, unannounced. It came to the point where Tanya never knew who to expect when she heard the door being opened and it followed that she was rarely lonely or, to put it another way, unused; but she was never happy.

Anyway, this was enough for the time being; we’d refreshed ourselves over the tray John had set-up; so, I suggested we changed into our walking-gear and took a stroll up to the high-point on the Property.

She’d chosen well and, as expected, looked-the-biz: tweed breeches, cotton shirt, woollen pullover and socks, a sturdy pair of boots under a cloth cap and a wax-jacket: she walked well; steady of foot, an appropriate gate, well-chosen steps, an easy pace well-within her lung capacity as we set off up the track to ‘Peak’, the mound that gave a panorama over much of the land.

This is a 23 000-acre Sporting Estate; we’re in the Business of Game: shooting Birds and stalking Deer: there’s a bit of Fishing, nothing special, mostly Coarse, a few trout, that isn’t commercial; it’s more for relaxing, a bit of peace and quiet after the bangs of the day. We draw wealthy Businesspersons from all over the world, hence the Helipad; they’re known as the ‘Guns’ and a three-night, four-day, hosting brings about £35 000 per gun, per day, including the residential terms but excluding the armaments and the shot.

From Peak we could see Moors, Heather, Rocky-outcrops, Fells, Woodland and a couple of streams meandering down to a confluence just before Big-House where the flow deepened and slowed. The air was fresh and clean and the blue, cloudless-sky held a reddening-golden sun that beamed its cool rays to cast the shadow of a man and a woman engaged in the act of kissing.

“You’re ok, now?”

“Yes; I’m getting there.” Then a little squeeze from her fingers.

John had let-out a couple of the dogs and on they came, up the hill; one of them, the Bitch, trailing about a yard behind the Dog, scouting ahead, nose-to-ground, tails wagging and little squeals of joy when they found their quarry; a scratch behind their ears, a pat on the back, eye-contact and a snuffle with their noses and they were reflecting all the love we’d invested in them. Tanya took to them well and, not surprisingly, they took well to her.

I could imagine Tanya’s thinking; ‘little beings’; the children she’d missed and the happy family she’d longed for but, as of now, that was ‘water-under-the-bridge’: the game of life is played from where the ball is; not from where we’d want it to be.

“When we get back, will you make love with me?”

“Can you handle it?”

“Ohhhh; you really are a beast! Hahahaha!!!”

Then she moved-in and hugged me, held me and cuddled me; she reached-up, we rubbed-noses then she offered me her mouth. Her breath was sweet and her eyes showed a steady gaze; her breasts were pressing gently into my side and her crotch was in contact with my hip: Tanya was a full-on-woman and the answer to her question was already a given as my arm went around her waist and, as our lips touched, the pressure increased until, as the Army would put it, ‘we-swapped-spit’.