The tall, lean man in top hat and full evening dress paid the cab driver and approached the bordello, experiencing the thrill of anticipation to which he’d become accustomed on his visits to this busy area of London.
In the capital city, motor vehicles were becoming more common and pedestrians needed to be vigilant as they went about their business.
The Madam, Abigail Marriott, who was expecting him, hoped he’d take a fancy to the new girl she’d found and the little diversions she’d prepared because the last thing she wanted was to be deprived of revenue that flowed from his Lordship’s wallet. It was her challenge to keep him amused and to ensure his palate did not become jaded.
He paid more than any other client but he was very demanding; also the cruellest man ever to cross the threshold of her whorehouse.
The red-haired girl Nancy was young and voluptuous and best of all no alcohol or opium habit had damaged her looks. So many of the girls who catered for flagellants appeared to be in a permanent state of semi consciousness because of the amount of gin and opium they consumed. Abigail fought an endless battle to keep them sober enough to be of interest to her clients. If she couldn’t regulate their habits sufficiently they were like rag dolls when they went under the lash. Clients like Lord Pelton wanted some life in his victims, wanted to see them writhe about and scream…unless he decided to use a gag.
She bargained on Nancy being a very successful cock raiser.
Of course Abigail understood why the girls who accepted chastisement and humiliation in their professional work needed something to deaden the pain visited upon them by her clients. At best they might be birched severely and at worst they could be subjected to extreme torture. Whatever the human mind (the male mind in particular) could dream up could be acted out within the walls of her house in Covent Garden. A man like Lord Pelton paid enough to be given free rein to indulge his basest urges. A good bordello was a place where dreams came true – for those who could afford the prices.
Nancy’s other great advantage was that her body was not yet calloused and damaged because she’d not been in the profession for long enough. She had the very pale skin that usually goes with auburn hair which Abigail thought Lord Pelton would appreciate: a blank white canvas on which to paint.
The girl had been suddenly orphaned and a series of misadventures had led her to beg on the streets. Maurice, Abigail’s servant, always on the lookout for pretty girls in need of shelter, spied her and offered a warm bed and something to eat. It was perfectly safe, he told her, because only women resided in the house and she could be sure of a warm welcome from the sisterhood.
Nancy wasn’t a common working class girl and her speech was quite refined, although Lord Pelton wouldn’t require her to talk a great deal. However he would appreciate her delicate looks and sound teeth, hair in good condition, her generally healthy appearance and her bright green eyes.
He’d also appreciate her body, or so Abigail surmised.
Added to her soft skin, Nancy had other assets that would commend her to the male sex; she was big breasted, her thighs were firm and round, her bottom dimpled. Unless they were men who liked girls to look like boys (and they were not as uncommon as people might imagine) they would enjoy Nancy’s very female figure.
Abigail had a mind to train Nancy to give and take in flagellation since the majority of her customers preferred to be receivers. Her training in wielding the rod consisted chiefly in flogging a bolster and cushions with Abigail exhorting her to strike ever harder and harder. It soon became clear Nancy was not cut out to be a dominatrix.
She would be better offering her body to be whipped.
On the day Lord Pelton was scheduled to arrive, Abigail plied her with gin in the morning and gave her an injection in her thigh, omitting to explain what exactly was going to happen to her. ‘You will feel a certain numbness and sleepiness,’ she explained to the wide-eyed girl.
Mrs. Marriott had spent a considerable amount of money designing a machine not unlike the horse invented by her predecessor Theresa Berkley in the nineteenth century and used in premises a short pigeon flight away. The refinement was that Abigail’s machine could bring not one but two victims to any angle required as the planks on which the bodies lay rotated on a large wheel turned by one of her assistants. The task of turning the handle that cranked the wheel usually fell to One-eyed Sarah renowned for her enormous bubbies. She was an amiable giantess with biceps as bulging as any strongman’s, a girl of limited intelligence, but endless stamina. She worked wearing only her drawers so that clients had full view of the famous breasts that hung below her waist.
Lord Pelton took off all his clothes when he flogged a girl and seemed to have no objection to Abigail being present. She liked to watch the way his slim body worked up a sweat, the muscles ripple in his back, and, when it stiffened, his manhood swing back and forth along with his heavy, pendulous balls. He was well endowed as befits a man of rank and importance. Abigail felt she’d have been greatly disappointed if his member had been a tiny apology for a cock. It was an honour for her to see a peer of the realm without a stitch of clothing and even more of a privilege to take hold of his lordly penis as he’d allowed on previous occasions.
Prior to his Lordship’s entry to the cell, Abigail and Maurice had strapped a naked Nancy face down on one of the platforms and had placed Susan (also nude) on the other plank lying on her back. This meant Lord Pelton had all female parts to aim at with whatever instruments he chose to employ.
Of all her girls, Susan was favourite with the floggers or she had been up to this point; it was possible Nancy would eclipse her in popularity. Susan seemed inured to pain and would cry out, ‘harder, please, Sir!’ during a flogging and, ‘Whip my arse, Master, I so deserve it,’ and similar remarks which spurred on most men. On the other hand, there were clients who didn’t want a murmur from the girls, those who liked to hear them sobbing quietly and others who liked to hear the whore give vent to full-throated screams.
Lord Pelton stepped out of the shadows and put his hand on Nancy’s ample posterior, stroking her rounded cheeks and pushing his fingers between them in search of her orifices. Abigail was used to seeing his Lordship go through these preliminaries and knew he’d be savouring the smoothness of Nancy’s skin and the juiciness of her ripe behind, pleased to have a fresh bottom to fondle and flog.
Abigail watched his cock slowly stir in its nest of wiry dark hairs then rise gradually in a series of little twitches till it was fully up-standing.
He moved to run his hands over Susan’s breasts and pluck at her nipples. Abigail knew he was anticipating the stripes he would place there, enjoying the thought of spoiling those lily-white orbs with cruel crimson stripes, creating ridges where there was soft, smooth skin.
Lord Pelton usually liked to birch his victims first and Abigail had the wands well soaked in buckets and vases filled with water. She bound six or seven branches together with twine to make a short handle and handed the bundle to her client.
One-eyed Sarah was waiting for the signal and when his Lordship gave it she began to turn the handle to set the wheel in motion.
With cock jutting out, Pelton positioned himself carefully and struck his first target, Nancy’s quivering buttocks, quickly followed by birching Susan’s breasts as they passed before him invitingly. Pieces of bark flew in the air and a few imbedded themselves in the flesh of the two girls.
As Sarah worked up speed to make the wheel spin, Lord Pelton adapted his pace and rhythm so he didn’t miss an opportunity to thrash both girls the optimum number of times.
Abigail was emboldened to grasp her distinguished client’s erection and frig him a number of times as he attacked the defenceless girl. She searched his face but wasn’t certain whether it registered pleasure or disapproval. There was pleasure for her in squeezing his long thick shaft and she hoped he wouldn’t push her aside. She knew men liked their cocks to be manipulated with some force so she gripped him as hard as she could and pulled him vigorously, exposing the swollen purple head. The effect of her attentions was to make him stiffer still and make him lay on the birch with ever greater lustiness.
She could smell his sweat and his male muskiness and she thought she could smell semen though he hadn’t ejaculated. She thought it better to take her hand away so that he didn’t come before he was ready. He would want to do other things to the girls before he came. There was plenty of time…