A Fair Exchange

 

The girl hung by her wrists. She was naked and the light from the torches shed a flickering landscape of shadow and flesh-tinted highlights across her body. Her toes could just about support some of her weight as they strained against the flagstones of the dungeon floor. She was well suited to her suspension, having the kind of body that unfurls its full magnificence when under stress. She was sturdily built but her belly was flat and her breasts - even in that state of extension - were still prominent, her thighs were not slender but were shapely, and they suggested that she was a strong creature, capable of withstanding plenty more of what she was currently receiving.

And currently she was receiving the attentions of a single tail whip fashioned from deer hide. It was soft to the touch and in the smokily lit dungeon it whispered deceptively as it was applied to her back by the tall man who stood behind her and to her left. He swept the lash forward in a steady rhythm that had already produced a web of lines across the girl's shoulders, middle back and buttocks. Neither of the two men in the dungeon was keeping a count, each seemed content to continue almost indefinitely. The girl groaned and sighed more and more loudly as the tally mounted, eventually lifting each leg in turn and trying to twist her body to escape the biting sting of the lash. But there was no alteration in the steady beat of the flogging. At last she began to utter shrill, bird-like cries that mounted up the scale and became more and more breathless until finally she gave one loud scream and her legs buckled so that her full weight was taken by her wrists.

The flagellator coiled the whip as the other man stepped up to the girl's front. He lifted her chin and stared dispassionately at her. He noted the way her eyes were still unfocussed and inclined to roll upwards. Her full-lipped mouth hung open as she gasped for air. Her nipples stood out hard and dark from the wide brown areola atop the temptingly prominent hills of breastflesh. He thought they would take the needles very well. He reached down and slipped his hand between her slack thighs. His fingers slid easily over the greasy clitoris, still erect and of a good size - again he filed that away as suitable for piercing - and into the opening of the girl's vagina. Immediately they were awash with her discharge and she squelched as he dug them further up into her, three fingers accommodated with ease. He was quite certain that she would take fisting with only a little more mistreatment to make her completely open. She groaned and his attention switched to the soft mouth that was trying to form words.

"What is it girl?" he enquired.

"Oh, my lord..." she gasped. "I hope I didn't offend by coming."

Alfred Gascoine, the ninth Duke of Loughmore was charmed. "Not at all. You did well, very well."

She made no response but managed to get her legs under her, without disturbing his exploration of her insides and a proud little smile played across her lips. Alfred made himself a promise that he would sample that pathway to a man's pleasure at the first available opportunity. But there was one more piece of business to attend to. He withdrew his fingers and walked around behind her, parted her buttocks with the fingers of one hand and then thrust the vaginally lubricated fingers of his other one into the pit of her anus and prodded the tight little whorl of that entrance. To his delight her body put up some resistance and he had to wiggle his index finger around a bit before he achieved penetration for two fingers and was able to work them into the narrow channel within. Once inside her she was easily thrust further into and when he withdrew she gripped him with excellent control. He thrust in again and was pleased with how well she relaxed and took him in. He withdrew his fingers entirely and smacked her bottom before wiping his fingers on her and turning to his companion.

"You've got her very well prepared. She's every bit as good a piece of girlmeat as you claimed, my dear Ainsley. I'll take her!"

"You won't regret it, Alfred," the man replied. "Once she's started orgasming, she'll go on for as long as even you need her to. Whatever you do to her. In fact the more you do to her, the better she likes it."

"We agreed a thousand guineas did we not?"

"We did."

"I have no doubt but that she will earn that back and more within a few weeks. But tell me again why you want to part with such a well-trained slut."

The man laughed harshly, as if recalling some quarrels. "My wife insists upon acquiring the estate that borders ours. And I don't blame her, it will lend itself perfectly to running ponies and racing them. But it does mean that for the moment we must sell on some of our prized possessions. So Jane here must find another owner."

"Very well. I'll fetch her in the morning and bring the money with me," Alfred said and made to leave.

"My dear friend!" the man exclaimed. "There's no need for that. Take her with you now and I know perfectly well that you will pay first thing tomorrow morning. The Duke of Loughmore's word is well known to be his bond!"

The duke bowed. "I will accept your kind offer and of course you do have my word."

"Come, a glass of port to toast our bargain! Booth will come and take her down presently!"

In high good humour the men left the dungeon with its solitary occupant. She shook back some sweat-soaked ringlets from her face and resigned herself stoically to wait for the butler. He would probably want a shag, but that was what she was there for and in any case, after such a solid beating, she could do with one.