Julias first fuck
- 4 years ago
- 26
- 0
By Command Of Julia's InvitationChapter 5 free porn video
Lumsden’s dismay in being made to wait for the rope, was every woman’s pleasure, in that his prolonged torment by ordeal at the spiteful hands of Madeline, was appeased in every female member’s minds by the erotic comfort of the disposal of one Blythe-Cranford. He had earned his appointment on the gallows through sexual deviation with younger girls, a crime which would have brought him a custodial sentence of several years had he been caught and convicted by male authority, and one which would have brought scandal and shame upon his name and incurred questions about all who associated with him. As his lurid crime was exposed to a wife who had long sought to be rid of him, he, and she, would be spared the latter illumination, but his crime would know the full extent of feminine justice in the extreme.
As with so many of Agnes Fairchild’s executions, the fate of Blythe-Cranford had already been determined in the eyes of officialdom; a male of suitably similar proportions having been sent to India on the Portsmouth and Oriental line, where he had made himself known to many witnesses aboard ship, the stooge enjoying going to great lengths in being a little too forward than became a gentleman of that era, with several women on the voyage; not enough to create any scandal, but creating a notoriety that ensured the name was remembered. On his arrival at the home of a matriarchal contact of Agnes’, the Memsahib had chosen a suitable lackey who was duly beheaded at leisure, in no doubt very erotic circumstances, and his conveniently decomposed and headless corpse not discovered until some weeks later.
The personal effects and some identification left in the clothing confirming this was Blythe-Cranford, apparently the victim of a vicious robbery, three more males in the service of the same Memsahib were found guilty of the crime and publicly hanged. Punishments which the local papers confirmed ‘She was strong enough to attend personally’. The male sent by Agnes to pose as Blythe-Cranford was then taken into service by the Matriarch, gratefully accepted by her as compensation for her help, and he more than keen to savour and serve her reginal authority and unfettered dominance, on witnessing her sadistic aplomb in liberally terminating four males as a matter of insignificance.
Back at home, the papers were keen to highlight the justice carried out, with pictures of the grieving Mrs Blythe-Cranford, now officially a widow - papers which she took great pleasure in showing her captive husband to confirm his appointment with the gallows was now sealed. Her haughty and sadistic euphoria in having him know how she relished seeing him displayed on the rope, and the graphic evidence of his official death manufactured by women, had him spend spontaneously in a submissive rapture of defeat; an emission which brought him the gratification of the whips which had already broken his spirit completely.
On the glorious day, which had seen much covert gossiping about it by enthusiastic women whom the mistress and pet had met in idle conversation on the preceding days, Julia had him ascend the room at Agnes’ house with some urgency, and he had helped dress her as before, with one exception. Julia retained the black satin panties which she’d worn since dressing at home, and which, due to the event in hand, had already warmed to her wet excitement at the promise of what was to come. When leashed, she pulled his face close enough to her crotch to detect her arousal, but not close enough to allow him the full aroma of her spice. He erected immediately at her tease, his excitement assisted by her lifting the leash high to feign his hanging, as much as the tantalising whiff offered. She sneered down as she savoured the collar’s slanted embrace of his neck, her excitement increasing by the moment.
“You’ll see that all the women accompanied by their pets will be wearing panties ... you’ll see why when the time comes.” Without further hesitation, she jerked him to the door and down the stairs; his nakedness not so illuminating in his mind as per his last exposure, but his submissive excitement equally keen on being led on all fours by her. He could feel the raw excitement in her tone as she teased him with more information on their joining other excited women heading for the grand hall. He could feel the general atmosphere of feminine spite in the air, as they entered the hall and Julia smiled contentedly down at her pet.
“There’ll be no blunt and faceless execution at dawn here ... no swift entry to a near empty room and an immediate drop in silence to snap his neck ... he’s earned the punishment and’ll be allowed to endure fully what he’s deserved, humiliated before an audience who’ll make their eagerness to witness his termination so openly apparent, made to relish and take in the sight of the gallows ... then displayed in full view of a satisfied feminine gathering as he’s slowly strangled by the pleasing method of the short drop.” She grinned smugly at her revelation of the technicalities of execution by the hanging method, confirming she was no stranger to it’s visual pleasures ... almost blushing as he looked up at her with obvious admiration at her knowledge. She moved on quickly, excited at the erotic prospect of having him view the ultimate act of feminine dominance whilst under her authority.
“I guarantee that the spectacle will take you to the highest peak of your submission, leaving you with the deepest respect for the power of womanhood forever.”
Just her vividly sincere description had Creed’s cock weeping lubrication as she found a suitable vantage point where the entire proceedings could be viewed in spiteful satisfaction, he scanning the large hall in the morbid hope of seeing the instrument of death, but noting only a huge draping curtain across from where he knelt by his Mistress, she posing in proud dominance as she exchanged pleasantries with equally enthusiastic dommes. There was something about the inanimate velvet curtain which was so erotic to his eyes, and his fixed gaze on the heavy black drapes was only averted by a figure that emerged to applause from a dark corner, the vision making his cock pulse, and his balls tingle in submissive awe.
Agnes Fairchild strode out to receive the adoration of her feminine audience, the undeniable magnificence of her dominant femininity, radiating from her full and womanly figure and not lost on Creed and the other kneeling males, many who yearned to appease her ultimate desire on the gallows she owned. In a tight black blouse which expressed her globular breasts in a statement of powerful femininity, her tightly corseted waist emphasising her ample and jutting arse below a long flowing black dress, this was the woman who had hanged many men, including two husbands, and whose sadistic vitality increased with each male who obliged that ultimate sexual desire.
As she stood with hands on hips and faced her audience with the majestically stern smile of a woman with pleasurable business in hand, in receipt of adoring applause, Creed heard the compulsive groan of a leashed and kneeling male next but one to him. He watched with some element of envy, on seeing him receive the delighted contempt of Agnes and the sneers of women as he suffered the subliminally submissive disgrace of shooting his mess spontaneously at the mere presence of Agnes, and the anticipation of seeing her conduct the business behind her smile. Julia whispered in his ear on feeling his dark need while the male’s mistress chided the humiliated offender’s tight balls with the flat of her crop as he emptied them.
“Don’t worry ... you’ll be made to show your appreciation too, when the time is right.” Creed took a sharp intake of breath as Agnes basked in the light of the impromptu distraction, lifting her chin and jutting her full breasts while staring down at the ejaculating male with an air of total supremacy, her sexual ego massaged delightfully at having him know that he had her attention as she confirmed her feminine power over him, and he confirmed the pathetic weakness that craved her more direct attention one day, ensuring his standing cock pulsed out it’s servile tribute while his spiteful mistress patted his balls with the vigour he deserved.
Agnes closed her eyes and turned her nose up nonchalantly as he sagged spent on his leash to derisory applause, lifting her skirt and toeing the farthest flung expenditure of his creamy surrender, in contemptuous fashion with her heeled boot, symbolising her crushing of all masculinity before moving forward and clapping her hands as she faced a black door at the far end of the raised walkway. The door opened slowly, and the crowd erupted into a deafening tumult of cheers and applause at the entrance of Mrs Blythe-Cranford, the widow-to-be, leading her leashed and naked husband to know the full price of his crimes. She paused for a moment to allow her cowering husband to take in the stark sincerity of the abject pleasure shown by all, at the guaranteed prospect of seeing him dance in submissive disgrace upon the gallows.
Mrs Blythe-Cranford was overwhelmed by the erotic thrill she experienced as she savoured his exposure, her cunt wet with arousal as she posed in regal pomp with her horse whip, her already officially deceased husband who had once lorded it over her with chauvinistic impunity, now a broken and defeated shell of the former arrogant and womanising male he once was. He had been taken down to the depths of submission with the assistance of Agnes and her associates, taught his true place below womanhood via the whip, and had learned to crave the noose he’d been told awaited him. Now undeniably his Mistress and owner, she looked down on him with sheer contempt and flexed her whip as he knelt in a begging posture, having seen the woman who’d promised him the noose, waiting to hang him just yards away. His wife was desperate to enjoy the process of becoming his widow too, and gave a cruel smile as she pointed him to Agnes, confirming her eagerness to oblige his submissive desire, along with her own carnal wishes.
Creed’s anus clenched tight at the plug and tingled, as Blythe-Cranford kissed his wife’s feet in thanks for gesturing her permission for him to progress to his own hanging, the situation of his crushed and automated obedience bringing spiteful jeers from the female audience as they revelled in his humiliation. Creed was close to spending as he saw the dark and explicit ecstasy in her eyes, as the once proud male who’d ruled her so arrogantly, then begged her to whip him to the gallows in a tone which betrayed his utterly broken spirit. His lust to appease her spite so earnest, and his erect cock showing the yearning of the submission he’d been justly taught and which now controlled his desire, as directly as the supremacy of womanhood that had instilled it within him via whip and humiliation.
Creed’s cock pulsed and oozed seminal fluid from his taut bell-end as he witnessed what the male had been reduced to, his jealousy acute as he watched the satanical women’s smiles as they accepted his breaking with satisfied eyes; he longed to know the pleasure of total defeat that their victim now inevitably faced. Julia smiled with smug satisfaction at seeing his tormented lust, watching his cock perk and pulse as he sniffed at the prevailing scents of feminine excitement which drifted from the massed arousals, mesmerised by the power of womanhood he witnessed.
The intensity of that power of feminity was surreal, the atmosphere generated by the ardent and undeniable confidence and dominance of the women was absolute, as though this was the normality, and the world beyond it that he’d known, just a sham. It consumed him into an erotic trance-like state, as it did the other males there; each as enslaved and acutely aware of their own lowly and insignificant status to their superior female owners, a sexual opiate to masochists and submissives of the lesser sex, which kept the defeated symbols of their gender stiffly erect in homage to their betters. The overpowering atmosphere was electric, as though he’d been swallowed by the pinnacle of an erotic dream, and cast into it without hope of release.
His widow-to-be took great pleasure in displaying her feminine elegance as she then slipped a ball gag into his mouth with her delicately manicured fingers, her smile supreme as she silenced him forever; he’d not be allowed any form of protest now, not that he would offer any resistance, verbal or physical, and neither would she be distracted by his begging - he’d get exactly what she wished, when she wanted it, and she wanted his death. His cock jerked stiffly as he bucked on his knees in anticipation of the ecstatic humiliation he now knew was imminent. He had earned the only punishment justifiable for his masculine arrogance, was told with spiteful pleasure by his feminine betters that this was so, and as his eyes surveyed those of the haughty and superior audience of women, he saw the contempt of every one, and the eagerness that each and every one showed in seeing that punishment served.
Creed felt the sexual passion in each of those women too, and was consumed by their, and his own, acute and natural erotic arousal; he had gone from masturbating at the glimpse of a womans laced boot, exposed as she climbed the omnibus stairs, to being taught to lick Julia’s shaven cunt under tuition of her whip, in just a few short days. Now he was kneeling naked in obedience to her, on her leash, and witnessing the openly erotic pleasure of women of high social status, the ecstasy of their covert assembly expressed in unabashed joy, at the prospect of sexual satisfaction in seeing a male tormented, humiliated, then executed.
The warm and sultry voice that held the commanding tone which had helped bring him to his knees so easily, whispered melodically to his ears as he watched intently, the deep pleasure in Julia’s sincere words making his anus tingle further as the women heartily applauded the entrance of two nubile girls, no more than eighteen and with delicate nymph-like figures. Both were naked, both wielding horse whips and brazen in the expression of their glorious femininity.
“These are two of the girls he abused, both now taken in by women of the society and taught the true order of feminine superiority, which both have accepted most eagerly. They had their innocence ended ruthlessly and prematurely by his abuse, and the tragedy of that loss of innocence was great, but has been compensated for, by that introduction to womanhood being nurtured since. He is responsible for their enlightenment through his gross actions ... without them he’d not be enjoying what is to come, and they’d be ignorant to the pleasures they now indulge in ... this is sweet justice indeed, they’ll know rich arousal in delivering him to the punishment he’s earned, the girls vindication vigorous and edged with a sadistic gratitude for his leading them to the life they now enjoy, and he, cut deeply by the deliciously humiliating irony as they show him to what he’s earned.”
His carnal thoughts wrestled in turmoil as his base instincts were excited at the sight of the soft nubile bodies, their slender limbs and white pear-shaped buttocks giving them a look of innocence which stretched his desire one way, then the spiteful, minx-like expressions their soft faces bore, and their grip on the whips they flexed took his carnal lust to where it truly belonged. The soft naivety of their physical appearance belied the spiteful dominance their faces revealed; an erotic excitement in punishing males, a raw and youthful impatience to use the whips they brandished in earnest, a lust that had been awakened within them by their mature mentors.
They stood proud and victorious over Blythe -Cranford, the fervour of the feminine crowd rising as his wife pointed him to their feet, which he humbled himself at as they grinned with supreme satisfaction, she then moving his head into the crotch of each girl, her own satisfaction intense at having him sniff at what had brought him to the gallows, his cock bobbing and pulsing as the scent took his memory back to his dominance over them; the reversal that now prevailed following his reducing treatment, providing a curt and erotic irony that increased his lust for the rope. He was now more than ready to humble himself at the feet of the woman who would hang him.
Mrs Blythe-Cranford showed her gagged husband a look of smug sincerity, her time with the women having also taught her the full appreciation of dominance, increasing her self-esteem whilst she saw her husband’s destroyed; she now viewed him with utter contempt, having seen him first crave the whip, then openly lust for the gallows he was promised.
“I’ve waited too long for this, I cannot wait to see you hang.” She took his leash, and slowly paced the few yards to Agnes with feminine poise and regal pomposity, euphoric at her husband’s humiliating exposure to the female audience who cheered and applauded loudly his slow and painful approach to his executrix, while the two girls added their whistling chorus with the horse whips to his flesh. Creed jerked on his knees, desperate to unleash the seed from his balls as he watched the male stumble and tense at the leash on all fours, as the two girls unleashed their vindictive spite upon his flesh, in ushering him forward to his execution.
He watched erect and bone hard as the male was presented at the feet of Madam Fairchild, who stood imperiously dominant over him, her black silk shimmering about her tightly corseted bust, the full length black skirt concealing, yet also enhancing her curvaceous femininity below it. Blythe-Cranford’s eyes were torn between their homage to the magnificent woman, and scanning the surroundings wildly, seeking the instrument of his destiny while he humbled himself at her feet. Agnes stood tall and radiated that dominance, her cunt hot and wet with arousal below the concealing skirt which also served to emphasise her strict womanly authority, her contempt for him teased to a satisfying level on seeing his pathetic impatience to see the noose.
“You seek the gallows? ... well so you should ... you’ve earned it, and it’ll be my pleasure to see you get what you deserve.” She pulled at a tie at the skirt’s waist, and the long flowing garment dropped to the floor, revealing the full grandeur of the mature femininity that would see him to his death. The women applauded her bold and unashamed exposure, while Creed and the other male pets bucked impatiently on their knees, transfixed by the erotic aura she generated so naturally; the tight corseted waist below her black silk blouse, accentuated her gently bulging belly and broad womanly hips, her equally broad thighs centered by a magnificent mound of Venus proudly displayed as she perched on tightly laced heeled boots. She basked in the adoration as she calmly smiled and gracefully removed her black silken blouse and let it slip delicately from her fingers to join her skirt. The tight black corset now emphasised her globular breasts, gently sagging in their maturity, the nipples poking hard to confirm her approval of the ecstasy to come.
She shimmered with the pleasure of her exposure, so hypocritically abhorred in the pompous Victorian society which prevailed outside her domain, knowing each of the submissive males leashed and erect and under the heel of their mistresses, were yearning to spend their seed in honour of her dominant magnificence, then pointed the quivering Blythe-Cranford to her cunt.
“Sniff! Sniff hard and see just how I relish ... and how every woman here, relishes seeing you shown the justice of womanhood.” The women sneered and murmured their sheer contempt as he pressed his nose to the warmth of her moist slot immediately, as eager as she and they were to know that justice, his cock boning high and erect as he sampled the honeyed spice of her rich arousal. He’d known that spice before, she having been serviced and ridden his face several times during his breaking, but the richness of her scent now, told him she was closer to satisfying her ultimate desire. She let him intoxicate himself sufficiently, feeling the ball gag press against her inner thighs as he motioned his desire to lick at her cunt; the subtle denial giving her a spiteful thrill, then pulled his head away and turned her back to the audience as she faced the ominous black drapes.
Creed gasped and jerked on his knees, his cock aching to come, as he and the other pets were treated to the view of the magnificent woman’s rear, the lush pear shape of her ample fleshy cheeks, and superbly formed legs - her maturity somehow making her shapely figure all the more erotic - having him strain at the leash; his mind in a fantasy of being enveloped and allowed the tangy taste of her puckered anus in worship. Julia smiled and exchanged knowing glances with the other women, as she and they kept their leashes nice and taut to prevent their charges prostrating themselves in worship at the feet of the dominant goddess. Agnes turned her head to the kneeling male, and gave him a wicked smile.
“Well ... you’ve seen my reveal ... now let’s see what you’ve earned.” She lifted her arm and clicked her fingers, her smile still bearing down on Blythe-Cranford’s face, and the women breaking into a raucous applause as the drapes were swept either way and dropped, revealing a tall and robustly proportioned gallows; an inviting noose casting a large shadow on the rear wall, courtesy of illumination which would ensure his performance was clearly viewed by all, the side walls mirrored to allow him to view his own fate as he twirled on the rope to appease feminine justice. Agnes’ cunt tingled as she watched him quiver and hump on his knees, his eyes wide as the stark reality of what was to happen was brought home sweetly by the sight of the actual noose on which he’d die. To one side, elevated and exposed on four black pedestals, was the glass coffin in which his wretched and bound corpse would placed when feminine justice had been duly served; the spectacle of his humiliation would continue even after his death, his striped, bound, and strangulated naked body exposed till discarded to the dirt.
Mara
- 08.02.2023
- 30
- 0
