Feature Writer: Midsummerman

Feature Title: OCCULT JUSTICE 5

Published: 28.11.2015 / Copyright© 2015 by Midsummerman

Story Codes: NC, Coercion, Slavery, Paranormal, BDSM, Sadistic, Torture, Snuff, Pregnancy, Voyeurism, Analingus

Synopsis: Firstly, apologies to all witches; I know that this tale has no bearing on your ways and practices, it is pure fantasy. Back in the 1600’s the ‘Witchfinder General’ was responsible for the deaths of over 300 women, many totally innocent, others persecuted for their beliefs. A pledge for vengeance on all those descending from one Matthew Hopkins is confirmed by a coven, whose dark order is passed down the generations by its dominant female members; their quest to eliminate, relentless.


Occult Justice 5

Miriam Holt sat smiling contentedly as she smoked a cigarette, legs crossed and the harness which strapped her exquisite mature body blending wonderfully with the leather sofa in which she rested; a picture of pure feminine dominance in the eyes of Thomas Arne as he writhed on the bench, still feeling the effects after the latest caning she had served on him with spiteful pleasure. Her contented smile broke into a grin as the dull sound of a buzzer accompanied by a gently flashing red light, indicated the arrival at the door of Thelma Martin. She stood and then cut the air with her cane, watching with cruel delight as he tensed and bucked automatically at the sound.

‘My dear friend arrives! I’m sure you’ll find her equally entertaining; it’s as much her business, dominating younger males in preparation for their lives of servitude to our younger female members, as it is her pleasure. She always finds caning older males a refreshing novelty.’ She slipped on a loose gown and was delighted to find that Thelma had brought Agatha and the new woman, Carol, in ceremonial dress. The mature redhead explained their presence before they entered the punishment room, introducing Carol.

‘This is Carol Finch, she once owned the male who has found his way to us, in no uncertain terms; he’s paid us the extra compliment by unknowingly bringing her to join our fold.’ Miriam was equally thrilled by the added spice this brought to the situation, dropping her gown to show the excitement expressed by her poking nipples, and the dominant form that Arne had already submitted to.

‘You will be made most welcome Mistress Finch, it always brings the pleasure of total defeat to a male when he’s taunted with the presence of an ex-wife or partner at the gallows; we have hanged several males over the years under more direct betrayals, the sense of complete bewilderment it bestows upon deserving males is most invigorating.’ Carol smiled, her breasts heaving in the silk, her cunt bulging in a black camel-toe to express her own excitement brought on by the unbelievable prospects of total and final domination that joining the women had brought her; seeing the male she had dominated so thoroughly hang for her pleasure, filled her with bitchy satisfaction.

‘I understand that he’s earned the right to know the rope through bloodline, and I’m ecstatic that my previous ownership of him has earned me the right to see him enjoy that legacy.’ She sneered as she fitted her mask to hide her identity.

‘I’m indebted to him, but I’m delighted to know the debt will remain unpaid; he’ll know my pleasure as he takes the debt with him to the gallows.’ Arne now heard the laughter of the four women as they approached, anus tingling and cock erect and sliding on the leather as he squirmed in submissive anticipation. His weak pleasure was not disappointed as he saw the return of the harnessed Miriam, the stern redheaded Thelma who was equally appealing in her maturity with tight leather skirt and tight blouse, and the foreboding presence of two masked witches in black silk which made his cock pulse pre-cum in utter submission. Miriam flexed her cane and strutted over to him with haughty authority in her eyes, lifted his head and unbuckled the gag, then pressed her strapped cunt to his face.

‘Lick the thong clean! Taste how your pain has given me so much pleasure. These ladies will then allow you to enjoy further tears in your quest to earn the wearing of the shroud.’ Arne’s cock bolted bone hard as the exceptionally delightful whiff of mature and dominant cunt, belonging to the woman who had caned him to orgasm greeted his willing nose and tongue. The women grinned contemptuously as they watched him lap at Miriam’s harnessed cunt in total obedience, his tongue searching out the folds of flesh which enveloped the taut leather strap, Miriam’s breasts rising as the action of his tongue worked the leather against her clitoris, making it bud as she savoured the stripes she had graced the bound male’s flesh with. She sighed as she turned her head to find Thelma approaching, the redhead smiling softly as she ran her nails gently down the back and arse of the bound male, the squeaking of her tight leather skirt enough to make Arne’s anus squeeze and dilate in submission. The redhead’s cunt bulged below the skirt as she took the cane from Miriam and ran it across Arne’s buttocks, which lifted obligingly to show he yearned to know her dominance. She grinned with pleasure.

‘Oh, you ARE submissive, aren’t you! Well, these two ladies and I will decide if you’ll earn the shroud and be welcomed into a life of permanent service to the coven … with Ms Blackwood as your keeper of course.’ His cock ached to come as Miriam moved away and he watched her sit in the leather sofa and light another cigarette, her eyes burning with contempt as she crossed her glorious thighs, Thelma walking slowly around him and flexing the cane that had already reduced him to tearful defeat. Her generous arse moved majestically in the tight leather skirt as she savored teasing him visually before punishment; she wanted him to remember her performance when the noose was revealed to him, her cunt oozed as she flicked the cane through the air and thought of that supreme pleasure to come.

‘I’m told you’re a direct descendant of one Matthew Hopkins, the ‘Witchfinder General’, is this true?’ Arne’s anus tingled with a fear that gave him a perverse carnal pleasure, her tone was most severe, and his answer – though she already knew it – was likely to increase her scorn; he squirmed against the cuffs which held him firm, in readiness for the cutting strokes he would receive.

‘Yes … yes … Mistress Martin … it’s true.’ Carol’s cunt bulged wet with arousal in the black silken panties, as hearing the sound of his voice brought back recollections of his begging and pleading under her strict domination. It brought home the pure sexual thrill that this was really him, he had escaped by divorce but now he really would hang and complete her ultimate pleasure; her cunt tingled with arousal as her spiteful lust to take part in caning him to tears gripped her. Thelma’s spite on hearing him condemn himself to a final appointment at her house had her equally aroused, her tone took on an edge of severity as she flexed the cane.

‘Well … you’ve certainly found yourself some witches, though I doubt your ancestor would approve of your present position – I find it just perfect though.’ She stepped close to his face and unzipped the skirt, letting it drop to reveal she wore no panties, the belt above her skirt held her blouse tight to her waist, expressing her broad hips and large thighs in a statement of pure femininity. Arne sniffed at the spice of her arousal as she gagged him again, the curt smile showing her pleasure in silencing him, his cock rigid and pulsing with willing submissiveness, unable to hide his inner lust to be humiliated as the application of the gag provided a token of her absolute power over him. She let him sniff hard at the excitement of the pink folds of her cunt which nestled between her milky white thighs, then turned his head to face the women in black silk.

‘You’ll be thrashed now. I will take pleasure in reducing you to tears, Witch ‘A’ will ensure your submission by further reducing you in preparation for defeat, Witch ‘B’ will confirm the total surrender of your will and cane the seed from you. You will be broken most thoroughly and will be made to beg for the shroud after punishment; the level of your submission will determine if you are worthy of that special ceremony at my house.’ Arne delighted the women by whimpering through the gag as he watched the two witches flex the canes Miriam handed to them, his eyes scanning the cloaked but gracefully feminine shape of Witch ‘B’, her body language showing her impatient desire to see him spend under her cane. Madam Carol Finch looked back at him through the mask, her cunt oozing as she relished his humiliation and the return of her power over him, she would be the one who caned the seed from him before he begged to wear the shroud and condemned himself to the noose that the plea would earn him. Miriam watched with a cruel delight as the atmosphere of heady excitement developed; they had their male and he would not escape the true purpose of the shroud anyway, but punishing him and making him beg for it was a rare pleasure to be thoroughly enjoyed.

Thelma wasted no more time, and brought the cane down to his flesh with all the spite she could muster, her cunt wet with arousal as she watched him writhe helplessly in bondage, his muffled cry through the gag encouraging her as the searing pain wracked his senses. In the few seconds while the fresh red stripe blossomed, Arne thought long and hard on his where his feeble perversion had brought him, the pain and the contented smiles which appreciated his weakness emanating from Miriam and the lips below the masks of the witches, keeping his cock stiff as their pleasure at witnessing his masochism invoked increasing sordid pleasure in him. His tearful eyes blurred as he watched the reflection of the belted Thelma sneer as she exacted another punishing stroke, the sweet sound of its rapid descent making his cock bolt bone hard, its impact making him cry out and start to weep bitter tears. He had always been a slave to the will of spiteful women, craving pain and humiliation at their hands during the barren period following his divorce; he had now found a masochistic paradise in which he was paying dearly for his weakness, the perverse and twisted pleasure of his own humiliation cut into him as readily as the cane, on seeing the spiteful pleasure of the woman at his crying like a child.

None of the women’s sadistic pleasure quite matched that of Carol’s; though their pleasure at breaking Arne was intense, Thelma, Miriam, and Agatha had all experienced the preparation of a male for hanging before. Their anticipation may have been keener, having known the exquisite peak of dominant satisfaction on witnessing a male spend in submission on the gallows, but the wonderlust of Carol’s cruel anticipation of the act was raw with spite; she would see the male she had owned and dominated hanged for her pleasure, after re-owning him in the very shadow of the noose. His tears as he was thrashed by Thelma had her close to orgasm, she gripped her cane with white knuckles, impatient to whip the semen from him. Thelma’s expertise with the cane ensured Arne appreciated each stroke, her venom with the rod enhanced by the male’s heritage and the scenario which awaited him, the mature woman aroused by her own curt dominance as she watched Arne strain at the cuffs which held him as each stinging cut made his flesh bounce. She sneered at Arne as she left him writhing and turned to the two witches with a smile, before sitting with Miriam.

Agatha stepped up eagerly, and continued to reduce the submissive male to tears; like all the women, she lusted to tell the male he’d hang as her cane showed him just who was in control, the black silken panties sticking to the wetness of her camel-toe as she indulged her sadism, Arne bucking at the bench with what movement the cuffs would allow him as the air was filled with the sound of the cane and his whimpering. The sinister silence of the two masked women in black enhanced their erotically dominant presence in Arne, the swishing of the black cape on delivery of the cane bringing sweet humiliation for him as the two mature women sat cross legged and watched, their faces expressed both contempt and satisfaction as he was thrashed and cried like a child. Agatha pressed her cane hard into his buttocks as she sensed the rhythmic jerking from the defeated male meant he would soon surrender the contents of his balls, and received a nod from Thelma. The mature woman brought her ample thighs back and gently nursed her cunt while smiling at the quivering male, then her eyes drifted to the second woman in black. Her voice was filled with a tone of utter contempt as she addressed Carol.

‘It seems we’re ready to see him shoot his pitiful mess and beg for the shroud, it didn’t take much to break him, he’s just a pathetic worm. Witch ‘B’, cane the seed from him.’ The three women watched with sheer delight at the justice meted out on the male, as he was so deservedly thrashed by the woman who had allowed him to live with her, and had every right to re-establish the dominance over him which had been key in leading him to the final submissive destiny he would enjoy. Carol’s exquisite application of the cane, made all the more energetic by her lust to see him noosed, echoed about the room and brought lush sadistic pleasure to all four as he was soundly thrashed.

Arne’s bitter tears mixed with the saliva which dribbled from the gag as his bleary eyes winced with each stroke while he watched Thelma moan in ectasy, her mature cunt worked to a blissful orgasm at witnessing his pain, those eyes then drifting to the reflection in the mirror of the superb woman in black. His cock slipped and rubbed at the leather as the anonymous woman showed her vigorous intent at breaking him completely, the pain now blending into masochistic pleasure as his balls tingled in announcement of his defeat. The sound of the cane became a sweet song which had his anus tingling in utter submission, making him lift his arse to greet each stroke as he basked in lush humiliation. His mind went to the shroud and what it may bring as his cock pulsed in total defeat. The spiteful and contemptuous grins of the women as his face displayed the submission of his mind and body to feminine dominance ensured the humiliating surrender of his seed, Carol whipping the cane to a thoroughly expert crescendo as Arne moaned in ecstasy, his cock rock hard below him spurting the first generous wad of hot semen as he was enveloped in submission.

Carol fought to keep her silence as she swept the cane down hard in the triumph of her own spiteful ecstasy, wanting to reveal her identity and the true purpose of the ceremony as Arne indulged in the acute pleasure of absolute submission, her cunt wet with arousal as he bucked under her cane and spent for her. His cock jetted a seemingly endless torrent of semen as he watched the delighted applause of the women at his misery, and saw the reflection of his own crushing humiliation in his face in the mirror as the witch in black silk confirmed his utter submission to womanhood, caning every last drop of seed from his balls with a justified arrogance.

As the applause and the relentless caning finally ended, he guessed the identity of the first witch as she picked a phone from the table and called someone, her body language and broad smile below the mask a picture of contented satisfaction; this he knew was Agatha, but the witch who stood proud over his punished body remained a mystery as the others gathered round and undid the cuffs. He heard the excitement in Agatha’s voice as she completed the call.

‘ … Oh yes, he’s ready … bring that too, we’ll enjoy that.’ Arne guessed that Bathsheba was with whom she spoke, confirming that the witch who’d had the pleasure of his surrender was one he’d never met – or so he thought. Thelma tugged him up by the leash, pulling him back, the four women laughing derisorily as his belly popped away from the leather, his ample submission of seed creating a sticky vacuum.

‘Look at the mess you’ve made! We’ll have that licked clean, then you’ll give thanks for your pleasure before you’re allowed to beg for the shroud.’ The women sneered with righteous satisfaction at his bleary defeated face as Thelma removed the tight gag and had him kneel aside the low bench. Agatha took a picture for her collection as the stern woman pointed her cane to the sticky white mess on the leather, Carol captured in full dominant pomp standing behind the male she would only cede ownership of to the gallows. Arne’s spent cock was a slave to the stimulant drug, and rose again to delight the women as he indulged in the further pleasing humiliation, readily lapping his own seed from the leather while they laughed. Miriam’s cunt bulged against the leather thong as she enjoyed his obedience.

‘Oh yes, there’s nothing like the taste of a male’s own semen given up in submission, to clarify his position below womanhood … and you’ve certainly shown the level of your defeat.’ Her words were followed by the buzzer’s announcement of the arrival of the woman who had temporary ownership of him. Agatha’s cunt tingled as she took another picture of Carol holding his head to the leather, her smile below the mask showing her satisfaction as her fingers caressed the neck which she’d see noosed. Arne’s cock boned to a full erection on completing the task and having his head pulled back to view the glorious Bathsheba; she sneered at her prize, dressed in tight black leather blouse and skirt, a long horsewhip swishing playfully by her side, emphasizing the spurred boots with tall heels she wore. Thelma grinned as they approached the broken male.

‘Perfect timing Madam Blackwood, you’re just in time to see him beg for the shroud. I see you’re attired in your favored garb; are we to have a show?’ Miriam knew exactly how Bathsheba’s rituals ran, the announcement for the benefit of Arne; he would be shown as the beast of burden, the sacrificial animal he was now reduced to, in the confines of her walled garden before a delighted audience the day before he hanged. Bathsheba lifted her chin pompously and swished the menacing whip.

‘Yes, the coven will be invited to witness the official confirmation of his ownership by me with a little equestrian sport … should his begging for the shroud be successful. It’ll be a fitting prequel to his donning the shroud at Burntwood Hall the following day, adding spice to the ceremony we’re all looking forward to.’ Arne’s sheepish submission now had him ready to beg the shroud in earnest, his mind overwhelmed by the lush and wholesome desire to know humiliation at the hands of the magnificent woman before a dominant audience, his cock erect and hard at the thought of being displayed under that whip. Thelma grinned at his obvious and foolish excitement, tugging his leash.

‘We’ll have thanks for today’s work first!’ She turned him and pulled his face into the warmth of her cunt.

‘Sniff long at the scent of your betters, and think hard on how you deliver your thanks on being allowed to spend for our pleasure; we’ll have earnest humility from you before you beg for the object you so desire.’ Arne wanted the shroud and the total submission to the women he believed it would grant him, and needed no prompting with the honesty of his words as he sniffed at Thelma’s spiced cunt, wet with her recent pleasure at witnessing his misery. She pulled his face away and pointed to her feet with the cane. Arne bent to her feet immediately, his poking arse stroked softly with the cane that had striped it.

‘Thank you for caning me Mistress … thank you for allowing me to spend my seed.’ The women sneered with arrogant satisfaction as his cock bobbed erect, basking in the humiliation of his own words; his tone confirmed he was a beaten cur, in total recognition of feminine superiority. He was tugged to Miriam and then Agatha, who both accepted his earnest thanks with pompous gratitude, then the cane was pointed at the feet of the superb female who had brought the seed from his balls, her sinister silence making his anus tingle wildly. Thelma savored the moment.

‘I believe special thanks are warranted for this lady, she caned the seed from you, did she not?’ Five cunts now tingled with spite as they awaited his response. Arne looked up at the dominant feminine shape, her curt smile the only facial feature expressed, her nipples poking hard through the black silk, her cunt bulging wet in the camel-toe to reveal the pleasure of her dominance over him.

‘Yes Mistress … she caned the seed from me … caned me to complete submission.’ His cock pulsed as the woman pursed her lips with satisfaction as the others laughed contemptuously.

‘You’ll thank her appropriately then.’ Arne moved to sniff at the inviting cunt, but was pulled back sharply by Thelma.

‘Oh no, you’ll not sniff her cunt today, you’ll do so at the ceremony … if you earn it.’ Arne’s cock pulsed at the simple act of denial, he had longed to sniff the scent of the woman whose silence had allowed him the full benefit of the song of the cane and had made him spend in ecstasy. Thelma pointed to her feet, and Arne kissed them longingly.

‘Thank you Mistress, thank you for caning the seed from me … thank you for showing me my true position below you.’ Carol’s cunt oozed at reliving the humiliation she had brought from him, with the cane and several years ago; seeing him suck at her new male’s cock had been exquisite, now she would triumph over him completely as she revealed herself to him when he knew he would hang, the day could not come quick enough. Arne quivered as the women surrounded him, Bathsheba smiling as she studied the stripes on his flesh with the whip he’d know. Thelma was ready to hear him beg.

‘You’ll beg to wear the shroud now, witnessed by the five of us, do not disappoint.’ Arne gasped at reaching this point of opportunity, he was already in a submissive heaven, but longed to know the significance that wearing the shroud would bring.

‘I beg you … beg you to let me wear the shroud … beg to be deemed worthy of it.’ The faltering honesty in his voice pleased the women, the tease of what it would bring him was exquisite. Bathsheba gave his flank a cursory taste of the whip he desired.

‘You beg to know the full consequences of wearing the shroud … and everything that wearing it will bring you?’ Arne stretched up on his knees, his cock poking rudely in need of spending yet again, his voice straining pleadingly as his balls and anus tingled with submissive lust.

‘Yes … Oh yes … I beg to wear the shroud and suffer the full consequences … please let me wear it.’ The women savored his pleading with stern smiles. He had begged to know it’s full significance and would learn what it meant within two days. He would be shown to be broken tomorrow before a dominant audience filled with anticipation, he would wear the shroud the day after and shoot his mess as it brought him the ultimate pleasure of submission. Thelma’s cunt tingled as she confirmed his fate.

‘Well Thomas Arne, descendant of Matthew Hopkins, it is our greatest pleasure to concur with your wishes, you shall wear the shroud.’ The women grinned as Arne gasped and kissed their feet, thanking them. He would hang in two days time.

Bathsheba creaked in her leather as she bent and placed the horsewhip in his teeth, and led him away to ponder his situation in the boot of her car.

‘Come, you’ll have a nights rest in full bondage; you’ll wear the tamer again tonight, I know how it pleased you. You have a long day ahead tomorrow and those balls need to recover before further expenditure.’ Arne’s cock pulsed at the thought of those spikes as the women laughed on seeing the sacrifice led away naked on all fours.