OCCULT JUSTICE 6

Feature Writer: Midsummerman

Feature Title: OCCULT JUSTICE 6

Published: 20.12.2015 / 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 6

Arne awoke and grimaced as his bell-end pressed against the spikes in the unforgiving tamer; the sedative that Bathsheba had given him the night before was now wearing off, and his tender cock began to realize the full benefit of the spiteful trap as his ears detected the sounds of a commotion in his Mistress’s garden. His eyes barely had time to open when he smelt the mixed fragrance of femininity blended with the scent of leather, and saw the ginger girl who had dominated him so eagerly slip the collar of a leash over his head. As she pulled it tight about his neck with a spiteful smile and lifted his head, he saw the black haired girl kneeling on the bed, and he sighed with relief as she released his cock from the tamer. Both girls were topless and wore jodhpurs and boots, their pert young breasts and tightly clad hips and legs bringing his freed cock to an immediate erection. Bathsheba stood and watched with a stern smile, her graceful body silhouetted in a black latex cat-suit, horsewhip in hand and the spurred boots she’d worn the day before, giving the promise of the cruel sport she’d have of him today.

‘Show him the audience that awaits his presence Megan! He’s slept long enough and will be delivered to them without delay.’ The ginger girl took great pleasure in tugging Arne to the window, the lust for tormenting an older male so evident in the camel-toe which bulged through her skin tight jodhpurs, she now knew she’d have the exquisite pleasure of seeing him hang tomorrow, and her excitement at being allowed to lead the male out for his ritualistic showing was not lost on Arne even though he would not know his fate till the hour he died. His cock boned stiff at being commanded by the spiteful young girl who had caned the seed from him, Bathsheba smiling with pride as she witnessed the dominance expressed so naturally by the girl.

The black haired girl joined them and stroked the leashed male’s arse with her cane as Arne uttered a muffled exclamation through the gag on seeing the garden. His cock poked erect in submissive awe as he viewed the multitude of women, many masked and in black, others dressed in equestrian gear to add flavor to the ceremony; all chatting as though at a garden tea party, but the stark pole ringed by a circular enclosure about which they stood so nonchalantly, betrayed the delighted fervor of the women as to the true purpose of the event. Megan fingered the damp slot in her jodhpurs as she savored his trepidation.

‘Oh yes, they’ve all come to see you whipped in confirmation of earning the shroud, you’ll be ridden and trained by Mistress, shown to be the beast of burden you’ve become … and tomorrow… ‘ Bathsheba drew a long breath, her cunt hot in the latex as she watched the ginger girl torment her condemned prize and delight in the cruel pleasure of her secret.

‘ … tomorrow you’ll be taken to Burntwood Hall, and will be displayed in the shroud, your life consumed into total and utter obedience to womanhood.’ Her Mistress and the black haired girl smiled contentedly at the trickery of her words as Bathsheba jangled the harness Arne would be displayed in today. Arne’s balls and anus tingled in pleasured submission as the leather harness with many loops and ringlets was strapped tight to his flesh, his cock dribbling pre-cum as a strap which ran through the cleft of his buttocks and under was tightened with a leather band which held his cock and balls low, displaying his masculinity and the pleasure of defeat it could not help but show. The strap was secured to the thick leather collar from which steel tethering loops jangled as a constant reminder of his absolute and enforced obedience to womanhood.

The rear strap which complemented the cris-cross of the harness held another delight; it broadened over his anus and was pierced with a slit and central hole. Bathsheba nodded to the black haired girl.

‘You shall have the pleasure of tailing him my girl.’ The women grinned with pleasure as Arne grunted through the gag, his cock pulsing, as she eagerly pulled the anal plug from his arsehole through the leather portal, and showed him the horse tailed plug which his Mistress handed to her. Arne winced in discomfort as the new ornate plug with its dangling tail of horse hair was pressed home by the girl, his anus stretching wide to accept the bulb, her cunt expressed so sweetly and creating a patch in her jodhpurs as she enjoyed his humiliation. Bathsheba’s pleasure also rose as she nodded to the ginger girl.

‘The head Megan. You shall finalize his dress and have the honor of completing his humiliation.’ The spiteful girl undid his ball gag, allowing him to gape open mouthed for a few moments as the smiling Bathsheba showed him an open faced hood with donkey’s ears, and a savage looking gag with a wooden bridle bit. He gasped as the soft white fingers with red nails forced the wooden roller into his mouth, her sneering pleasure so evident as his silence was enforced once more by her enthusiastic tight buckling of the bit. He felt the full submissive reverence he held for the young female who had caned the semen from him, as her sneer broadened on pulling the hood over his head, his eyes on her bulging camel-toe as she secured the hood about his neck. The leash was now rendered redundant as reins were looped through a couple of the rings in the collar and those either side of the bit. Megan stepped back and the three females laughed cruelly at the results of their efforts, Bathsheba taking his reins and leading him to a mirror to have him enjoy the shame of his own reflection. Her cunt swelled as she enjoyed taunting him while leading him to it.

‘The bit is wooden so that you may bite hard on it when whipped, and as the beast you’ve become, I intend to whip you to the satisfaction of our audience … look!’ Arne now knew just how crushing his humiliation would be as he approached the mirror, the girls and his Mistress laughing and grinning as he viewed his reflection; the ears and tail removed any last vestiges of dignity he had, but his cock boned hard at being humiliated this way and horse-whipped by his Mistress before the crowd which awaited him. He now felt he was at the extreme point of his submission to Bathsheba, his anus clenching hard at the tailed plug as he was led slowly down the stairs on all fours, the stance ensuring he endured the lowly status of an animal; his mind teasing his own severely reduced ego as he thought on how he had been on entering the antiques shop, and where he was now, his own foolish desires taking him to a world which seemed a million miles from where he was just a few days before. Now, as he followed the whip wielding woman whose delectable body shimmered in black latex, and was edged toward further humiliation by two teenage girls who had dominated him so cruelly and thoroughly in their own right, his cock pulsed in anticipation of feeling that whip and the sublime shame of exposure to so many women.

Bathsheba ensured he was not to be disappointed; Megan grinned with curt pleasure as she handed the reins to her Mistress and taking the leash, stood opposite her black haired counterpart on either side of the French windows which led out to the garden, Bathsheba straddling Arne’s body.

‘Now you’ll feel my spurs in earnest! They’ll intensify the pleasure of your introduction no end; just remember that today is not only the confirmation of your earning the shroud, it confirms my absolute ownership of you, into a life of total slavery.’ She sat on his back and let him take the full weight of her body, pulling the reins back to lift his head and grant him the maximum view of his own exposure, her cunt tingling in the tight latex as he struggled and felt the bite of her spurs on his thighs, the two girls smiling with satisfaction as the doors were pulled wide.

Arne’s sense of submission was divine, as he was led out to face the laughter and applause of the women, the ginger girl striding in pompous authority at the fore, the leash going back to a male whose bewildered eyes could not escape the sheer enjoyment and total scorn shown by every woman there. Biting hard on the wooden bit, his donkey’s ears gilding his worthless status and embarrassing him acutely, ridden by the triumphant Bathsheba to be justly whipped for his weakness. Arne’s cock, jutting on display below him, confirmed his intense innermost pleasure in spite of his crushing exposure to the cruel feminine laughter, echoing that of his Mistress; her nipples poking hard through the black latex skin in supreme triumphal dominance as the tight latex teased her cunt while she she spurred the harnessed male on to know the whip.

All the women there knew that this was the penultimate humiliation he faced, many rubbing their cunts as the male who would hang for them tomorrow was displayed so justly as the animal ripe for slaughter. Arne’s cock dribbled pre-cum as his eyes met those of Thelma Martin and Miriam Holt, whose cutting sneers as they viewed his ears and tail made him want to spend. The two stood unmasked among others who had chosen to wear them, all clad in tight jodhpurs which expressed the excitement of their mature cunts unashamedly as they enjoyed the rich pageant of the male’s utter defeat. Arne caught the cruel laughter of one of the masked women with them, the sound seeming to stir something in his memory, but the thought quickly vanished as he winced in pain on Bathsheba applying her spurs to his bare flanks, making him falter under the oppression of her weight as he struggled to the enclosure.

Carol Finch watched with a satisfaction which eclipsed the heady sexual arousal of the other women, relishing the deserved spectacle that her ex-husband provided. Her cunt proudly displaying the measure of her excitement, aroused and bulging in her jodhpurs; the slot which had known the obedience of his tongue, wetting the crease of her camel-toe as she savoured the carnal atmosphere. Her smile expanded with pleasure on seeing Arne bit hard at the bit, increasing the delight of the women who viewed his pathetic situation, the donkey ears so fitting, the tail making his exposure so exquisite. She toyed with her own horse-whip as she indulged in the magnitude of his splendid humiliation; the ginger girl leading him with haughty dominance, his Mistress riding supreme as she spurred him to a whipping, the girl behind coaxing his tailed arse to it with her cane. Carol eyed his cock projecting hard with the excitement of his own lush humiliation; yes, he was truly a cur and fully deserved to hang. She was supremely content with the thought of revealing herself tomorrow, and serving him with his ultimate whipping before he hanged for her pleasure, and spent on the rope in the knowledge that it fulfilled her deepest desire. Thelma watched her smile, noting her abject pleasure, and her impatient toying with the whip.

‘He’ll not disappoint us tomorrow, he’ll hang wonderfully as he enjoys the price of his heritage, and a hanging so significant to you too. I still recall the first hanging I witnessed when I masturbate, such is the pleasure it instills in you; you’ll carry the joy of it forever, but do try to enjoy today to the full.’ She touched her arm and drew her eyes to the group of kneeling and hooded males who were tethered behind them, awaiting display following Arne’s confirmation under the whip. They looked on with submissive envy through the legs of the massed women as Arne was ridden past in total humiliation, their cocks erect and their backs and arses feeling the occasional stroke of a cane wielded by a pleased girl, there to proudly keep order.

Carol smiled as her eyes met with those of the young male presented to her as a pet following her being ordained. His eyes peeped longingly through the hood as he surveyed the feminine shape of his stern Mistress, toying with whip she’d chasten him with. She had delighted in informing him of the history and fate of the male now displayed so humiliatingly, and his balls had tingled on noting the cruel pleasure that seeing him ridden to the whipping post had given her. His cock now boned rigid as her eyes told him that her appetite for the whip was well and truly bolstered by the spectacle; she would see the humiliated male hang tomorrow, and his flesh would feel the enthusiasm of her desire for that event.

Arne was offered little relief after Bathsheba had ridden him round the perimeter of the small arena, and then dismounted after jabbing him spitefully with her spurs one final time; as his teeth clenched hard on the wooden bit and he snorted through his nose to regain his breath, Bathsheba took the longer leash from Megan, and had him taste her horsewhip for the first time. Arne groaned pitifully through the bit as the stinging pain of the whip pulsed through his exposed flesh, making him cower below the dominant woman. Bathsheba stood proudly over the harnessed male, pressing the whip down on his back, her spite for him fortified by her arousing ride. The abject satisfaction of the women of the coven who now circled the arena, made their intense pleasure patently apparent to Arne as they watched him submit to the power of womanhood; he had suffered their laughter at his humiliation, their enthusiasm grew sterner as he’d now further their arousal with justified punishment.

Bathsheba was eager to thrash him with the whip, but was determined that he should know maximum humiliation the day before he hanged. She saw the scorn in Megan’s eyes and passed back the leash, and whip, to her.

‘Show him to the ladies again Megan, allow him no mercy with the whip.’ The excited girl wasted no time with her extra task, slipping the leash to it’s full length, her silky white breasts jostling as she brandished the whip.

‘Move on!’ Arne felt the full measure of her youthful spite as the whip impacted on his buttocks, wisping the tail of hair into the air, making him utter a pitiful cry through the bit as the sharp pain smarted through his flesh. The crowd applauded loudly as he was whipped around the seemingly endless circle, the ginger girl showing her absolute delight in the sadistic mastery of her donkey eared charge as the whip flailed at his flesh. Miriam Holt watched with pride as the product of the coven’s harsh academy showed the ruthless dominant streak the older women had instilled in her, the flesh of a Matthew Hopkins descendant given no quarter as her pert breasts poked their nipples with the ectasy of using the whip.

‘The girl has certainly earned her place at the hanging Thelma, I’m quite taken aback by her discipline with the whip, her cruelty will earn her many favors; I’m going to have her as my understudy to help with those males who need that little extra impetus to conform totally.’ The women watched in full arousal at the delight of the crowd, each face showing in no uncertain terms that they concurred with Thelma’s opinion. Arne’s aching and rigid cock showed he concurred too, he felt at the epitome of submission as the sadistic Megan reduced him to tears with the punishing whip, the fervor of the crowd in revealing their rich pleasure in his misery, making him want to spend in defeated shame; his head pulled back on the leash to display those tears streaming from below the humiliating hood, before feeling the whip press him forward again, justly broken before an audience by the budding youth of female superiority, his flesh allowing her to blossom into absolute dominance.

Carol Finch looked on with admiration as the plump ginger girl applied her final strokes, her face in a sneer of spiteful satisfaction as the ultimate stroke was dealt venomously on greeting his Mistress again, she knew Arne would carry the memory of his humiliation at her hands to the very end, as he was displayed on the rope tomorrow. The girl was also determined that the notion remained firmly fixed in his mind too; as she handed the leash to Bathsheba and the quivering male knelt at her feet, the boldly dominant girl eased her jodhpurs down and turned her delicious white arse to Arne’s tearful face, spreading her soft cheeks to reveal a very hot and sweaty pucker.

‘Sniff! Show your willing respect for my dominance!’ Bathsheba took the reins and held his head back as he edged forward obediently, and sniffed hard at the tart tang between the cleft of her soft white flesh, the trite satisfaction of the watching women ringing in his ears as his cock jutted and bobbed in the pleasure of his submission to the girl. She stood in pompous triumph as she released the globes of her arse to consume his face, Arne taking the rich scent deep as he was shown his place. Bathsheba had intended to have him complete another circuit, but was now impatient to show him the whip in earnest, her cunt squirming wet in the warmth of the tight latex skin. The crowd of women applauded loudly as his face was pulled from the lush haven of Megan’s cheeks and led to the pole at the center of the arena.

Arne was now immersed in the pure ecstasy of total submission that his display promised, made to kneel at the foot of the padded pole, straddling it and a strap fastened about the small of his back so that his cock and balls were held against it and stimulated by any movement. The two girls took great pleasure in binding him, both reminding him that he’d know the whip from them again tomorrow, as his arms were secured at the wrists about the stark pole. His eyes took in the pleased look of the faces of the women in the crowd, some sipping wine contentedly as they savored his impending punishment; all resolute in the justice of it, knowing the true reason he was there, and knowing he was blissfully unaware of that reason, and its thoroughly pleasing culmination. The audience was ominously quiet as Bathsheba strutted proudly about the pole, inspecting her prize and ensuring he was ready to bare the pleasure of her whip. She stepped close and brought a generous tingle to her cunt as she smiled and cruelly ran the wheeled spur of her right boot down the flesh of his flank. This signaled movement from Thelma and Miriam, who now entered the arena to the applause of the other women, as Arne writhed at the pole, courtesy of the spiked wheel.

Arne watched as the two mature women stood resplendent in their riding gear, facing him, then turning their heads one side to where the crowd parted to allow someone else through. A vibrant applause rippled through the audience of women as the petite blonde girl who had also made Arne spend in submission, strode confidently into the arena, her nubile breasts bare and her pert bottom expressed wonderfully in tight jodhpurs. Her forearms outstretched, she carried the shroud, which she presented to the mature matriarchs. Arne bucked impatiently at the pole as the smiling women displayed the simple silk garment, Bathsheba prompting his movement by teasing his arse with the whip.

‘There is the shroud you so desire my pet, you’ll now spend at the pole to show everyone how you lust to wear it tomorrow.’ Arne tensed as she stepped back, her own dominant lust at a peak as she raised the whip, her arousal exquisite in anticipation of sealing the submissive male’s fate. The descent of the whip reignited the delighted fervour of the crowd, the sound of both bringing acute submissive pleasure to Arne as the sweet cut through the air and the wholesome rejoicing at his pain had him thrust his cock at the pole as the sting of the whip coursed through his flesh. Bathsheba brought the whip down again and again, watching his flesh ripple and redden under the strokes, her cunt tingling gloriously with the motion of the taut latex, invigorating her lust for the next stroke as she watched the helpless Arne squirm and hump at the pole. Arne focused on the shroud through bleary eyes as the fresh tears of his misery were quickly brought forth, the tight strap ensuring his full humiliation would soon be realized as his cock slipped erect in plentiful lubrication against the pole. Each cut of the whip made him pull his bound wrists hard to the pole, the tailed plug which his anus clenched at, splaying its wispy hair as the relentless whip stirred the air.

Bathsheba’s enthusiasm in her use of the whip was spurred on by the thought of the torment that would be inflicted upon the cowering male the next day, Arne learning the full price of earning the shroud he so foolishly desired, and by the gratuitous applause of the women in the crowd who adored her prowess with the punishing instrument which would spawn the seed of surrender from Hopkins’ descendant. Both were brought swiftly to equal satisfaction as Arne’s muted howls turned to the lustful groans of masochistic pleasure, his humiliation at the pole assured.

With the cruelly smiling faces of the array of females watching the torment on his donkey eared face at the pole, Arne basked in the ecstasy of acute humiliation as his expression brought their cruel fervor to a crescendo, betraying his pitiful but abject pleasure at being soundly whipped to surrender. He groaned in utter ecstasy as the pleasure on those faces and the sting of the whip brought the pulsing hot torrent of seed from his balls. His body tensed at the pole as he slipped in the evidence of his humiliating surrender, his eyes on the contented faces of Thelma and Miriam with the shroud that was his, he not knowing that the deeply fulfilling orgasm he was experiencing would be the penultimate one. Bathsheba ceased with the whip as he slumped, spent and defeated; tomorrow would bring a pleasure he could never have imagined.

THE END OF CHAPTER SIX