Occult Justice 2

Bathsheba’s lust to dominate the male was emphasized by the way she hurried him from the car, her zest and his bewilderment exciting Agatha as she gripped his hand lest he should escape her clutches, and strutted urgently to the door of her leafy and isolated 18th century cottage; its tumbledown mystique adding to Arne’s sense of submissive foreboding as he was led under the small porch, Agatha behind him smiling and with arms crossed. He felt that the whitewashed walls adorned with ivy and wisteria were leaning over him, their arms of dark foliage snaking out like tentacles, and the black door which swung open on being unlocked by it’s dominant resident seemed like a mouth ready to swallow him. Batsheba’s heels clattered on the dark grey stone floor of the hall as he was taken in, and Agatha followed, taking great pleasure in closing the heavy oaken door with a bang, and sliding two large bolts home to add spice to his feeling of capture.

‘There! We shan’t be disturbed while you’re introduced to our order of things.’ His eyes took in the low beamed ceilings as he was walked through the hall, past a kitchen with the usual modern appliances and a lounge, which though a little dark due to the quaint leaded light windows and abundant foliage above and around it, was furnished in typically modern fashion. Bathsheba grinned as they passed a staircase painted white and adorned with pictures of flowers, then climbed two steps to a door beyond it which separated the rear of the house.

As she opened it his nose was hit by the sweet smell of incense, his eyes by the darker decor of a large room which was furnished as though by the original inhabitant of the house, and Agatha then bolted this one closed too. She leaned her back against it, and both women inhaled deeply, making their breasts rise to feel the excitement of their erect nipples; the male who had already shown his submission would now be dominated satisfactorily in preparation for a fate he was blissfully unaware of. Bathsheba sneered at Arne whose eyes showed the willing expectancy of submission that she knew so well and made her cunt moisten so; her arousal was extreme for this one, he could not know the reason that added such spice to her excitement, and she would take the utmost pleasure in teasing him to his fate. She lifted her head and grinned cruelly.

‘No going back now. Strip!’

Arne’s erection pulsed as his eyes flicked about his surroundings while he undid his clothes, the pictures in the room first catching his eye; many more black and white depictions of the scenes of witchcraft he had desired, women in regal black standing proud and haughty, and a recurring theme was one where males in a short white smock knelt by them or was led among them. A golden pentacle glittered from one of the broad black beams which crossed the low and sagging ceiling, illuminated by the sun through a leaded rear window which looked out on a large enclosed garden. An ominous tall post stood centrally and cast its black shadow between tall thorn and ivy clad walls, the trees from a dark copse waved over the end wall, completing its atmosphere of hidden confinement.

His exposed cock stood erect as Agatha sauntered to the window in her long dress, and let it drop, before removing her blouse and underwear; her breasts, hips, and thighs creating an appealing feminine silhouette. Bathsheba discarded her jacket and stepped out of her skirt as she moved to a tapestry drape which covered a side wall. She stood smiling at him and removed her bra and panties, then turned and swept the drape back to reveal a dark oaken staircase set in a recess in the wall. Agatha moved close to him and stroked his back, laughing softly as Bathsheba took a leash and collar from a hook at the foot of the stairs.

‘Kneel for your superiors, we’ll see you collared now.’ He dropped to his knees and felt the warmth of the women’s flesh as Bathsheba smartly buckled the collar with some impatience, Arne looking at the two sumptuous cunts wet with arousal and sniffing the air, his cock boning. Bathsheba tugged his leash, leading him on all fours as Agatha teased the back and arse she would soon whip with her nails, his anus tingling as he was led to the dark staircase.

‘You are very privileged to know this part of the house, most males are dominated at the front of it, only those of special interest to me wear the collar and feel these stairs. The collar to which the leash is attached is very old, it’s only replaced on certain occasions; many males have felt the command of the leash through that collar over the years, and then taught to show the strict respect that our order demands.’

The staircase turned an angle, and led to a large room where the incense burned most strongly, a large bed took pride of place centrally, though the dark purple walls were beset with manacled frames, a pentacle above each, where guests could be displayed or tested. The beams of sunlight from the skylight windows cast their rays through the wafting incense, the scent soon to be displaced by that of the women’s rich arousal as they worked on Arne’s submission. His eyes were drawn to a white silk smock which hung on display close to the bed, his thoughts returning to the pictures downstairs, his balls tingling. Bathsheba noted his gaze toward it, and grinned at Agatha before tugging his leash.

‘You’d have to be very special indeed to wear that for me; that’s a privilege you’ll have to earn. You do want to wear it for me, don’t you?’ Arne could not know it’s significance, but knew from the pictures below that it would see him involved with their rituals.

‘Yes … yes, I would love to wear it … Mistress Bathsheba.’ She pulled the leash tight and Agatha put her hand across it too, feeling the connecting tension to their prize, both women then closed their eyes and sighed; he had granted their wish, and would wear the smock within a week anyway, but would know their pleasure in earning it just the same.

Bathsheba passed the leash to Agatha, and Arne watched spellbound as she moved slowly to the bed showing him her shapely legs and arse with sublime feminine poise, then gracefully kneeling upon its end, spreading her legs slightly and leaning forward to allow him a glorious view of her cunt and arsehole.

‘Come!’ Agatha tugged him forward, and his cock poked rigid as his face was brought up to worship the sight and scent of her powerful femininity. He sniffed uncontrollably, overwhelmed with the deliciously erotic aroma, held close on a leash and yearning to be dominated.

‘That’s it, you have a good sniff of the excitement you’re responsible for.’ Agatha laughed cruelly and let the leash drop, walking either side of the bed and lighting an array of candles on a shelf which went the length of the end wall. She took a large black silk napkin from a drawer and lay it centrally on the bed, making Bathsheba pant with anticipation and edge her arse backwards.

‘Lick my arsehole!’ Arne gratefully obliged, his tongue lovingly accepting the musty tang of her hot pucker as she slipped a finger through the glistening folds of her cunt. His cock dribbled pre-cum as he watched Agatha take some white cord from a draw, then smile sternly at him as she lifted a long black whip from it; Bathsheba’s anus clenched on his probing tongue as she moaned with the pleasure of her first orgasm, the sight of the whip she’d use on him, bringing her off delightfully. Panting with pleasure, she moved forward, taking his leash and urging him up to the bed. He was laid down with the black napkin under his cock and belly, the two gleefully binding his ankles and securing his arms to the top corners of the bed.

Bathsheba took the whip and flexed it as she swept her hair back, nipples poking hard from her breasts as she relished seeing the bound male writhe in pain. Agatha giggled as she slipped onto the bed and lifted his head to sample her arousal, lifting her legs high and treating him to the gape of her mature cunt and arsehole.

‘My turn. You get that tongue deep into my arsehole; we’ll loosen it up with the whip, then you’ll disclose all your interests nicely for us, before you leave your mark on the silk.’ She sighed as she pointed her toes at the ceiling and pulled his face into the warmth of her crotch, his tongue slipping into her tight anus obediently as his nose sniffed at the spice of her cunt while she rubbed her clitoris vigorously. His eyes strained to see Bathsheba as she put one hand to her hip and flexed the braided whip, his anus tingling at her cruel smile.

‘Now you’ll know the price of admission to our order. You’ll feel the kiss of five strokes in honour of the points of the pentacle, then you’ll be allowed confession before the next.’ Her cunt swelled with sadistic pleasure as she watched his body quiver and squirm in the bondage, then unleashed the whip, gasping with effort as it cracked home. Arne’s face was not allowed to leave the haven of Agatha’s crotch, and she moaned with pleasure as his muffled cry vibrated through her as the lash wrapped about his flesh. He writhed in agony, his ankles pulling vainly at the tie which kept his body outstretched and vulnerable, his fists clenched above his manacled wrists. As soon as the searing pain left him, he was made to enjoy the next; Bathsheba flexing her entire body, her breasts rippling deliciously as the lash made it’s mark on his flesh, the pain enhancing his submission as he was broken.

Agatha moaned and sighed as she enjoyed his tears, groaning in ecstasy as he jerked and humped at the bed on the fourth stoke; her orgasm intense as the fifth stroke had him crying like a child. The sweet pain and humiliation only fueled his inner submission though, and his cock which remained rigid was stimulated as he humped at the mattress; he was brought to the edge of coming and yearned for the sixth stroke. Bathsheba panted as she knelt on the bed and lifted his head to savor his distress.

‘Now tell us why witchcraft is of interest to you … besides your weakness of being dominated by a feminine society; you’re hiding something, I know it.’ Though she knew full well of the link he had found to further his dark interest in the power of a matriarchal society, she would have it revealed from his own lips, and savour whipping him for it. Agatha sighed as she recovered from her first orgasm, she too, anxious to use the whip on him. His broken voice pleased them as he squirmed on the Mattress, aching to come.

‘I … I found a family link … it somehow drew me … to knowing more… ‘ Bathsheba cut in, not wanting him to reveal too much before they had both had the pleasure of tormenting him. She moved from the bed and drew the whip back.

‘So! Related to a witch maybe? If so, you’ll understand why this pleases me so!’ She quickly punished his flesh with five more vigorous strokes, each crack of the braided leather whip delivered with the hidden spite and utter contempt she held for the male who would know the significance of the white shroud within the week. Agatha clasped her thighs about his head, and sneered as he writhed and thrust his cock at the silk with each biting kiss of the whip. Again, his deep and sensually perverse enjoyment of the whip was ended abruptly, leaving his pulsing cock on the verge of spending. Bathsheba passed the whip to Agatha, and Arne was once again treated to the stimulating scent of Batsheba’s cunt, the fresh arousal brought on by her pleasure at whipping him, lapped at eagerly by him as his tongue slipped in the warmth of her bulging lips while she held his face to it and sighed.

‘Ooh yes! … Now! Let’s have it … Who is it that has brought you to us to know the pleasure of our dominance?’ Arne’s cock boned and slipped in the liquid warmth of his pre-cum against the silk as he prepared to know the whipping that would inevitably allow his submissive release. He knew the origins of his bloodline would result in Agatha’s justifiably venomous application of the whip.

‘Not … not a witch … it’s a Matthew … Matthew Hopkins I’m related to.’ Bathsheba grinned at Agatha who stood impatiently, lusting to use the whip, and feigned ignorance.

‘Matthew Hopkins… ? The name is vaguely familiar somehow; who might he be?’ Arne’s anus tingled as she held his head back and stared into his eyes, her own filled with a mischief that ensured he would spend most plentifully.

‘He … he was known as … the Witchfinder General.’ Bathsheba continued to stare into his eyes as a cruel smile enveloped her face.

‘Whip the seed from him Agatha. I want to watch his eyes as he spends, and spend he will!’ Arne did not disappoint his new Mistress as Agatha unleashed the whip with utmost gratification, feeling the whip snatch at his naked flesh, and watching him buck in submission at each snaking cut. Bathsheba kept his head high and sneered with satisfaction as his face contorted while his whole body tensioned against the bonds and he gave up his seed to the silk after just three lashes. Arne’s mind was sent into a blissfully ecstatic rapture as he focused on Bathsheba’s cruel smile, his cock jetting spurt after spurt of hot semen to the silk in total defeat as the whip had him know his place; he wanted to die for her, and his wish would soon be realized.

The two women stroked his body after releasing his arms an pulling them back to tie them to his ankles, allowing him to rest on his side and recover before gagging him. Bathsheba gently felt the raised weals on his buttocks as Agatha folded the black silk with the evidence of his submission.

‘We’ll show this to the other women at a ritual we have to attend tonight, they’ll be so pleased to meet you when you’re ready; I wish I could take you for display as my pet right now, but you have to be broken properly first. I may bring a few of the younger girls back with me, they are always keen to assist prior to being ordained, and I know you’ll appreciate their company.’ Agatha grinned as she blew out all the candles but one, which illuminated the white shroud.

‘I do so love the fertility trials, and the others will be so pleased when we show them the silk and tell of whom it’s from.’ Arne wriggled onto his front when the two had gone, and humped his erecting cock at the mattress as he enjoyed the bondage and wondered how the shroud would feel. He would know soon enough.

The pregnant girl entered the room proudly, her smug delight evident as she was followed by a more mature woman leading the cowering husband who had seeded her, naked and leashed before the audience of older women who applauded their pleasure at seeing the male brought for testing. The submission he felt in his exposure exquisite, the sneers, contempt, and derisory laughter at him, bringing his cock to a justly submissive erection as he was led to the velvet stool on which he would perch for their scrutiny and humiliation. Chosen purely for his enslavement to his own submissive nature, he had been selected by the women and been subjected to an arranged marriage, which he had no choice over. He had not seen the girl he had been allowed to seed since she had announced her impregnation by him six months earlier. She was already a month to the good on confirming the success of his duty and now proudly displayed her taut and bulging belly which carried the results of his brief invasions of her.

He had been immediately removed from the place of nuptial proceedings and placed under the strict discipline of the woman in her fifties who proudly displayed him on the leash, she having had the pleasure of sampling the younger male’s seed in many ways as he was ritually punished for the deed, the possibility of his impregnating any other young woman nullified by the rigorous attentions of the matriarch, who rode his cock often after he had sampled her whip. With the evidence of his ‘guilt’ – the sole purpose for which he had been chosen – proudly expressed by the haughty young woman’s expectant girth, he would now be taunted and tested for the enjoyment of the severe women who had selected him to endure the pure pleasure of their spite.

He was ordered to kneel upon the velvet stool in the center of the room, his cock poking rigid in utter submission as the pleased eyes of the dominant women cut into him from every angle. The woman who had kept him, grinned as she unbuckled his leash, then showed him a wide butt plug with long black tail.

‘Forward!’ He obliged, and teetered on the stool as the plug was inserted into his tingling anus, the women showing their amusement as he gasped while the plug spread his anus wide, the lush humiliation at the hands of the woman who had shown him his place so eloquently in her six months ownership taking him deeper into submission. She smiled all the more as he was then pulled back by her soft hands, and his wrists and ankles were bound tight, then tied together with a cord. The watching women murmured and sneered with succinct satisfaction as his erect cock bobbed and pulsed on seeing a noose lowered from a beam above, their eyes watching his closely as it was slipped over his head and the slip knot pulled tight behind his neck by the elegant fingers of the mature woman; they could see the excitement in his eyes which eclipsed the fear he felt, they knew he yearned to spend and enjoy the shame in doing so, they had chosen well, he was a beaten cur and represented his sex perfectly.

The noose was slowly hauled to tension, caressing his neck and allowing him to enjoy his helplessness as he tested the divine bondage, his knees now offering him the only precarious support on the velvet stool; he had been caned many times by the young girl prior to their marriage, conditioned by the women, but had never felt the crushing submission he enjoyed on facing the girl now as she smiled and rubbed her belly. The women applauded as a plump red haired woman in her sixties rose from her seat and approached the older woman, taking the leash from her. Her still very appealing feminine shape in a tight skirt belted to express her mature curves and black silken blouse bringing a new sense of foreboding to the young male. He had known her from a very early age, she known for her strictness as the mentor of the young girls as their dominance was nurtured, enjoying watching her charges tease and cane the chosen boys to tears. Thelma Martin would now have her direct enjoyment of the fruits of her discipline; her age and position key to the ritual. She pointed the cane she held at the expectant girl.

‘See what you are solely responsible for. You will now be tested to see if your use has come to an end, or whether you will know my discipline for the final period before the result of your wanton sin is born. You will hang for her and be given the opportunity to choose by ordeal if the rope snuffs you out, or you know time with me which will have you yearn for the birth.’ The girl’s eyes beamed with cruel pleasure as she showed the bemused male an ornate crystal tumbler, while Thelma strutted round him with the cane, letting him take in her dominant womanly posture. The warmth of her excitement made her breathe heavily, a broad smile on her face as she undid the top fastenings of her black blouse, exposing a fine white cleavage, her mature weathered breasts speckled with freckles, then her hand moved to the stool.

‘I’m counting on having the pleasure of dominating you, consuming your seed as you waste it within me, just punishment awaiting you on daring to unleash the fertility of your youth which will know only my now barren pleasure.’ She teased the underside of his erection with the delicate nail of her little finger, feeling the cock she hoped she’d make good use of, enjoying the fear and anticipation in his eyes, her cunt wet with the satisfaction of having him know that he would be hers if he passed the test, and she would be the one who tested him in earnest.

‘ … but of course, seeing you consumed by the rope would give me pleasure enough; you’ll hang now.’ She pulled the stool from under him, and he gasped as the noose exerted its grip about his neck, the taut rope creaked, bringing a cruelly delighted fervour from the audience of women, making his cock bone at being the sadistic focus of their pleasure. They watched him struggle for a few moments, enjoying seeing him flex his muscles hopelessly as his wrists tried in vain to seek release from his ankles with knees, pointing to the void where the stool had been. The black tail quivered as his anus clenched tight on the plug, his cock pointing rigidly erect with bell end glistening with pre-cum; he could not hide from the women the profound pleasure he felt as he too, savoured the lush masochism and humiliating exposure, hanged by the dominant matriarch.

The delight was enjoyed no more so than his young wife whose pleasure at seeing him slowly strangled was exquisite; she would now enjoy her part in making him pay for his fertility as the noose slowly increased its deathly caress. She held the glass high as he struggled for breath.

‘Now you’ll take back the essence of your sins. You will not fail me; if you do, your child will know you were hanged as a coward, your expendability justly rewarded.’ She grinned with spite as she held one hand on her belly and lowered the glass to face his dribbling cock. He whimpered with defeated pleasure as the mature redhead had him know the touch of her flesh for the first time, her delicate hand with its finely manicured nails slipping over his rigid cock, feeling it pulse as she teased the slippery bell.

‘You’ll give up a worthy surrender of your balls and know the scent of my arsehole within the hour, or I’ll have this cock pickled and added to my collection of whip handles, of which I’ve many examples.’ She sneered as she stroked his cock, her cunt tingling as she dwelt on the thought of riding it vigorously as he lay strapped to her bed, or feeling it permanently rigid in her hand as she whipped another. Either way, it would be put to good use.

‘I know you’re enjoying the rope, and may succumb to it when you’ve come, and come you will, but will you choose a whip from my collection, or be added to it? The choice is yours!’ There was a little dilemma in his mind, as he was displayed and enjoyed by the women who had conditioned and broken him endlessly throughout his life, now watching him hanged and milked en masse by one of their elder matriarchs; the pleasure of his submission to the rope was undeniable, and their cruel enthusiasm at the possibility of his total demise, the cock which was now pleasured by a hand which would take it as a trophy if he succumbed, made him yearn to be snuffed for their satisfaction. That divine submissive release was countered by the promise of severe domination by a mature woman, whose presence while overseeing his punishment by her younger charges had made him spend in awe of her; his balls tingled with the lush promise of the surrender of his seed as the hand of that very woman worked the submission of it from his boning cock.

The mature redhead smiled with satisfaction as his weak moans stifled by the strangling noose, announced his blissful surrender, her nipples poking hard through the fabric of her blouse as the grinning girl held the glass close to his pulsing cock and helped take him over the edge.

‘Give it up! Give me the seed so you may take it back, I’ll see you pay for your sin!’ The noose gripped ever tighter as he jerked on the rope in acute ecstasy as hot semen burst from his cock, shooting a generous loop into the glass, followed by equally copious jets of seed encouraged by the women applauding his humiliation, intensifying his orgasm and ensuring Thema’s firm hand brought a more than worthy load from his balls. Their pleasure at seeing him milked while bound and plugged on the rope bringing an experience of pure ecstasy unlike anything he had known before. Now gasping for breath, his torture was taken to a new level as the the grinning girl lifted the glass to his lips, and tilted it back to have him consume the seed which he had spent in submissive surrender.

‘Take it, drink it down, enjoy what’s responsible for the distortion of my body.’ The pleasure radiated from her spiteful eyes as he spluttered and gagged on trying to breathe and swallow through the constricted passages squeezed ever tighter by the unforgiving noose, Thelma squeezing the cock which was hers one way or the other, her cunt oozing as she watched the submissive youthful male suffer. His expectant wife did not relent until all of the silky white cum had rolled and dribbled from the glass, the women watching with trite satisfaction as she expressed her dominance with no concern for the male who had gifted her with a child, whose blueing lips struggled to consume his own cum. His head pounded and his heart raced as the creaking rope exerted its dormant torture, the cum dribbling from his chin as he fought for breath, his whole body quivering and making the hanging tail shimmer as he ebbed toward unconsciousness, Thelma feeling the spent cock stiffen again as he yearned to know his fate.

The last thing he heard was the raucous applause of the women, and Thelma’s cruel laughter as his young wife held the empty glass high, his cock fully erect again as he lapsed into darkness, not knowing if this would be the final humiliation he would know.

His eyes opened and he jerked his limbs, to find he couldn’t move them; he was manacled with leather cuffs at wrists and ankles, the softness of the comfortable bed somehow increasing the intensity of his sudden fear. He gasped with relief and swallowed hard, feeling the soreness of his neck and throat, as the realization that he’d survived the ordeal sank in. His eyes surveyed the ornate ceiling, then the sound of someone else in the room, made him lift his head.

Thelma rose from a chair and smiled as she slowly undid her tight skirt, letting it drop to reveal her broad mature thighs and shaven cunt, the silky white flesh contrasting with the black stockings and black blouse which she now undid. She gave a severe grin of satisfaction as she watched the youthful cock rise in reverence at the sight of her mature and dominant beauty, the nipples poking hard from her full and gracefully freckled full breasts which sagged only a little despite her years, echoing his excitement as she prepared to dominate him.

‘I’m so glad you chose not to cross into the other world, not just yet anyhow.’ He watched spellbound as his eyes took in the lush feminine shape as she moved to the bed and lifted his head, pushing a pillow under it and his shoulders to elevate his face and allow her comfortable access, her breasts wobbling to delight his eyes. She smiled in an almost motherly fashion on noting his eyes fix on her flesh.

‘I felt your eyes undress me many times when I watched you caned, I see your cock is not disappointed. I shall take great pleasure in whipping you myself rather than watching; you’ve certainly earned that privilege, but first things first.’ His cock showed its further appreciation, boning erect as she gracefully ascended the bed and straddled his upper chest, the cellulite in her delicious globular cheeks and soft thighs somehow making the prospect extra inviting, her cunt lips shining wet with arousal.

‘Now boy, you’ll know the scent and taste of my cunt and arsehole, I’ll have my first orgasm as an appetizer for the whip.’ He felt her calves tense and watched her delicate fingers pull the soft white globes of flesh apart, showing him the delectable brown puckered arsehole, hot and sticky from her excitement at hanging and milking him. His cock pulsed high from his tingling balls as she eased back with a pleased sigh, enveloping his face and smiling with satisfaction on feeling the warm breath from his nose sniff feverishly at her sweaty tang. She moved back and forth, enjoying the stimulation offered by his nose and tongue, running her nails up and down his erect cock to further her pleasure.

‘That’s it … Good boy, earn your first whipping. Ooohh! … You have a month to endure my most sadistic attentions … Ohh yes!! … You’d better hope you have given your wife a girl; if it’s a boy, you may find this cock will join my whip collection after all.’

THE END OF CHAPTER TWO