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The Suffering of Sir Percy's Chattels (Simon Grail)

The Suffering of Sir Percy

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After her guardian suffers a financial disaster, Cynthia Melville and her maid Pallas are classified as chattels and auctioned off to clear the debts of his estate, and so these two young and pretty women enter a new world of pain and degradation. Cynthia is bought by Giles Shadberry, an enemy of her guardian intent on taking revenge on him through her; while Pallas is bought by the exclusive Birch Club to serve its members’ sadistic pleasures. Shadberry, intent on crushing Cynthia’s spirit, makes her his “Little Pig”, complete with rubber snout, a nose ring, trotters and tail and compulsory mud wallows. Pallas is put in antique stocks, an oral sex machine and a wheel of humiliation, where club men happily spank, lash and screw her. Cynthia can feel her old self being erased as she is broken down by Shadberry’s cruel and relentless torments, while Pallas fears she will never escape from the Birch Club where she has to serve a dozen men a day, whose delight is to make her cry. Is there any hope of salvation for either of them, or release from their seemingly endless suffering?

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 5 / 2018

No. words: 28477

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Sex Slavery / Training

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


‘And now we come to the final lots in the sale of the property and possessions of the late Sir Percival Danvers,’ the auctioneer said.
An expectant hush fell over the chamber. The auctioneer continued. ‘These are two female chattels entailed to the estate. One is a ladies maid known as “Pallas”, and the other is Cynthia Melville, Sir Percival’s former ward, who is also certified as a virgin…’
Two women confined in display stands and quite naked except for simple felt slippers, were wheeled forward to the front of the podium. Their ankles were cuffed apart to the bases of the stands and their arms were stretched up above their heads, exposing their bodies to the gaze of the bidders. Posts rising from the back of the stands supported brackets extending forward over their heads, to which their cuffed wrists were hooked.
Pallas was brown skinned and Cynthia was a pale cream. A little wooden sign had been hung on a light chain about her hips just above her pubic curls, with a small unnecessary arrow pointing downwards. It read: VIRGIN
Both women squirmed and screwed up their eyes in shame and fear, but there was no escape from their fate. Just a month ago, their lives had been so different…
* * *
Cynthia was in her withdrawing room, happily wielding a spanking paddle.
Pallas was bent over a padded trestle before her with her skirts rolled up, exposing her brown buttocks. She had done nothing wrong, but Cynthia believed that regular chastisement always made her that bit more attentive. Besides, her full fleshy dark cheeks rippled so prettily when they were beaten. Pallas gave little squeaks and whimpers as the paddle smacked into her behind, but being a good girl she held her position.
Cynthia paused for a moment to feel the hot, soft smooth flesh of her maid’s buttocks. Then she slipped her fingers down between her thighs feel the moist pout of her pussy lips. The girl could not help get excited by strict handling, and Cynthia would benefit from her passion later in bed when Pallas lay between her thighs and used her tongue to pleasure her. A passionate maid was an excellent means of preserving an eligible young woman’s virginity until a suitable husband could be found for her. Next year, her guardian had said. He had some prospects in mind.
And then there was a knock at the door, and Sir Percy himself entered. Cynthia was surprised. He usually returned from his club much later than this. Then she frowned she saw his face was grave.
‘Ah… there you are, my dear,’ he said. His voice was flat, not animated with its usual boisterous energy. ‘I thought I should just… look in on you, before you retired…’
He shambled into the room and smiled wanly at Pallas’s upturned bare bottom and patted it absentmindedly. ‘Been having some fun, I see… good, good… pretty thing, isn’t she?’
‘You don’t look well, Uncle,’ Cynthia said. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
Sir Percy straightened up. ‘No, My Dear, there’s nothing you can do. I’ve just made a bit of a mess of things and now I’ve got to do what’s right. I’m sorry, but there may be some changes to come around here…’
And with that, he walked stiffly out of the room, leaving Cynthia blinking in puzzlement.
It was a few minutes later when she heard the crack of the pistol shot from his study…
* * *
A week later, Cynthia, dressed in mourning black, sat in the office of Mr Mears, Sir Percy’s solicitor. He had been courteous, professional and blunt.
‘I’m afraid that Sir Percy had made some bad investments recently. Foolishly, he tried to recoup his losses at the gaming table. Instead, he lost everything he had wagered and more besides. The Curzon Street house, its contents and all his possessions will have to be sold to repay his debts.’
Cynthia started, feeling a cold hand clench her heart. That had been her only home for years since her parents had died. ‘But where will I go? What’s to become of me?’
‘You will be going nowhere, I’m afraid, Miss Melville,’ Mears said gravely. ‘You see you and your maid, both being under twenty-one and without any other family to claim you, are officially classified as Sir Percy’s chattels. It is my duty to hand you over to the care of Bracewells the Auctioneers, who will be handling the sale, to assess you for your reserve value, along with all other goods.’
Even as Cynthia blinked in disbelief at his words, he continued.
‘Those clothes, I assume Sir Percy bought them for you? She nodded dumbly. ‘Then they are also part of the estate and must be sold. Perhaps if you would undress now? Don’t make this any harder on yourself than necessary…’
Of course, she did just the opposite and Mr Mears had to call his secretary and the porter to help strip her before she was handed over to Bracewells.
And Bracewells assessed her and Pallas very professionally, like any other pieces of property. When Cynthia’s virginity was confirmed, it increased her reserve price considerably. And so she was put in a chastity belt and then in a cage with Pallas to await the day of their sale…
* * *
Now Cynthia watched in disbelief as the auctioneer circled around Pallas’s display stand. He had a cane with a serrated tip that he used to point out her assets.
‘And here we have a fine, lithe, young African female, trained as a ladies maid, perfect both for work and pleasure…’
Pallas’s glossy woolly black hair was tied back in a ponytail from her rounded forehead. She had clear deep brown eyes under dark brows, a straight nose with moderately flared nostrils and full lips. Her broad shoulders carried jutting rounded breasts capped by large purple/brown nipples. The auctioneer spun the slave frame around so the bidders could see how her slim waist accentuated her hips and her fleshy deep brown buttocks.
‘Look at that magnificent posterior!’ the auctioneer exclaimed. ‘Sure to be beaten for pleasure as often as the discipline…’
Pallas’s legs were lean but sturdy and she had good calves. Tight black pubic curls divided about a deep cleft with pouting inner lips.
All that had belonged to Cynthia. Now she did not even belong to herself…
The auctioneer had used his cane artfully as he spoke, prodding and stroking and tickling, stimulating Pallas into an unwilling response. Like Cynthia, she had been deprived of sex for a week, kept in a chastity belt and prevented from touching herself.
Now Pallas’s lovely big nipples stood up hard and glossy while her love mouth was swelling and glistening with moisture. The hood of her clitoris was becoming noticeably prominent…
She would never disgrace herself like that in public, Cynthia thought. She would not let herself. She would be cool and aloof: a lady to the end…
‘What am I bid?’ he asked, sawing his cane through the brown cleft and making Pallas sob and whimper.
‘Ten guineas… fifteen… twenty… twenty-five…’ the calls came back
The auctioneer’s cane delivered a subtle jab and flick to Pallas’s clitoris. Her eyes bulged and her hips jerked and she sobbed as a spray of juices spurted out of her. She had climaxed in front of a room full of strangers!
‘Forty-five guineas,’ said a firm voice from the back of the room.
‘Sold for forty-five guineas to Mr Fairfield of the Birch Club!’ the auctioneer declared triumphantly, giving Pallas’s buttocks a sharp slap to close the deal.
Was that what Pallas was really worth, Cynthia wondered dizzily? And then she felt a brief absurd swell of determination: she must sell for more than that!
Pallas’s frame was wheeled off the podium. Now it was Cynthia’s turn. She felt all eyes turning towards her and feared she was going to be sick. Then she reminded herself she would remain proud.
‘The last lot of the sale,’ the auctioneer said. ‘A former young lady of obvious quality and refinement. Please note that she is certified to be still a virgin…’
He tapped terrible sign hung about Cynthia’s hips with the tip of his cane. Then it began to tickle and tap and prod its way across her body. Despite her resolution, Cynthia began to flinch and moan and tingle…
Cynthia was a black eyed, honey blonde with creamy pale skin. She had a narrow, neat straight nose, a high smooth forehead, arching, sardonic brows and wide, shapely lips. It was a pretty face that could easily assume a cool disdainful expression that she did not hesitate to use to her advantage. Her body was lean and trim. Full rounded breasts capped with pale brown nipples (which were now hard and throbbing under the auctioneer’s ministrations) stood out from her slender chest. She had a tight waist, womanly hips, pale pink buttocks and a sparse fluffy pubic bush that did little to conceal her deep cleft vulva.
And by now, to her horror, that cleft was hot and wet, seeming to pulse in sympathy with her nipples. It had not had Pallas’s tongue to drain it for so long! All those eyes were watching her. No, this could not be happening to her, it must be a nightmare…
‘Who would not wish to own such a creature?’ The auctioneer asked rhetorically, while still stirring Cynthia’s cleft. ‘Shall we start the bidding at fifty guineas?’
‘Sixty… seventy… eighty…’ the bids mounted.
Was she worth that much? Of course she was! No, that was horrible! She was not a thing that could be bought and sold! Except that the law said that she was…
The auctioneer’s cane rasped across her clitoris. Her loins exploded and she did exactly what she had determined not to do, bucking her hips and sprayed their juices out over her inner thighs and the terrible cane. She had climaxed in front of a room full of strangers! She was no better than Pallas! The shock almost made her faint while her cheeks burned with utter shame. Distantly she heard the auctioneer’s voice:
‘Sold for one hundred and fifteen guineas to Mr Smith!’
And her buttocks were slapped, closing the deal.

Author Information

Simon Grail is an artist and author of many strong BDSM content A1 books, including the best sellers "Sex Slave Holiday","Hell School for Teachers" and "The Young Women of St Evals" and "The Bagatelle Club". Past works include:"The Purgatory Club" trilogy, the "Bondmaid" Saga sextet, the "Lesbian MILF Blackmail Gang", "Sisterhood of Submission", the "Dragon School" and "Castle of Slaves" novels, and several short stories including the ongoing "Breaking in..." and "Nightmare in..." series.


Publisher Information

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