Fragment 03: The Estate

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
This is another of what I'm calling my "Fragment" series--these are incomplete, unfinished stories or scenes that frankly, I probably will never go back and finish. Some of them were written long ago, but they often have some degree of merit, but they can't be judged like a real story.

Anyway, I hope you them. I will be posting them occasionally when my supply of "real" stories runs low. Let me know if it's worth the bother!

(The Flogmaster)

The Estate

(***, F/F, Severe, slave discipline)

The Countess returns from a journey and examines and punishes her many slaves. (Approximately 2,203 words. Originally published 1996-02.)

Word came from the messenger that the Count and his wife would arrive by three o'clock that afternoon and immediately the entire estate went into a frenzy of preparation. The grounds were swept and cleaned, the walls of buildings washed, the horses groomed until their coats gleamed, their stalls spotless. The main house was scoured from top to bottom until it looked as polished as the day it was built.

An hour before the scheduled arrival of the master the exhausted slaves were gathered to their quarters and were bathed and oiled until their naked bodies gleamed. The pages made generous use of their black leather paddles, punishing anyone slacking in the slightest. All the slaves were lined up for inspection when Lady Tourant arrived for the inspection.

The Count had over two hundred slaves and about a third of that in pages and servants. Lady Tourant was in charge of the slaves, and she was a strict mistress. All the slaves feared and admired her.

A tall and stern woman her beauty was not so much for her unremarkable physique, which was rather normal and ordinary, but for her personality and fire. When her eyes opened wide and gleamed with passion her whole face seemed to glow. Her plain black hair would shine and her body seemed to suddenly become rather curvy and sensual. It was a remarkable transformation.

This afternoon, however, Lady Tourant was all business. She entered the slave quarters, a long, low building behind the main house and clapped her hands for attention. Instantly there was silence, even the breathing of almost two hundred people almost imperceptable. One could almost hear the hearts wildly pounding.

Before her were two long rows of men and women, the men on her right. There was approximately 75 of each sex, the remaining slaves scattered about the estate in various stages of punishment. Some were bound in the punishment hall, others tied to stakes in the garden. A handful of the most incorrigable dangled from the front gate, their naked sexes exposed and ready to greet the master and his wife on their return.

The slaves were all naked and stood tall and straight with their hands properly folded behind their backs, legs apart, faces staring straight ahead, their expressions neutral. There were one or two nervous coughs or scuffling from some of the newer recruits, but mostly everyone was quiet.

The Lady took a heavy leather strap from one of the pages and began her inspection. She studied the faces and bodies of the slaves, watching their expressions as she lifted and dropped naked breasts with the stiff leather belt, or gently tapped erect cocks from side to side. She could see the torment in their eyes as they watched her, pleased to be singled out or horrified at being noticed.

The ones she ignored were also pleasant to watch. One darling young girl, obviously a newcomer, stood trembling as the Mistress studied her, her petite breasts shivering and her little sex damp with desire. She could barely control herself and when the Mistress passed without touching her, she breathed an audible sigh of relief. Smiling to herself the Lady turned and nodded to one of the two dozen pages who stood waiting for her command. He promptly stepped forward and flung the poor girl across his knee and began to paddle her buttocks soundly, her loud cries echoing throughout the bunkhouse.

But her misery wasn't alone for long. A moment later the Mistress discovered a young man had gone soft and he was soon groaning and writhing under the paddle. Now the noise was terrific, two paddles constantly smacking, the unruly girl shamefully crying out loud. The Mistress made a note to have her gagged and punished later.

As she continued her inspection the waiting slaves grew more and more nervous, fear showing on their faces. To have the Mistress' emotionless black eyes staring at you while her hands pinched and poked you was bad enough, but having the growing sounds of punishment echoing from behind her made the wait even more nerve-wracking. By the time she was halfway down the line there were more than a dozen paddles going, the pages eagerly punishing the naughty slaves.

Some of the slaves punished because of improper behavior, such as the young man who'd gone soft. Others were punished simply because she wanted them to be, or perhaps she sensed arrogance in their attitude.

As she neared the end of the line she paused before one young woman. The girl was a delicate blond, probably no more than nineteen, with a slender and graceful figure. Her eyes were blue and clear and showed intelligence. She looked into the Mistress's eyes without flinching, her smile modest and respectful, though she was obviously nervous.

Her eyes flickered when the Mistress ordered her to step forward. The Mistress squeezed the girl's round breast roughly and then knelt and studied her sex. The girl flushed slightly when Mistress Tourant forced her legs wider and placed a hand between her legs. The sex was wet and the older woman could feel the tension in the girl's thighs to close her legs together, to stop her torment.

"Turn around," commanded the Mistress, and the girl obeyed, her face frozen in fear. The cool hands played with her buttocks, squeezing and caressing them. Her bottom was round but firm, and only slightly pink from recent punishment.

"When was your last whipping?"

The girl swallowed uneasily. "Yesterday afternoon, Mistress."

"And what was it for?"

The girl flushed and bowed her head. "I took too long carrying the water to supervisors in the fields."

"And you were well-punished for that mistake, weren't you?" The Mistress stepped close behind the delicate girl and idly stroked her buttocks with the belt. Tears came to the girl's eyes. How could she answer? If she denied the charge the Mistress would correct the situation immediately, but if she agreed the Mistress might scold and punish her for calling such a little whipping a real one.

"What is your name, slave?"


"Well then, Laura, answer my question."

"I-, I was punished, my Mistress."

"Of course. But was it enough? Do you need more?"

"What a ridiculous question," thought the girl for a second. "Of course not!" But the suspense was unbearable torment. What did the Mistress want? The girl wished the Lady would just whip her and get it over with. "Stop toying with me!" she wanted to scream.

Slowly she raised her head and turned to look into the bright eyes of Mistress Tourant. "I want to please you, my Mistress," she said carefully.

A smile came across the woman's face. "And so you shall," she said. "Turn around." Lovingly she walloped the girl's bottom with the wide belt. The pink mark left by the strap aroused her, and she was pleased. She brought the belt down again, this time wrapping it around the girl's sleek thighs.

Laura gasped and quivered, struggling to keep her hands in position as the Mistress carefully struck her again. These slow whippings were the worst. There was time between each stroke to really feel the pain.

Mistress Tourant was delighted at the girl's suffering. She was wonderfully animated. She really felt every stroke and yet she endured it with a grace that was charming. The Mistress wondered why she had never noticed her before.

"How long have you been here, Laura?"

"Since I was seventeen. That is, almost two years."

"So she is nineteen," thought the Mistress. "And she has been here almost two years. No wonder she has such composure." But time was passing and Mistress Tourant did not really have the time to play with the girl. Without further words she stepped back and began to really thrash the girl.

Again and again the strap came down and soon Laura was moaning and crying, tears dripping down her delicate face, but she was obedient and held her position, hands firmly behind her back, her buttocks lightly dancing under the blows.

As the first hard smacks landed she was glad. At least she was no longer uncertain what was happening. She understood being whipped. She knew how to show the proper submission and how to distract her mind from the pain. She thought of her sex and the stirring in her loins, the sweet, swelling desire that was building within her, so unsatisfied, the bobbing cocks of all the male slaves in front of her encouraging her passion, and soon the belt seemed nothing more than a distraction, a minor annoyance compared with the fierce desire between her legs.

Her buttocks felt warm and good to her, the flesh alive and tingling. The whipping was an excellent one, she realized. She had never had the honor of being whipped by the Mistress personally before, but now she knew that the woman's reputation was not exagerated. The blows were so hard and fast the girl could hardly breathe. She could only dance and weep and pray that the Mistress would be pleased.

When Laura's buttocks and thighs were nicely red the woman stopped the whipping and pressed her palm against the girl's hot flesh. "That was good, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Mistress Tourant," said the girl humbly, bowing her head low and wishing she could reach back and rub her burning bottom. The suddenly neglected skin itched and tingled and she longed for something to touch it.

"Now back in line with you." The Mistress continued her inspection, quickly ordering two more girls paddled, and one of the men. Reaching the end of the line she turned and looked back.

A row of naked bottoms stretched out as far as she could see. She loved this part of her job. The variety of beauty always amazed her. As she walked behind the line of girls she was again astonished at how different the various bottoms were, and yet how similar. This bottom was narrow and hard, while this one was wide and full. That girl there had long, skinny legs and graceful buttocks, but that one was short and stocky with wide hips and a round bottom.

Mistress Tourant loved buttocks. She loved watching the naked cheeks change as a slave assumed various positions. The buttocks of a standing slave were completely different than those of one bending over. Even slight changes in position made fantastic variations in appearance. She was also fascinated with the subtle differences of the buttocks between the sexes.

But most of all Mistress Tourant loved to punish buttocks. There was nothing more thrilling than watching the tender flesh of a young slave ripening under the blows of a leather belt or paddle. She loved to see the body quivering and trembling, to feel the tears and hear the groans of the punished slave as he or she struggled to contain them. She enjoyed the feel of smooth flesh that became hot and welted after a good whipping, the touch of each little bump creating fantastic sensations.

As she walked behind the slave girls the Mistress studied the buttocks of the girls the way a wine coniseur would analyze a glass of burgandy. Occasionally she couldn't resist touching a girl or two, pinching her bottom or delivering a few smacks with her hand or belt. Sometime this was because she was aroused by the particularly attractive sight of freshly paddled buttocks, or because the girl's buttocks were simply irresistable. A few times she discovered girls who's bottoms were barely punished and with the snap of her fingers a page darted forward and began to paddle the slave.

When she reached the end of the line she made her way up behind of the males, admiring their naked bottoms and ocassionally selecting one to be paddled.

She had almost reached the end of the line when word came that the master was approaching. Quickly the Mistress finished her inspection and at her command, the slaves were all led outside and lined up along the entrance way to the main courtyard. She herself stood at the head of all the slaves, waiting for the master's approval.

The gates were thrown open as the carriage approached, the slaves bound to the iron bars trembling with shame at their punishment. The carriage was painted a stark white, which made it distinctive, not unlike the Count himself. It slowly made its way up the long pathway to the main courtyard. As it passed Mistress Tourant and the slaves they all bowed low to the ground and stayed in position until the carriage halted and the Count and his wife emerged.

The End