Bound For Pleasure at Blackthorne ebook

Chapter Two-3

“I’m seeing those ringbolts everywhere,” I said with a frown. “Is there some kind of pagan sacrifices being consummated on my estate? I’ll allow no devilry here!”

“Nothing at all like you imagine,” Chalmers said with a sincere laugh. “We celebrate life, not death; and the joining of live bodies, not dead ones. The only blood sacrifices here are made to the mosquitoes, and other biting insects. Whatever poor soul is chained down on that platform, or against that pillar, will discover their number and appetite is endless.” He glanced at the now-perpetual bulge in my trousers and lay his hand on my arm, “Our practices may seem severe to you at first, but I beg you to be patient and you will share in everything that happens here.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a flask. “Thirsty?” He extended his arm toward me.

“Yes, thanks.” I drank a swallow gratefully. “It’s good. Where do you get such fine Scotch whiskey?”

“Made by a local craftsman.” Chalmers held up a silencing hand. “Please don’t ask. We protect each other.” He retrieved the flask and took a swallow before capping it and replacing it in his pocket. “Now for the lake.” He trotted off to the western edge, where the circle of stones was interrupted by the precipice leading down to the bay.

“This opening at the edge of the bay marks the sunset point on the horizon each midsummer’s eve.” Chalmers grinned, “We have a special ritual here on the closest night of a full moon. You will enjoy your first encounter with the secrets of this place.”

We got off our horses and scrambled down the narrow rocky stairway to the edge of the bay. Here, it was no more than a finger of water boring into the shallow cliff. There was a crescent-shaped shingled beach on our left. “Nothing more to see here today,” Chalmers said. “Come, let’s have a look at those cattle in the pasture.”

“Is this the northern boundary of my estate, then?”

“Hardly,” Chalmers said. He swept his extended arm from north to southeast. “All this is Blackthorne, miles beyond our sight. Eight miles off to the north, to where this forest ends, is the neglected vineyards where your grandfather used to grow grapes for the wine he bottled. Now it’s abandoned.”

“Do the vines still produce?”

“Oh, yes, but the grapes disappear each fall. Our neighbors deny taking them. I think it’s Gypsies stealing them to make their own wine.”

As they were galloping back across the meadow I spied a horse-drawn cart in the distance, heading north toward Gregor’s hut. The man I had seen outside the stables was driving. The maid Donella, still naked, was sitting next to him. She bent forward with her head in her lap, hands over her face, her bruised shoulders rocking with her sobs.

“They’re good cattle,” Chalmers was saying, “The grazing is excellent, and so the herd is growing rapidly. It will be a profitable year for Blackthorne.”

I noticed the bulls had caught their heart’s desire, and were eagerly forcing their ardent c***s up into the heifers’ posteriors. “You’re letting them breed continually, then?”

“Oh yes,” Chalmers replied with a sly grin. “We do a lot of breeding here. It’s a strong tradition at Blackthorne.”

Our horses passed though the low gate into the pasture and through loose groups of cattle. As we passed near a spinney of flowering trees I heard a girl’s voice shrieking in terror. In the open pasture beyond I caught a glimpse of a naked girl running barefoot, her elbows and wrists tied together behind her. Close behind, a young lad wearing no trousers was pursuing her his stiffened c**k danced and flopped wildly with each stride as he laughed and flourished a twirling whip.

I felt a thrill quiver in my groin. “What’s all that then?” I asked.

“It’s just as I said” Chalmers said with a grin. “Breeding.”

“That poor girl is terrified. Shouldn’t we interfere?”

“That’s as it should be, Sir Richard. She’s part of our lovestock, and the young man is Barth, our herdsman, doing his duty. He’s still in his late teens, but already he’s become quite the lusty lad, and hasty with the whip. Sometimes he leaves a cell door unlocked to trick an unsuspecting girl. If she is foolish enough to try running away, it gives him an excuse to whip her. True, he takes liberties with our young girls, but we believe in sharing our natural life.”

“Chalmers...” I began.

“Sir Richard, she’s one of our newest girls, trying to run away. That’s the worst thing a poor girl can do. Attempting to escape from Blackthorne carries a severe penalty, and it will go hard on her when Barth returns her to the Manor house cellar.”

“What’s in the cellar? What will they do to her?”

“Please, Sir Richard, I’ve already let you see more than I should have allowed. Your family will choose one of themselves to initiate you into the secrets of Blackthorne. Please don’t mention what I let you see here and in the stable. It would go hard on me.”

I nodded. “I promise, Chalmers. And while we are sharing confidences, I must say that all I find here excites me. I only regret not having a girl of my own to play with.”

“Your father was wise to keep you away while you grew up,” Chalmers replied. “We all waited to see what you would become. That holiday you spent with the young girl from your university; tying her down on your bed. You certainly enjoyed doing that, and then f*****g her all night.”

“But she asked me to tie her up, and how did you find out?”

Chalmers grinned, “Your father sent her to you. It was a test of your dominant s****l preferences.”

“Damn. I thought I was seducing her.” I shook my head.

“Let’s get back to the manor. There’s one more thing you must see before dinner this evening.” He spurred his horse to a gallop.

As we approached the manor house with its circle of Beech trees, Chalmers veered off to the right, heading for the gate in the low stone wall above the bay.

“We’ll dismount and leave the horses here. Farley will care for them.” He led me through the opening and down a steep, twisting stairway roughly cut into the stone slope. “Mind your footing. We seldom use this route to the bay, and we don’t encourage anyone to try it. At night, it is foolhardy to attempt the descent or climb.”

“What other way is there to reach this place?” I asked. “Only by boat?”

“That’s what I want to show you. It’s another secret of Blackthorne.”

We reached the foot of the slope, and Chalmers led me to the left. “See that tall bush growing against the cliff?”

“Yes.”

“Look behind it. There’s a gap between the slope and the bush.”

Concealed from view behind the brush was dark opening yawning in the side of the cliff. “Are we going in there?” I asked.

“That’s not necessary yet, Sir Richard. That cave leads back under the meadow all the way to the manor house. It’s a good two hundred yards of twists and turns in the darkness. Not a journey for the faint hearted.”

“You’ve been through it, then?”

“Many times.” Chalmers pointed to the small wooden pier jutting out into the lake behind us. “We unload our ‘lovestock’ there, and carry them through the cave into the cellars of the manor.” He rubbed his mustache again. “It was your father’s idea, and a damn good one, too.”

“Smuggling contraband? What’s going on here? I should be told right now.”

“No, not smuggling. No brandy, no French champagne or perfume. We import those things legally. It’s just that what we bring in here is nobody’s business. There’s too many self-righteous busybodies in this world. We only want to be left in peace to take advantage of our traffic in privacy.” He patted my shoulder. “Dismiss your concerns, we are not petty scoundrels.” He began scrambling up the rocky stairway. “The ride has put me in good appetite. Let’s find what Lara has prepared for us. She can conjure up marvelous cream teas.”