The Secret of Blackthorne

Chapter Two-2

“What’s this, then?” I fingered the iron rings bolted to the posts. A pattern was beginning to form in my head; that Blackthorne was a maze of places where some animal...or some person, could be fettered.

Surely not for me. Then whom? The maids! I raised my head and studied the swelling erection straining to pop out of my trousers. I could feel this place reeking with a mysterious power to release carnal desire, to seize control of my body. I studied the posts at the foot of the huge bed. Matching rings were bolted to them, too.

I lay back and sighed with surrender, content to let my questions wait. My eyes closed and I dozed, seeing in my dream the images of the long trip from Sireford University to Blackthorne, hearing the incessant chatter of Aunt Caroline reciting my new responsibilities and my duty to the family.

Then the dream shifted to my bedroom. I saw myself lying naked, spread-eagled on my back. I felt the pain in my wrists and ankles. They were stretched brutally tight and chained to the bedposts. All six maids surrounded me, frolicking in my bed. Each in turn, straddled my chest, slowly pulling up their little skirts to reveal pretty, fluffy-haired p*****s. I struggled helplessly as they pressed their abundant breasts into my face, dragging them across my lips.

Then, three on each side of me, their industrious, fiery fingers stroked the inside of my thighs and fondled my balls and upraised c**k. They giggled and cooed as they felt the mounting excitement quaking in my belly. With girlish cries of delight and gloating they bounced on the bed in rhythm to my spurting fountain of lust.

I woke with a start. What was that sound? I sprang out of the bed and hurried to one of the tall, narrow windows looking down on the back lawn. Through the iron bars I spied the cobalt blue lake off to the left, its churning salt-seawater frosted with whitecaps. In the near distance, through the clustered trees, was a thatch-roofed stable. What I saw next made me jerk forward, gripping windowsill to steady myself.

The young dark-haired maid, Donella, ran out of the cottage. She was totally naked. Her hands were bound together, tied up behind her with a rope looped around her neck. Her breasts bounced wildly and I could hear her screaming. A man ran out after her, catching her by the hair and dragging her back. A woman who appeared to be Miss Ballard was standing in the doorway. They pulled her back inside and slammed the heavy, iron-barred door. Her panic-stricken face pressed against the door window’s bars while she shrieked and shook her head violently. They wrenched her away from the window, and she disappeared, pulled back into the darkness.

A knock on my bedroom door startled me, and I whirled around.

“Excuse me, Sir Richard.” It was Chalmers, the estate manager. “If it pleases you, I’m prepared to give you a tour of Blackthorne.” His voice was polite, but strong, with no hint of servility.

“Yes, I’m quite ready and anxious to see everything. I have noticed a number of interesting peculiarities, and I look forward to you clearing up these matters.”

“I assure you, there is much at Blackthorne that is a mystery kept secret, Sir Richard. But I will gladly answer where I may.”

We descended the stairs and Chalmers led me through the dim, confusing labyrinth of rooms and hallways leading to the rear entrance. We passed through the kitchen last, and there our cook, Lara, was singing lustily and off key. It was an old Gaelic ballad;

“This world is a City full of long streets,

And death is a merchant that every man meets.

If life were a thing that money could buy,

The poor could not live, and the rich would not die.

So live For yer pleasure while the sun smites yer face,

‘an don’t give a thought for some other one’s place.

We’ll never find pleasure by groveling, sure,

So pull off my clothes and love me some more.”

I smiled and nodded as we passed the clatter of pots on her stove. Both Chalmers and I stepped through the door and out into the mid-morning air.

“It’s many a furlong to the far fence, so we will ride. The stable is this way.” Chalmers led me off to the right, downwind from the manor house. He pointed to the low stone wall to the left. “Mind the cliff by the bay over there. It’s a steep tumble for the unwary.”

“Is that the stables?” I asked, pointing through the trees.

“Yes. Would you like to see it?”

“In the brief moment before you knocked at my door, I was looking at it through my window. I saw one of the maids, a young girl stripped naked, dash out the door. Her arms were tied up behind her and she was being chased by a man. The man caught her and dragged the poor girl back inside the stables. I’d like to know what they are doing to her.”

Chalmers let a smile play under his mustache. “I really couldn’t say, Sir Richard. Perhaps Shawe will give you a demonstration. Here are the stables.”

“There was an older woman there, too. I’m sure it was Miss Ballard.”

“We have some of the finest horses in the county,” Chalmers continued. “Farley, the groom, takes excellent care of them.”

I grasped the fact that Chalmers was refusing to respond to my description, so I decided to let the matter rest until I could speak with Shawe.

“Farley!” Chalmers called out. “Sir Richard and I each require a saddled horse. Are they ready.”

“Coming, Sir.” The iron-barred door of a far stall swung open, and a short, chubby, red-faced man bounded out with an expansive grin. He appeared completely at ease, even though he was stuffing his dripping c**k back into the front of his trousers. The barred door of the stall was open wide. I could see a bit of the straw-strewn floor, and the slim, bare legs of a barefoot girl lying on the straw. What appeared to be dark metal shackles were locked around her ankles, with an attached chain running to a ringbolt in a post. The fresh bruises on her thighs were plainly visible. I felt the tingle awaken in my own c**k, but Chalmers turned and led me in the opposite direction.

Farley touched the forelock of red hair dangling in his intense blue eyes. “G’day, Sir Richard. It’s a bonnie day for a gallop.” From the spring in his step, I guessed that Farley was blessed with a clockwork energy that never ran down.

“Yes, Mr. Chalmers, I got your message, sir.” He led them around a corner. “Here they are, two horses fit for lairds of the realm.” He patted the chestnut bay. “Gentle, but eager to run.” He looked up at me. “May I help you up, sir?”

“No, thank you, Farley. I have been riding since before my first year at school.” I pressed my toe into the stirrup and swung my other leg up and over with the grace of a ballerina.

Chalmers mounted his black stallion, and we trotted out into a meadow beyond the trees that stretched out far northward. I smiled as I smelled the salt sea in the air.

“I’ll take the liberty of giving you the long tour,” Chalmers said. “I’m sure you’re eager to see everything.”

“But I’m not seeing everything, Chalmers. There’s a lot of activity going on here that’s being hidden from me. Did you notice that girl in the farthest stall. She was chained to a post. And I’m sure she was naked.”

“No, I didn’t notice, but it’s probably true. Farley is quite fond of playing games with pretty girls.” He leaned toward me, “We all are, aren’t you?”

I nodded with a faint smile. “I think I would enjoy spending some time in that stall with her, too”

“Perhaps later, Sir Richard.” He spurred his horse and I did my best to keep up.

“We’ll ride to the north arm of the bay, first,” Chalmers called out over his shoulder.

Off to the left was a broad meadow with gentle green hills rolling up and down. A scattering of Black-spotted cattle grazed in the distance. A half-dozen bulls were chasing the young heifers with lust in their snorts. There were occasional spinneys, clumps of trees, and all was surrounded by a shallow dike. The eastern horizon was etched with pale blue-gray heights of the midlands. Far to my left the meadow rose up to an abrupt edge, bordered by the tall, wide hedge of sinister Blackthorn. My nose had already told me the restless sea lay beyond. We rode on a few miles farther toward a somber line of gigantic trees across the northern heath.

“There it is,” Chalmers shouted above the wind, “inside that forest.”

“What’s under that brown conical roof I see poking above the distant trees?”

“That’s a tall stone tower where our warder lives. We’re headed for it.”

We slowed our horses to a walk as we passed under the edge of the forest, following a winding trail. A quarter of a mile farther I saw a hidden clearing through the thinning trees. About fifty yards before we reached the clearing, we came to a round tower of two stories, made of drab gray stone. Its dark red-brown roof and bars at the windows gave it the air of a brutal finger pointing at the open sky.

“Gregor,” Chalmers called out. “Gregor, are you there?”

A powerful, bald-headed black man opened the iron-studded door and stepped out. He wore a sulky scowl on his bearded face, and was naked to the waist. His ebony head and torso gleamed in the sun, like it had been oiled. The muscles in his arms and chest rippled as he moved. He wore nothing more than loose black trousers, cut off just below the knees. He left his fly unbuttoned with his long, prominent c**k bulging out, swaying in the sunlight. I stared at it. It was as thick as my own wrist. The tops of Gregor’s brown boots were turned down, exposing most of his thick, powerful legs. He carried a coiled, leather-braided whip in his left hand, and a large-bore shotgun in his right.

“Who’s this,” he demanded in a rumbling voice.

“This is Sir Richard, the new Laird of Blackthorne.”

His wide face brightened, and he leaned the shotgun against the door and touched his forehead. “Welcome, Sir Richard. I hope that things will go better for me now.”

“Gregor guards the northern border of your estate. He’s a brave and loyal man,” Chalmers said. He turned back to Gregor, “What’s the problem here?”

Gregor twisted the whip in his hands, stroking it against his coal-black c**k. “I was promised they’d send a girl from the house to pleasure me today. It’s almost noon, and no one came.”

“It’s barely eleven o’clock, Gregor. Be patient, one of the maids is being disciplined. I’m sure she will sent to service you within the hour.”

Chalmers motioned to me, “Come, there’s something in the clearing that will interest you.” The horses trotted out into the sunshine. “I know you studied history and folklore at the university.” He pointed into the clearing. “What do you think of that?”

I gasped. “That wasn’t mentioned in any of the books or lectures. Is it new?”

For slightly more than a furlong in circumference, a circuit of tall, brownish-red vertical stones erupted from the soil. Their height varied from two to three yards.

“The local farmers and poachers are afraid of them, and stay away,” Chalmers said. “They call them ‘Lucifer’s Teeth’ in superstitious whispers. Gregor keeps the curious and the foolish from trespassing. The new aero planes never come this far, so our secret is safe.”

“What’s that in the center?”

“Come, I’ll show you.” He trotted his stallion into the circle.

A massive, square, flat stone platform stood in the middle of the grassy circle, elevated waist-high by a roughly cubical pillar directly under the center. At each of the four corners were ringbolts with manacles, bright with wear.

Standing behind it was a round, inky black stone pillar of massive size; its top at least four yards high above the ground, and its base two yards wide at the bottom. The rounded top had been chiseled by prehistoric craftsmen, roughly shaped into the head of a gigantic p***s. I could see the glans facing towards the stone platform, its cleft leading up to a slit lovingly chipped in the tip. Adorning it was a ponderous ringbolt dangling more than a foot above my reach, bearing a few frayed threads of rope dancing in the breeze. At the bottom were two smaller, widely separated ringbolts positioned only inches above the ground.