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Cleveland Manor - Part 3


One more chapter by guest-writer Stefan Lowry.

About half an hour later, a tired but contented Decca rode her slave back to the paddock and the stables. It was now about 5pm, and the winter daylight was fading. She found Laura and Sally outside, near the stable entrance, drinking hot chocolate while seated on the backs of two slaves. The latter, still naked, were visibly cold, their flesh covered in goose bumps.

‘Oh, hello Ms Beresford! Decca rather,’ said Sally, looking up. ‘Hope everything went well. Did you have a good ride?’

‘Perfect in every way, thank you, Sally, Laura. And I’ll be mentioning your excellent training to Petra. And yes, I’m completely satisfied with Severin, so I suppose some paperwork will need to be completed. I’m booked in at the Manor for the next few days. I’ll be staying as planned, even though I’ve made my decision.’

‘Great news,’ said Laura, brightly. (Not only was she sitting on a slave’s back; she was also resting a riding boot on his outstretched hand, the round spur pressing into his skin.)

‘We’ll get the sales contract drawn up. Will you be wanting to ride other slaves during your stay, or just Severin?’

‘Just Severin, I expect. And of course, since I’m committing to purchase, I don’t want him ridden by anyone else, please. One more thing,’ Decca continued, blushing. ‘I understand that the Manor allows, well, testing - in every sense. He needs cleaning and feeding now, of course, but could you arrange to have him delivered to my room this evening? And if possible, every night during my stay?’ Sally grinned.

‘Every night would normally be a bit irregular, Decca, but since you’re committing to buy, I’m sure it can be arranged. We’ll have him outside your door by the time you finish dinner. By the way, I’m not sure if you’ve seen his price in the catalogue. I’m afraid it’s £42,000, including tax.’

‘Ouch. Well, that’s roughly what I expected. I can see I’m going to have to be especially nice to my mother over the next few months.’

The three women laughed. Meanwhile, as they spoke, Decca had remained in the saddle. ‘Down!’ she said, grasping Severin by the hair. A moment later, she had dismounted. Grabbing the slave by his bridle, Sally led him away to be watered, fed and cleaned. Laura kicked her colleague’s now unoccupied ‘chair’.
‘Would you like to ride this slave back to your room, Decca?’

‘No thanks, I can walk back. I just need to get changed for dinner.’

‘Sure. And congratulations on your choice. Severin really is one of the best slaves I’ve come across, and I’ve been training for three years. Just one thing. Please send him back to the stables by 8:30 each morning, if possible. We have to prepare him for your daily rides.’

‘I will, of course.’

With that, Decca set off, through the stables and the courtyard, back to her room. She passed many guests and staff on her way, a few walking, most of them riding men. So much had happened that day; so much for her to reflect on.


Dinner was at 7pm. After resting briefly, Decca showered and changed her clothes. Off came the riding outfit. On went: an expensive sapphire necklace; an ivory-satin evening dress, which finished some inches above the knee; matching ivory-coloured pantyhose, in the sheerest nylon; a pair of dark-grey, high-heeled court shoes; an antique, sapphire and emerald bracelet. She applied a little perfume and make-up in the large bedroom mirror, and was satisfied with the result. She imagined he would be pleased, too.

Decca had now got her bearings within the Manor, or at least, well enough to find the dining hall. She walked down the corridor to the elevator, then selected the ground floor. She was fairly early, but several women were already making their way in. The entrance to the dining hall was large, like virtually everything else in the building. There was a double doorway, about ten feet high, eight feet wide. In front of the entrance, naked, lying on his back, she saw the slave that Carla had been beating earlier that day. He’d been cleaned up, to some extent, but the red welts were prominently visible on his skin. His back, of course, would be even worse. Next to his head, a printed sign had been placed on the floor: LADIES, THIS SLAVE IS BEING PUNISHED. PLEASE WIPE YOUR FEET.

Decca looked down at him. ‘So, you’re the doormat for tonight?’

The slave looked nervous, surprised at being addressed. ‘If you please, yes Mistress.’

‘Well, it’s not the end of the world. Try to flex your muscles when we step on you. You’ll make a firmer surface, and it may hurt less.’

With that, Decca stepped up onto the slave’s chest and wiped her shoes on him. Although dinner had not even started, his skin had already been marked by the heels of other guests. She stretched her foot towards his face. Instinctively, he put out his tongue and licked her sole. A shiver of pleasure ran through her.

The dining hall was vast and predictably impressive. Three huge refectory tables were covered in expensive-looking cutlery and dishes. Bottles of wine were already open and breathing. The walls of the hall, like the lobby, were hung with portraits of eminent women, past and present. Male slaves scurried about, providing service. Others, entirely naked, waited in rows by the walls, heads bowed in submission.

Just inside the doorway, Cally was sitting on a slave’s back. She rose on seeing Decca. ‘Hello again! Hope you had fun today!’

‘Really excellent, actually, Cally. I’ve never ridden so much in one day in all my life. I’m starving though!’

‘You must be. Well, dinner will be served in a few minutes. If you need anything at all, just tell me or one of the men. By the way, slaves will be chairs this evening. Please just choose one from the men by the walls.’

‘Great. Well, is Dylan here?’

‘He should be. Yes, over by the corner.’ Cally pointed at Dylan, standing naked like the other men.

‘You’re in luck. He hasn’t been taken yet. Enjoy your meal!’

Decca strode purposefully over to where Dylan was standing. With his head bowed, he hadn’t yet seen her.

‘Hello, slave,’ she said, cheerfully. ‘Want to be my chair for tonight?’

Dylan lifted his gaze, and a look of surprised delight passed over his handsome features. ‘It would be an honour, Mistress.’

Copying the other women, Decca grasped the slave gently by his hair, and led him to a place at one of the tables. He knelt down, and she took her place on his broad, strong back. Soon, she would be sitting on Severin in much the same way, and the thought was even enough to distract her from her rumbling stomach.

Within a few minutes, the places nearby were taken, and Decca met several other guests, including Colette from York, Nola from London and Lara from Dublin. The women at the table were mostly young, like Decca, and from prosperous families, ditto. Sitting opposite her, however, was a thirty-something woman from Barcelona, named Luisa. The English girls were intrigued by this visitor from an extreme matriarchy, and were full of questions, which Luisa answered good humouredly.

‘Is it true you can kill a man just for displeasing you?’

‘Yes, but you must compensate its owner, of course.’

‘Do you really have public slaves, chained in the street, just for cleaning your shoes?’

‘Yes! And they must do it with their tongues, too. But usually, these slaves are also being punished.’

The Spanish woman was all charm and friendliness, and Decca found it hard to reconcile her agreeable manner with the stories she had heard about her society - stories which Luisa, indeed, seemed happy to confirm. The food and wine were provided in copious quantities by nervous, scuttling slaves. Finally, towards the end of the meal, Petra rose from her chair (actually, the youthful, blond footstool Decca remembered from her office) and stood on his back. The audience looked towards her expectantly.

‘Ladies,’ said Petra, when the buzz of conversation had quietened, ‘this evening has been another enjoyable occasion here at Cleveland Manor, with guests old and new. And you may raise an eyebrow when I say this, but we really do think of you as friends, not merely as clients.’

(There was some friendly laughter and applause.)

‘All of us here are women of the world. We know that times are changing, and attitudes to men are hardening. Perhaps rightly so. Even here in Britain, famous for its easy-going treatment of slaves, there’s talk of declaring maleness itself a crime, with all slaves existing on mere licence. In fact, I can see many of us here tonight are wearing male-hide shoes or skirts – which would have shocked our grandmothers’ generation. And so am I!’ [To general laughter and delight, Petra raised an elegant leg, and showed off an expensive-looking, high-heeled shoe.] ‘Cleveland Manor takes no formal political position, of course, and many of these changes may well be overdue. Nonetheless, we hold two principles dear. First, the female is superior to the male in every sense whatsoever. I think that rather goes without saying. Second, however, and despite their obvious inferiority, males remain a useful, even indispensable, part of our society. In fact, their lives have no purpose, except insofar as they support our comfort, our security, our prosperity.’

[More applause, cries of ‘hear, hear.’]

‘Well,’ Petra continued, ‘we at Cleveland Manor will never be accused of being “soft” on men. The male is a beast of burden, and rightly so. He must be reminded of his inferiority, his subordination, at every moment of his life. But, properly disciplined, he does have a role to play in our world. I think the very existence of our company, and its increasing success, provide ample evidence of that. So, let me conclude with a toast. To the slavery of men, and the prosperity of women! Long may the male live to serve his superiors, and long may he be taught that, through utter obedience and loyal service, contentment may be found, yes, even for men, and even in the depths of submission!’ As if to emphasise her point, Petra raised her foot, and stamped hard on her slave’s back. Her stilettoes were sharp, and Decca saw the boy grimace in pain.

Petra’s speech was greeted with enthusiastic applause, and a few minutes later, the guests began to disperse. Decca said goodnight to her dining companions. Finally, she rose from Dylan’s back, and the slave immediately pressed his forehead to the floor, near her feet.

‘Mistress, would you like to ride me to your room?’

‘No thanks, slave, I’ll walk this evening.’

‘Very good, Mistress.’ There was disappointment in his voice.

‘Don’t worry, though. You were an excellent seat tonight. I’ll speak to the staff, and reserve you as my chair for dinner every night while I’m here.’

‘Thank you, Mistress Decca!’

The delighted slave bent forward, and planted a kiss on each of Decca’s nyloned ankles.

Decca made her way out of the dining hall. The ‘doormat slave’ was still there. Now, however, his entire body – face, torso, thighs, even crotch - was literally covered in heel marks. He was also bleeding from several small cuts. Colette, the girl from York, was directly in front of Decca. She wiped shiny high-heeled boots vigorously on the slave’s belly, then actually bent down, and spat in his face. Decca stepped onto the slave’s chest, and wiped her own shoes on him once more. He looked up at her, his face contorted with pain, and she gave him an encouraging smile. Nonetheless, before stepping down, she placed the sole of her right shoe on the shaft of his penis, and twisted it. Punishment was punishment, after all.

A few minutes later, her excitement building, Decca arrived at the door of her room. Sure enough, Severin was lying at the threshold, naked, on his back. Decca laughed. Someone, probably Laura or Sally, had written ‘WELCOME’ on his torso with bright, red lipstick.
Decca stepped onto his chest and wiped her shoes once again, though less cruelly than with the earlier slave. She used her magnetic card to open the door.

‘Slave! Crawl in here, and get on your hands and knees in front of that desk. I have a few emails to write before bed.’

Severin immediately obeyed, and a few moments later, Decca was once again sitting on a man’s back. With Dylan, the experience had been fine, but this was a whole new order of pleasure. The room was warm, and she removed her short dress. Now, there was nothing between her body and the slave except the ultra-sheer nylon of her pantyhose. Decca loved the sensation.

After half an hour, she could wait no longer. She rose from Severin’s back, and ordered him to face her, on his knees. Slowly, as he watched her, she removed her clothing: first shoes, then pantyhose, then bra. Her necklace, however, she kept on. She fought to keep the excitement out of her voice as she addressed the kneeling male. The latter, she was pleased to note, had a raging erection. Indeed, he had had one ever since she had used him as a doormat a while before.

‘Slave, I’m going to use you now. I’m sure you know what that means. You’ll be allowed to cum, but not until I’ve taken my pleasure with you. This will seal our relationship as Mistress and slave. It will also, no doubt, be the first of thousands of times when we make love, but the first time is special. Now, lie naked on the bed, on your back. Place your hands over your head, and don’t move unless I order you. Is that clear?’

By way of answer, the slave bent forward and kissed her feet. ‘Completely, my Mistress.’

Severin got on the bed as ordered, and a few moments later, Decca sat astride him - and mounted him. Searing pleasure passed through her like fire. She was petite, and he was big. Slowly, she began to move back and forth, riding her newfound property. With amazing discipline, the slave, though probably aching to cum, controlled himself. The result was predictable. Within the briefest time, Decca reached a burning, almost unbearable climax. Unable to contain her passion, she screamed.

She rested for a few minutes on his chest, stroking and biting him. Then a few minutes later, the process was repeated. And soon after that, a third time. On this occasion, as she approached climax, she yelled at the slave: ‘Cum! You can cum!’ As she reached her own release, she slapped Severin across the face, hard, forehand and backhand, again and again. And the act of her hurting him was an expression of her power, and gave her climax even greater force. At almost the same moment, Severin exploded within her, gasping with passion and relief.

It took some time for the lovers, owner and property, to recover. Finally, Decca raised herself over Severin and addressed him. ‘You did well, slave. Even better than I hoped. If I hadn’t already decided to buy you, this would have settled the matter. Well, tonight is the first of thousands. In future, you’ll sleep by the side of my bed, on the floor, so that I can warm my feet on you when I get up. But tonight is special, as I said, so you’ll have the special honour of sleeping at my feet.’

Delighted, Severin gently took Decca’s hand, and kissed it. A few moments later, he was lying near the bottom of the bed, Decca’s feet resting imperiously on his chest. Nervously, Severin grasped her right foot, and moved it towards his lips.

‘Mistress, may I?’ he asked, humbly.

‘You may.’

The slave began to lick his Mistress’s foot, running his tongue over instep, arch, toes, heel, savouring the taste of her skin, revelling in his submission.

For Decca, it was the perfect end to a perfect day. The first of many.