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Under Two Masters by Passion St. John

Under Two Masters 
(Passion St. John)

Under Two Masters

Chapter 1


Albert watched the clock. Soon he would have her. He would not have to put up with her simpering virgin smiles any longer. No longer would he have to play the interested suitor. He would strip her; he would mark her perfect flesh; she would become his toy. He had patiently stalked her like prey.

Never had she realized when they danced that in his mind he had her tied to a post flogging her, or when he read her poetry in that hideous eyesore of a home, that he could imagine her naked at his feet, pleading for him to spare her more punishment. For six endless months he had played the game of courtship, always wearing the face of gentle love while raping her in his mind. She was his and nothing would stop him now.




Amy stood in front of the mirror, brushing her long brown hair into smooth curls. She wore the beautiful white gown her aunt had insisted upon and only hoped that her husband would find it as lovely as she did. Husband. She stopped brushing her hair and looked at the new gold band on her finger. It all seemed so strange to think that she was married. Tonight was her wedding night; tonight was her first night at sea. She was filled with such excitement. Aunt Heddie said that it would hurt at first, but it could be pleasant later. She had overheard other women discuss the pleasures of married life and of lovers. She hoped that Albert would be gentle, that he would also be her lover. He had been so good to her while they courted. Surely nothing unpleasant could happen tonight.

She wondered when Albert would return from the ship's smoking room. Even now the ship was steaming toward her new home in England. Aunt Heddie was her only family left and not in good health. For many years, Amy had longed for more family, for holidays not spent in dreary, closed-up rooms. She looked forward to her new life, imagining parties with society, the beautiful manor that Albert had described to her, and eventually, children of her own. It was a good match. Albert could provide her with security, love and a family; she brought with her a large inheritance to help with his estates. She felt a moment’s pang. Albert had come to America with his twin brother James. She actually felt more attracted to him, but Aunt Heddie had insisted that she set her sights for Albert. Albert had the title while James was just the younger brother.

"Will there be anything else, your Ladyship?" the young freckle-faced maid asked, carrying the damp towels from Amy’s bath.

"No," Amy struggled to remember her name, "No, Jane. That will be all until morning."

The girl curtsied and left. Amy took a deep breath and decided to sit in the wing chair to wait. It did not feel any different being married, but it did feel different to be called Ladyship, or Lady Hawthorne.

She picked up the book of poetry she had packed and was leafing through it when the door opened. Albert stepped in and shut the door.

Amy stood and smoothed the thin cotton gown nervously and smiled at him, blushing to be so indecent in front of a man. Her smile faded as he kept staring, his gaze cold.

"Do you like it, Albert?" she ventured shyly.

"Yes, very suitable for a young virgin bride," he began to remove his waistcoat as he walked around her, inspecting her. "Take it off."

"Off?” Amy blinked. Aunt Heddie had told her to be modest even in the presence of her husband.

"OFF!" he barked, tossing the waistcoat to a chair, and then removing his tie and collar. "You are my wife and I will see what I have gotten. Take it off, or I will rip it off of you."

Amy trembled at the cold anger. He had never raised his voice to her before.

"Of course, Albert," her hands shook as she removed the gown and carefully laid it on the bed. Nervously, she covered herself with her hands, unable to quite meet his eyes.

She saw him move closer, walking around her again. Amy was completely unprepared for the rough movement as he grabbed her arms from behind and tightly bound her wrists together with his tie.

"What are you doing?" she tried to turn around, but he grabbed her long loose hair and pulled it until she was bent backwards like a bow, unable to move without pain.

"You will obey me and you will obey me quickly," he hissed in her ear, "You will never cover yourself in my presence unless I have told you that you may. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," she whimpered in pain, "Please, Albert, you are hurting me!"

He laughed, shoving her toward the bed. Unable to catch herself, she landed face down on the bed. He moved quickly, retrieving from his trunk a rod with a leather cuff on each end. Her confused struggles were no match for his strength. In moments the device obscenely parted her legs.

Albert sat on the bed next to her, petting her long hair soothingly, "Now, Amy, it is time for you to learn a few rules you will follow as my wife. I already discussed the first two with you. You will always promptly obey me and you will not cover yourself in my presence. The third rule, you will never speak back to me. You will address me in public as My Lord. In our home, you will address me as Master."

Amy trembled under the soft petting that belied the cold words, "Master?” Her tone held the question of disbelief.

"Sarah called Abraham ‘Master.’  Is the Bible not good enough for you?" his fingers tightened in her hair.

"It is fine," she hurriedly assured him. Still the fingers tightened and pulled painfully.

"It is fine, what?" his voice was ice that chilled her soul.

"It is fine, Master," tears of fear filled her eyes.

The fingers in her hair loosened and the petting continued. Amy blinked back tears. What had she done to anger him? Marriage was not supposed to be like this. Her husband had rights over her body, but not like this. She tried to wiggle free of the bonds, but she was secured.

“Please, M-Master,” she stumbled over the name, “Why are you doing this?”

He stood and moved across the stateroom, "I think you need a lesson on the fact that as your husband, I am your Lord and Master."

He came back to her and pulled her head back with her hair, forcing something into her mouth. With deft fingers he fastened the strap at the back of her head. Amy fought the hard cloth ball that filled her mouth, but the strap held it fast. She began to scream, but the cloth muffled the sound to a level that would not carry beyond the stateroom.

Terror began to fill her. This could not be happening. Albert had always been gentle and kind to her. Not once had he taken advantage of her, and now this? Surely he would free her and there would be some explanation.

Albert stood at the foot of the bed and watched with dark delight at the sight of his naked struggling wife. She was far lovelier than he had imagined. While she was not a striking beauty, her pale skin would hold the marks he planned so well. Her fear was intoxicating. He doubted that she had ever been spanked in her life, let alone imagined what he had planned for her tonight.

He took the leather razor strap from the wall and waited. He waited until she stopped wiggling. He could almost hear her thinking that this was some disturbing game. He had not really hurt her – yet. The anticipation of her pain made him begin to harden.

With a sardonic smile, he leaned over her, speaking in a gentle voice, playing with her mind, “I’ll let you up now. I was just joking.” Her body relaxed and he laughed deeply, lifting the strap in the air.

With a skill that showed hours of practice he brought the strap down across the smooth heart-shaped posterior. Her muffled scream was like a shot of an opiate to him and he gave her another stroke. Ah, yes, the red mark blossomed on her skin. He moved the next blow to the sensitive skin of her upper thighs. After several more hard strokes of the strap he sat by her head and petted her again.

"See, I am your Master, am I not?"

She nodded frantically, her plain brown eyes glistening with tears and fear.

He smiled at the sight of her distress. She was going to provide him with hours of pleasure. It might even make the dull trip home a bit interesting.

"Good, now my Chattel, I am going to continue to beat you as it pleases me to do so. Think of it as punishment for speaking back to me, for covering yourself, for not obeying quickly."

He laughed at her muffled cry of pure distress and went to the trunk again. Winston had packed all the tools that he had requested. Lovingly, he removed the leather flogger.

Amy lay helpless before him, a canvass for his best work. It was his wedding night and he planned to make the most of it. Albert began a steady, smooth stroke across her back, buttocks and thighs until her whole body glowed with the redness of pain.

He took a break, sipping cognac and watching her sob into the bed. Refreshed, he removed his shirt and trousers and stood in his small clothes. The bed was big enough that he only needed to roll her over to get her facing up.

One look at those fear-filled eyes wet with tears and he almost came then and there. Her breasts were full and pert, delightfully topping her narrow waist. He would have to look at her corsets. He wanted to be sure she was wearing ones that would please him best, when he allowed her to wear anything at all.

"Have you learned your lesson, Wife?" he asked sweetly. Her frantic nodding made him smile. He shook his head, glorying as the brief light of hope in her eyes faded to renewed fear.

"I am only half done with your punishment. I have these to whip too," her caressed her breasts with the whip, teasing them each until her dark nipples stood hard despite her fear.

When he felt she was ready, he began the same steady strokes of the flogger. Her screams, still muffled, were shaper than before and she wiggled and jiggled more. By the time her breasts were as red as her backside, he was ready himself.

He stepped out of the small clothes and knelt above her. With no tenderness he checked to see if she was wet or not. She was adequately lubricated for his needs.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he began a slow penetration, his own eyes closed at the pleasure of having something so tight wrap around him. Her whimpers of fear and pain, muffled by the gag were soft and pleasing to him. He imagined her as begging, pleading for more pain.  The power was intoxicating and her helplessness to prevent anything that he desired to do to her was the key.

Albert grabbed a breast in each hand and began to squeeze them tightly, feeling her body squeeze even tighter around him. He thrust hard, feeling the resistance give and began a hard cadence on her body. The pleasure of her around him was so great that he began to stroke even harder, feeling him press in against her womb. He loved how his grunts of pleasure mingled with the stifled sounds of her terror and pain. He wanted to be sure that she never forgot this night.

He came deep inside of her with great personal satisfaction. When he was done, he rose and cleaned the blood from his cock and looked back at his wife. She lay there, bound, spread and stunned at the force he had used. Just looking at her helplessness made him want to hurt her more, to use her body again and again.

Albert returned to the chest and looked for his next toy. The night was still very young.




Amy moved carefully from the bedroom into the sitting room. Albert was seated at the table there, sipping his coffee and talking softly with his valet. She wondered if the thin, cold-looking man knew about the previous night. She pushed that thought away. How could he? Everything seemed so normal now. Her lawn waist, trimmed in ecru lace and the gored skirt were sufficient to hide all the marks that she now bore, but the cosmetics only partially hid the small bruise at the side of her mouth from the gag. Jane had said nothing while dressing her, but Amy had caught the look of pity in her eyes.

Albert looked up at her with cold, clinical pleasure, "You look lovely dear, please be seated.”

Gingerly, she sat, her buttocks were sore from the beating last night and doubly from the short beating this morning when he found she had put on drawers. Jane had just left and he had made Amy stand to be inspected. He had lifted her skirts and seen them. She had felt the anger pour from him as he pushed her to the bed, ripping the fine cotton from her body. He grabbed the razor strap and beat her in a stony silence punctuated only by her muffled sobbing and the sound of leather on bare flesh. After twenty strokes he stopped, straightened his clothes and suggested she join him in the sitting room for breakfast. Surely she was safe now in the presence of the help, she thought as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"I did not say you could have anything to eat," his soft, cold tone rattled her as much as if he had shouted and she almost dropped the coffee pot.

Amy managed to put it down safely and gave a nervous, apologetic smile, "I am sorry my Lord. I will remember to wait next time."

"What did you call me?" each word came out hard and dark as he stood up, towering over her, displeasure radiating from his eyes.

"My Lord, as you instructed," Amy whispered, pushing her chair back in fear.

" Do you see any 'public' around? No, we are not in public."

"No," she glanced at Winston who was leering at her and she realized with cold certainty that he did know everything. "No, Master. I beg your forgiveness for my error."

That seemed to pacify him and he sat again and nodded to her, "You may have a cup of coffee, nothing more. Before you do, show me your cunt."

Amy blinked, “My what?”

Albert gave her an irritated look, “Your cunt, your cuny, you twat, your pussy. I want to see between your legs. You will not wear under things to hide it from me. You must be accessible to my desires at any time. Now show me your cunt, you little whore!”

There was only one way to do that. Her fear of another beating so soon and the outrage that he would use such a word directed at her gave her the impetus to lift her skirts so that he could see her bare sex and the edge of the corset. She trembled, trying not to cry at the humiliation.

While she was standing displayed, there was a knock on the door. She started to drop her skirt, but at a warning sound from Albert she remained stock-still.

"Your brother is arrived, Sir," Winston announced.

"Send him in. He should see this sorry excuse for a woman."

Winston led in a young man that looked identical to Albert in all save his eyes. Where Albert had blue eyes, James had green eyes.

James looked at Amy, standing there with her skirts lifted to the room. He could see the red marks on her thighs that told him she had been through a long night.

"She is lovely, brother. Nicely marked," he complimented as he took another seat and let Winston pour him a cup of tea. The American obsession with coffee was not to his taste. "Looks like she was a handful last night."

He heard her stifle a sob softly behind her skirts.

"Nothing I could not handle, James. She will take some training of course, but in time she will do anything I ask without thought or question.” James looked at the welts on her skin and smiled coldly. He would have her stand like this in the main salon if he could. She deserved nothing better.

James added some sugar to the tea and stirred it, admiring Amy's dark brown fuzz at the cleft of her thighs, "That may be so, but she will never love you."

Albert laughed, "Only fools worry of love. She is my wife, not my lover. You are always too kind to the bitches, worrying about their feelings and if they loved you. See how much that has done for you?"

"You never saw beyond the pain to the pleasure. Did Amy have any pleasure of last night?” James let a touch of anger tinge his words.

Albert shrugged indicating that he did not care, "Take her if you wish, James. The more she is fucked, the sooner she will breed an heir. I would rather it be you than Winston. In fact, do her now and start earning your keep. I wish to watch while I have my breakfast."

Amy dropped her skirts in shock, “Alber- Master! Please, Oh God, No!”

Albert half-rose until her fear of him silenced her, “shut up, Bitch and obey. I will punish you later for that.”

Amy bit her lip and stood trembling.

James stood, "As you wish, Albert.” He looked around the room and decided on the loveseat. He took Amy's hand, and led her to the back of the loveseat.

He looked into her fear-filled eyes and smiled gently at her, "What Albert will not tell you, Amy, is that he is infertile. He is in need of an heir, but cannot produce one himself. Therefore, I shall be around to help in this task.

"You will obey me as you obey Albert, but I will show you the pleasure of obedience, too, in time. Right now, I have other business; I must honor my agreement with my brother."

With no further words, he bent her face first over the loveseat and lifted her skirts, rolling them neatly as to avoid telltale wrinkles later. Her buttocks were covered with welt marks in a tantalizing design. James loosed his trousers and in a few moments was thrusting inside of her. He could feel her crying silently, but he was so in need of her body that it was all he could do at this moment not to hurt her more. She was delightfully tight and she made the nicest little noises each time he thrust.

When he was done, he lowered her skirts and turned her around. It was no wonder his brother had married her, wealth not withstanding. Her moist blue eyes made him hungry for her again.

"Kneel, Amy," he made his tone gentle but firm. She knelt, his cock now at eye level to her.

"Lick me clean now," he guided her head to his cock and smiled at her awkward and fumbling attempts to obey. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the taste of their combined fluids, but kept licking.  He would have to work on getting her to school her reactions, unless she wanted more beatings.

Albert would soon tire of her, and that would give him more time to train her properly. Albert would be especially distracted once they got back to the manor and he had his favorite stable boy again. It was only a matter of time before something Albert did or someone he had crossed would kill him and then the whole of the estate would pass to him. In time, even Amy would belong to him.

When Amy had licked him clean, James gently moved her head away. "Go into the bedroom, Amy and remove your clothing.  I will be in there in a moment."

Barely stifling a sob, Amy ran to the bedroom.

James turned to his brother, "Really, Albert. I cannot believe you did not even give her one orgasm. It is one thing to torment the housemaids, but she is your wife."

Albert gave a hard laugh as he stood and headed for the stateroom door to go out, "That is what you are for brother. Just get her pregnant."

With an irritated sigh at his brother, James went to the bedroom. Amy was struggling with the buttons on the back of her dress.

"You should have called for the maid, Amy," he chided gently and began to unfasten them himself.

Despite her fear, she stood as tall as she could and replied coldly, "I do not wish for them to know of this humiliation."

"There is little they do not know or have experienced before themselves," he removed the dress and began to unlace the corset. In a few moments, her clothing lay on the floor and she stood naked before him.