Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 20.

by Jackie J

The first week of the new regime at Stoneleigh passed quickly and Jess’s routines became established. The care of Lady Isabelle was her constant responsibility, dosed with Laudanum morning noon and night she would never be returning to her station in life. Jess had no choice but to follow Miss Matrina’s instructions regarding her harnessed pet and by the end of the first week all the signs of Winifred’s emotional and physical capitulation to her torment were becoming manifest.

Thankfully still using the grid but now enthusiastically nuzzling slops from the trough. Jess wanted to remove the cowl speak to Winifred, find out what had gone on, gone wrong, who are these two amazons who had taken control of Stoneleigh, what happened to Mary Downton? So many questions but Jess already knew better than to disobey her new Mistress and having hosed down the pen and pet, filled the food trough with swill prepared to leave the east wing.

When Jess turned to leave stood behind her was a smiling Sharista making her jump.

“You were fond of that were you not Jessica but look at it now rummaging in its own filth.”

Sharista walked to the pen and hooking a lead chain to her pet’s collar pulled it from the pen and having wound up its clitoral stimulator chained it on a short lead to a wall ring.

“Let us show it who owns you now girl on your knees.”

It was not the first time Jessica had pleasured her new Mistress and it would not be the last and she dutifully obeyed. Sharista smiled at the fretting grunting pet chained to the wall, with its clitoris being feathered, disturbed at having to watch Jessica enthusiastically licking and lapping in the soft pick folds of the woman who now took her place, Jessica having taken to her new Mistress like a cat to cream. Sharista moaned her pleasure at her maid’s technique a technique tutored and honed by the now harnessed helpless wretch chained to the wall that was Winifred Hutchings. 

Sharista’s display of ownership of Jessica had the desired effect on her pet which squirmed and wriggled tugging on its chain in frustration each twist and tug working its fat dong deep within its sloppy slot. For some reason the pet’s angst excited Jessica and licking a sluice of her Mistresses offering from her lips leaned away and pawed under the pet’s belly to rewind the clitoral stimulator.

Sharista realising what Jessica was doing laughed watching her stimulated pet once again start to shake and grunt before guiding the talented tongue of her maid back to her eager dripping warmth. 

During the coming week Jessica’s new Mistress continued to poison her mind regarding Winifred telling her how Winifred had planned to put Jessica into a harness and have her for her pet which of course could not have been further from the truth. Under duress during her time at 27 Grafton Street, along with all the other secrets she divulged, Winifred had confessed to having feelings for Jessica and under the whip was taunted by Sharista about what she would do to her Lady maid. Winifred no longer in a position to challenge these accusations Jessica took her Mistresses words to be true, especially having been told the fate of Lady Downton at the hands of Winifred. Jessica was shared between the beds of the new Mistress and house keeper of Stoneleigh during the coming weeks more so the house keeper, Miss Matrina spending a good deal of her time away from the manor. The building work which stated during the second week of the new occupancy continued apace the many rooms that had lain idle and unused transformed into suites similar to those at Grafton Street.

A month had soon elapsed, Lady Isabelle kept stupefied oblivious to the many changes, Sharista’s pet now just that having been stripped of its dignity and devoid of humanity a figure of ridicule and amusement the harnessed naked women with the flabby pussy being paraded around the manor on the end of a leash by the Mistress of Stoneleigh Sharista Matrina. Jess was back to more mundane duties around the manor with the other maids. Jess was now the head maid both Cathy and Peggy along with Maud had left Stoneleigh shortly after Miss Matrina took over. Unlike Jess all three were free to leave. 

The East wing had in part been converted into a dormitory which was quickly filled with Sharista’s leather clad beauties, along with increasing the number of pens in preparation for Black Cat’s clients. Jess had a sneaky admiration for the girls who had no shame in parading half naked about the hall. Carriages started to arrive and depart on a regular basis finely dressed guests partaking of their pleasures. The grand and luxurious Stoneleigh manor taking the place of the cramped accommodation of 27 Grafton Street, the whole place became alive and Jess and her maids were kept busy ensuring the grandeur of Stoneleigh was maintained. 

Jonathan, Lord Cranwell was now in India having taken a commission with the East India Company, drink and the freely available carnal pleasures serving to dull the embarrassment and pain of the desertion by his wife Lady Florence. Jonathan having no intention of returning to Cranwell and the memories that haunted him, why did she not answer his letters, why did she leave so suddenly, where did she go, why was his mother so pleased? Jonathans mind in turmoil, his body increasing pickled in drink, his dreams filled with demons of the battlefield and his loss he was caught in a downward spiral of despair. Letters from his mother begging his return to Cranwell ignored his colleagues were becoming increasingly worried about his reckless lifestyle and welfare. An extended period of sickness laid him low and when his fever eventually broke he was a shadow of the gallant officer that strode across his steed in the Crimea. 

Sick of the heat, flies, disease and boredom Jonathan left the East India company and travelled somewhat aimlessly drink and loose women his constant companions. Eighteen months it could have been more found Lord Cranwell arriving on the Caribbean Island of Antigua. The long sea voyage had purged most of his excesses and fresh faced he looked forward to meeting up with an old acquaintance Cedric Delany who owned a large sugar plantation on the island.

Cedric always a bit of a rake had prospered in the West Indies and after a journey through shanties and fields of cane Jonathan was greeted on the veranda of Cedric’s palatial residence with a healthy glass of rough rum.  They laughed and reminisced, good times and bad all history now. Tears flowed when the subject came around to Florence and Cedric was at an absolute loss to why Florence would just up stick and leave Jonathan and Cranwell, why would she?  

Cedric suggested something just wasn’t right, why was his mother Lady Catherine so sanguine about the whole affair if not actually pleased Florence was out of his life and Mary Downton, that scheming cow, why would Jonathan countenance such a union having chosen Florence over her previously? It just did not add up, it just did not add up at all.

Cedric realised that Jonathan needed cheering up and after twelve weeks at sea knew exactly what was in order. That evening they would be heading to St John’s and the house of Madame Deville, the best whore house on the island if not in the whole of the Caribbean.

The facade of the red dog was impressive a large colonial building said to have been bequeathed to Madame Deville by a grateful client. The doors opened by two huge guys Jonathan stopped momentarily gazing at a beggar woman some yards back from the doors. Nothing odd about a beggar in St John’s but his eyes were drawn by her dank blonde tangled hair. Her skin was dark but not by birth more weathered her clothes rags? Jonathan’s arm tugged he was inside the brothel.

Cedric that woman, blonde hair that can’t be natural here surely?

Cedric laughed

“Mad Mary, she came over on one of the boats about a year ago could have been longer, yes probably two years now. Prostitutes are sent over from Europe when they have been ploughed out in the fashionable brothels, holes like buckets. The crew fuck them stupid during the voyage over, better than nothing I suppose, then try and sell them on when they arrive. That one is mad as a brush she hangs round the brothel gets a few hand and blow jobs for a few cents. Tells anyone who will listen she was a Lady back in England, mad as a box of frogs, come on top floor for us Jonathan.”

Jonathan was no stranger to the ways of the girls of the night and slaked his lust between the spread thighs of two high end beauties, one offering her services for free to be fucked by a real Lord. His eyes closed pumping in his seed Jonathan thought, like he always did, of his love Florence.

The sun was high in the sky when Jonathans blinking eyes left the dimness of Madame Deville’s and he staggered out into the daylight. Cedric was close behind a half-drunk bottle of rum in hand which he passed to Jonathan. Having taken a good swallow Jonathan stretched and looked out over the manicured lawns their neatness only disturbed by what appeared to be a bundle of rags by the far wall, protruding from the rags a mop of lank blonde hair, mad Mary. Jonathan was like Florence in many ways, probably that’s what attracted them to each other. He had listened to the story by Cedric and felt sorry for her, the wretched women having obviously slept by the wall after no doubt sucking sour cock for a few cents. Despite Cedric warning Jonathan not to approach her he did and pulled back the ragged blanket she was swathed in. An empty rum bottle by her side even the morning breeze that swept the lawns could not dispel and dissipate her stench when the blanket was disturbed. Weathered hands clawed to scrape the meagre covering back around the bedraggled rag clad body. Jonathan tore it back and stared down at the wretched woman taking a guinea from his pocket.

“Here woman some money for you.”

The women half crawled to Jonathan’s boots and pulled herself to her knees on his legs and stared back at him a silver locket around her neck catching his eye. She smiled, missing and blackened teeth on display. Her words slurred, it was obvious however that she was offering that chasm of decay for Jonathan’s pleasure. The locket dangled free around her neck and was now in clear view. Jonathan gulped and grabbed at the locket, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t but it was?

“Where did you get this you witch? Where did you steal it?”

Mad Mary’s head wobbled a silly smile on her face; along with her madness she was heavily inebriated. Jonathan grabbed at the bodice of her thread bare dress the force ripping as under the worn tattered fabric her tits bouncing free, the silly smile never leaving her face.

Jonathan pulled back her ear to reveal a scar then looked deeper into the woman’s cloudy blue eyes then letting her drop to the floor staggered away.

“No, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t.. Oh no, in all God’s kingdoms this cannot be true.”

The loudness of Jonathan’s shouts brought faces to every window of the bordello.

“Cedric, Cedric, Cedric come here come here, for the love of god come here!”

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