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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / Theirs to Train: A Victorian Menage Romance by Samantha Madisen – Extended Preview

Theirs to Train: A Victorian Menage Romance by Samantha Madisen – Extended Preview

“This is the room where you will be trained,” Mr. Blackstone announced, in his authoritative voice.

Lina clutched her skirts in her fists to stop herself from opening her mouth to say something, for she very much wanted to ask Mr. Blackstone a question. Her bottom, however, was still very sore from her discipline the day before, and while the thought of being spanked again held a certain, perverse appeal for her, she knew better than to push her luck.

But the curiosity that had burned inside of her all night long was ignited in her chest again. If only she could know what lay in store for her, what it all meant… if only she could decide if she should try to flee, again… or stay.

Charlotte’s words ricocheted in her mind: sexually perverse.

Lina did not have any way of knowing what that would mean, and yet her imagination was running wild, stirring her up, clutching her chest with a strangling fear.

“Turn around,” Mr. Blackstone ordered.

Lina did as she was told, and found herself facing a wall of implements of all shapes and sizes, most of which were not recognizable to her, but some which were—whips, of a sort she had never seen before, with many thick leather straps and elaborately carved handles. There were many ivory objects carved into shapes that looked very much like a naughty picture drawn in the courtyard of her building back in France. The picture had caused all the women to laugh, but the children had been forbidden to know what it represented.

The memory made Lina’s cheeks burn, for while she had not known then, and did not know now for certain what these objects mimicked, she suspected very much that it was a man’s “manhood.”

“Disrobe,” Blackstone said.

Lina turned quickly, shocked, her mouth open in protest. Blackstone was no longer standing where he had been just moments before, but had, as was typical of him, disappeared into the shadows.

“Mr. Blackstone, I—”

“For your disobedience now, I shall take my hand to your backside five times, Miss Blanchet. Part of your training, which we simply must make progress in, is that you must understand the role of your master, and your unquestioned obedience to him. I am your master. Face the wall as I requested and disrobe.”

Lina turned back to the wall and closed her eyes to the assortment of objects for a moment as she reached for the laces of her frock. She fumbled for a moment, and tugged at the laces, but with her shaking hands was unable to loosen the tight knots the maid had formed.

She was nearly sweating when she at last gave up.

“Sir,” she whispered. “I wish to obey you, but I…I can…I cannot…”

She heard Blackstone’s movement as he rose, and she turned her chin subtly to the right to catch a glimpse of him.

“Face the wall,” he growled, and she snapped her eyes back on the wall of devices. She could feel his presence behind her, even though she did not know how close he was. Her skin tingled without him even touching her.

His fingers went first to her neck, brushing lightly over her skin and sending a scandalous current of pleasure down her spine. She knew that her skin had turned to goose-flesh and hoped that he did not see it.

He tugged, first pulling hard on the ribbing of the dress so that it squeezed her tightly, before tugging at the laces to loosen the corset.

His fingers brushed over her shoulders, making her tremble, and he slid the dress from them with a soft caress over her skin.

The material slipped down her arms, and then her waist, and her hands flew instinctively to cover herself.

His arms encircled her suddenly, rock-solid and warm through his shirt. She could feel his muscles flex with their coiled strength against her forearms as he encircled her wrists and pulled at her arms, peeling away her futile act of modesty. “You shall keep your arms at your sides, or wherever I command you to place them,” he breathed.

His breath was hot against her neck, right where his fingers had touched. Her eyes felt very heavy, and they closed slowly as she exhaled sharply, trying to contain the sensations bubbling inside her body. He enclosed her wrists, behind her back, with the wiry strength of only one hand, and she could feel that resistance against him would have been as futile as resisting iron chains.

Yet, the primary feeling that moved inside of her was not the one she expected. Even worse, it was a feeling that was decidedly improper. The cool air against her bare breasts was exhilarating, and she could see, with a glance down, that the ache in her nipples must have come from the peculiar change in them: they had hardened into tight knots that were longing, as if they were a separate part of her mind and body, to feel Mr. Blackstone’s fingers brush over them as his breath had done to her neck.

A whimper nearly escaped her throat, but she doused it the best that she could. Still, Mr. Blackstone reacted to the soft sound that hummed in her throat, by squeezing her wrists more tightly, and tugging them down so that she had no choice but to arch her back and tip her neck slightly, thrusting her nipples up even more immodestly.

“I have not begun, Miss Blanchet,” he growled, next to her ear, and her body gave a shudder that was not at all unpleasant.

In an instant, however, she was being turned around, Mr. Blackstone staying behind her with her hands in his fierce grip. Once she faced away from the wall, she could see the rest of the room, largely occupied by a low, leather-upholstered piece of furniture that looked very much like a bed, with four tall posters at each corner. But where a mattress and bedding might have been, there was only the fine leather upholstery.

Ominously, from each of the four posters hung chains with leather cuffs at the ends.

Her mouth opened and a very small gasp escaped her. Perhaps she might have said something at that moment, if only she had been able to think of what to say. Mr. Blackstone pushed her forward, and so she stepped out of the crumpled dress as she moved with his will, until her thighs were against the cool leather of the bed.

“Bend over the bed and place your hands on either side of your head. I will administer your discipline before we begin, so perhaps you may consider giving greater weight to my instructions as we proceed.”

His fingers released her wrists, and they slid limply to her waist as she stared at the mattress. The implications of the bed fluttered about in her mind: a bed was a place where men and women did the very naughty things that only married men and women did, and while no one had ever spoken of such naughtiness, she was certain that she knew something of what was to take place.

Or at least that it was very, very forbidden.

“I—” she began but cut herself off.

She had no choice, she remembered. If she disobeyed Mr. Blackstone, she would only feel more of his unrelenting punishment on the still-burning skin of her bottom, and perhaps worse.

But bending over seemed obscene.

Surely it was?

The thought of such obscenity, of her naked body on full display for Mr. Blackstone as she bent at the waist and obeyed him, again caused the finger of pleasurable humiliation to snake through her naughtiest places. Deep and low in her belly, almost to—that place—an ache, much like the craving to be touched that still held her nipples in tight balls, cried out and pulsed as if an animal lived inside of her.

It only grew as she placed her hands on the bed, obeying, and the cool leather grazed her nipples. Her breath was coming in ragged, shallow gulps, and Mr. Blackstone did nothing for several moments, only intensifying her fear, pleasure—and though she was loathe to admit it to herself—her curiosity.

She jumped when his fingers touched her ear and then raked through her hair, pulling her face to one side. Gently, he applied pressure to her head until her cheek was against the leather. Propped this way, her bare chest and head were against the mattress, but her bottom was elevated slightly.

The warm liquid that had welled up between her legs the night before was returning. She could feel it as she shifted her weight, making her thighs slippery, and the place between them even slipperier. She could not understand why this happened, and her cheeks burned with humiliation. What might Mr. Blackstone think?

She waited, her stomach coiling into knots, in the silence that followed. It seemed eternally long, though she knew it was not. It was long enough for her to think of the sensation of his hand smacking against the skin of her bottom, and with that thought, for a feverish shiver to travel through her.

She could not help the gasp that escaped her when the next unexpected sensation reached her mind: a tickling, slightly rough, limp something, like a many-fingered animal, or the tassels of a pillow, grazed her backside. It moved over the lowest part of her back, tickling, from side to side, several times. She strained her eyes to see what it was without disobeying Mr. Blackstone, but this only caused her a headache, and she could see only that he was behind her, dangling something over her bottom.

The something, then, dipped between her legs, where its many limp fingers slid through the strange wetness there, and some of them grazed her most intimate places, places that screamed to be touched, all while her mind told her how very naughty it was to even think about those places. The fingers traveled up, between her buttocks, across her other hole, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the pleasure and the humiliation.

“I am going to whip you soundly with this device, Miss Blanchet, to discipline you for your disobedience earlier. When you feel the pain of each stroke, you are to meditate deeply upon your disobedience, and the pleasure it gives you to be punished. You will then thank me for your discipline and beg me to give you another.”

As he spoke, the “device” made circles over her skin, driving her insides to wild convulsions she did not understand. “You will practice the words and actions of submission, and also the thoughts, until such time as they become your reality. We begin.”

The heat of the strap, and its many, many fingers, flashed over her right buttock not a breath after this utterance, and so quite unexpectedly. She cried out, more in surprise than in pain; for while it stung, and radiated in many directions, biting into her flesh in smaller and more concentrated strips than the flogger had, the pain was secondary to something else inside of her. The naughty feeling roared between her legs.

She exhaled all of the air in her chest and stared at her hand. As the wave of heat rolled across her skin, she forgot all else, including Mr. Blackstone’s instructions.

“Miss Blanchet.”

“Sir,” she said quickly. “I… I… I… I have quite forgotten what…wh…wh…what I am to do…” she stuttered.

The pain preceded the sound of the strap, that of limp noodles slapped on a table, this time across her other buttock. “You are to do nothing. You are to think of the pleasure of your discipline, and the pleasure of your submission. And then, you are to thank me, and beg me to give you more of it.”

She could not suffocate the whimper that trembled in her voice as she scrambled to speak: “Thank you, sir. Th…tha…thank you. I… I… ask that you… discipline me again.”

The very pronouncement of the words struck her almost as forcefully as the next strap across her bottom. The ache in her knotted stomach spread to her chest. “Thank you, sir… m…master… I… please, will you discipline me again…” she said in a hoarse whisper.

Tears overflowed in her already wet eyes as Mr. Blackstone whipped her again, and her voice was a whisper as she begged him again for more. Her skin was burning now, like it had the night before, and the wetness from between her thighs was making its way, in a cooling trickle, down her left leg.

That was five, and as she whispered her gratefulness, she wondered if she should ask him for more: did he intend to ever stop, or would he flog her all morning until she could not walk?

But her lips formed the words as he had instructed her, for she knew that it was not her place to tell him that he had numbered her whipping at five, no more.

Instead of another smack of the whip, however, he placed a hand on her bottom, pressing the sharp heat deeper into her skin. “I suspect you will require a great deal more discipline, Miss Blanchet,” he said. “And we have much to accomplish today. Now,” his voice was slightly more distant, and she realized that he was returning to the wall of objects. “Leave your hands and your head as they are and place your knees on the edge of the bed.”

Lina tried to look back at him and was grateful that he was turned away and did not see her. “Sss…sir…?”

“Do as I say, Miss Blanchet. Lift one knee to the edge of the bed, and then the other. You are correct if you have concluded that this will place you in a most submissive, sexual position. But it is not your place to wonder, only to obey. It is I who mandates.”

Lina could scarcely believe her ears, but she slowly placed a knee on the edge of the bed, which forced her to push her bottom up into the air.

“Very good, Miss Blanchet. I am very pleased. Now the other leg. But you will part your legs wide, so that I may have access to your cunny and your bottom.”

It was far too much for Lina, who put her lifted leg down on the ground again. She remained with her face to the mattress but pulled her legs together closely. “Mr. Blackstone, sir, please,” she said. “I… I… I cannot—”

“You can, Miss Blanchet, and you will. You will lift your bottom, and spread your legs, and I shall have access to your cunny to do with as I see fit. You shall be trained to obey and submit to the will of your master. You have earned ten lashes with this display, and should you continue to disobey me, you shall find that there are other ways to punish disobedient girls. Now. Place your knees on the bed or you shall find out what they are.”

Lina obeyed, clumsily, and her face burned again as she pictured herself, what she must look like, her bottom thrust into the air and her legs apart as she had been told time and again to never, ever do.

Another long pause preceded Mr. Blackstone’s next step in her education, and it was more torturous than the previous one, for she had no idea what to expect next, or any way of imagining what it might be.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and pushed herself up a few inches in surprise when she felt something cool against her wet place, what had he called it? “Cunny?” Was that the name for this part, a part that she knew only as “womanhood,” if this was in fact what it was?

And why, she wondered, did it feel so… so… strange? Almost good, even though it was so wrong. His fingers dipped into her wetness, and stroked the layers of her “cunny,” and then, unexpectedly, she jumped again, her whole body giving a jolt, as he touched upon something in the center of those folds that shook her like a small ball of lightning.

She exhaled sharply, and he did it again.

His fingers moved all over those secret, untouched places. When he circled her other hole, the one decidedly for her bottom, she gasped again and was shocked that the touch of his fingers was almost… pleasurable.

“When you become a mistress to my associate, Miss Blanchet, you will be expected to offer him the pleasures of your cunny, your bottom, and your mouth, whenever he demands them, for you are a servant to your master in all ways. You will submit to him and allow him to take his pleasure as he requires. He has requested that I give to him a trained girl, one who knows how to submit to him properly and accept his cock inside of her without modesty, with obedience and submission.”

Inside of her?


Lina’s mind spun wildly, and although she could not be sure what any of these words meant, she suspected that she knew where this “cock” would be placed: in the very throbbing center of her, those places that cried out for his touch as much as she desired to hide them away.

His fingers were gone, and another whimper gurgled in her throat. His fingers grasped her right wrist next, just as his body brushed against the inside of her thigh. With a gentleness that contrasted with the force with which he was handling her before, he pulled her arm up to her back, and repeated this gesture somberly with her left hand. She knew, when she felt them, that the straps wrapping around her wrists were the same kind that she had seen dangling from the four posters of the bed.

When his fingers released her wrists, they dropped until they pulled against a countervailing force from above, and she realized that her hands were strapped to something hanging above her.

“In time you will learn to restrain yourself if your master requests that you do so. You shall be expected to remain motionless if this is what is asked of you, or to move as is required by your master. But sometimes you shall be tied down so that you understand your master’s power over you, so that you are humbled, and he may do with you as he pleases.”

As he said this, she felt him wrapping thick straps around her ankles, the force of them pulling down and to the sides. In combination with the arms restraints, she was paralyzed, spread apart with her bottom in the air, for Mr. Blackstone to do with as he pleased.

“Sir,” she panted, as the realization that he could do whatever he liked to her spilled over her.

“Miss Blanchet, I believe I mentioned to you that you will not speak unless I request that you do so, did I not?”

She sniffled and pondered whether or not to respond. “Sir, yes,” she said after a pause, “But sir, I m…m…must insist, I am not…this is most improper, I…I…”

Something cold, like polished stone, touched her in the very center of her anus, cutting her off mid-sentence with the shock of it. Her hole squeezed and pulsed as the object, with a sweetly agonizing ache, pushed a little bit inside of her.

“Oh, sir, Mr. Blackstone, sir,” she breathed. “It’s not… it is… most…”

“Miss Blanchet, it is most improper to gallivant about with a young man a fortnight before your own wedding. Surely, this is not so very improper as what you have already done.”

Lina opened her mouth wide at that moment to protest most strenuously, for while she was certain it would make very little difference to Mr. Blackstone, she was indignant at the suggestion, yet again, that she had done anything improper at all with Mr. Carrington.

“Si—” she began, but Blackstone was already near her mouth with a leather ball of some sort, and he popped it between her lips, pushing her jaw open, at the moment she chose to speak so brazenly. He tapped it in gently, over her protestations, until her jaw ached, as it was spread open so wide. The ball had straps sewn into it as well, and he tied these around her head so that try as she might to expel the ball, it remained in her mouth, stretching her jaw open a bit uncomfortably, and her words were muffled by it so that she knew they just echoed in her own skull and came to Blackstone as snuffed moans.

And then, the cool, hard object kissing her anus pressed in further, making her howl into her gag. A sharp pain made her yelp. She went stiff and silent, as the cold, long object slowly, slowly, pushed inside of her deeper. Slowly, inch after inch of cool smoothness sinking deep into her body, the cool ivory warmed after a few moments, until the only thing she could feel was the rock-hard fullness of it in her bottom.

Her eyes were wide, and she screamed into the gag, but even more strangely, she found her body craving the object inside of her. She wanted it even deeper, touching even more intimate places. Places inside of her that ached in ways she never could have understood were touched for the first time and awakened, and while the bright red of her cheeks revealed her humiliation, the damnable wetness between her legs served only to tell of the truth within her body.

Mr. Blackstone pushed and pushed, ever-so-slowly pressing the hardness into her deeper. Each inch that filled her made her legs tremble more violently, as the cacophony of sensations crashed together inside of her. The object seemed to get wider, stretching her open, making her eyes water, and then, suddenly, it plunged into her as though sucked inside. A lip seemed to plunge inside of her, and the object was narrow again. It seemed that it was secured inside of her by the lip of the object, which pressed against her anus from within.

It became apparent to her that still protruding from her bottom-hole was some part of the object, perhaps a handle or bauble of some kind. She recognized its presence when Blackstone began to push it, slowly and gently, in small circles, which caused the long piece inside of her to press against her insides in opposite directions, stirring to life an ache like the one in her cunny in… that place.

“I intend to fuck you in your bottom-hole, Miss Blanchet, but first you must learn to accommodate the size of a man’s cock. And learn to crave it, obediently and submissively, so that when your master chooses to pleasure himself in this way, you will open to him and accept his attention willingly.”

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