she wanted answers and she could talk quickly. Besides, there was no point screaming for help down here. Who would hear her? They were also a little too close to items which could inflict pain, should she provoke him, and she had no doubt he could capably use all of the equipment available.
He unbuckled her bridle carefully, taking care not to catch her hair, and attached it to the D-ring on her neck. He had no desire to hold the soggy thing. Reaching into his pocket he took out a carton of apple juice and poking the straw through the slot, held it to her lips. This was perhaps the last time she would drink like a human and he was feeling generous. He was amazed that he'd let her talk at all as he was not usually given to kindness, especially with new slaves. Normally he would have fed them his cock, in order to lubricate their voice for speech, but he felt a subtle reticence to do so with this one. It was unlike him.
Jenny drank the juice greedily. It didn't even rankle that the annoying man knew her throat was scratchily dry and that she wouldn't have been able to talk without something wet to loosen it. When she'd finished drinking, stopping as soon as the straw made burbling noises, she didn't waste time in posing her first question.
'Do you have many trainees here at the moment?'
'Approximately one hundred and fifty are housed here, whatever the weather and whatever the season. Most have to book a long time in advance in order to achieve a place at our stables.'
'Are they all female?'
'No. The ratio of males to females is one in three, though. Most of our applications are for girls.'
'How many people have been inside this dungeon?'
'Too many to count.'
'What is the hole in the red bench for, the one beside the door?'
'It's called the Objectifier, and it's for your head. Your head is stowed beneath the bench and you are simply an object for the dungeon Mistress to do with as she pleases.'
'What is figging?'
'It dates back to Victorian times. Initially it was used on show horses and it involved a piece of root ginger being peeled and inserted into the anus.' Mark watched Jenny grimace and laughed. 'It was used as encouragement for them to hold their tail high. It was also used in corporal punishment. Place a piece of ginger or pepper into the average miscreant's asshole and you'll find them unable to clench their buttocks, due to the strong burning sensation the spice provides, which meant they had no way of lessening the pain of a severe beating.' Jenny didn't look at all happy with that explanation, but she knew she only had two minutes and ploughed straight on.
'What happens in the pit?'
'Come on now, that would spoil the surprise.' He raised an eyebrow.
'What's the worst thing that can happen in this dungeon?'
'Ditto as per my last answer. Right, question time is up.' He retrieved the bit and slotted it back between Jenny's lips, even though she had been about to voice another question, and the bridle quickly followed.
Mark frowned to himself. Allowing Jenny the use of her voice suggested he was going soft in his old age, which was thirty-three years and two months to be exact. In order to correct this horrifying realisation he decided to be a little nastier than usual before they exited his favourite room. 'Why don't you pop up on the horse in front of the bookcase before we go? We might as well tackle rudeness while we're here.'
Jenny sucked in a breath and felt herself go cold. She had just been annoyingly cut off in mid-sentence, wanting to ask, 'When do we get to eat and go back to the hotel?' In hindsight, that should have been question number one but it was too late to moan about it now. Reluctantly she walked over to the horse and did as she was told. It wasn't as if she had much choice in the matter. After the Red Room, she was painfully aware who was boss. Delicately draping her body over the horse, acutely aware of her smarting backside, she assumed the position of before - bottom in the
He unbuckled her bridle carefully, taking care not to catch her hair, and attached it to the D-ring on her neck. He had no desire to hold the soggy thing. Reaching into his pocket he took out a carton of apple juice and poking the straw through the slot, held it to her lips. This was perhaps the last time she would drink like a human and he was feeling generous. He was amazed that he'd let her talk at all as he was not usually given to kindness, especially with new slaves. Normally he would have fed them his cock, in order to lubricate their voice for speech, but he felt a subtle reticence to do so with this one. It was unlike him.
Jenny drank the juice greedily. It didn't even rankle that the annoying man knew her throat was scratchily dry and that she wouldn't have been able to talk without something wet to loosen it. When she'd finished drinking, stopping as soon as the straw made burbling noises, she didn't waste time in posing her first question.
'Do you have many trainees here at the moment?'
'Approximately one hundred and fifty are housed here, whatever the weather and whatever the season. Most have to book a long time in advance in order to achieve a place at our stables.'
'Are they all female?'
'No. The ratio of males to females is one in three, though. Most of our applications are for girls.'
'How many people have been inside this dungeon?'
'Too many to count.'
'What is the hole in the red bench for, the one beside the door?'
'It's called the Objectifier, and it's for your head. Your head is stowed beneath the bench and you are simply an object for the dungeon Mistress to do with as she pleases.'
'What is figging?'
'It dates back to Victorian times. Initially it was used on show horses and it involved a piece of root ginger being peeled and inserted into the anus.' Mark watched Jenny grimace and laughed. 'It was used as encouragement for them to hold their tail high. It was also used in corporal punishment. Place a piece of ginger or pepper into the average miscreant's asshole and you'll find them unable to clench their buttocks, due to the strong burning sensation the spice provides, which meant they had no way of lessening the pain of a severe beating.' Jenny didn't look at all happy with that explanation, but she knew she only had two minutes and ploughed straight on.
'What happens in the pit?'
'Come on now, that would spoil the surprise.' He raised an eyebrow.
'What's the worst thing that can happen in this dungeon?'
'Ditto as per my last answer. Right, question time is up.' He retrieved the bit and slotted it back between Jenny's lips, even though she had been about to voice another question, and the bridle quickly followed.
Mark frowned to himself. Allowing Jenny the use of her voice suggested he was going soft in his old age, which was thirty-three years and two months to be exact. In order to correct this horrifying realisation he decided to be a little nastier than usual before they exited his favourite room. 'Why don't you pop up on the horse in front of the bookcase before we go? We might as well tackle rudeness while we're here.'
Jenny sucked in a breath and felt herself go cold. She had just been annoyingly cut off in mid-sentence, wanting to ask, 'When do we get to eat and go back to the hotel?' In hindsight, that should have been question number one but it was too late to moan about it now. Reluctantly she walked over to the horse and did as she was told. It wasn't as if she had much choice in the matter. After the Red Room, she was painfully aware who was boss. Delicately draping her body over the horse, acutely aware of her smarting backside, she assumed the position of before - bottom in the
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