Tria Read online

  Tria

  By Carolyn Faulkner

  © 2009 by Blushing Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Chapter One

  She heard the sharp snip of the lock being cut as she knelt before him on his bed – one of the few times she was even allowed near it - then the thin brown leather band was removed and thrown away. It was the first time she’d felt nothing around her neck since she was eleven and got her first flow. Whereas when she’d first been fitted with it all those years ago, she’d pulled and tugged at it, and sworn that it had itched and she was allergic to it, she felt somehow bereft without it now, but it was the morning of her twenty fifth birthday and she was to be a part of the public auction that would be conducted in the square at ten. There were to be no reminders left on her of the one who had owned her until she was of an age to be bought.

  Once the jomfru torque had been removed, she then presented herself to the hood – the only woman in the house who held any rank of a sort that was recognized by the male of the house. The females had their own ranks amongst themselves, but the Principal ignored them, as was his right. The hood removed the robe like covering that covered her completely, even to the tips of her toes, the style of which she’d been wearing since that same day fourteen years ago.

  Abril was bathed en masse by all the women in the house – all five of them, as it was a smallish household – and every speck of her body hair was removed except that on her head, which had been allowed to grow since birth. By law, no woman could cut her hair except for reasons of disease, although it was unheard of to bring such a menial disobedience to the attention of the Greycoats. They weren’t there to help a man control his women. Laws were there for men and things of their realm. Certainly not for women, except in matters of property disputes.

  Such trivial matters were dealt with by the Principal within the walls of his own house, where his own rule was law. He would never let such a pitiful transgression against his authority to be brought to light in a court of law, regardless. That was what Downstairs was for.

  She was made to lie back on the hood’s bed – they had no decent bier for such ceremonies as this, there weren’t enough of them to warrant it as far as the Principal was concerned – with her legs held up and spread by two of the women while a third assisted the hood and the fourth sat by her head, stroking her hair soothingly. Abril took little comfort, however. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the way she was being opened and exposed, but she knew better than to resist.

  The fact that these women had helped raise her didn’t make this any easier for her to endure. And she had been brought up the right way; the way that was endorsed by the Government – with extreme modesty measures, with no male contact ever, except with the Principal and then only in the most chaste of ways even when it involved discipline. He was never to touch her otherwise. That was the realm of whoever bought her.

  There she was, lying forcibly naked and spread, when she’d never once in her life not been covered by some sort of clothing. Even just changing from one robe to another was done by bringing the new robe up from the feet to the neck, then taking the old robe off over the head. Her whole body was blushing hot, she could feel it. And then the hood leaned forward and fit something into the leather and steel girdle that had been welded onto her so long ago, removing it in one motion and discarding it as casually as the Principal had her toque.

  But she didn’t stop there. Every inch of Abril’s most intimate self was washed, very carefully and with disgraceful intimacy, with a soft cloth dipped in blenhim scented water. She was barely allowed to touch down there herself – only enough to clean herself up when needed, and during her twice weekly baths. The smell of that pungent flower filled the room as she was carefully dried and even more carefully pulled apart again. She new vaguely what was happening down there from having seen the Procession occasionally herself on the rare occasions she was allowed into town. Her lips – inner and outer – were being painted a bright, gaudy red dust made from the clay that was available in the hills, all the way down to her bottom hole and up around the edges of her cheeks there.

  When that was done, everyone helped her up, and her immediate reaction was to cover herself with both of her hands, but the hood merely nodded and her arms were held out from her sides so that she couldn’t interfere with her preparations. At first, she was turned around, and she couldn’t imagine what was going to be done to her, but then she felt the same brush strokes – only broader – painting her bottom. She’d forgotten that they were supposed to be accented as if she’d only recently been punished.

  Not that she needed any help in that area. She was always getting it for something – usually speaking when she hadn’t been spoken to, like she’d gotten yesterday morning. Her cheeks were probably still plenty rosy from that.

  The hood was the only one of them that was allowed to sit at the table with him and even that was done somewhat grudgingly, and she was only actually allowed to eat after he’d taken his fill and left the table. Then she could eat what she wanted, keeping in mind that the others would eat whatever was left after her.

  She hadn’t meant to sass him – not at all. He’d called for a refill of his homemade wash at breakfast and she’d spilled some, which was enough to earn her a good hard spanking right there, but then she’d compounded her error by apologizing for it in her desperation to avoid a punishment, and she’d heard every female in the room – which was everyone because they were always all gathered to serve him and watch him eat before them – draw a gasping breath, knowing what she’d be subjected to from just that small lapse.

  He hadn’t even missed a bite, saying only one word as he swallowed that made the rest of the room shudder, “Downstairs.”

  She hadn’t gotten any of the morning meal yesterday. He’d taken care of her before he left to go into town, and Abril was grateful for having made the error when he couldn’t take the time to be as elaborate as he usually was, although she was the least punished of any of the females. The hood got it the worst of any of them; only partially because she also got punished when any of them misbehaved. The Principal seemed to enjoy punishing her, and there were many nights when the sou
nds of the poor woman’s screams drifted up through the floorboards and lulled her to sleep.

  She had left the table immediately, as required, and found her way down the creaky stairs to the most dreaded part of the house. She knew she was to arrange herself over the heavy oak table that served as one of the punishment tables. There were straps to be done at the middle of the table that would hold her hands still with her wrists above her head, as well as more straps around the legs of the table that would keep her legs from the kicking and twisting and writhing they wanted to do quite naturally, but whether or not he would use those would be entirely up to his own tastes at that moment.

  The snaps that ran up the back of her robe were pulled apart up to her waist as she gathered the rough material in front of her, so that it wouldn’t offer her any refuge and wouldn’t get in his way. Then Abril had bent over the table, her backside completely exposed from waist to heels, to await his descent with her cheek on the hands she’d folded nervously under her head.

  It wasn’t long – she’d known it wouldn’t be. He didn’t get up until he absolutely had to, so he wouldn’t have much time to punish her, thankfully, but that wasn’t much comfort as she heard his boots clunking loudly down each step, knowing what was waiting for her at the end.

  He didn’t waste any time, walking over to the innocuous looking cabinet in which he kept such things and taking two things out. As soon as he hit the bottom stair, she had closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see which adjuster he’d decided to use on her this time, and she already knew one of the things he was getting that he always insisted they all wear while they were being corrected.

  She could hear him step closer to her, then felt the familiar blindfold as it was fitted over her eyes. He hadn’t said anything to her, not one word, and experience told her that he wouldn’t. He knew that she knew what she’d done wrong. There was no need in belaboring the point, as far as he was concerned.

  He put the implement he’d chosen against her bottom, giving her as much of a warning as she was going to get that the ordeal was about to begin.

  With the first stroke, she began a howl that didn’t end until he turned away, leaving what had to have been the strap lying next to her, as it was her duty to put it away.

  Abril was left there, trying to come to grips with the pain, trying to compartmentalize it and put it away, because she wasn’t going to be allowed to wallow in this one spanking in any way – especially one that was so short.

  It had only lasted twenty strokes. Less than ten minutes of his time, but a lifetime of remembrance for her. He’d laid that strap onto her with all of his strength, and he hadn’t done it long enough that he would have been tired by the time he stopped. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how to inflict the maximum of pain in the minimum of time. She knew there were livid wheals and welts across her bottom from the kiss of the strap, but she had to stand back up, snap her robe back together and get upstairs to do her chores . . .

  Chapter Two

  She was turned around and the hood rose reaching out to cup one of her breasts gently, then suddenly pinching and pulling it hard to encourage it to pop. Once it had bloomed, she dusted it, too, with that awful powder, repeating her actions with Abril’s other breast and nipple.

  Finally, a veil was dropped down over her shoulders and that was exactly what it was – no more than a completely translucent veil of gossamer fabric that emphasized the nudity beneath it rather than hiding it from prying eyes. It was tied at the shoulders and cinched with a string at her waist.

  There were crowds of just such eyes in her immediate future. Before she was put on the block, she and everyone else who had reached her twenty fifth birthday this month would be paraded through the town in just this thin covering, her hair down and brushed till it was shiny, hands bound to the sides of the platform on which she rode as a part of the cortege. They were displayed to the rabble before entering the auction hall – and those males who were permitted to enter were required to pay a hefty toll for the privilege of bidding on them, because they were virgins from well known house who could demand such a thing.

  And it was worse than she’d imagined. The females of the house kissed her goodbye with tears in their eyes. She was the first of the house to do this, although there were several girls younger than she who would go through the same thing. The Principal helped her onto the ornate gold platform and secured her there, kneeling on a soft platform, her robe pulled taut against her body like a second skin and held there by her knees, her breasts swelling obscenely against the gossamer garment.

  The trip into town was usually accomplished under tight wraps – when it was accomplished at all. This time all she could think about was how embarrassed she was – how humiliating it was to be exposed in such a vulgar fashion to all an sundry who lined the road – and they did – three and four deep, leering and jeering and drooling all over themselves and each other.

  The crowds only got worse as they neared town. It was interesting to have the sea of males part for her, a mere female. But they did, most eagerly. Once they stopped, her wrists were released from the sides of the conveyance, but then were retied behind her. Her Principal kept her wrists in his hand, controlling her as he guided her into the huge building and up onto a stage. He stood her on the fifth podium across the stage, wrapping two large manacles that were chained to the floor around her wrists, doing the same with the ones for her ankles. She could barely move, from both the short lengths of chain and the weight of them.

  Each of the podiums around her were filled, slowly, and sometimes with females who were obviously not very happy about being there. She was amazed at the struggle some of them put up, knowing that if she’d resisted like that her Principal would have taken the leather paddle that always hung from his belt and corrected her long and hard, right then and there, witnesses and modesty be damned.

  The rest of the auditorium filled very quickly, until the auctionees were completely outnumbered by the men in front of them, all prosperous and well to do, buttoned down as much as was possible, more restrained by far than the milling crowds they’d all just been paraded through, but they just managed to hide their lasciviousness a little more successfully than the rabble, with better clothes and more baubles. Abril was very thankful that her Principal had stayed with her, even though she couldn’t touch him and he wasn’t touching her. She could feel all of those male eyes on her – on the very prominent parts of her that had been rouged outrageously, and it made something strange happen to her body. She was terrified and uncomfortable, but she felt her breasts swelling with the attentions of all those strange males, and she was afraid that she was getting her flow – worried it would stain the pristine gown just as the vermillion had – because she was somehow dripping something from between those brightly stained lips, only it wasn’t the right time for her show.

  She couldn’t dwell on her situation very long, because the proceedings started exactly as the bell ringer proclaimed ten.

  The circus master, dressed all in red in contrast to the bevy of auctionees, stood center stage and called out, “Welcome to the April Circus, gentlemen. We have twelve beauties for you to bid on, each and every one would be a gem in your house, all from reputable Principals, each with a name for only the finest quality merchandise.”

  The first girl was escorted before the crowd, out onto a special walkway that brought her right into the midst of the men, who, as the morning wore on, managed to exert less and less control over their baser urges, despite the huge eunuch bouncers that surrounded and protected the stage. More than one potential owner found himself bodily thrown out of the building, forfeiting the large stake he had paid to enter it.

  There were enormous amounts being paid for each female, more money than Abril had ever heard of in her life. She knew her Principal was a prominent man in town – even the men he passed always bowed to him, but she hadn’t realized that, in being from his house, she would be able to command such a price. She
hoped. She hoped she didn’t disappoint him and bring only a pittance.

  Before she knew it, well before she wanted it to, it was her turn. At least he was there to unbind her then rebind her with her wrists behind her back for the walk down the catwalk. Her Principal pushed her on ahead of him, which was entirely unnatural for a female. No female ever walked in front of a male. It just wasn’t done.

  But there she was, tottering down the runway, absolutely terrified, looking right and left and seeing nothing but slavering men. He tugged on her wrists and made her stand at the end and turn around for them, then he made her bend over, and tugged her veil up over her legs and bottom to her hips, running his hand possessively over those already ruddy cheeks as if teasing them because they couldn’t do the same unless they were the winning bidder. Abril thought she would die from the embarrassment. She started to struggle, just a bit, and his correction was immediate and fierce as he delivered four crashing blows to her cringing bottom, two to each cheek.

  The crowd roared its approval as offers to assist him and tame her flew fast and furious. The crowd was driven to a fever pitch, which was exactly his intention. As they offered their esteemed advice, he calmly tugged down her covering and made her straighten, then took her arm rather forcefully and brought her back to her platform, leaving her to stand there docilely as he resumed his stance in front of her and the other girls were, in turn, brought before the eager bidders.

  But none of them managed to cause the sensation she had – even the ones who had been struggling when they got there seemed somehow subdued by the situation. Abril wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad.