The Dominafuhrer - THE GODMOTHER

Episode 15 - A Feast Fit For Fools

My impression that the gallery was not as big as it looked outside was partially right; the ceiling was a lot lower than the façade suggested but the room did run the full length of the wing. The evening’s entertainment was only going to use part of it though.

On entering we found linen covered tables arranged in a horseshoe shape, beyond them was a selection of dungeon equipment with armchairs and couches ranged against the nearby walls. The only lighting came from candles on the tables and floor candelabras in the dungeon area. Not more could be seen of the room in the gloom beyond. Spalding had been right; there were very few paintings on the walls but, in the dim light, I was unable to find out if they were family portraits or pornographic art.

We were neither the first or last to arrive. Sir Geoffrey and Ashley were at the door to welcome us. He introduced himself as Sir Francis Dashwood but his costume was definitely King Charles the Second. Ashley was in a slave tunic but his was in a much better material than Kelly’s and the slave collar was the type that rich old women put around the necks of their poodles. Kurt was already seated at the dining table, skinning his teeth at our entrance, and dressed in black boots, trousers, belt and shirt with a black leather jerkin over the top. I had a horrible feeling what his character was. Lord Mayberry was also seated further round at the far end, drinking from a glass goblet and stuffing grapes into his mouth. He wore a shoulder length curly wig and a Georgian gentleman’s costume with a bright blue coat. To our right, standing in front of tables loaded with plates, cutlery, glasses and goblets and bottles and decanters of wine and spirits, were the serving boys and girls, including Sherry, dressed in the more regular wench outfits and collars and all in stockings and high heels.

Miss Spiteful looked at them expectantly but Sherry ignored her and it was Sophia who advanced on us with a tray of glasses. Miss Spiteful and I took one each but Kelly, keeping a pace behind us, did not.

George Harman, in what was meant to be a clerical costume, was standing against one of walls talking to Clarissa in her wench’s dress. Both were drinking and the film director silently raised his glass in greeting to us but the beautiful young actress looked totally distracted. Todd Garrod was also standing but drinking alone, wearing a very elaborate Georgian costume and short powdered wig, he was staring at the slaves with a strange expression on his face. He ignored us as we passed him but I don’t think that he noticed us.

Ken Waveney and Sarah were seated on one of the couches in the dungeon area. He had his arm around her shoulders and, when she looked up; I could see the strain on her pale face.

Noise at the door marked the arrival of the latecomers; Douglas Bradshaw as what looked like the Prince Regent, followed by the Wilmingtons; he in the usual gentleman’s suit while his wife wore the slave costume. Her height however, added to her high heeled shoes and the short tunic, made her white stockinged legs look even longer. Her face was heavily made and she had used a vivid red lipstick but her eyes had a glassy look.

“What a jolly bunch,” Kelly whispered over my shoulder. “Are all orgies like this?”

“It reminds of the Officer’s Mess after Scotland has lost again to England at some game or other,” I quipped back as the Merry Monarch clapped his hands for attention.

“Good Evening everybody, could the members of the Hellfire Club please take their places at the table?” 

Kelly had noticed what nobody else had: there were not enough chairs to seat everyone at the table and she moved swiftly to secure the nearest two for Miss Spiteful and myself.

“What is this, musical chairs?” Todd Garrod muttered, but only after he had secured the only chair to my left.

“One moment please,” Kurt called out to Wilmington and Waveney who were wrestling over the last chair on the opposite side of the horseshoe to our selves; Sarah and Gisela having taken a chair each. “The rules were explained to you all. Only members are allowed to be seated, slaves will remain standing to serve at the tables.”

“Then what about her?” Wilmington exploded, pointing his finger at me.

“Mistress Storm is a Dominatrix. She will be seated.” Miss Spiteful’s voice brooked no argument and the grinning Kurt waved his hand in agreement.

Wilmington tried to face Kurt down but ended up relinquishing the chair and helping his wife to her feet. Sarah followed her and Bradshaw took her chair and moved it closer to Sir Geoffrey’s at the head of the horseshoe. Wilmington and Waveney sat down and, with George Harman on the other side of Miss Spiteful; all ten seats were now taken.

“Slaves, take your places!” Sir Geoffrey clapped his hands again and only Kelly and Ashley knew what he meant; standing behind Miss Spiteful’s and our host’s chairs respectively. Slowly the others moved into position; the effeminate Dominic minced across to Todd Garrod and from the haunted look of longing in the film stars eyes, I realised what was troubling him. Justine, curly haired and mustached, took his place behind me; Clarissa behind George Harman; Tara, a pixie faced Irish brunette, behind Kurt; Sophia, an original dumb blonde, for Bradshaw; Sarah for Waveney; Gisela attended her husband and Pippa, a leggy girl with a big black helmet of hair, wide eyes and glossy pink lips, kept a good arms length from Mayberry’s chair. That left Eva, a shrew faced blonde, and Sherry still standing by the drinks tables.

“The Slaves will serve the food to the Guests,” Sir Geoffrey announced. “All the food has been prepared in the kitchen and just needs to collected and brought to the table. Eva and Sherry will serve the drinks.”

“Each slave has been assigned a Guest to serve but they must do the bidding of any other Guest,” Kurt added with a sneer. “Any order must be obeyed. Mistakes or disobedience will be severely punished.”  He let the threat hang in the air and then bent down to reach under the table.       

He came up again with three slave collars in his hand; one of which he tossed to George Harman and the other two in the direction of Waveney and Wilmington.

“Put them on your Slaves,” he commanded. “They are improperly dressed.”

Harman stood up to fasten the collar around the neck of Clarissa, who turned away and bent ahead. It might have looked a submissive gesture but I could see that her eyes blazed with hate. Sarah was sobbing openly now as Waveney fumbled with the strap and buckle of her collar and Gisela, her face deathly pale, had to bend her knees slightly so that her husband could secure the mark of the slave around her throat.

“To the kitchens, Slaves!” Sir Geoffrey waved towards the door and they all filed out silently except for Eva and Sherry who advanced towards the dining tables with trays of bottles and glasses. Sherry kept well away from our side however, leaving Eva to serve our needs but Miss Spiteful’s eyes followed her Goddaughter as she went about her work. I studied her as well, making comparisons with her mother; they were both tall and had the same facial features except for the nose, Sherry’s being flatter. Sherry’s skin was a lighter bronze, without her mother’s honey glow, and her hair was a chestnut brown but she still carried herself in the same proud way and it could have been Sugar on the other side of the room.

There was no attempt at conversation until the slaves returned bearing big plates of food and sauce boats which they placed at intervals around the tables. They then laid plates and cutlery in front of each of us before circulating with the serving plates and vessels for us to make a selection from. I picked some melon, cuts of cold meat including a baked ham, a boiled egg, mushrooms stuffed with cheese, a thick slice of pate and a couple of spoonfuls of a potato salad. I also helped myself to some mayonnaise and orange and redcurrant sauces. I tentatively tried some of each and was pleasantly surprised at how delicious they were. No-one else seemed to have a problem clearing their plate either, despite the gloomy atmosphere that might have put them off their appetites.

The used plates and cutlery were collected and replaced with clean sets and the wine servers did their rounds again while we waited for the next course. This proved to be a trout and poached salmon with a heavenly béarnaise sauce which quickly disappeared in the same direction as the entrees. I remembered that I had not eaten since breakfast but even then the quality of the food was outstanding. A refreshing sorbet came as a pleasant interlude before large dinner plates were placed in front of us. Miss Spiteful had trained both Kelly and I myself in table-service and I noticed that my lover was quietly instructing Justine and Clarissa in the correct procedures and surreptitiously correcting their mistakes. To my surprise, I spotted that Gisela despite her distressed state was doing the same for Pippa and Sarah.

To my left Dominic seemed quite competent but he was taking every opportunity to touch Todd Garrod with his hands or press his body or his nyloned legs against the actor who was pale faced and sweating. When Justine had tried the same with me, I had ignored him for a while, before taking action. Justine was not bad looking apart from a horrible moustache but I had no intention of being used. As he leaned over my shoulder to lay more cutlery, my hand went up his skirt to his groin where my fingers closed around his scrotum and the root of his penis. I pulled down, digging into the silk knickers and soft flesh beneath with my fingernails. Justine’s agonized face came level with my own and I whispered in his ear; “Knock it off, Justine. Whatever you were told, I’m not interested. Understand?”

A whimper escaped Justine’s lips as he nodded and I slowly released my grip allowing him to move away with a curious crab like walk. Miss Spiteful watched him go and then murmured in my right ear. “Well done Storm, you handled that perfectly although Justine seems to disagree.”

I looked around the table to see if I had been observed but everyone else seemed pre-occupied. Todd beside me had his head in his hands and was staring at the table cloth. Lord Mayberry, opposite to me, was doing his best to feel Pippa’s legs and Waveney and Wilmington were either glowering silently at each other or anxiously watching their partners as they went about their duties. Bradshaw, Kurt and George Harman were listening to Sir Geoffrey explaining in pretty good German how the crisis in the Middle East was affecting the business world. He predicted that interest rates would go up, there would be a run on the Pound and that, if the Suez Canal was closed, there would be a fuel shortage. He had spent a lot of time today chartering Oil Tankers because the alternative route involved thousands of extra miles around the Cape of Good Hope and the Oil Companies would have to come to him for the shipping needed.

Kelly suddenly appeared between Miss Spiteful and me, leaning forward to brush crumbs of the table before laying down the cutlery.

“What have you heard?” Miss Spiteful asked softly.

Kelly kept her head down as she talked and we leant closer to hear her.                

The Girls and Boys have each been paid a Grand for this on the understanding that they put up with anything they are told to or is done to them and tell nobody about it afterwards. They all need the money but they are scared already. Bradshaw hired them but it’s Kurt who is running the show. Eva is a nasty bitch who claims to be a dancer at the Windmill but the others say that she’s really a stripper at a club in Soho, owned by some gangster called Hill.”

“Mein Gott!” Miss Spiteful muttered. Not surprisingly, with her extensive knowledge, the name was not unknown to her.

“Eva is spying on the others for Kurt and keeping guard on Sherry so I can’t get to talk to her. All I’ve heard is that she’s the only one not being paid.” Kelly glanced around and then bent her head again. “Eva’s watching us; I’ll be back in a minute.”

Kelly returned briefly to place huge china platters in front of us but when she reappeared in front of us with a big metal serving dish loaded with meats, she resumed her report.

“Nobody knows what is really going on; they’ve been warned not to ask questions. Ashley, who’s on another planet, loves all this but says that Sir Geoffrey is petrified of Bradshaw. Clarissa, Gisela and Sarah are too frightened to talk but they, or their partners, are obviously being coerced. Dominic is under orders to work on Garrod, with a bonus if they end up in bed together. Justine was told to do the same for Miss Storm and I was going to warn him off but I see that you handled the matter yourself.” Her eyes twinkled when they met mine and Miss Spiteful gave a snort of laughter.

“What’s Mayberry’s part in all this?” she asked Kelly.

“Apart from having asked every one of us to suck his dick, do you mean?” Kelly threw a contemptuous look over her shoulder at the Peer. “Apparently he is a friend of this Billy Hill and they all have to be nice to him. Pippa’s no angel but she says that a thousand pounds is not enough for her to give him a blow job.” 

“I take that you are all being fed as well?” Miss Spiteful asked as she examined the tray that Kelly had brought.

“Oh yes, there’s plenty out there and it’s all great. It was all carved and plated ready for us and keeping warm on hot plates. We’re taking it in turns to have our food when the others are serving. How could you tell?” Kelly asked defensively.

“You’ve got gravy on your chin,” I replied, spearing some slices of duck’s breast.

“I was saving that”, Kelly joked. “But seriously, make sure that you get some of the pie. It is out of this world.”

I added slices of beef, lamb and chicken before Kelly moved on round the table. I passed on the quails and the ragout of some unknown meat and vegetables that followed but took a generous portion of the beef, mushroom and ale pie when that came to us. Miss Spiteful also added some to her already overloaded plate and we were both trying to find a space for some mashed potato when she nudged my arm.

I followed her gaze and saw that Kurt was not using regular cutlery but was stabbing the meat on his plate with a long military dagger and either transferring it whole into his mouth or nibbling at the slice as his hung from the point.

“Was Kurt a Midshipman or a Warrant Officer in the Kriegsmarine?” I asked.

“Nein,” Miss Spiteful shook her head. “He did go to sea but as an ordinary cook and never made Petty Officer.”

I studied the weapon again, noting the twisted white celluloid handle with an eagle and swastika on top, the anchor on the cross piece and the fine metal blade.

“Well, it’s a naval dagger but not the standard issue. One like that, with a Damascus blade, he would had to buy himself. A lot of seamen bought them as souvenirs or to show off.”

“That would be typical of Kurt. Thank you, Obersturmfuhrer.” Miss Spiteful shook her head and returned her attention to her plate, pausing only to direct Sarah’s shaking hand as she poured gravy from a sauce boat.

It took a little while for everyone to clear their plates this time and you could almost hear the groans when fruit and cheese appeared on the tables. As the Port was being circulated, there was a scream and the crash of breaking crockery. I stood up to see Sarah sprawling amid the wreckage of a pile of dirty plates on the floor near the door. She was smeared with bits of food and gravy and weeping in distress. Waveney was moving to help her up but Kurt got there first, dragging her to her feet by a wrist and snarling in her face.

“You were warned what would happen to any of you who made a mistake. I am going to punish you for this!”

“And so it begins,” Miss Spiteful whispered to me.

To continue this story, click Punishment By Proxy

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