Lady Pennington's Manor

~~~

Eliza looked down the criteria, for the first one she had a simple loophole, for a birthday long ago her mother had bought her a one metre square plot of land in Scotland, the gimmick being that allowed her to assume the title Lady. She was sure it wouldn’t count in those days but she decided when it came time to sign the book she should be Lady Eliza Yam of Glencairn. She had certainly had enough time strapped to the wall to pass the next criterion. She groaned at the wording of the next one, as although she had swim the lake, she had never been watched by workmen. She also groaned that she had worn plenty of the outfits for plenty of time, but she always stripped off to go to bed so had not worn a single outfit for 24 hours. The final criteria would take some work.

More importantly Eliza hadn’t missed the part about there being a secret room next to the wine cellar. She was intent on finding out what was inside and immediately went to find out.

Getting into the wine cellar was difficult enough, it had long been boarded up and left to go derelict. First Eliza crowbarred off the boards covering the cellar (hard to do when you are wearing a leather harness that was designed to choke you, squeeze your breasts and cut tight between your legs with every movement.) Descending into the cellar Eliza found little of note, the wine racks stood empty except for a few broken or empty bottles and the rest was shrouded in darkness. Exploring with her phone torch Eliza searched as best she could, it took her a couple of hours to spot that one of the broken wine bottles had some string poking out of it. Clearly in the past it used to form part of a secret door handle, she pulled it and a panel in the wall popped open.

Through the dim torchlight, Eliza could not see much, there were a variety of wooden devices, each design to inflict a different torture on the person strapped into them. There were boards around the room measuring high scores in games lost to history and secrecy. What impressed Eliza the most was at the back of the room. A life size painting of Lady Pennington herself. She was naked, her legs spread, her hands holding her pussy open and a mischievous grin on her face. To each side of this portrait there were smaller ones of other ladies emulating her pose. Eliza looked at the wall a vowed to one day be worthy of having a picture of her hung there.

...

Gemma McMillan looked out of the taxi into the darkness. As a regional manager she had mixed feelings about the reports she was hearing from Pennington Manor. At first she didn’t hear much. Then out of nowhere Eliza spent a large chunk of the budget having workmen come and trim some trees on a lake on the outskirts of the estate. It wasn’t long until she heard about elaborate masquerade balls being planned at the manor. Nevertheless she looked the other way as income went up and Eliza even started getting donations from some well known aristocrats to ensure the Manor’s upkeep and to renovate the wine cellar.

The strangest part was when the Director General of the National Trust began singing the praises of the Pennington Manor, which by all accounts was a wholly unremarkable building. Inevitably she felt she should really check out what is going on first hand, and asked to attend one of the masquerade balls being held at the manor. As luck would have it, the Director General was also attending so they were able to share a taxi from London.

Baroness Angel Asante was an imposing figure, tall statuesque and clearly muscley in her day, she made history as the first black Director General of the national trust. She was no less intimidating in a gown Gemma noted was very authentic in it’s choice of materials and faded appearance. Gemma tried to make idle conversation but the Baronesses attention was clearly elsewhere.

As they got out of the taxi, Eliza was there to greet them at the door, wearing a white dress with an array of strange diamond toggles, she beamed as she saw the Angel climb out of the taxi, slightly wincing as the Baroness distractedly scraped her arm on the door.

In Gemma’s opinion the party was a bit boring, nothing worth spending a lot of money on which people evidently had been. Nevertheless the Baroness made a bee line for a couple of other high flying women, excitedly talking with Eliza before scurrying off to the toilet together.

Gemma decided to help herself to some nibbles in the dining room, making chit chat with some of the other guests who were a mixture of people on holiday in the local camping grounds and a few friends and well-wishers from a bit further afield. She was just about to grab the last of the mini sandwiches and head to the ballroom when the door to the dining room burst open. There in all her glory, a tall black women wearing nothing but a masquerade mask. Her aging but muscular form receiving gasps of disbelief that rippled through the party. Gemma was 90% certain that it was the same Baroness she had just shared a car ride with (there weren’t many other black women at the party.) Sure her hair was different but other than that she couldn’t think who else it could be. Her suspicions were confirmed as the naked women streaked past her and she saw the scrape on her arm from her inglorious dismount from the Taxi.

Gemma was still reeling with shock twenty minutes later when a seemingly nonplussed Baroness joined her to look over the puddings. She was singing Eliza’s praises, talking about her bright future and even alluding to her having a portrait that some wealthy people had paid someone to paint. It didn’t take her long to notice Gemma hadn’t said a word since they started the conversation, the Baroness quickly figured out that Gemma had sussed the identity of the streaker.

“Gemma, clearly your mind has now fixed on a single thought, why did I just see my bosses, bosses boss run naked through this party?” She stated devoid of all shame. She didn’t wait for Gemma to respond, instead handing her an old black book.

“This is a relic Eliza discovered while working here. This will mean nothing to you now, but she has revived the Lady Pennington society. If I am correct your uncle is Lord McMillan so you certainly qualify to join and we would be very happy to have you.” Baroness Angel looked over to see Eliza beckoning her to one join her upstairs.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go dip my pussy in hot wax.”