Sharon beats Johhny.

Prologue

Dunstan Hall is. One of the most prestigious historic houses in Kent, and an excellent option for those looking for things to do in Faversham. Steeped in history, this unique house holds mementos of the family's travels. The estate covers more than 3,000 acres and includes the house, gardens, cricket pitch, orchards, and surrounding farmland and woodland.

Within the house itself lie three exciting collections. The armoury, which was gathered by five generations of the Dunstan family, Lords of the estate for over 200 years. The Greystone Collection is the finest set of Greystone paintings in Britain. The Clock Museum, showcasing an extraordinary horological collection created by the 5th Lord Dunstan

That’s what the brochures will tell you. What they won’t tell you—because very few people know about it—is that off the cellar lies a large antechamber accessible only two ways: a locked door behind one of the formidable wine racks in the main cellar, or through a secret passageway behind a hidden door in the main bedroom. At the moment, there are two occupants.

One is a naked man, John Smyth, who is hooded and gagged, his exposed arse pale and vulnerable in the dim light. He wears a thick iron collar padlocked to his neck, a heavy chain ensuring he can’t wander more than six feet in any direction. Not that he’s in a position to wander, bent over a leather-bound bench, his arms twisted at an impossible angle and connected to the back of the iron collar by a short chain. His legs are spread and tied to the bench legs, his balls hanging heavy and exposed between his thighs, his cock already half-hard despite himself.

Behind him stands the other occupant: 67-year-old Katherine Dunstan, widow of Sir Colin Dunstan and aunt of the man strapped to the bench. She wears nothing but a leather corset that cinches her aging frame and a thick, veined rubber cock strapped to her waist with heavy leather harnesses that frame her still-trim hips. She strokes it slowly, her eyes fixed on her nephew's helpless entrance.

"Hello, Johnny," she purrs, her voice rich with decades of cigarettes and power. "Time for you to learn what it really means to get fucked."

She steps closer, the head of the dildo pressing against his tight ring. John makes a strangled sound behind the gag, his body tensing. Katherine laughs, low and cruel.

"That's it, nephew. Fight it. Makes it so much sweeter." She pushes forward, the thick head breaching him, and John screams into the gag as she sinks the full length into his arse in one relentless stroke. "Ten years you've been taking what's mine," she whispers, beginning to thrust with a steady, punishing rhythm. "Now I'm taking what's yours.